"When are you going to finish writing about our holiday?"

The Other Half started asking over the weekend.


Yesterday seemed a fine day to do it. 


So I had a look at the pictures, all 1672 of them, taken over just 7 days. There were about 20 where you could actually see us humans. The rest were more or less evenly divided between clouds, sea and dog.


Sorting through them [and a couple hundred more that The Other Half had uploaded before going off to work] took over 5 hours, by which time I had a neck ache and was ready for an afternoon nap.


Well, never mind. There was always going to be today.


To give myself a kick up the butt inspire me, I thought I'd read some blogs this afternoon, which I hadn't done for a few days. 


Seriously guys. How do you manage to post so much and still have a life? Don't you have dinners to cook? Jobs to go to? Reality TV to catch up on? Don't you want to know who the next American Idol is going to be, for heaven's sake?


My Reading List won't stop popping up new posts and after 3 hours, I think I'm spent. 


So, sorry honey. I won't be writing about the holiday tonight. I know you think that's what I'm doing now, holed up in the study but really, I'm just writing my excuse.


I'll get to it. I promise. I'll even do it before you finish the water feature. How about that? 


Good night then.

A morning with Maurice.

There were 2 bits of disturbing news on the radio this morning. The labour government's newly announced budget, and the death of Maurice Sendak.


Only 1 of them had profound meaning for me.


I had well laid plans to unpack, clean and prune today. But the sand in my shoes might have to wait while I take a moment to remember Maurice.


I found his books at the bottom of the chest of drawers in our bedroom, where many of my favourite childhood books sleep. 

I was looking for this particular one.

In my teens, rather predictably dressed in peasant smocks and wraparound skirts from India, burning incense and homemade candles, long hair bound in a leather aboriginal headband, and wearing the scent of honeysuckle...


...this tiny book [and another 2 - The Little Prince and Jonathan Livingston Seagull] were constant companions in my search for the greater meaning of life [and why I couldn't see eye to eye with my parents]. 
[If you're having trouble reading the words, click on the pictures.]

I wish I could say I had more adult and serious literature as a guide to my life, but there you are.

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Here's an old copy of Where The Wild Things Are. 

It was given to me by Sister 1, probably in the early 70s. She was, at that time, a librarian and introduced me to many good books. [Not to mention, that glorious pot of honeysuckle perfume which even good money cannot buy these days].

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These pages, from Some Swell Pup, made me laugh because it uncannily describes the relationship between Georgia, the Cushion and me.

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It can be hard to let go of childishhood things. 

But then again, why would I want to?

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For Imogen, with love x

Update Thursday: Last night, in bed, snug in my blankie and with my headphones on, I listened to some excerpts of interviews that Terry Gross had with Maurice Sendak which Pamela kindly shared in her comment below.


It was almost half eleven by the time I was done and I was an emotional wreck. But it was worth the snot on my pillow to hear Sendak's crackly old voice [the first time for me] and his thoughts on many things, love, life and death. 


Grab a hot coffee, maybe some tissues, curl up in a nice chair, close your eyes, and enjoy. If you're a Sendak fan, I guarantee you won't regret the hour. [There's also a transcript, if that's easier for you.]


Thank you Pamela :) x


"I have nothing now but praise for my life. I'm not unhappy. I cry a lot because I miss people. They die and I can't stop them. They leave me and I love them more. ... What I dread is the isolation. ... There are so many beautiful things in the world which I will have to leave when I die, but I'm ready, I'm ready, I'm ready."

Maurice Sendak, from an interview with Terry Gross.

The end.

The sun had a hard time rising this morning.

This is getting boring Typist. Why isn't it doing anything?

Everyone wanted to have a snooze on the beach and paddle in the water today but instead, we're they're huddled in the house in our their uggies and sweats, sulking and playing online poker and Shanghai mahjong.



It's our last day at holidaycamp!

The Typist went to say goodbye to the sea this morning. After the super moon last night, the tide must have been very high because the sand was all wet.

She shot a video of the sea and beach. If you'd like to see it, please CLICK HERE. [Sorry. Blogger won't let us embed anything today. Again. What's new.]

Hint: Be patient, okay?

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Did you find it as funny as I did? Bwah haha!

That's it for our Stories from HolidayCamp! There won't be any tomorrow because we'll be on the road. But as soon as we get home  as soon as possible, The Typist will tell you all  about the rest of the stuff we did at holidaycamp including where we were!

Until then, thanKS  for being a part of my holiday. It was great to have your company! :) x

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P.S. The Typist tells me she'll need a holiday after this. What is her problem, you think?