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I try to incorporate gratitude in my daily life and I am confident that the jolliness here at the bungalow is rooted in the practices that have become a daily pleasure. Gran never spoke much about gratitude. I don’t suppose the British people of her generation thought much about it, and when they did, seldom talkedContinue reading

As much as I love staying home at the Jolly Bungalow, I cherish my daily walk along the road. This summer, the combination of people working from home plus a major roadworks project in the center of town and a minor roadworks project at the other end of the road have conspired to keep trafficContinue reading “Roadside attractions”

My bungalow has a cosy little library. It’s nothing fancy, just a sofa and two chairs surrounded by shelves and shelves of books, photographs and art created by several artists I admire. The books are either older or rich with images. When it is just words, I accept the convenience of an e-book, yet I can’tContinue reading “Curled up with a good book”

Today’s wash day and I am feeling very jolly about it. Any joy that I find in doing the wash is totally mine. I have no inspirations to draw from my foremothers. Gran sent her washing out. That, and, having her groceries bread and milk delivered, were the luxuries that she enjoyed. Running the farmContinue reading “Wash day at the Bungalow”

Tea is the closest thing I have to a holy sacrament in the bungalow. It’s the (hot) water of life, the thing that gets me out of my nice warm bed on a chilly morning, and the elixir that chases the fog from my brain so that I can sit down to write a coherentContinue reading “Twice steeped”