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I sit in my studio on my own.  Its covid 19 lockdown and I am having a blue day.

Last night when I returned from walking my dogs I found some painted stones on my outside window sill. These were painted by the local children. You find them dotted everywhere, window sills, fences and door steps. Most have rainbows painted on them. I found 3 stones, one painted silver, one red with tiny black dots and squiggles. My favourite is the bigger one painted grey and pink elephant. Underneath it states Standon and Puckeridge rocks Facebook page in very grown up handwriting. I gather these stones up and take them indoors, for some strange reason I feel a lump in my throat. When I enter the kitchen Simon looks at me with a worried look…… what the hell is wrong with you he says. I burst into tears. I struggle to find the right words, but manage to compose my self and explained what I had cupped in my hands. I think, he thinks I’m mad, but decades of partnership has taught him to be patient with me. You see for some reason these hand painted treasures fill me with hope. The passing weeks have been a mixed bag of bitter and sweet delights. I have loved having so much time to be creative, to fix, make do and mend. My garden has never looked to manicured. I have loved spending precious time with Simon, but miss my friends and family. We have been living in strange life changing times. I feel quite discombobulated for the rest of the evening.

Back to the studio. I’m still staring at my unfinished work. I have been struggling to motivate myself and lift my mood. The fraudster in the back of my mind questions my abilities and motivation. What will happen next. What will the new normal be. Will people and children return to The Old George to make pots. Well…. who can say. So I turn on my disco ball and turn up the radio. Then proceed to decorate some dishes with olive motifs. Then I realise I am surrounded by disco sparkles. I stand I pull a few disco shapes knowing no one is looking. Feeling the beat of radio 6, a club classic banger the DJ says! “Get you wiggle on!” He roars out from the radio. Then I catch sight of my self in the reflection in the double glass doors and I am wearing my rainbow striped socks, dusty Jean’s and a red apron covered splattered clay. I haven’t had a hair cut in nearly 8 weeks or a shave for at least a week. I look a right sight and I laugh like a hyena at my own crazy reflection. I might not know what happens next, but at least my mood has changed.