I give thanks

It is time to introduce you to my Fella. His name is Terry, and we have been together for about 25 years.

I am introducing him now because our lives are so twined together it is impossible to write about my current life without details about him too.

When I started blogging I considered Terry’s privacy. I am sure we have all made decisions about how much information to give out about our loved ones. After all, they are not the ones that signed up for this blogging adventure. So Terry, as the Fella, stayed in the background.

The other consideration for keeping him more anonymous was that this was my space, where I could blather on about whatever took my fancy.

However, as I mentioned in the last post, Terry is very unwell. The decline really hit in 2019, and since then there has been one incident after another ~ 10 hospital visits for various reasons over those 3 years. In that time my life has shifted to being a carer. It’s not the life I want, but do willingly, and mostly with patience and love.

I will write more posts about what’s been happening, but for this time I want to give thanks for the amazing care that Terry has been given from our hospital system.

We hear so much about our medical system being at breaking point. For those of you who don’t know, the funding model in Australia, Medicare, covers all of the cost of public hospital services. It also covers some or all of the costs of other health services, like GPs and medical specialists. The funding is provided by Federal and State budgets.

What this has meant for Terry and me is that he has been able to access world class health care largely without cost.

So the system is under great strain, but there was no evidence of this in the care he has been given.

In November he was admitted to the Royal Melbourne Hospital (RMH). Before this we had struggled at home ~ Terry struggled with lack of energy, difficulty breathing, poor appetite, increased confusion; I struggled with a lack of diagnosis (nothing was showing up on anything the GP could test), and caring in a situation in which I was floundering. It was really hard.

For two weeks Terry was at the main RMH campus in Parkville, where they diagnosed chronic heart failure. His heart is only working at 20% efficiency. No wonder he feels breathless and tired.

Then he transferred to rehab at the Royal Park campus. Two weeks in the main part and then transferred again to a secure ward. You see, Terry also has vascular dementia, and suffers from hospital delirium. This last ward was the right place for him. He had his own room with a large window that looked out onto a garden. The day light would stream in, important for dementia sufferers. There were only seven patients, so way less noise and action than in usual wards. The staff were well trained and experienced with dealing with people with cognitive issues. And it was very secure. You can imagine how reassuring I found all that. I give thanks that he was able to access this ward.

However, in each ward every nurse, doctor and allied health staff was patient and caring. I really appreciated that they treated Terry with dignity and understood the cognitive stress he was under while in their care. There was never a sense of the pressure they must be under, being short staffed. There was never a sense that Terry’s bed was needed for another. And for that care I give many thanks.

Just before Christmas Terry was able to come home. And the support has continued. He was able to get a place in the RMH@home programme. This has been a game changer. It has given us a safety net. Technically Terry was still a patient of the RMH, so services were still available to him.

Each day either a nurse or an allied health practitioner ~ physiotherapist, occupational therapist, dietician, podiatrist ~ has visited. One day we had three come, and a phone call from the doctor, as well as a visit from the nurse on Christmas Day. There is 24 hour phone number.

The help has been practical things. The OT suggested moving the bed over to make room for the walker. (How obvious, but I hadn’t thought of it.) I mentioned that getting in and out of the car was a struggle, so she gave us tips while supervising Terry. The physio set up an exercise programme and has come to help him go through a few sessions. The nurse takes blood pressure etc, and checks in to see how we are travelling. The podiatrist changes the dressings on his feet. I have done that often in the past, but I am grateful that it is one less task at the moment.

The main help has been the reassurance, that someone is there. As I mentioned earlier, before Terry went into hospital I was struggling. This time I understand what his needs are and how I can help. It’s not always easy, and things change from day to day, maybe even hour by hour. However I am getting more sleep, and I know that there are options if I need to reach out.

And for that I give thanks to the wonderful people who are supporting me. I have been told that places on this programme are as rare as hen’s teeth, and only through the RMH, not other major hospitals in Melbourne. I firmly believe that it should be funded more widely and available for all. So I give thanks that we have been some of the lucky few who have been able to access this programme and have the right care, for both of us, at the right time.

You may wonder what happens when the RMH@home ends. Well, it is designed to be short term, a week to 10 days. Terry will be discharged today, but then move onto another wonderful programme run out of the hospital, the Transition Care Programme, before finally accessing his My Aged Care funding. So the support and the safety net continues to surround us. And again, for that I give thanks…..and breathe a huge sigh of relief.

I also want to give a brief mention to my wonderful friends and family, who are also great supports to me and Terry. Brief, because I want to write more about them at another time.

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I respectfully acknowledge the traditional custodians of this land on which I live – the Wurundjeri Woi-wurrung People of the Kulin Nation, their spirits, ancestors, elders and community members past and present. The land always was, and always will be, Aboriginal land.

The Queen and I

It may surprise you to know that I have spoken to the Queen.

In 1970 I became a Queen’s Guide. I worked hard to get that badge, the pinnacle of Guiding. I had to pass tests to get various badges, including cooking a 3 course meal for a family other than my own and taking my patrol of 6 girls camping for a weekend with only minimal adult supervision. I was 17!

I was presented with the badge in front of my Guiding friends and family.

Then later went to Victorian Government House and was presented with a certificate by the Governor, Rohan Delacombe.

The Queen visited Melbourne in 1970, and, as a Queen’s Guide, I was selected to be an Official Door Opener.

From memory there were about half a dozen of us, both Queen’s Guides and Scouts. For a couple of weeks before the tour we were taken by taxi to the government car park in Dudley St to have training in “how to open a door for a Royal Person”. Step, step, open, salute, keep saluting, step, close.

We were taught about the protocols of interacting with the Queen. Only speak if spoken to, then using ‘Your Majesty’, then Ma’am if the conversation continues. Well, I think that’s what I was taught.

In the front garden, before I left for my big day. I look rather excited; I must have been very nervous too. That’s my Queen’s Guide badge on my left arm.

My big day came when the Queen and Prince Phillip went to the Albert Park Sports Centre.

I was doing my best door opening and saluting when the Queen stopped and spoke to me:

“Are you a Queen’s Guide?”

“Yes your Majesty.” (Well, I hope I said that correctly.)

Then off she went.

To be honest that’s all I remember about the day. I suppose I was nervous and excited. Looking back on it it seems rather surreal.

One strong emotion I do remember was at Monday morning assembly when the head mistress called me out in front of the whole school to recognise my achievement. I was mortified! Not only didn’t I want to face all those people, I was outed as a Guide. That was a very uncool thing to be, and I tended to keep quiet about it. Again, looking back, there were probably lots of girls (it was an all girls school) who thought it was a pretty good thing to have done.

Maybe my republican values began here. I know I was amazed at the expense and organisation that went into just my little part of the event. I was also developing a social justice and knew that the money could have been used in so many other ways. Now I have a much better understanding that having an English monarch as our head of state is quite ridiculous. And that our Parliament is shutting down for 10 days is even more ridiculous.

Queen Elizabeth’s death leaves very large shoes for Charles to fill, and our world will be very different.

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I respectfully acknowledge the traditional custodians of this land on which I live – the Wurundjeri Woi-wurrung People of the Kulin Nation, their spirits, ancestors, elders and community members past and present. The land always was, and always will be Aboriginal land.

A tiny adventure in Brunswick

I have Jill to thank for my tiny adventure today.

Jill blogs at Filosopha’s Word. She primarily writes thought provoking pieces about the state of the United States, with regular music and ‘good people’ posts. Every Saturday she has a surprise.

A couple of weeks ago I left a comment on her Saturday Surprise post. I can’t remember what she wrote about (sorry) but my comment was about the painted grain silos in Victoria that have become a tourist trail. That prompted Jill to devote a whole Saturday Surprise to them.

As I scrolled down my attention was grabbed by a stunning art work of Jacinda Ardern hugging a woman, from a photo taken just after the Christchurch massacre. The silo was in Brunswick, a trendy inner suburb of Melbourne, not far from me.

Caring for the Fella takes time, and so I am learning to find the pockets of time that I can use, like this afternoon. After going to a friend’s exhibition I went to find the silo.

I had the street and, as it was a tall structure, I could see it…but couldn’t quite find where it sat in the street.

This photo sums up Brunswick….the old grain silo is a nod to its industrial past, the sign for an electric bike factory is a nod to its present and future and the graffiti a nod to its grungy, edgy dishevelment.

So I wound my way around. On the way I went under the new rail overpass, built to remove a level crossing in Moreland Road. After a short walk along the railway line I had a good view of the magnificent art work by Loretta Lizzio. What a powerful moment of human dignity to capture.

It was lovely to be out and about in the Spring sunshine. And a thank you to my American friend Jill for pointing me to something on my own doorstep.

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I respectfully acknowledge the traditional custodians of this land on which I live and on which this silo sits– the Wurundjeri Woi-wurrung People of the Kulin Nation, their spirits, ancestors, elders and community members past and present. The land always was, and always will be Aboriginal land.

A couple of odds and ends to get me back into the swing of blogging again

It seems to have been a while since I have blogged regularly…and I have missed it. So I am trying to get back into the routine.

Last thing I wrote about was my ‘quilt’. I finished it and was happy with the result.

One of the things that really pleased me was learning how to work my way through the problems that arose. Instead of pushing through I let the solution come when t was ready. Allied to that was enjoying the process without wondering/worrying about what the product was going to be. This blog post will tell you more about my thinking in creating this work.

As it turned out, it was destined to be a wall hanging, quilt-type thing. I even added little triangles to fit a rod for hanging. I didn’t add any wadding, which I thought would make it too thick. I like the thin softness.

Over the last month I have been working on another piece, which is much more complex in stitching as well as the concept behind it. I am going to write about it in my newsletter, which I hope to send in the next few days. If you are interested in finding out more about this work, you can sign up here. In the meantime, a hint at what it looks like……

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As well as getting back to a blogging routine, I am trying to clear out those pockets of mess. You know, the things that lurk in cupboards, lie on shelves, hide on bookcases, that stuff that has overstayed its welcome.

So now is the time to make a start. And I have found a great motivating method, thanks to Mary Margaret, who blogs at the Professional Domestic. This is how she describes her method

“A deck of playing cards is 52 cards but with the jokers the deck totals 54. Each week I will draw a card from the deck and whatever the value of the card is, that will be the amount of stuff I get rid of for the week. Cards 2 through 10 will be face value but Jacks are 25, Queens are 50, Kings are 75 and Aces are 100. The Jokers? Well they are 500!“

I love this idea, and have already drawn a queen and a jack. Fortunately I have enough piles of paper to help me me meet the target of 75 things! As Mary Margaret says, the things don’t need to be physical items, but can be photos on the phone or emails that have built up ~ anything that creates clutter and makes us feel slightly overwhelmed when we think about it.

So thanks Mary Margaret ~ and I am impressed by how disciplined you are being!

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And my last odd (or is it an end?) is a shout out for another blogger. Many of us are familiar with The Snail of Happiness, and familiar with her dedication to sustainability. If you don’t know her, have a wander though her blog The Snail of Happiness, full of growing things, mending things and making things.

The reason I mention her now is that she has just opened her shop!! 🥳🎊🎉 She is selling mending supplies and pre-loved craft materials, tools and equipment, as well running courses on making and mending in the Have-a-bashery.

It is in Lampeter, 10 College Street,Wales. Unfortunately not just down the street from me, and quite possibly not from you either. I don’t know if she is doing mail orders, but I am sure if you contact her you will be able to work something out.

And to give you an idea of what is in the shop, have a look at her Facebook page

It’s a fantastic idea and I wish her all the best.

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I respectfully acknowledge the traditional custodians of this land on which I live – the Wurundjeri Woi-wurrung People of the Kulin Nation, their spirits, ancestors, elders and community members past and present. Their land was never ceded ~ Always was, always will be Aboriginal land.

My street

I was going to write about the garden. However, last night I researched people who had lived in my street. I was intrigued by some of the stories, and I thought you might be too.

This interest has come about from my home being, in an artistic sense, my place. I know some of its history, but wanted to find out more about the people who lived here. I didn’t find any thing about them, but I have a better sense of the unofficial history of the street.

I used the excellent resource Trove, a site with indexed, digitalised, Australian newspapers, maps, images etc. It is indeed a treasure trove!

I typed my street name and suburb into the search engine. The search was not precise, as it included mentions of the suburb and often the abbreviation st, so I had to winnow out the relevant articles.

Articles were from the first half of the twentieth century, and as was the way, usually included a house number with the street name. Now I have a list of at least a quarter of the occupants who lived the street from 1913 to 1968. Some of the information came from death notices and obituaries (“A quiet gloom was cast over Ascot Vale Parish when it became known that Thomas Loughnan….”), one from a notice of a 50th wedding anniversary.

Others came from citizenship notifications, which showed how migrants moved into the suburb in the 1960’s. My next-door-neighbours were there.

I picked out these stories for you. Some of them were rather gruesome, but I suppose that is the way with newspaper articles ~ the more sensational the better.

• 1917: Mrs Norrish won 7th prize in the Sisters of Mercy raffle. No mention of what the prize was, but you do wonder.
• 1918: WG Werry was noted for his results in a hen competition
• 1918: Miss Emmins ran a first aid class as she was a bandaging instructor.
• 1922 William Morley was fined 5/- for smoking in a non-smoking train compartment, costs were 7/6. That seemed rather out of whack.
• 1915: John McIver, a fireman, presumably on the trains, had his foot cut off by a train in a workplace accident. Imagine the ongoing trauma this would have caused.
• There is no date for this one, but it must be early. “‘Joy rider’ jolted from jinker”. James Dillon, who lived elsewhere, stole a pony and jinker from the Ascot Vale Hotel. He drove it in circles in my street until the wheel hit a curb and he was jolted out.
• And on horses….in 1934 one crashed into a tree, completely wrecking the cart. The horse bolted through several streets “with the shattered shafts trailing on the ground”. The horse was found a mile away, uninjured, grazing in a paddock.
• 1967 Mrs V. Obese (how real is that name?!) was mentioned in a women’s magazine for her great tip on how to dry a tea cosy. You drape the damp cosy over the warm teapot and it dries in shape.
• 1951 Patrick Heard, who lived in my street was admitted to hospital with shot-gun pellets in his left leg.

My favourite concerned Charles Allsop, who lived in my street. It was a story that went over a few articles. Allsop, a bookmaker, sued a farmer in Thorpedale for damages to his reputation. The farmer believed Allsop had short-changed him over a bet he, and called him “a robber, a thief and a welsher” at a few race meetings. The defence argued that as Allsop had been a drinking partner of Squizzy Taylor, a notorious criminal, and had been disbarred, he had no reputation to loose! Unfortunately that argument didn’t fly, as Allsop was awarded 80 pounds compensation.

I wonder what noteworthy events are happening in our street now. What will someone find in another 50 years? With the demise of suburban newspapers, probably not the same wonderful tit bits.

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Of course, all of this happened on land on which First Nations People had lived for many thousands of years. I respectfully acknowledge the traditional custodians of this land on which I live – the Wurundjeri Woi-wurrung People of the Kulin Nation, their spirits, ancestors, elders and community members past and present. Their land was never ceded ~ Always was, always will be Aboriginal land.

SAL ~ last one for 2021

You were all correct….my embroidered yoke needed time to talk to me, to tell me what was to come next.

I added more pistol stitches to each flower (although I think they may also be fireworks!); they gave the flowers/fireworks more oomph. Then it needed a line of stem stitch weaving its way. One line become a couple close to each other.

Once I had finished that I realised that the fancy, feathery yarn that was a feature of the front pockets would now work, as there is enough stitching to carry it.

My pattern was slightly out, as I found when I sewed the patch onto the yoke of the jacket….but not enough to worry me. If you look closely in the photo below you can see that the right shoulder doesn’t quite come to the sleeve.

And from the front

I am really happy with the jacket. It was the perfect weight to wear today, when the weather was cool enough to need an extra layer, but not something too heavy. It was fun to wear, and even the Fella said it looked okay. That’s high praise from him!

Thanks to the Fella for the photographs. He is improving, as he didn’t cut my head off in either of these!

This stitch-a-long is for our own personal sewing, so all the women on the list are creating wonderful things. Follow the links to see what they are up to. I am sure you will be amazed.

Avis, Claire, Gun, Constanze, Christina, Kathy, Margaret, Cindy, Heidi, Jackie, Sunny, Megan, Deborah, Renee, Carmela, Sharon, Daisy, Anne, AJ, Cathie, Linda, Helen

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Update on my possum problem

Neither the possums nor I have got the upper hand yet. I have doubled the number of strings to train the shoots up. A couple of shoots have reached the wires of the pergola, only to be eaten when they get to the top, but there are more inching their way up. I am optimistic, and determined, that I will succeed! However, to be sure I am still wrapping up the delicate little shoots at night. It keeps me amused!

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I respectfully acknowledge the traditional custodians of this land on which I live and garden – the Wurundjeri Woi-wurrung People of the Kulin Nation, their spirits, ancestors, elders and community members past and present. 

SAL

Last time I had finished embroidering patches on the pockets of my jacket and was eyeing off the yoke.

I have worn it a couple of times and it feels good to wear.

So, I decided to play with the yoke. The front ones seemed a bit too obvious, so I have begun the back. Another advantage of the back is that it didn’t have to be a close match of the pockets. However I wanted to keep some of the same elements.

The fabric is quite different — a mustard linen from a dress I recently made. The colours of the threads give it a different feel.

What is the same is the stitching. The outside border is coral knot stitch, then white chain stitch. The flowers are created with pistol stitch, which I think gives a funky feel.

Now I am a little stuck. It’s not finished, and needs more oomph, more wow. I tried the feathery yarn that worked so well on the front. It didn’t work on this 🤔. So I am letting it talk to me, to tell me what comes next. It doesn’t need to be rushed. I am sure there will be progress to show next SAL.

This stitch-a-long is for our own personal sewing, so all the women on the list are creating wonderful things. Follow the links to see what they are up to. I am sure you will be amazed.

Avis, Claire, Gun, Carole, Constanze, Christina, Kathy, Margaret, Cindy, Heidi, Jackie, Sunny, Megan, Deborah, Renee, Carmela, Sharon, Daisy, Anne, AJ, Laura, Cathie, Linda, Helen

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I respectfully acknowledge the traditional custodians of this land on which I live – the Wurundjeri Woi-wurrung People of the Kulin Nation, their spirits, ancestors, elders and community members past and present.

My wardrobe

My latest stitching for the Stitch-A-Long has been freeform patches for a useful but uninspiring jacket. In that post I mentioned that I have been thinking about my wardrobe.

Like all good thinking there are a few threads (that pun is for you, Kate!) that have come together. A couple have been inspired by the Soul Craft Festival. (I would highly recommend this to you for next year!)

Thread One

Last year the various speakers and the warm and thoughtful Felicia herself encouraged me to think about what happens to our clothing after we have finished with it. I don’t have a lot of clothes to move on, but when I do move them on the op-shop is my choice. I realised that what I was really doing was shifting my responsibility for the garment to the op-shop. I felt good that I hadn’t sent it to landfill, forgetting disregarding that someone else had to make that decision.

So I decided to be more conscious about what I bought and made.

For example, I wanted to knit over this last Winter. Normally I make quick decisions without considering where a garment will fit into my wardrobe. This time I spent time considering patterns and wool to make the sort of jumper I wanted.

Unfortunately, when I finished knitting I realised that it was too small. Not unbearably so, but enough to make me overlook it when I was considering jumpers to wear. So out it all came and I knitted it up again a couple of sizes larger, only to realise that it was slightly too short in the body and arms. Same problem….I would overlook it and the time, materials and energy would be wasted. So, I undid the rib of the body and sleeves and knitted it longer. (It was a pattern that you knit from the shoulders down, so I could easy unravel it.) Now I enjoy wearing it. And each time I do I think about taking the time and making those conscious decisions to get it right so that I would enjoy wearing it, and have it for quite a few years to come.

Thread two

This is along the same lines of making conscious decisions….the ideas around wearing clothing that have positive values in them, and values that fit in with my own. Are they made from more sustainable fabrics? When buying this garment/pattern/fabric/yarn am I supporting an indie maker or local shop? Can I get a sense of the environmental and social impact of this garment?

I realise that there will always be some social or environmental impacts. And I am honest enough to know that I am only going to put in a small amount of research into those impacts, instead relying on the integrity of those I buy from. My aim is to be as thoughtful, considered and mindful as I can.

Thread three

For a while I have been wanting my clothes to be more interesting. I am so tired of reaching for jeans and jumpers and jackets.

So….

After listening to some wonderful women* speak at the Soul Craft Festival I was inspired to really think about my wardrobe. I even made notes and drew sketches of the garments that I enjoy wearing! I came up with some ideas:

• I love, and need, my clothes to be comfortable. The tops I enjoy wearing pull over my head ~ no zips, buttons, belts. I like them to drape and hang, and to have pockets where possible.
• I love layers, and scarves. This is great, because I don’t like being cold!
• I want to get into the habit of really considering new clothes. Do I need it? Does it fit in with other things I have? What will happen to it at the end of its life with me? How was it made? Where have I bought it? Would I get pleasure if I made something like this rather than buying off the rack?
• I want my clothes to be interesting. This might be handmade (like the patches on my jacket pockets) or a quirky brooch or a different combination of clothes.
• I want to severely limit the clothes I buy from mainstream shops.

This is a very self-indulgent post, written mostly to get my thoughts in a coherent fashion. However I wonder if you have been thinking about your clothes? I would love to know what is important to you.

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* These are some of the women who spoke at the festival

Meg McElwee from Sewliberated She says that clothes should be treasures and heirlooms, that reflect who we are and the story we want to tell the world. I like that.

Leeyong Soo who blogs at Style Wilderness. She has some wild creations made from op-shop finds. After looking at her work I was inspired to create the patches for my jacket. Mine are nowhere near as flamboyant as her outfits.

Katrina Rodabaugh. You may already know her work, especially those menders among you. I have just finished reading her book Mending matters

And for more inspiration:

https://www.instagram.com/tumanualidades.de/ was suggested to me by Dawn, who, by the way, makes the most beautiful jewellery.

I hope those of you overseas can access this documentary from the ABC. Jenny Kee and Linda Jackson were icons of the Australian fashion industry, and their creations are inspirational.

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I respectfully acknowledge the traditional custodians of this land on which I live and sew – the Wurundjeri Woi-wurrung People of the Kulin Nation, their spirits, ancestors, elders and community members past and emerging.

Some Halloween joy ~ or we made it, Melbourne

I am not a fan of Halloween.

It is too centred around lollies and sweet things. And all those decorations that, at best, will end up in landfill.

But maybe I am a Halloween grinch because it is not my tradition! We didn’t have it when I was growing up, so I ignore it.

However I felt more fondly towards Halloween this year.

It was a beautiful evening in Melbourne, and we had just emerged, bleary eyed from six long lockdowns over the last 18 months. I went for a walk to the wetlands, a place I have walked almost daily over that time.

And it was alive with ghosts, witches, pirates, zombies, fairies and every other dressed up child. They were going to the houses that boarded the wetlands. There were picnickers, and adults walking with fairies on bikes and zombies on scooters. All around was the sound of children having fun.

These are the same kids that have missed out on parties, sleepovers, school camps, footy training, playing with friends in park, hugging grandparents. I could not begrudge them the joy they were finding in being together to get lollies.

I remembered how way back in March last year I was walking the same area, anxious about how the world would be, worried that we would descend into a dystopian future. Last Sunday I realised that this joyous event was a declaration ~ that we had made it through the lockdowns, that we had worked together (well, most of us!) to make sure the vulnerable were protected, that our sacrifices have given our stretched hospital system some chance.

It’s not over and care, masks and continued vaccinations are still needed, but it was so lovely to see all those kids being kids, the big grown-up kids too!

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Melbourne experienced extreme winds last Friday, bringing down trees and power lines. Some homes are still without power. My internet has been off for the last eight days, but came on this morning. Yay!

Now I can catch up with all those tasks that require the internet, including catching up with your blogs. Things are just not the same on the small phone screen.

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I respectfully acknowledge the traditional custodians of this land on which I live – the Wurundjeri Woi-wurrung People of the Kulin Nation, their spirits, ancestors, elders and community members past, present and emerging.

The Undead Mr Tenpenny

That’s the title of a very entertaining book by my bloggy friend, Tammie Painter. It is Book One in her Cassie Black trilogy. Part of the blurb on the back of the book says:

“Cassie Black works as a funeral home. She’s used to all manner of dead bodies. What she is not used to is them waking up. Which they seem to be doing on a disturbingly regular basis lately.

“Just when Cassie believes she has the problem under control, the recently-deceased Busby Tenpenny insists he’s been murdered and claims Cassie might be responsible thanks to a wicked brand of magic she has been exposed to.”

From there the story rollicks along with Cassie trying desperately to solve the murder, learn how to control her own untapped, unwanted magic and stop her boss’s funeral parlour from being shut down. Oh, and deal with a powerful, evil magician.

I was quite charmed by this book. While Cassie manages to annoy just about everyone in her new magical community, she is a quirky character, with a very distinctive voice. Tammie’s writing is light and witty, and there were parts that made me laugh out loud ~ not something I often do when I read.

Stylish book cover

Fortunately for me Tammie’s books are not limited to ebooks. I like to have the solid book in my hand as I read. I like the look of them, the feel, the heft, and especially that you can easily flick back and forth. So, I used the ISBN and asked my local bookshop to order it in for me. As easy as that…although an ebook would have been quicker.

I am looking forward to reading the second in the trilogy, “The Uncanny Raven Winston” which has just been released. I’ll order it through Benn’s Books too.

If you are interested (and I hope you are, because supporting independent talent is always important) you can purchase ebooks here, or use this ISBN to order your real copy 978 138 697 7674. Remember, that’s a great way to support independent book shops too. Check out Tammie’s website to look at her blog and find out some of her other books and short stories. (I enjoyed “Domna” as well.)