It is that time of year. The time when my bedroom starts to ressemble a theatrical costume department, the days suddenly start racing by far too quickly and The Day approaches with panic-inducing velocity.
Not that I am starting to panic, mind you… I’ve been doing that quietly for a while already… even though I know it to be unnecessary. It is more of a habit… and something I feel I should do, rather than anything I know I need to do. In fact, the energy wasted on panicking would be of far more use rummaging under the bed in the remnants of the house move, going through the still-packed costumes, robes and accoutrements to find the things we are going to need for this year’s annual workshop.
Which is in less than three weeks…
There are parcels winging their way from all over the place, converging on my doorstep. Words still appearing on pages and ideas being explored… the oven will soon demand my presence and I hope to goodness I don’t need to dig the sewing machine out again this year!
But… this is the best bit. When the majority of the work is in hand, the countdown has begun in earnest and the excitement begins to build.
Once again friends, old and yet-to-be-met, will soon be packing their bags and heading for Derbyshire from as far afield as Scotland, Europe and America… and while we have to make sure that all is ready and organised, it is they who will make the weekend workshop special by their presence and enthusiasm.
For us, there is the humbling knowledge of the enormous distances that are travelled by those coming to the workshop …a combined mileage far greater than the distance around the equator… every year. No pressure then.
So, if it is a little quiet around here for the next week or two… you’ll understand why! The Feathered Seer is flexing it wings and preparing to leave the nest…