Posted in Life and Family


When I’ve made something I’m very pleased with, wild hattifatteners couldn’t drag me away. I’m definitely a Groke… I love light, colours, brightness and warmth. I drift up close and gaze, clasping my hands and swaying. I hope my shadow isn’t so cold that I make pretty things as a backlash.

Mum called me a Groke when I was a teenager, but for a different reason… she said if anything (especially anything bad) happened around the house, I rushed to tell people. Kind of like all bloggers do! I don’t know… did she hope I might see things break or the dog chewing something, and just keep quiet about it so that she wouldn’t know what had happened? I would have been told off for that too, probably; you just can’t win…

This is nothing to do with making beautiful things and getting all Grokelike over them, but here’s an old picture I found this morning of Bearysweet… caught by the camera escaping from the jaws of a pike. My poor boy… if that pike had touched a hair of his head, there would have been big trouble. There were rumours that sometimes frogs were caught… but it never happened to mine. Touch wood.


As for my current frog, Beanfrog… he has moved into the next racing group up and only slipped one place (to 4th). He’s been saving up and has ordered a lot of sensitive equipment to draw elusive dragonflies into his net. I hope he catches more from now on, as his nets have been worryingly bare. If you want a racing frog of your own, here’s the pond



I live in the UK with two cats -- Samson and Delilah.

3 thoughts on “Groke-Like

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