Well, I am another year older tomorrow, so it's probably time for some 'New Year Resolutions'.  But more of that later.
During a pretty challenging week gone by, I found lots of old photos which had been hidden away for years.  When Sam saw this one, his response was particularly cheering for someone approaching their birthday.  This is what he said.  'Is that really you?'  '  It must be, they are wearing your clothes'
and, best of all, 'I didn't realise how young you looked when Sarah was young'.

Good job my child was able to identify me in the end, and at least he didn't say 'And you look really old now'

So here we are in Northern Cyprus, Sarah and I.  Probably 13 years ago, when I looked young!

As I enjoy the last day of being 53, I have decided that I must have at least one full day a week ensconced in my shed, as productivity has fallen recently.  And, joy of joys, next week I am allowed to swim again!  Doing very little physical activity is definitely not good for the soul.
And also next week, I am allowed to work again, much to the relief of my ever increasing overdraft.
So I should be worn out at the end of next week, what with all the swimming, painting, working and decorating I am planning to do.  Will there be time to write a blog?

And, in order to clear the decks in readiness for my surge of creativity, I finished a knitted birthday present for a friend.  Started in May, and completed in October!  Now all I have to do is wrap it up and deliver it, hopefully before next May.

In between all the upheavals that happened last week, Mr Cooper and I enjoyed an unexpected oasis of pleasure, which encapsulated all the good bits about living in the English countryside.
We decided to walk to Chidham on Sunday, and then to call in at the 'Old house At Home' pub.
On our walk through the fields, we came across Chidham's annual ploughing competition, and spent a really enjoyable time watching numerous old tractors working away. (And numerous old drivers, too, with a sprinkling of young ones.)

The weather was perfect, the hot dogs smelled delicious, and there was the promise of a good pint in the air.

And even better, as we went to leave, we found two pairs of horses enjoying a short break, complete with that heavy horse saggy lower lip.

Here are two beautiful Clydsdales, Dolly and Belle enjoying the sunshine.

Of all the heavy breeds, that is my favourite.  I used to have a lovely Clydesdale cross, an extremely gentle and large strawberry roan, not surprisingly called Strawberry.

Then off to 'the Old House At Home.  http://www.theoldhouseathome.co.uk/
 It was just perfect to sit outside in the sunshine, drinking not only a perfect pint (Chidham bitter) but to have chosen the perfect pint out of a range of many.
It is not often I choose another pint over Timothy Taylors!

So we sat in the sun, drinking and chatting, and waving to various tractors as they chugged past us from the competition.  The second drink called for a bag of crisps, and even that was perfection!
A flavour I hadn't tried before, but will be enjoying again.

So Sunday continued to be an English pleasure.  Roast chicken, Countryfile, the 'Strictly' results and then Antiques Roadshow.  What could be better than that?  Particularly if you are 53!

And to end this blog, a picture of a wonderful sculpture.  George gave this to me the last time I worked in The Greyhound, and as it sat on top of the dishwasher during my long, hot shift it turned my steamy corner into a little shrine for the arts.  It might be Icarus, it might be a diver, but what it is, is wonderful.

It might have to return to work with me next week, to keep my mind focused on all the art that is to be created in my head and then in my shed.
But before returning to work, I am visiting The Greyhound on Thursdayfor dinner, and a night in their best bedroom. A birthday treat.  And what is even better, no charge for the room.  Thanks Lucy, much appreciated!
And what a treat it will be to see the other side of the kitchen, the one I rarely see.  The only thing that would make the event as perfect as Sunday would be if I were able to hand-pick the waiting team.  Oh well.

And when I told Mum about the ploughing match, she told me a fact that I didn't know.  My Granddad was noted for his skill with the plough, pulled by horses.  He really didn't like animals, my Granddad.
But in his earlier farming years, his days were spent feeding them, milking them, working with them, fattening them up, and eating them.  I think he was very pleased when tractors appeared.

So in the week to come, I have to assemble Spam and Smash for an exciting art project, and find my painting dungarees.  I will tell you if I got as far as wearing them, and better still, working in them
Till then, I hope you have a productive week ahead, interspersed with fun and laughter.
I would quite like a week like that too!