The Scribblings of Hegglehog

a) Writing what will probably be truely dire, awful, Mercedes Lackey fanfic would be bad, right?

b) I will never be able to get the drawings in my head onto paper. All those years learning art were odviously a waste of time.

c) I really wish my neighbours would shut the hell up. Seriously, boxing matches on till 1am...NOT ON.

d) I will never be able to learn the fiddle; by the time I get it tuned, I'm exhausted.

"When the first baby laughed for the first time, his laugh broke into a million pieces, and they all went skipping about. That was the beginning of fairies."

Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens by J.M. Barrie.

I finished the birthday mittens last night, while dealing with this goddamn lurgy, and today I start to knit a fairy for Fella's sister's birthday. In between I am coughing a lot, and cursing loudly when things aren't doing as they are supposed to.

Hanging onto sanity. STOP. Send Twizzlers. STOP.

I weighed in on the wii earlier and I have lost a couple more pounds. I'm getting close to 1/2 a stone down and have gone down a BMI number, and although it doesn't really show yet, I'm slowly getting there. I try to focus on how many pounds I've managed to lose, rather than focusing on how many to go.

So, to celebrate I have a small shot glass of Damson Gin; my home made birthday present from last September. The remaining Damsons are now soaking in some spiced cider to make Dumpy; in which you take the left over fruit from making Damson Gin, and apply scrumpy cider (if you can get it) to make Dumpy; though don't leave it for more than a few days or you could strip paint with it.

For now, I'm taking The Free Bards and my gin to bed to read and sleep and dream of music and deeds that mean something.

The damn stupid snow has turned to ice and I am now trapped inside by the ice on the road and pavements.

Luckily I have ginger ale to sup, banana chips to munch, netflix to watch, and a mitten to finish knitting. I hate knitting to deadlines, and the fact that I have another deadline knit to do after this one is slowly driving me mad. I want to knit the pretty things for ME, dammit!

The mittens are for my sisters birthday in a couple of weeks. They are fancy flippy top mittens with twisted rib cuffs in teal/emerald green knitpicks pallette. I love this yarn. Its has really nice stitch definition, and its pure wool, and I've finally found a UK stockist. They even carry the felici sockyarn which I adore after making my Dr Who cabled socks. I want to make Rainbow socks in it next! Maybe next time I get some money I'll treat myself!

Today has so far involved; the neighbours yelling at each other - probably when they had recovered from thier midnight row - their baby crying. Its also involved yet more paperwork done via phone, in order for me to get the help I desperatly need around here - which has finally been agreed and paperwork is going through, and its moving forward, even if it is at a glacial pace; and now its there is freezing rain out side, which is making the ice even more dangerous. My chair would have no traction at all, if I could even heave the damn thing outside.

Now there is a house alarm going off. Dammit. I would very much like a house in the middle of nowhere with a decent internet connection and a pretty view. Moi? Grumpy?

Cwtch is a Welsh word for an affectionate hug; what I would term, a snuggle. When you curl up with someone who you care about and who makes you feel safe, when the world outside makes you want to hide away and never come out again. Another meaning - although there is no way to make a literal translation into English -  is close to a safe space/place.

I've been needing, and unconciously searching for, a safe space for a long time. I've found a way towards it, finding likeminded people here on the internet; the web having offered me a means to communicate, away from my health problems and my almost hermit like existance - although its my pain and energy levels that have lead me to that life, not any religious fervour.

There is a really nice definition of cwtch over at the Urban Dictionary, which describes cwtch as
"Snuggling and cuddling and loving and protecting and safeguarding and claiming, all rolled into one. There is an element of intimacy, earnestness and ownership in this Welsh word (recently adopted into the OED) that the closest English equivalents, "cuddle", "snuggle" and "hug" lack."

It ignites a need in me for a place to feel comfortable, with friends and loved ones, in the warmth of their company, away from the vagaries of everyday life. To just be, and to just be myself.

This whole post started as an exercise in Etymology. My mum first told me the word, when she came across it in a game of scrabble. She thought I would enjoy it, so she told me about it. Its been at the back of my mind ever since, and earlier today, I thought I would do some more research on it.

And I've come to this conclusion; One day, in the distant future, when the economic crisis has worked itself out, and they have found a cure for the ills that plague me, and I have a home of my own, then I'll create myself a physical safe space that makes me feel like I'm in the midst of a cwtch.

And in the mean time, I'm gonna work at trying to keep that cwtch feeling in my heart and mind.