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Straight off the school bus nose straight into his library book. He nearly walks straight into me.

She is 95, her grand mother made her mother a lace veil for her wedding, embroidering name and date. The veil has been used ever since for marriages and christenings even if the younger members would rather a more trendy arrangement. After use it goes to The Royal College Of Needle work to be cleaned and carefully packed ready for the next outing.

"They are beautiful" he says dropping 6 fushia heads into my hand. "They smell beautiful". We examine their color and fragility and lay them in a line. He beams from a tear stained face for the first time that day. I breath a sigh of relief that he showed his treasures to me not Mrs A, who takes a dim view of such exploration and sees it as vandalism.

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Of all the things you wear your expression is the most important.

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Bless her heart. Displaying devotion to duty she comes in clutching a list of Hungarian words. The little lad eyes her warily, but mum says "very good". As long as we get the word toilet sorted all will be well.

The NQT is chuffed and so she should be. One of our 4 year olds requested a camera and some envelops and went into the garden. Then asked his mum to print out the 4 pictures he had taken. He placed 1 photo in each envelope and strategically placed them. Hey presto one treasure hunt for his mother each envelop held a clue to the next clue and then to treasure. He had recreated the fun and games on the last day of term.

He is trundling his luggage and clutching a large mug of tea to the car. We exchange a bleary eyed good morning.

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Max

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Warm air blowing in through the windows makes the curtains dance, ruffles my hair and makes me wonder why I don't fling the window wide more often.

Whippet and black cat have been de fleaed , but they seemed to have jumped ship and landed on me. I find the large tin with a yellow lid and take action.

She rings me up and tries to prod me into entering the village produce show. Oh dear I have missed the entry date. I feel absolved.

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A Committee is a group of people who individually

can do nothing, but as a group decide that nothing can be done.

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Duke the great dane from the pub rushes over and leaps on whippets best friend, an ever-so noble workman leaps from his van and hauls him off.

The was not a drop of blood anywhere.

I remember I have a box of Hero chocks and leave them on his van, specially for the hero of the hour.

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The starling sounds slightly disappointed and miffed as it scolds me from it's breakfast bar that is the bedroom window sill. I hop out of bed and shake nut mix, only to be entertained by a gang of teens squabbling for best peckings. Gawd I hope the noise hasn't woken the neighbors.

She breezes in trailing my grumpy son, and presents me with her smiley one. He has great fun testing his muscles bouncing on a contraption that hangs from the door frame and he spreads good cheer all around.

Man about the house is encouraged on a bike ride. This is quite a novelty these days as the motor bike has taken president over absolutely everything. We manage the hills too.

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The first bike I ever had was a much loved second hand red 3 wheeler. I spent hours peddling up and down the path in-front of the church. I later went on to learn to ride a two wheeler job on this bit of path and then ran up and down behind lots of children in latter years helping them perfect their balancing skills. Good friend J arrived at my door a life time latter with her daughters bike, "Here you borrow it for the summer." And that small act of kindness was the relationship with my own adult bike that has beens great therapy for gloomy days and was responsible, in a roundabout way, for the whippet joining the house hold. Who would have thought the act of learning to ride a bike could have rippled so far and wide over time.

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Whippet is soooo hungry he gulps his 3 tablets down in one go. Just black cat to go.

Catch up with farmer Rex. "No he failed the audition, he just wasn't fierce enough". could have fooled me. The gander eyes me up, I hide behind man about house.

Desert Island Discs keeps me entertained via trusty ipod while I give the strawberries a hair cut, as instructed by Mr Titmarch's book.

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Snippet from the desert island.

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Meditation for the day: Dorothy's red shoes watching the world go by past the shop window, while waiting for their adventure to begin.

I gaze for ages framing and reframing. Sodding shoulder had become so overwhelming, focusing down to the minutia takes my body away, until I turn to find a teenager gazing at the batty old woman with a camera. I wink he continues to stare.

Corse the snap is binned, tis the process not the end product. Whoops could be a life statement.

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Appro of bugger all

This is Eric he resides 2 doors down, invites himself inside, and has a howl suitable as a sound effects for person suffering from sodding shoulder syndrome.

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Wiithin the warmth of the day there is an explosion of tiny black gnats.

The warmth is also the perfect climatic conditions for a love fest in the school pond. I have never seen so many frogs all together.

"You are off the footpath, it is a bit confusing", nope I know exactly where I am and I am enjoying your wild life. Oh he falters seen any. My smile is oblivousy isrristsable he gets back in his landrover and drives away.

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Do gnats dance?

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Sheep come running from all corners of the field to stand peering over the fence bleating. It is difficult to know why they are excited. Is it the man in the white van asking directions or have they fallen in love with whippet?

Practicing my baby bantering skills on V's granddaughter. Silly voices still seem to gain sweet smiles then.

Tracing a Buzzard through the binoculars as it circles higher and higher in a bright blue sky. To join another. There is something hypnotic in their seemingly effortless soaring.

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Whippet is a realist he feels it was not his good looks but the prospect of grub that set the sheep a running.

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Lord of the manor has a cunning plan to stop the hoy poloy from using the back road as a short cut. Densely packed spiky shrubs have been planted close to the edge of the road, to inflict nasty scratches on to passing cars.

In fact them that do the work hadn't done it properly and woz spotted muttering and digging 200 hundred of the buggers up and re siting them a foot nearer the road.

Whippet too is muttering because I have gone off in one, gazing at the tiger stripes cast by the shrubs shadows receding into the distance. A dark blob disrupts my vibes, and when I look up to see what bit of caught litter is responsible, there is my lost glove that someone has thoughtfully stuck on a twig. What luck, the last time I trod this path was 2 weeks past.

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Upper thigh muscles are supposed to be pushing peddles, but the bike had been abandoned and bird watching has taken it's place.

Some seagulls are taking a bath others are paddling looking for food in the flood. Occasionally they stir hardly lifting from ground gliding to a more appealing spot. I have the urge, to rush home, grab a deck chair and join them on the other side of the fence.

The garden centre provides, instant sunshine, one blowzy bright yellow primula.

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Very amusing I thinks

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Good neighbor J is sat in a heap on the floor when I arrive. The man next door comes to our assistance. No damage done except ruffled hair, skirt and dignity.

5 tiny seeds are planted in a pot.

Stick to the ribs treacle pudding slips down a treat.

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snuggle up and keep warm.

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Saturday

Breathtakingly beautiful Malvern Hills cloaked in snow. Beat of the swans wings flying low up river. Tasty lunch in a quaint tea shop bedecked by ornamental bells. Passing the time of day with lakeland terrier and his friend breaks the trek back to the car.

Sunday

It is delicious, and he gets creative instead of stroppy when some of the indigents are not to be found. It seems man about the house has taken over sunday lunch duty as long as he can fling cream and calories in.

Monday

Whippet and I slip into Spring house garden discovering hidden delights of snow drops, crocuses and witch hazel. Someone has thoughtfully placed a sign warning of slippery steps.

I wander under mature trees and suddenly feel peaceful. Bless you Mrs S C for allowing us to share your garden.

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She gives me a book that makes me realize I should buy more recycled paper products. To provide a market for all the paper that goes in the green bin. But buying recycled loo paper is not as simple as I thought.

Avoiding the paper trap

Consider these simple actions to help reduce your paper use and make better buying choices.

Buy recycled. Tissue products, such as toilet paper, handkerchiefs, napkins and kitchen towels cannot be recycled after use, which is why it is important to ensure that the tissue products you buy contain a high level of recycled content.

Is this product necessary? Don’t use paper products when you can use cloth. Reserve your paper purchases for essentials only.

It doesn’t need to be white. The whiter it is, the more it has been bleached. To reduce chemical exposures, don’t choose the whitest product.

Ask for recycled. If you local store doesn’t stock recycled toilet tissue, ask them to start stocking it.

Read the label. Make sure the claims make sense to you. What is your toilet tissue made from, waste paper or pulp? What percentage of the total is recycled material and is it from a sustainable source? Does it make any claims for safe bleaching processes, such as ‘chlorine free’? If the label isn’t clear, don’t buy the product.

Support ethical companies. The Ethical Consumer recommends brands such as Naturelle or Co-op’s recycled toilet tissue range. Other good choices include products from the Natural Collection, Traidraft, Ecotopia, Essential and Suma.

This article first appeared in the Ecologist December 2007

Previous Articles...

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A yellow rump streaks away into the trees, and shortly afterwards starts to hammer.

Whippet has a bemused look. Black cat is yowling in protest at being stood on. She has tucked herself underneath the cover and only a bump can be seen. He jumps in fright when she retaliates.

Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum the 2 dames of last nights pantomime were spectacular and I have the photo's to prove it. It is their one chance a year to glam it up. They have been a double act for years now, and are the highlight of the show.

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Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum

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Glittering and bright, crunchy under foot a fairy tale morning.

Everything suggested gets a negative response. The day can't possibly be crawled through. Gadget man wants a small something for the love of his life, the bike. I am in control of the wheels so after he has shopped, we explore "just up the road".

Retail therapy has worked, he graciously dons walking boots and navigates for me. A deer leaps over the fence in-front of us and arcs across the snow. Luck brings us out by Wroxton church.

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The dogs for the disabled are having a day out in town. The curly coated retriever is such at handsome boy.

The hands over the mouth and wide eyes conceal mirth. The trips back and forth to the loo was not to wash paint from hands but rather reapplying paint to continue the decoration of toilet doors and walls with hand prints. I like it but feel the cleaner will not, a valuable lesson in washing paint work follows, and they agree it would have been hard work for said cleaner and paper will be used in future. We shall see!

The workmen at the church on top of the hill assure me they will be on hand tomorrow should I get accidently locked in. And that their connivence is available for the asking.

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A principle of early childhood education that seems to have got smothered in the paper work.

Childhood is seen as valid in itself. It is a stage of life and not simply a preparation for the future.

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Tight yellow buds of winter aconites and graceful heads of snow drops bursting into life under Ronnie's tree.

A gang of long tailed tits dart along following the saunter of the the river. Am heartened to think that they all survived the deep freeze of recent weeks.

The postie touches base with Mrs T even though she has no post today.

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I love Martha Madigan's creativity.

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She lands lightly, flops down and with small movements melds us into one. Purring at last her chin comes to rest on my leg. I feel all the tension flow first from her body and then from my own. What a lovely way to start the day.

A large brown envelop waits on the matt. There is a sick and dividend society rule book that cost threepence with no date on. A report on the funds raised in 1901 to restore the church. 2 photographs, one from 1901 and another 1903 showing the difference the revamp has made. 2 ancient cookery books, various scraps of paper, an old letter dated 1955. From someone in Scotland lamenting the fact that Emily wasn't at home when they called. The last item, a photograph, takes my breath away. She is beautiful. Is it Emily?

She rings me up to make sure I have not forgotten the Library van. When I get there I find out from veteran mobile man of 33 years standing, that they stopped visiting the estate, last year because someone told them not to bother now that all the workers were Polish. I think they could have added a few Polish books. He just shrugged.

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Emily?

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Freeda's wheels (pink bike) are good to go and she gets wheeled out of hibernation. The sun is shinning and we are off. 10 yards from the house the thighs start to moan.

Intending to turn around at the bridge I come across a horse box unloading 2 horses and their riders. Curiosity spurs me on. I stop by the stables to watch a horse charge around his confined space in a temper yelling. Why I wonder doesn't he jump the fence? He surely could. Then I spot 2 specks at the bottom of a drag of a hill and realize the horses have been shipped in to exercise on the gallops.

Acts of kindness have a ripple effect. Because J knocked on my door weeks after Andrews death and offered me the loan of a bike. Freeda entered my life. Cheaper and better than any therapist, she has been used in my darkest hours. Man about the house was encouraged into limited exercise. She is a bonus on our camper-van excursions. And in a round about way whippet would never have become part of the family if I hadn't been bawling my eyes out on her. And all because of a knock at the door. Bless you J.

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Birth of the bicycle.

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Mixed feeling joy and embarrassment. Not another day off because of the weather. We are the 1st school in Oxfordshire to make a decision.

The mirror reflects lips that match the scarf and throw. Brr, I know that I will appreciate the click of the central heating when whippet and I return from our ramble.

He plods up the track though the snow. There is the outline of shoes with long square toes in his bag. I throw out a comment as is my want. (Well it's rude to ignore someone when you pass with a foot and your the only 2 people about). He answers me with a smile, and mutters something that I take to be in Polish. Thats 2 spotted this week.

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Turn off the T.V. Don't read the newspapers. Its full of what went wrong yesterday.

Betty Willaim 1976

Now of course we get it news the millisecond it's happened.