On looking forward to Autumn.

For a while now Autumn has been in the back of my mind, looming like the sore patch before a spot comes and I haven't been looking forward to it. I've been watching the edges of the leaves brown, nothing seems to be alive in our garden anymore. This is an exaggeration because we've got slugs coming out of our ears and they must be eating something, but the garden feels a bit over somehow. The sunflowers have died and even though we haven't harvested the potatoes and the carrots and the courgettes, the plants they are attached to are nearly finished. My Dad used to say he disliked August because everything was grey instead of green, used up and losing it's beauty and I feel a bit like that.

But now I've got my camera things feel different. I can't wait for the leaves to turn, for the berries to ripen. For the clear crisp mornings that only Autumn brings. It is a lovely time to visually document and I am excited about having the opportunity to do it so thank you Life for giving me this camera, I look forward to doing you justice in using it.

On wishing my Dad was in the camera shop with me.

I nearly lost it in the camershop when I went to buy my camera. You know when the tears suddenly rush itnto your eyes and you get a huge sob in your throat and you can't quite hold it in, so you end up making a horrible nggggh sound, well that happened. And I really felt overwhelmed with the choices and I wanted to wail, "I wish my Dad was here, he'd have known which one to buy, he would have helped meeeee".

But then I managed to pull myself together and act like the adult woman I am instead of whinging and snivelling about something that wasn't going to change.

So now I have a beautiful camera.

I am a little bit afraid of it.

My sister took a lovely picture of me on it.

TLB took a lovely picture of my sister on it.

I just keep looking at it and feeling a bit sick about the amount of money it cost, because the macro lens was about 300 quid and that's without the camera body. But I need it! It now means I can take photos of the jewellery we make and not pay anyone else extortionate amounts of cash to do it for us.

If I can ever figure it out.

The Hedgehog.

Twenty days ago.

The lovely boy and I are out cycling and we find a baby hedgehog right in the middle of the cycle path, in the middle of the day in the boiling hot sun. He isn't moving much and doesn't look very well and he has little white fly eggs all around his eye and his ear. We look at him for a bit and some people walk past and look at him too and then carry on. I ask one of them if they have a box or a bag, but they react like I am a crazy woman. We stand there for a bit and I say, "Well, we can't leave him here" so TLB takes his T-shirt off and I wrap the hedgehog up in it so he doesn't prickle me. Then we cycle to the park, me holding onto the handlebars one-handed, because I am carrying the hedgehog aloft in the other.

"Precious cargo", TLB says.

We go to the park and we find a park ranger. I show him the hedgehog and he tells me to take him home and give him some water.
"I'm a member of the British Hedgehog Protection Society", I say. I'm not sure why.
"He's in good hands then" he says.

So we take him home and TBM has a look at him and sprays him with water and the hedgehog seems to like that, and then I have a look online and find out that it is quite likely the hedgehog has lungworm. I ring the vet and explain what has happened and they think we should bring him in, so we put him in a box and get in the car. All the way there TLB holds the box sending the hedgehog all the energy he can.

"A very important job." he says.

The vet takes him in because they have a special wild animal fund which means they can care for him, and they give him saline and lungworm antibiotics. The first night we all cross our fingers and I ring in the morning. The nurse tells me that he'd had a good night. "But he's not out of the woods yet", she says, "he's very weak."

The next morning I ring again and she says he is really doing alright. "The lungworm medicine takes nineteen days to work" she says, "ring back then and you can release him into your garden, or back where you found him."

Everyday TLB asks about the hedgehog and I tell him what they'd said. "He's doing well, he's having his medicine."

***

So then on the twentieth day, which is today I call back.

"I'm so sorry," the lady on the phone says. "Did they not ring? I did tell them to to ring you, but I only work part time."

She tells me he died, three days after the medicine started and that it was sudden and suprising and that they had thought that he was doing really well.

She tells me they were all very sad about it and I tell her that I am too.

****

Poor little hedgehog.

On standing by your own actions in body, mind and name.

Dear anonymous person,

I see your point, I do. You're right. I do feel guilty. I feel ashamed of myself and angry. I do not think I did a big or clever thing. I am not protesting 'too much', I am taking my punishment which includes the loss of my car and I have learned my lesson. The people I hit were not hurt, there were no 'crying children' and they had insurance which is covering their car. I was driving at 10mph at the top of my road, so very close to the allowable limit that the poplice wanted me to take a blood test as it might let me off. I refused that test. I owned up to drinking the minute I got out of the car and I am proud of that. The police said that the court was as lenient as they had ever seen, as much as they could be. I was not some 10 times over the limit drunk, caring nothing and driving at 80mph, I was driving away from a horrible arguement because I had nowhere else to go. These are my reasons, but they are not excuses. I know what I did was wrong and stupid and dangerous.

I will not do it again.


Now about you.

You are hiding under the tag of anonymous, making judgements about people without revealing your own hand. If you are someone I know then I wish I didn't; my true friends and my family have told me how they feel and it's not all good, I would not wish for a friend who could not say to my face what you have said here.

If you are someone I do not know, then who are you to judge? Have you never done wrong? Never made a mistake? Come and walk a mile in my shoes, I welcome you.

It's safe there in anonymous bliss, isn't it? Easy to sit and judge, hiding behind the letters, no-one to look you in the face.

But if I were you, sitting there, typing unkind words to a person whilst keeping my identity secret, I would be feeling distinctly uncomfortable about myself. I have not hidden from what I did. You however appear to hide constantly.