[the start of a quilt]
I've moved into a new office. It's a temporary arrangement while we get my normal office sorted, painted, recarpeted (I must have done a lot of rolling around on my chair for it to be so threadbare) and generally suitable for the next phase of my working life. So I'm in Tom's room which is painted a very tasteful and very pale duck egg blue, and I can't quite get used to the lack of bright colour. I'm surrounded by rugby kit and dissertation notes done in Tom's teeny tiny handwriting and not a lot else, as he's a pretty ascetic type with very low material needs (except Nando's, coffee and a bike) and as he takes all his books out of the library, there aren't even any erudite volumes in here. He's just had some great news about his applications for postgraduate courses; he graduates this year and now has the choice of staying on where he is or moving to a different university - either way, it looks as though he's going to be writing a lot more notes in teeny tiny script for a few more years yet.
In the middle of changing rooms, I'm making a quilt with triangles of Charley Harper fabric. I don't know why I've decided to do this when I can barely find my sewing machine, but I guess I feel a little like a bird, hopping about from room to room. Plus it might be the power of suggestion as I can hear real birds singing outside, and the wonderful dusk chorus has started again in the evenings.