For the last two hours, I have been sitting in the corner of a coffee shop in St. Andrews, buying and drinking tea, faffing around on my laptop, avoiding beginning to write.

Now that I am writing, I'll begin with the weather, appropriately English-ly:

not nice, and I'm not faring well, my feet sodden. Others, the rest of the St. Andrews' female population, in Kate Middleton jeans, flower-patterned wellington boots, macs and umbrellas, are better-prepared.

I've been avoiding writing this blog, because I do not know where to begin: so much to say, been so busy, hard to filter what matters, or did, my thoughts from events. So I've been traipsing around charity and second-hand bookshops (got some good-uns!), trying to let everything... fall.

Days have been busy, long, full. Evenings, respites (good conversation, lot to record, if I can) to prepare for next day. In the earliest days of spring, as snowdrops emerge from the ground, it's the busiest time of year for the estate, Thomas and Claire, the business(es) (all of them, all together). We are sending plants out, welcoming and serving visitors, and digging, sorting, packing, replanting, moving (snowdrops). Also pulling ivy, making bonfires, posting mail, collecting groceries (me!). Last weekend (we're recovering), a special activity-packed weekend including a photography workshop, a flower study day, and so on. Yiiiiikes.

So please excuse me, if it's all a little... muddled.