I've written before about Ducky's
beautiful handmade sketchbooks
- and I have my own one now, a beautiful square green number she made for my birthday.
But Ducky's real books are another thing altogether. She showed me her newest one the other day when I popped in for a catch up after we hadn't seen each other for a week or two. It's like a sombre little old fashioned photo album, black pages. She's manipulated old family photographs to remove the flesh and add the words of her brother, who died tragically and young.
It was so very, very good that I was having a little weep after reading it. So sad, and so filled with her love and gentleness.
Unfortunately, this was when her mum and dad arrived from the south coast. I pretended it was my present horrible flu making me looking like a weeping idiot, gathered up my son and ran away.