arseways round
The portrait of Mouri above I took while cat-sitting her and her father, Dugla, nicely sums up 2022.
It wasn’t a bad year as such.
It was just a bit befuddling, stressful and a constant balancing act.
I experienced worse and more frequent panic attacks earlier in the year due to health issues. I’m hoping the trigger has just turned out to be a new food intolerance (the jury’s still out). But I became near-agoraphobic for a period.
In addition, I got a bite guard and discovered I was both vitamin D deficient and B12 anaemic again 15 years later.
With some time, stern self-talk, medical tests and procedures, I seem to have brought the psychological impact of the potential food intolerance under control. But I need to confirm my suspicions before things return to “normal” (though, even then, the likely culprit is so widespread that “normal” is definitely subjective).
My year started well with temporary work beginning in mid-January. It allowed me to get back on my feet financially after a couple of years of sporadic work and the lingering psychological impact from previous jobs.
And the job offer came despite my being open about my experience photographing roadkill. I shared that in the context of the organisation focussing on haematology as I would potentially have to interact with graphic and disturbing imagery.
Almost a year on, my managers and co-workers are some of the best people I’ve worked with.
They’re inclusive. They understand work-life balance. There’s zero bullying and no alpha male egos to contend with. Bliss.
At this stage, I expect to continue to work with them for a few more months at least, but we’ll see what lies ahead.
Despite the positive start to 2022, the year was bookended by death. And there was also the loss of a beautiful kitteh I stayed with in October.
Anthony left us unexpectedly in January, and a friend’s mother passed in November. So I attended my second-ever virtual funeral toward the beginning and my first-ever in-person funeral toward the end of the year.
Though the degree to which I knew each was quite different, both were meaningful losses.
On the positive side, this year I:
Had my hair cut and coloured for the first time since early October 2019.
Attended my first live gig since the pandemic started.
Visited four art exhibitions.
Read a book cover-to-cover in one evening (okay, technically, it was a short story, but it’s the most I’ve read in book form since 2021…)
Resumed my language studies (late in the year, this is recent).
Continued my letter-writing (albeit just one this year…)
Took some new self-portraits.
Continued to share curated series from my sepulchre work and travel photographs, and I swapped fungi for flowers.
Created the odd digital collage.
Dabbled in AI art.
Engaged with at least 40 people on dating apps (though at least five turned out to be douches) and went on dates with 10 of those I chatted with (who were mostly not those who turned out to be douches).
This year, I found something of a second home in Bromley, cat-sitting Lily, Sammy and Poppy most months of the year.
The current Primark was originally Medhursts department store, where David Bowie used to buy vinyl. And I popped by to look at a couple of the houses he lived in as a lad.
Earlier in the year, while cat-sitting, I revisited the Imperial Arms in Chislehurst and wandered through
Elmstead Wood and
I didn’t travel as far afield as I’d hoped, but I did manage to venture out of London to visit
Leeds Castle and
in Cotton End, just outside of Bedford, and an overnight stay in Bedford a few months later.
And days out in London included revisiting
Regent’s Park with my new co-workers and visiting
the Sky Garden for the first time with friends old and new.
It was a quiet year on the cemetery front.
I revisited Abney Park Cemetery on a first date.
I visited Grove Park Cemetery for the first time.
And dropped in to see William Blake and John Bunyan in Bunhill Fields for the third time.
Stopping to chit-chat with the resident squirrels.
Sitting Lottie (and her loss) led to a renewed friendship with Sarah and a wander along the New River (not new, not a river) from Hornsey to Bowes Park.
Hopefully, in 2023, we’ll continue that walk north from Bowes Park.
It was an absolute pleasure sitting with Lottie earlier this year despite her being poorly.
I love this portrait I took of her because it’s so uncharacteristic of such a sweet-natured kitteh. Obviously, she was yawning - not threatening to decapitate me - at the time. Though it may seem otherwise.
Alongside my new friendship with Lottie and recurring stays with Lily, Sammy and Poppy, and Meg and Mog, I added
Mia (including her cat-sitting me with her cat-mother, Sophie, post-medical procedure),
Dugla,
Mouri and
Bentley to my close feline friends this year.
In 2022, I spent 63 nights with smooshable kittehs and visited kittehs locally 13 times.
I had 10 furry clients. Five of them were new clients.
I’m hoping my mojo will be fully restored in 2023. So I can enjoy kitteh-sits, doggo-sits, and photo walks further afield. And continue to hang out with my faves closer to home.
And on the creative side, I look forward to creating and sharing:
Themed chapbooks (including photographs, writing, collages, sketches, musical compositions and curated playlists).
Collaborations.
Possibly some AI art (but likely incorporated into other work).
More instalments of existing series, including my love letters to london.
New series I’m yet to discover.
I hope your 2022 went as smoothly as possible and that 2023 will bring you lots of good things. xx
until next year #136
until next year #137
a little christmas flare
the free gift of god is eternal life
an angel in tinseltown
a succulent christmas
berries and silver baubles
against her yellow i'm no longer me
Yellow baby, a yellow baby is a bad sign.
But I don't mind, I don't mind.
Ohhh, Forsythia.
Spider monkey, a spider monkey is a good lie.
But I don't know why.
Ohhh, Forsythia, oh-ohhh.
I don't mind sitting in the way, way back.
I don't mind, lying to my friends.
One thing about Forsythia,
She comes around and I get lost
Against her yellow, I'm no longer me.
Yellow daisy, a dandelion or a pussy willow,
It's a different thing.
Oh-oh, Forsythia. Forsythia. Forsythia.
One thing about Forsythia,
She comes around and I get lost
Against her yellow I'm no longer me.
One thing about Forsythia...
There's one thing about Forsythia...
Forsythia - Veruca Salt
the tears in our eyes
santa's pot
untitled #124
enwreathed
It's that time of year again.
I would usually have started sharing these on 1 December. But life has been stressful lately, with slow and calming kitteh punctuations which I've latched onto to take much-needed mental, emotional and physical breaks.
I'm incredibly behind on everything.
I hope to catch up this month, but apologies in advance if I fall behind again.