Dear Brooks

Here I am again, sitting at the kitchen table daydreaming. I look up out of the window at the grey sky and the bird-feeders swaying in the hawthorn tree, hoping to see a wren or a blue tit. Spread out in front of me is a range of intriguing objects that I’m sure I can make something with. You can imagine what they’re like! But, at the moment exactly what I’m going to make is eluding me.

It’s going to be strange sending things to others and not you. I find the whole process so intense that I imagine myself being in a state of emotional turmoil for months! I’ve already got a small pile of names, people waiting for letters – hopefully patiently! Each letter I make will be especially for that person, special, which puts a certain amount of pressure on and is probably why I’m still sitting here looking at the things on my table. And, of course, I still have to write back to you…

I can hear a black bird now, singing it’s heart out. So beautiful.

With love, B x