Ravendale House

One day while i was working in the picture gallery i'd started on a shoestring about ten years earlier i just decided i'd had enough of shopkeeping.

The truth is, i'd always wanted to live in the countryside with a bit of land to call my own and the chance to "do my own thing" -- in other words, be able to come out of my door without an audience -- make a nice garden -- play loud music -- grow my own food. You get the idea.

goodbye gallery     hello ravendale house    the house    potted primulas

So i was delighted when five years later i found myself the proud owner of Ravendale House, a renovated 19th century cottage out-in-the-sticks. With a completely lawned front garden and a small field attached, about ¾ acre altogether, it was a blank canvas.

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You can’t beat a real-life, feel-good story for the beginning of the year, and they don’t come any better than this heartwarming tale that I read about earlier today.

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Well, after over-indulging over Xmas, we went for a walk up the lane yesterday, it was very mild for the time of year. It actually felt like Spring.

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Back in September I wrote a review of my gardening year, which you can read about here. To be honest, I think the 7th of September was a bit early to be reviewing the year, but I guess I was short of something to write about at the time.

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Coronation Street, the world’s longest running TV soap is my favourite TV programme. Not everyone’s cup of tea I know, Peter hates it, but to be honest he doesn’t know what he’s missing. The programme has moved on considerably since the indomitable Ena Sharples and Elsie Tanner.

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As we were taking a stroll up the lane about a week ago we saw a large notice attached to one of the farm gates giving details of an attempted robbery a few days earlier by a scrap dealer in a white Mercedes van.

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I’m sure we all remember how the world held it’s breath back in October 2010 as we watched the rescue of the Chilean miners.
I found this the other day, and it made me smile.

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Well, there’s no gardening getting done at the moment. The weather, though sunny, is very cold with a wicked wind and Peter is on the settee suffering from a heavy cold. He’s had it ages and can’t seem to shake it. I keep waiting to get it myself. Sods law being what it is I expect I’ll have it for Xmas. I tried going for a walk and a potter about this afternoon, but my heart’s not in it, so my thoughts turned to less physical and much warmer pursuits.

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I’m pleased to report that the visiting moorhen is still here. I didn’t see him at all yesterday, but he made an appearance after lunch today, so that’s OK.

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