Did I really get this far into 2015 without a trip to the seaside? 

Goodness me. 

Ah well, there's plenty of the year left to make up for it. I started with a trip up to Scotland to meet a couple of friends, and a very jolly weekend it was too. 

I've been to Scotland many times, but mostly Orkney. There are so many beautiful places I've never explored. 

I do love a little fishing village. I love to see boats bobbing gentle on the waves, surrounded by all the fishing paraphernalia (see, I know all the right language). 

I've never been fishing, and I can't imagine ever wanting to, but being somewhere like this makes me think of smugglers and rum, dark nights and coastguards and watching from the cliffs for a shipwreck. 

Not particularly cheerful thoughts for such a beautiful place on a sunny April evening!

Of course our weekend wasn't all watery. There was also a fair bit of eating, and a lot of chicken envy. 

I do so very much love visiting friends. I love to see where people live, to imagine them at home, drinking tea, pottering about the kitchen. When people talk about what they're doing, I like to picture them in their house, it feels almost like I'm their with them. 

(You could argue I'm just nosey, I suppose...)

We've been visiting this weekend too, down in Bristol this time. Two birthday parties, and two (very) late nights in the space of three days have meant that I've spent most of my own birthday lounging around in bed eating Maltesers. 

Mind you, I can think of a lot worse ways to spend your birthday...

I love knitting. I can't remember a time when I didn't know how to knit, and to this day I couldn't tell you who taught me. It's like I was born knowing - although clearly I am indebted to some patient, unthanked family member for the skill. 

I'm not a fancy knitter, and I've not even knitted that many things in my life. A couple of pairs of socks, a cardigan, an owl, and several hives of tiny knitted bees. Maybe a robin or two, and a canoe for a friend's baby.

My latest project is that sock in the picture above, knitted entirely on trains. There's something about trains and sock knitting that go so deliciously well together. Maybe it's the small needles and the lack of elbow room, or the fact that they don't weigh much. 

I'm also rather fond of a bit of sewing, and so when I found this cheerful green cardigan in a junk shop at the weekend, I couldn't resist. 

I was very taken with the green, and the little holes (rather too many holes, it turned out...). There was a label, which I cut out - although a little investigation led me to this site, where I've learned a Margaret Howell cardigan can set you back at least £150. 

Needless to say, I did not pay £150 for this one. 

Fortunately, I do like a challenge, and I spent an hour eating tea and scones in the company of good friends, sewing up the worst of the holes. 

I can't say it's as good as new, but it's pretty, and it's cosy, and it's no longer in imminent danger of falling apart. And for a total cost of £2.50 plus 50p for embroidery thread in the charity shop, that's all you can ask. 

I like to think Margaret Howell would be pleased one of her creations had been rescued from a bargain bin in a small town by the sea, and restored in the company of friends. 

Ah, spring. It seemed so sudden this year, but here we are, all sunshine and flowers and tea in the garden. 

I'm thrilled. I need this warmth in my bones. 

Today we abandoned the house - the plastering, sorting, painting, tidying - and went for a walk in the woods.

The shadows of the trees criss crossed our way, and dogs ran here and there through the stream. We rescued a frog that sat in the middle of the path, and stopped for tea at a near a dam. 

We must have walked six miles, and with every step I felt energised, felt the sunshine and spring air filling my lungs, reviving me, giving me strength. 

When we got home, I took my shoes and socks off and sat in the garden, listening to the birds and reading a new book, Findings, by Kathleen Jamie. I've not read anything by her before, but I'm enjoying this book of essays, steeped in the natural world.

I was warm, outside, for the first time this year, and it felt good. 

I have lost my camera.

Again.

This is the camera I bought before Christmas to replace the last camera I lost (which later turned out to have been on the allotment for several months - I still don't know who found it and hung it on the gate).

The lost-on-the-allotment camera was bought to replace one I dropped in the sea, which was itself bought to replace one I, er, dropped in the sea.

So I don't exactly have a good track record with cameras.

I think my problem is that I use them. I buy small, pocket sized cameras and take them everywhere. I carry them round the house, take them into the garden, on day trips to the seaside, when I'm running, to cafes, pubs and farms. My camera is always in an accessible pocket, and never in a protective case. I take a lot of photographs, mostly of nothing in particular, and most of which I delete straight away.

So having lost my latest camera I feel rather bereft. Yes, I have a camera on my phone, and yes, on a sunny day in good light it can take an acceptable picture. But it's not easy to use, and I've barely taken any photographs at all for the last two weeks. And somehow not having any pictures makes me not want to write. 

It's funny, this business of documenting a life. I've done it for years now - on various forums and then my own blogs - and I do go through phases in how much I post. On forums I post irrelevant chit chat, natter about everyday nonsense and life events, and hardly think at all before posting. 

Here, however, and on my two previous blogs, I always stop and think first. I feel like I have to write something significant (although I rarely do), and that sometimes leads to me posting nothing at all. 

I always wanted to create an online space that was the kind of space I would want to visit myself. That might sound daft, but when I read other people's blogs, I look for a sense of being invited into their homes, their gardens, their lives, and I'm drawn to people I'd feel comfortable having a cup of tea with. I want people to feel like that when they peek into my little world too. 

I think I've come close to that at various times in the past, but I'm still feeling my way in this new space, and I don't quite feel comfortable here myself yet. 

I left my cheerful living adventure (just physically, not in spirit of course) because I fancied a change. I like to learn new things, and having had both blogger and wordpress blogs in the past, this time I've opted for weebly. There's more room here, and the blog editor is much easier to use - but still when I comment on other people's blogs I have to use my old name. I suppose this is a hazard of switching identity too often... Perhaps I should have read what they say about keeping a consistent online presence... 

Anyway, any guesses where my camera might be? The last time I saw it was in my dressing gown pocket - I'm sure I put it with my phone on the dresser in the bedroom to bring downstairs, but after that.... who knows? And of course things are so transient in this house at the minute that there's no hope of it still being where it was. 

So all suggestions are welcome, however wacky. I promise I'll check each and every place you suggest. 

There's a prize in it if you suggest somewhere that helps me find it...