Pressure of Time

Made it across with water with a borrowed i-pad reaching Belfast in the sun.

It’s been a gorgeous day. Earlier I was looking out of the kitchen window at stripes of White cloud across a still blue sky. Being that little bit further north, the days are a bit longer, giving the illusion of more time.

Ah, time. That’s what it all boils down to. I found a message on my mobile from the hospital, and called back. It was to find out how we are doing with our looking at nursing homes. I mentioned one I’d found online and asked if she knew it.

Have you visited it? I was asked.

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Winding down after my mosaics class. Not as relaxing as usual as a deadline looms. We have an exhibition soon and my piece is not ready.

I’m going to have to find time and space at home to work on it. So, my blogs may soon be typed with  fingers bloodied  from  toiling with the tile nippers.

So forgive me in advance if I start  babbling about beads and buttons and fragments of china I’ve picked up from the foreshore, bus stop glass and found earrings and broken jewelry.

This rubbish is what my dreams are made from.