The Hebridean Way

I took the month of May off from my stained glass business and totally absorbed myself in the islands…. and it was so good I might even do it every year!

So, on Saturday I took that bus to Tolsta… with the full intention of walking back to Stornoway…. Only, Instead I took the turn to the red beach….and looked at the mainland there. Clear as day. The walk back to Stornoway would have been road for 14 miles. I chose the beach. Walked its length. Then got bus back to Stornoway.

And so I see (now)…. It was all in my hands.

Here…. The diary of my walk. And what I want to share with you ….. now that the walk is done.

The Hebridean Way is a long distance walking route through Scotland’s Outer Hebrides. The route crosses 10 islands linked by 6 causeways and 2 ferries. It is around 155 miles from Barra to Stornoway.


Thursday May 1st. …And I had travelled to Scotland, Oban, the day before with my brother Duncan and his partner Mandy. (It was sailing with Mandy 2 years previous that had planted this germ of an idea within me… although little did I know that then…)
This time I sailed on Caledonian Macbrayne (as their yacht for now, was landlocked). From Oban to Barra, a 5 hour gentle crossing, to arrive in Castlebay at 6pm. My adventure begun….. all toilets closed… all buses departed!!! Ha. but I had the knowledge of where to wild camp!
And so began the pattern of my next few days ….. I wild camped alongside a fellow walker whom I’d only just met. And I would grow to realise and appreciate these interactions and temporary bonds with fellow travellers. … camper van folks, bikers, hikers and locals. Faces that would keep popping up throughout the length of this journey.
I crazily ran up the nearest closest tallest hill. I was hungry for adventure!! And on meeting the Virgin (Madonna statue) on the hill I had the realisation that I’d left the Oban cafe that morning without settling my bill!!! (Yikes)(but bro went and took care of that)(phew).


Friday May 2nd And after a cold first nights camp, where I fidgeted under the flapping fly sheet of my solo tent, regularly checking its anchors, I strolled back to the village centre and had coffee in a china cup n saucer before jumping on the early bus to Vatersay and what would be the start of my walk.
The bus held half a dozen or more excited walkers. All giddy with the newness that faced us.
I chose to leg it to the south south beach (like the guide book suggested!) and I was glad I did. I chose to go off piste up to a first col too (as the guide book suggested) only I wished I hadn’t. The terrain was unfriendly. The slopes steep. And when I could see my new travelling friends move further away from me down on the road I had just a wee (wee!) moment of panic. My rucksack was threatening to topple me … so I elected to drag it for a bit. And In doing so losing my water bottle , my banana and breaking my carabiner mug (and wooden spoon I discovered later). (I retrieved everything after running back up slope. And gave myself a severe talking to!!)
And so my journey had begun.

“Shit happens” said my fellow traveller!
That first day’s walk was tough. Tough climbs, (but I love climbs)… adjusting to my pack and new surroundings. A night’s camping was found at Wavecrest Campsite, Borve. (Tucked behind the hill that I had run up the previous evening).
I would come to the realisation that I would fixate and gravitate upon and around an islands hill for many hours steps and miles of each coming day. It became a comfort to have a familiar shape become your horizon.


Saurday May 3rd. Another tough days walking ahead … route finding, choosing whether to detour to brochs, or not, as the case became, when terrain was tough and air was heavy and damp. But by the time “we” (i walked with fellow walker all today) got to the top of Barra the sun was out. And it was wait for the ferry to Eriskay. Our second island and time to say goodbye to the virgin hill.
Then the decision of where to camp? Some welcome beer n chips gave us the stamina to walk on to South Uist and a site at Kilbride. Showers and kettles in campers kitchens…. How quickly such basic things become luxury items. Was it really only my third night and about 20 miles done.


Sunday May 4th. And today I chose to walk alone. There was a long 18 mile beach section ahead and I wanted to do it at my own pace. And I really really wanted to make it to the Howmore Hostel. This would mean a bed for the night and with each passing mile I began to want that desperately. The nights in the tent had been testing to say the least. Cold cold cold. And, windy windy windy.
Some cyclists I recognised told me they’d visited the hostel…. “About half full” they said. And I pushed myself hard on rhythmic sticks, ignoring my burning feet, to get to that bed. I practically fell into the dorm like some mad crazy woman …. “Please tell me there are beds “. There was. (Silly billy me)
But my feet were broken. Blistered and sore. Then I further learned the camaraderie and support of fellow travellers. Advice and remedies and lotions and tapes were kindly bestowed upon me. Vaseline!!!! A gift from the gods and a treat for wrecked feet. Neat!
I had known these folks only minutes and yet I will remember their kindness always. I had the chance to bestow some kindness the following night too by way of a gift of a fried egg dinner! (Which would be repaid in beer days later at Tarbert). But that seems miles in the future yet…..


Monday May 5th. And with broken feet I was able to come up with a plan to complete the next section by travelling light without my heavy pack. … and restock with food (real food!!)(fried egg type food!!!) to boot. A lovely young couple gave me a lift to the supermarket at the causeway (no buses, bank holiday!)… and from there I walked back to the hostel. A nine mile rest day I called that one! Blisters got no worse. Ankle…. Survived. But I could recognise the effect that the heavy pack was having on my body. I must take care of myself I told myself. I saw two more virgin Madonna’s this day. (I saw no more!)


Tuesday May 6th. …So buses back running. I jumped on a bus to the causeway, bought more supplies, posted postcards home, and walked the two or more miles of road section to the next campsite and the next part of my plan.
Today I would run. Get my body working differently. Get the joints flexing as I am used to and, cover some ground quicker in a familiar and light way. I pitched at Otters edge campsite, Benbecula (4th island)…then hopped on bus for 7 miles and ran back. Enjoying beach running, bird watching and paddling. It turned out to be a short day, but the rest and paddling was invaluable for my throbbing ankles. Salt water and paddling has been a lifetime cure for my problematic ankles and my sisterly correspondence reminded me of this. Paddling would become a daily routine, where I could.


Wednesday May 7th. And this was where I became clever at my logistical creative planning. Other walkers shook their head saying how could I put my trust in public transport and others. But I knew I was listening to my body and putting my trust in myself.
I had 3 days to do 22 miles before my son Tom would arrive to walk with me … and so I worked out how I could do it…. Buses and supermarket, more buses and a campsite. Then bus back to where the supermarket was and run back to where I’d pitched my tent (you keeping up!!). Hee hee. It worked. I even managed to transport some heavy kit for a friend.
It was so great to run over Rhuaval, a rounded conical hill surrounded by a latticework of sea and lochans that makes up the landscape of the Uists. I was blown away by the freedom of the view that opened as I topped out in my running kit. Breathing it all in I set off in the vague direction of a trod and the causeway. A couple on the summit kept a worried beady eye on me and it was no surprise to see them again when I rocked up at the campsite. It is that kinda place I was coming to realise! I told them that despite being ravenous I had kept on running under their watchful eyes until they knew that I’d found the way. They laughed!
I went to my tent. Pitched in the shelter of the barn in the hope it would afford me some shelter and warmth. (Call this a wind, the lovely campsite owner had quipped!) I would stay here at Moorcroft Campsite for 2 more nights. On the second night the owner loaned me a thicker sleeping bag and a rubber sleepmat to compliment my travelling light stuff that I was carrying!
I was super cosy that second night but still on the third I chose to move into their luxury bunkhouse and the comfort of a bed!! (I had young fit Tom arriving the next day)(it was justified!!)


Thursday May 8th. And today I would complete stage 4 to Lochmaddy. About 14 miles. Travelling light, carrying a friends additional sack together with my wee day sack… I would walk to Lochmaddy and return on the last bus. Leaving my friends to continue whilst I waited on Tom arriving.
The days walk was wonderful. Peaty paths passing lochs and cairns and various other prehistoric relics. A welcome bowl of soup was to be found at the Langlass Hotel. A rare luxury to find refreshments absolutely en route, and at lunchtime too! An extra diversion was added to visit stone circles, chambered cairns and woods where bears once roamed! It was said …..
The old road finished off the stage… mile upon mile to Lochmaddy where brisk tired walking caught me just at the final bus stop. Phew. Sweet.
But bittersweet too to say tata to walkers Fran and Jules. Jules I would meet again. But Fran, walking with an artificial lower leg limb got broken and sore in the coming days and sadly had to retire. He’ll return he said. He’s a hero. I said.


Friday May 9th. And my only real total rest day of the entire trip. I had confidently planned on legging it up the mystical magnetic mountain that the nearby Earbhl had become. But the testing previous days walk showed me that this would not be wise. So instead I paddled lots. And planned my days with Tom. And what would become my return to this magical mythical place with my friend at the end of this journey. (The bunkhouse and Eabhal had gotten a hold of me)


Saturday May 10th And Tom would arrive on the 4 pm ferry. I rode the lunchtime bus into Lochmaddy and stocked up on foodstuffs at the local store and on culture at the local arts centre. I feasted at the cafe enjoying black Americanos and cinnamon cake until it was time to watch the horizon and Tom’s ferry arrive. We would be hardcore backpacking for the next 4 days. So, after fish n chips in the Lochmaddy Hotel we hit the trail. The plan was to walk for a couple of hours to find a suitable pitch on the open fell. It was great to be walking alongside Tom. I was brimming with tales but also looking forward to the coming days of wild camping and wild landscapes. We eventually settled on a heathery pitch alongside Loch Portain. My first suggestion of loch side bright green shelf was shelved due to sogginess and the pungent ness of sheep pong. We had a great night. We swapped tents, my solo for the trusty MSR hubba hubba and it’s space and twin porches. Luxury!!! (I would make space in my pack for this more spacious tent going forwards).. And Tom taught me to ‘shop around’ for your pitch… pitch and move. It’s wise. If the first decision was not a good one!


Sunday May 11th. A high level troop across North Uist and Beinn Mhor. We dropped our sacks and trotted up to the trig and were astonished with the watery wilderness we had navigated to get to this spot. On down Beinn Mhor and onto the causeway that would take me to my 7th island and Tom’s 2nd. It was only noon and a ferry could not take us to Harris until 4pm that afternoon. We wandered to one of Berneray’s many white beaches and enjoyed a paddle and a sit around. When the wind got too cold we decamped to the ferry terminal and there prepared our firepot meal that would fuel us for the evenings walk. It was Sunday. And all shops were shut so we were delighted to find a vending machine on the ferry and stocked up on choccie and crisps! Simple things eh. Food. And later we would think about shelter.
It was a grey sky when we docked at Leverburgh on Harris. And from there we faced a committing trudge up a boggy glen knowing that we would only be able to find a dry camp spot once we reached the Coll. It looked a long way. It was a long way. 2 hours of bog trotting and some blister maintenance and we eventually reached the west. There we were met with big Atlantic views. Vast white beaches and a wind straight out of Iceland! We had emerged onto a rounded grassy meadow, home to sheep and more sheep poo. We found a couple of relatively flattish spots and pitched into the wind. It was a wild old night. Once again, I kept checking the anchors.

Monday May 12th Dawn came not soon enough, and we elected to drop the tents and make breakfast at a more hospitable location en route. We dropped down to feel the spray from the Atlantic breakers. Feel the stretch in your calves as you walked thru dunes and soft sand. It was nice to cross the coast road and hit the open fell once again. It was a tough old climb and contour… steps up that wouldn’t usually offer a problem were pretty heavy and high to me! But it was a good feeling. The rocky landscape was magnificent. In a wee sheltered dell we feasted on the instant porridge. I flipping love prepping it on that wee stove with my aluminium wind shield. Happy days.
And so on to the sandy beach setting of the Horgstbord campsit. It was a bit of a hike off route and so we decided to nail a bit of the next day’s route travelling light off the bus. So glad we did! It was technical enough in reverse and with a bum bag. Wouldn’t have liked to do this first thing the following morning.

The camspite owner here very kindly loaned us his electric kettle to aid with our supplementary supplies that we purchased at his shop – noodles n porridge… a lovely young mum upon spying it in my tent asked…. ‘are you really carrying that electric kettle!’

Tuesday May 13th Harris. And the coffin route. (So,so glad we’d pinched a bit yesterday and so had this glorious start.)
A beautiful section of walking. And the sun was out strong and the wind settled. The rocky mountain pass scenery was ace. Some sections of the clipped grassy trod were like a green velvet big dipper chute. The route took us thru ‘The Bays’ area south of Tarbert. Many scenic crofts and lochans and tough climbs around rocky knolls. I loved it. And was super grateful to find a coffee machine at the Harris tweed exhibition in Drinishader. A rare, rare treat en route. And so we notched the 14 or so miles into Tarbert. A long long day but beer n a hostel were at the end of it!!


Wedneday May 14th Tarbert to Stornoway and I’d noticed that the route provided no opportunity for official campsites… only ‘wild’ and I didn’t fancy that in the wild boggy landscape presented. So, I made the decision to stay put at the hostel and use the bus to shuttle me up the stage. With Tom resting his feet as he was going to continue on to Skye I took the bus to Aardvourlie and walked back to Tarbert. What a glorious section. Even more so as I’d left my rucksack behind. What a day. Beauty route. And a swim in the loch too. Then a bit of shopping in the Harris tweed shop. I do love that shop!


Thursday May 15th.
And after a recuperative morning paddle I jumped back on the bus and Tom got on his ferry. Today I would walk Aardvourlie to Laxay. A long long day. I hadn’t quite anticipated the long sections of road and the longer long sections of open moorland. .. mile upon mile of raised peat path … and not a soul to be seen. Very lonely sections. I was missing Tom I think in the beating sun. Getting near to the end too…. And so it became a long walk. … 16/18 miles… 7 hours of walking.

And then I discovered the beauty of retracing my steps from the bus window. Quite lifted my spirits. And this landscape became embedded within me and the knowledge that I had walked all these miles was totally humbling and awe inspiring in equal measure. I was amazed at myself!!!
I mean, when in your ordinary life would you undertake such a walk!… like, “mum, I’ll come see you later, but instead of getting in the car I’ll w a L k !!!” You just don’t do it do you. And so I arrived at the remarkable realisation of what I had given myself. Simple things. And time out from the ordinary.


Friday May 16th. Yep. This day would get me to Stornoway. And the official end of the walk (so far!)
Miles of raised peat path again and my mind could wander as I meditatively walked. Could I walk all the way to the butt of Lewis? I hatched a minds plan … whilst getting on with the job at hand.
Moor section over at Achamore I hit the old road to Stornoway. 9 miles said the sign. Yikes. The route was scenic enough, but tarmac, with only shielings (summer residences) and solitary peat digging crofters for company. Who would holler things like “lovely morning “…
Eventually I hit the “suburbs” and the signs directed me into the leafy parkland estate of Lewes Castle. The driveway seemed to go on forever … ah, here’s the castle, but where is my rusty finish plaque?… was it out front next to the canons? No. I wandered on, having to look at the trace on my phone. And then there it was…. Ha. Tucked besides the recycling bins!! A mild anti-climax. But it made me laugh. And wander on. I gazed at the harbour, busy with boats, and the roads, busy with traffic. I said hello to two old ladies sat on a bench …

I’ve just finished the Hebridean way I said.

Nice day for it they said. (!)

How do I get into town I asked.

Across the bridge.. they gestured.
Grounded. I wandered towards town. So? I asked myself.
Ha. Then all was good as I bumped into fellow travellers I had met along this ‘way’ and we went and got that beer.
Happy days. And I daydreamed and gazed out that window all the way home on the Tarbert bus.
Happy days indeed.


Saturday 17th May And I had a mind to carry on walking…..
Is there anywhere I can stash my rucksack I asked myself friendly Tarbert driver? Why not … stick it on the Ness bus he said … do what you have to do out to Tolsta (I’d told him my plan!)… let my big pack ride the ness bus and me be reunited later. A perfect plan! He even chatted to the next driver for me to make sure all was ok!! Happy days.
And so I rode the bus to Tolsta. A fellow riding local encouraged me to come sit back high up.

Look at the mainland he said. That’s Suilven he said.

Wow. I said.
I jumped off at Tolsta and turned down to the red beach. Encouraged by the cliffs and that mainland horizon I sat on the red sand and drew my name in the sand. I stared at the mainland. I contemplated the 14 mile hike back to Stornoway on roads I’d just ridden.
I stayed on the beach. My walk was done I said to myself. I was happy. I strolled the length of red beach. Then sat and ate my oatcakes. One man, his dog and his small autistic boy for company. I found a crab claw and offered it the wee boy. They offered me a lift.
I rode the bus back to Stornoway.
Amazingly, following the aroma of fish n chips I sniffed out Jules, another fellow traveller. And together we shared tales and beer as we scoffed our chips! Happy days. And then goodbyes.
Time to be reunited with my rucksack on the bus to the Butt of Lewis. (Plan worked!)
The bus to the ends of the earth. That was how it felt. Flat far reaching peat lands eventually turning to spatial croft inhabited land. And again, I was struck by this ever changing alien yet homely landscape. The bus driver lowered me off at Uncle’s Croft. My ‘field’ for the next two nights. (And what a crazy campsite… seeing was believing). Surreal. But then again, I’d have been unsatisfied with anything less!
I pitched next to a cuddly tiger peering out from an erected tractor tyre (you get the picture!)
And then I wandered across to that lighthouse. A mile or so distant. The cliffs and the Atlantic waves were exhilarating. I wandered slowly. Taking it all in.
And then I wandered some more … to the surfing beach and another paddle in the breakers….. then navigated my way back to uncles Croft (daft that I should get almost lost at this stage eh)


Sunday May 18th.
And today my friends Angie and Hughie would arrive in their camper van. I woke early and donned my run kit with a half baked idea about running the cliffs back towards Tolsta…. I made it so far…. Then just a little further…. Then…. Stuff it!! And returned to the surf at the port of ness. Enough. I said. Enough.
My friends arriving was very emotional. I almost wept in her big warm hug. Flipping heck.
And then. We strolled out again … revisited the port of ness and then the lighthouse at sunset. By now it had gotten really freezing wind again and the shelter and hospitality of their van was most welcome.
What a flipping epic trip. The following day they drove me in their van back to Tarbert. I thanked them with cinnamon buns!…

Was it all over?
What had I done?

Conclusion
Oh man. It was epic. And even better…. I had even more days ahead. Restful beautiful days in fine finest company. I returned to North Uist. To meet Peter. And we climbed Eabhal. Xxxxxxx
I was on top of my world. And it was ace.

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Farleton colours

This commission was just wonderful.

The clients wanted their window to reflect the limestone landscape of Farleton Knott, that they lived at the foot of. As well as be colourful and abstract.

They liked sunsets…bright colours… glints and grykes… thyme… and bees. (sorry, they did not get bees!)

I made lots of trips to the great limestone hill… looking..drawing.. walking .. exploring. And did a number of on site charcoal drawings which i so flipping enjoyed. (Oh my, I wish everyone wanted limestone i thought). And from those i came up with a real imagined landscape to suit the proportions of their opening. This involved lots of mark making, standing back, adjusting and squinting… at my workshop walls! The life drawing classes that I attend at the Brewery Arts Centre have really improved my observation and drawing skills. It felt great to transfer skills that I have learnt there into confident lines and lead line composition.

And then it was time to have fun with colours.

I visited Pearsons Glass in Liverpool to search for the perfect piece of sunset glass… and I found it in the Lamberts section. Absolutely beautiful. I knew in my minds eye that I wanted the orange sky to be unpainted.. just lovely clear transparent glowing colour.

The limestone and the landscape was cut from a variety of handblown English Antique Glass that I had picked up on previous visits to their factory, and Tatra machine rolled handblown glass. All in all a beautiful colourful selection.

Glass cutting was carefully done, one piece at a time and waxed up on to the easel to check the colours. Streaky purple wasan absolute delight next to the orange sky. And the slash of bright yellow for gorse separated the layers of rock from grassy thyme foreground.

What a joy it was to paint. Trying to mimic the marks and tones that I had achieved with the charcoal.

And then the part of the process where i really relax into it. The building and assembling. The grouting and polishing and fitting.

Here, fitting with my grand brother, Duncan Copley. The panel had been encapsulated within a double glazed unit and Duncan had to do some fine adjustments to the existing window frame to allow the new unit to fit.

A job well done tho. And there it glows!

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hash tag red list

Red list. Red for danger. Red for endangered. Red glass. Red listed birds. Red listed crafts….

These were the stimuli and motivation for my recent works.

See, I was invited and accepted thru my wonderful QEST scholarship to exhibit at The Great Northern Contemporary Craft Fair (GNCCF). The event will take place at Victoria Baths in Manchester from the 19th -22nd October 2023.

The venue will provide a showcase for my work alongside four other talented qest scholars as well as almost 200 other independent artists and makers… I can’t wait. But what should I show? Thought I…

Mainly my work these days is driven by commissions…but this presented an opportunity to create something of my own choosing.

Stained glass (as a craft) was very recently placed on the red list for endangered heritage crafts. Coinciding with the last remaining UK glass blower, English Antique Glass, ceasing to blow flat glass.

Red lists… endangered glass… endangered birds… Turner’s touch of red!….some beautiful sheets of red glass… and I had found my inspiration.

I started by making some wee postcards…handpainted on clear glass and plated with red glass… Grasshopper Warblers that had warbled at me as I walked with a pal. Starlings that constantly murmur at me from my memory bank walls. (The postcards grew to murmuration size).

Then I began to ratch through my archive of random collected artefacts and debris..what fits where? I popped lesser spotted woodpeckers on vintage plane wood peckers…willow tits on cricket balls..scurrying little ringed plovers on red hot spirit levels…squeaky house sparrows on rusty red oil cans. Cuckoos on exploded clock springs. My collection was slowly coming together.

But i wanted to go further!

Starlings (underline)(headline). I have always wanted to develop these ever since I went on my masterclass course with Surinder Warboys at MYGLASSROOM in Suffolk, where liquid black flowing paint had stirred some ideas!

I looked at the samples I had done and thought about how i could push this idea further.

I began by watching Irridesent Black, a movie on vimeo by Darren Andrews..a stunning stunning piece of work. And I learned that starlings fly as a seven from youtube, to avoid bumping into each other… well thats a starting point.

On my drawing room walls I took a large blank piece of paper, a piece of black charcoal and the thought that I’ll start with seven and see where it leads… It was addictive. Pretty soon I’d covered that paper. But the thing I love about charcoal is that quality of rubbing back and going on over… correcting and adjusting. Layering and playing. A big roiling mass of black movement. But I can’t build something this size on spec thought I.

I began to think in glass. I purchased more red glass. This time a beautiful sheet of Lamberts from Pearsons glass in Liverpool… pale red, like the colour of thin blood. From my big drawing I extracted small sections and came up with three small panels that I could build and take to the show to showcase my skills and wares. I carefully cut the precious red glass and layered paints to capture those starlings. Oh what fun! What do you think?

I shall have further fun demonstrating on the third panel at the GNCCF event, where I shall it assemble it with lead and care. Come along if you can and you can handle the tools and materials of my endangered trade.

#GNCCF #craftsayssomething #victoriabaths

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‘A village with a church in the valley of the River Kent..’

Have you been following my progress…?

Well. It’s finished. It’s in. (My Church window).. and I really couldn’t be any prouder.

What I pictured…. what I wanted to achieve… well, I feel i did it.

That lovely Kendal townscape as a backdrop to that tapestry of colour…And the detail i was really pleased with, (thanks to the skills learnt on my glass course at Swansea with Jonathan Cooke)… was how i held the light using a final oil layer of paint on the townscape outside of the golden cross. (I worried in the workshop that I had made the old town too dark. But that isn’t the case) The golden cross with its lighter more transparent areas of paint just glows like a strong shaft of light, right down through the window. And the grey areas sit beautiful and flat in comparison.

And once all the panels were leaded up and cemented to make them waterproof, I let them dry and set then polished and polished before sending them off to Lee at Furness Glass, to get encapsulated within double glazed units.

At the end of April my brother, Duncan Copley, began preparing the window. It needed some rotten areas sorting out, the beadings trimming to accommodate the deeper units and redecorating. We were lucky with the weather. Fitting them, watching them go in, and take shape was a grand day.

Throughout each stage of the build, (leadwork after glass painting!)… I was only ever able to really see two panels alongside each other at a time. 4 at a push with artificial light.

So it was pretty staggering for me to watch my brother carefully put these into place.

We startled the reverend who had come in to ‘count the chairs’! And every now and then someone else would come and pop their head in…. the guy from the bible shop… the lady who had leant me the tea towel.. (to inform some of my painting detail of the presbyterian old church)…it was really great. A new friend even came and played her fiddle…”I want to play a tune for your window” she said.

On Sunday May 14th the window recieved its ‘dedication’. Which is really the acknowledging of its existence within the worship space…. in the context of a church service. It was a very good day, and I am really very grateful to Rita Hogarth for sponsoring this project in memory of her late husband. And extremely grateful for the trust that the United Reformed Church at 106 Highgate placed in me.

This really has been my best job (so far!)…

Below are a few words about some of the details in the window. The Church requested them of me so that they can put some information alongside. It’s only a guide though. Folks can read their own stories into this window, as indeed they already are and I quite like that.

The leaded window was commissioned to represent a new beginning for 106 Highgate within the new worship space. It sits gently and offers somewhere upon which to rest your eyes.

‘A village with a church in the valley of the river kent’… was the inspiration for the design and it comes from the old name for Kendal – ‘Kirkby kendal’. 

The window has many different layers and in the grand tradition of ecclesiastical windows the picture also tells a story. 

The hand painted detail, although imagined, feels familiar and gives a comforting sense of place. From the distant Kentmere hills to the tumbling rooftops and houses that spiral down the steep valley sides, to the flowing river Kent at its base. 

The lead lines which form the structure of the panels are overlapping cross and fish motifs; the logo of the United reformed church and strong Christian symbols. Woven together in different sizes they create a rich tapestry of colour and texture. 

A huge golden cross emerges from these crisscrossing shapes creating a strong shaft of light that beams down into the town and community in which it is firmly rooted. 

The window was built not only to represent this new beginning but also as a tribute to the life of Alan Hogarth from his wife Rita. 

There are two churches pictured in the window and both were important buildings in the spiritual lives of Alan and Rita. The lower right is the Presbyterian church which no longer exists and that once stood on Sandes Avenue. The other, middle left is the old United Reformed Church and if you look through the transparent top reaches of this new window you can catch a glimpse of the old church architecture for real.

Look carefully again at the spire of the old Presbyterian church where it punctuates the middle right panel and tucked behind it, in the streets, you will see the distinctive crisscross iron facade and swinging shop sign of ‘Hogarth’s Jewellers. This was Alan Hogarth’s family business, which this year celebrated its 100th anniversary. 

The symbols at the bottom, by way of a hallmark, offer further dedication to Alan. They represent his keen love of badminton, the Hogarth’s business logo and the bible. 

The small cross on the hill, up above the houses, is from the artists imagination. And was placed there purely as acknowledgement of the great sense of importance she felt for this symbol from the congregation at 106 Highgate, as she was creating the window. 

And. I am really loving these little souvenirs. Big thanks to my friend John Leech photography for capturing and supplying this image.

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To draw upon glass

A labour of love said my friend Jane.  (of my church window project).

Ha. And plainly speaking. It can be.  This window building…..

I think again on why I started this year of improvement… enrichment…And I think perhaps of that too… a labour ​o​f love. 

And of course my scholarship mentoring and masterclasses have coincided with my getting the largest commission of my glass career. And I hesitate to write ‘so far’. 

Uncertain I find I still am. 

Perhaps I’ll be more certain at the end of my year. I wonder…

Anyway, where am I ? In my project… my journey. My church window. 

After hitting the lows of design anxiety​ (see previous post),​ I soared thru the high of lead line certainty. And glass cutting certainty. 

Glass. Let me tell you about the glass.. and my road trip with my stained glass mentor Debs to visit English  antique glass and Coventry cathedral.

 English antique glass based in Alvechurch   The last flat glass blowers in the land. And I visited just days before they blew their last flat glass(p). (Dramatic eh). But true. 

A glass workers sweetie shop. 

Candy brights. 

Swirling crystal sheets of pure magic beauty. Stacked with no applause in modest wooden racks. A tool of my trade. The jewel of my trade. And once again I think ‘labour of love’ after meeting Dave, The last flat glass blower. He was retiringly redundant after blowing glass for 20 years. Works of art on minimum wage. 

Here my lovely glass for the church window and, my skip treasures. 

And From English Antique Glass to Coventry… for inspiration. Why do we say ‘ you’ll get sent to Coventry?’… (and for some reason I think it’s also said as a punishment!)

Coventry. I’d visit it again in an instant. That cathedral and its story is just magnificent. Built from the wreckage of war. It made me very proud to think of those folks of Coventry. Raising such a building and the necessary strength and funds to do so. Another labour of love. With such immaculate attention to detail. 

And this led me to look closer  at John Piper in my down time over Christmas… I’d been blown away by his windows in the cathedral. 

And I found him (on YouTube) to be a delightful chap…most endearing. And in print, his wonderfully frank ‘art or anti-art’ stained glass book. Well, it is to become my new bible. 

All of my reasons and confusions why I want to challenge myself in this world of glass. … he says it. (On the first page).

I’ve rambled on again. .. to draw upon glass. ‘Think in glass’ said Christopher Whall … I do. But I want to catch the attention of John Piper too and do extraordinary, not just ordinary. 

And so I drew and drew that roofscape townscape for my church window. Stood back and drew again. Refining until… until I was happy with how it inched its way up the hill in the real imagined way of Kendal, and until I was just too itching to hit the paint. And paint on that lovely glass. (I have a deadline after all!)

And so here I am now. 

Drawing with paint upon glass. 

I’m getting there..

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A new beginning

Finally I gather the courage to announce the news…”I have my first church window!”

And it’s not new news. I’ve been either working on the design or thinking about the design since I was first approached by my neighbouring United Reformed Church almost a year ago. I’ve just said nothing out of fear and awe I guess. 

But now it’s real. I have my full size cartoon detailed up. And on Monday I will go to the glass shop to purchase beautiful glass. 

Shall I tell you a little about the terrifying journey I’ve been on…

Firstly, this is the largest job I have ever worked on at 3m high and just under 1m wide. Thankfully the gothic pointed timber frame is split into 6 and so each section is manageable for my modest work bench. And maybe that is why, in the early stages, I was quite relaxed by this as a project. 

My initial drawing was a quick knee jerk over excited response to the…”We’d like you to make us a window”.. With a complete blank canvas apart from “we’d like it to include a cross and represent a new beginning”.

I worked around the idea of the old name for Kendal, ‘Kirkby Kendal’ which translates as ‘village with a church that sits in the valley of the river Kent’. With my slanting cross (to reflect the 106 Highgate URC logo) nestled amongst my townscape and river and distant Kentmere hills, I thought I’d nailed it. 

And I sort of had. Only. Well, you know how things evolve and tweak and twist and gather a momentum all their own … this is what happened with my cross. 

It was to become a little bit straighter… a little bit stronger .. a little bit redder… and before I knew it (how did this happen!) I was drawing a big red cross with red fish flowing up it! (Nightmare). I was terrified by it. I started seeing crosses every. Cracks in pavements. Slabs on street… shadows… cloud formations… you get the picture. I was going mad and became completely overwhelmed by my task. 

(I almost threw in the towel)

I paused. I talked with friends. I listened to friends. And I went back to my drawing board. 

There. In my notebook. Almost the first thing I drew.. the URC logo. 

I allowed myself to meander on lead lines. I kept things simple. Geometry again. .. just alter scale and layer. Play around with the shapes and the colours.

And I found my lead lines. 

And then I replayed my background with renewed purpose.

So here, where I am now.. I am happy with this new harmony. The cross is not fighting with the landscape but is sitting on it, within it. I am imagining you will gaze upon the cross and see the promised land. In this case… the community of Kendal. When visiting 106 Highhate URC I felt very strong links with the community.

The landscape is kind of real, kind of imagined, comfortable and yet familiar.

The new beginning is represented in the sunrise.

The overlapping cross and fish create a tapestry of pattern and colour almost like a tartan, that reflects the straight gridded leadlines of the old windows. And the tapestry created brings to mind the Kendal motto ‘Cloth is my bread’.

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I always knew how to write. Right.

This was how I tried to ‘settle’ my thoughts ​…​(that were darting around my sparking brain like ricocheting chinks of light from a flicking rippling oily pool of silvery sprats!)(yeah. You get the picture)(chattery brain)…. As I accelerated out of Swansea by train on Monday​. H​aving ​just ​completed seven long full days of painting and staining masterclass​.​


​Travelling…​back to what it is that I do. 
Yikes. What do I do​?​ I know how I did it. I know I could do it. Only now. Freak. Like I said


 I mean​,​ I knew how to write. Right..


Right. Only… now to my writing I could add… a new flourish. That’s how it feels  As I digest ​and cogitate ​my last few days​ at Swansea.​

Oh my. My scholarship year. .. like a rollercoaster it roller coasters on. ​(Thanks again QEST).​

A Jonathan Cooke masterclass at Swansea College of Art… The Architectural Glass Centre…..University of Wales Trinity St. Davids. It’s on my map!

I knew as soon as I entered those hallowed corridors that it was going to be good. Swansea​ Art College​ has a rich history of contemporary stained glass and the examples in its corridors​ made me gasp.​ Magnificent windows at nearby St Mary’s church from artists including Patrick Reyntiens and John Piper​ and ​Japanese artist​ ​Kuni Kajiwara​ were also staggering. Many of the panels ​were built by Swansea college​ commercial department.


The Jonathan Cooke masterclass. What can ​I​ say! Such a generous, knowledgeable, patient and passionate tutor. He had us captivated with brushes and paints and fragments of historical glass. Jonathan must be a world leading authority on all things to do with conservation and restoration of historical stained glass.Mornings were spent listening and learning. Note taking and sharing. And the afternoons getting our hands dirty. It was fabulous! (Most days we were there 9 till 7.)Huge thanks must go to all the staff at  agc UWTSD and my superb classmates. Boy, did we have fun in Swansea. A bunch of misfits finding our fit right there!Pages upon pages of notes. Stacks of snaps. Samples and examples and friendships made. I have come away with a fuller-ness of knowledge and an absolute appetite for more. Swansea has delivered on just so many levels. 
But how did I start this blog entry…Oh, yes… I always knew how to write, right……!
Yes. There have been new tools. New ingredients. New methods. And I’ve ​even ​had to buy some..(I mean the brushes had bird names!)Goose… crow… (tis the size of the quill)Lavender oil … clove oil…(My workshop gonna smell ​so ​sweet)
But what I also saw in that room​ of scholars and academics.. was Magic Passion Curiosity (Perhaps a wee spoon of obsession)(ok. a big scoop!)


Glass and light. Our chosen subject.
From this course I am enlightened​ and​ illuminated. But yikes, also (mostly) stilled. Humbled. And in awe of….

​Such a lot to learn.

(At this point I take a big sigh. It can often feel so huge. My undertaking. To make myself better!)​

One chink of light at a time eh!

Now. What is it that i do…… Oh yes.

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On a Qest..

I told you in my previous post about my year of scholarship… and learning and immersing myself in my subject. 

The other day I did a road trip to my local locale with my mentor deb. And this morning I feel humbled and in complete awe….Stained glass​,​ my chosen medium. 

Stained glass in an ecclesiastical setting is just a whole ‘nother level​!​

On our pilgrimage we chanced upon parishioners, church wardens, vicars and lay people. Local produce for sale. Local notices. Local names. Local knowledge. The history and stories contained within these buildings was so very grounding. It was a privilege, as well as an unexpected pleasure, to meet the protectors and preservers of these special places. 

In Natland the work of Kendal stained glass artist ​S​arah Sutton. Beautiful figurative windows capturing motherhood and humanity. Standing alongside older works that remembered families and faces lost in ​the ​war. Such a proud sense of community found here. 

What a start! 

From there to Cartmel Priory. Immediately from the outside I was struck by its presence and scale. How it sits so fine. And then we entered. Oh my. Why (to my knowledge) have I never been inside here before. (Exclaim)

Cartmel priory is a place of such peace and calm, majesty and beauty. Cathedral type proportions. Illuminated soft warm stone. The carvings and colour were exquisite.. I felt like I was in a foreign place. Was this really Cumbria? Victorian glass competing with mediaeval glass. Absolutely stunning all of it. And once again we attracted stories from helpers within.. the vicar telling us of how he is trying to think of ideas to get people back into churches.. for the sense of spirituality and belonging. He fears it will become lost. Another gentleman drew our attention to the glass and statues and how some was lost to the Roundheads during the reformation. Decapitated statues and stories of hung drawn and quartered monks. (What a history we have eh) And how some treasures were secreted to local smaller churches to protect them and preserve… why a monk from Cartmel can be found in Cartmel fell perhaps!

Cartmel Fell church is a beautiful wee gem. I’ve visited here a number of times. And now I begin to understand maybe why this little church has such beautiful medieval glass. Perhaps this​ t​ucked away modest jem has always been a place of sanctuary. 

From there to Bowness (but alas we couldn’t get parked!).. so onto ​T​routbeck and ​S​taveley to view the William Morris gems that I have clapped eyes on before…But would be new to debs!

I will always be blown away by these jewels. As was Deb. They are something else. I have heard that these two parishes competed with each other to have William Morris windows… ​”​if it’s good enough for… then we must have it too!!​”​​.. I don​’​t know if th​e ​tale is true…Either way​,​ we are fortunate to have such gems so close together (and so close to me!)

Deb asked​,​​’​did I have a favourite​?’​

I’m not sure. But…

Maybe I do. 

Or maybe that star studded sky that takes you to heaven was just the prefect way to end our day. 

Peace and a good long sit down gazing upon it. 

Boy did we need a cup of tea after all that. 

Staggered. 

Mind blown. 

Humbled and in absolute awe. 

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I just want to be the best glass lass that I can be…

So there I was. A happy glasser at my bench. A healthy business at dc stained glass studio there in Kendal.. My bright lights and pretty colours drawing folks in… and filling my order book. A constant roll … of work and home. Pull out the ideas and put the bread on the table!

Mmm. Do I sound less than content there? I should. As I had started to have thoughts about something different… maybe a new journey .. a different challenge. I knew I loved glass. But. I wanted to take control over where my work was taking me. (Yikes). But also (crikey) Provide the bread… but get some sp a c e. (Don’t ask for much do I !)

I had an idea. 

Or I should say. An idea presented itself to me.. I explored the option of doing an hnc in art glass at Glasgow city college. Excellent! Excitement!! Couple of nights a week in the bright lights of a B I. G city. Ah. But how do I fund that? (I look at my table and my bread…)

I secured my place on the Glasgow course. And. I explored funding and discovered QEST. 

The Queen Elizabeth scholarship trust. They stand for everything that I aspire to. The Queen Elizabeth Scholarship Trust (QEST) supports the training and education of talented and aspiring craftspeople through traditional college courses, vocational training, apprenticeships and one-to-one training with a master craftsperson; helping to support Britain’s cultural heritage and sustain vital skills in traditional and contemporary crafts. And their funding application timeline was just perfect timing. 

The application procedure was thorough and rigorous. Questions. Questions. And references. References. And in completing their questions I found my answers. ..

I discovered (big drum roll)… that I wanted to be the best glass lass that I could be. I wanted to learn. I wanted to discover. I wanted to experiment. Stretch myself.

Or at least try. 

Anyway. The glass class in Glasgow got cancelled. B u t my plan b (as I call it) will be even better. 

The QEST application process had led me to ask questions of myself and seek advice from lots of lovely colleagues and friends who I have met on my 15 year journey with glass. It filled me with confidence and belief that in glass  I had found my medium. But also. Maybe that I could take my glass further. 

Anyway long story short (really)(I do go on don’t I)… I won my scholarship funding. And I have a year planned chock full of exciting things. 

All sorts of things are going to happen. Things I don’t even know about yet. I think. 

It has started already. See, part of the funding is to complete a professional development program. with Cockpit Studios in London. … I was a little unsure about this. (I mean… am I going to make myself too busy!)

But it’s brilliant! Inspiring! Energising! Probing. Questioning and… ach. Challenging. But in a gentle, useful way. Zoom meetings (get me) with fellow scholars. Who I discover are not scary (I worried).. but are just like me. In that I mean they are all on a quest. Of self discovery and improvement. It’s just …

Well. It’s a new journey. At times overwhelming but mostly, thrilling. 

My plan b … ?

You want to know about my plan b ?

Well. It’s started. 

I have got a year’s mentoring with the lovely Deborah Lowe from Todmorden. I met Deb a few years ago on a visit to Pendle Stained Glass, when David, another kind friend, allowed me to shadow some of his workers at his busy working studio. Pendle work on big ecclesiastical projects and I found the visits inspiring. So. When I needed help to see how to get to the next level I remembered these visits and Deborah and David were both so useful in clearing my thoughts and showing me a direction. 

I’ve had two sessions now with Debs. I visited her in her studio at Todmorden and absorbed her environment and how she works. We chatted and chatted about the things we will do. Visits to sites of amazing glass. Experiments we will undertake working to Albinus Elskus’s bible to painting on glass !..

Then Deb visited me… and we discussed my projects… looked at my space… (she liked it!!) and then we dove in and had some fun with paint. 

Deb uses words like deeper and darker… and phrases like ‘your glass will be around for a hundred(s) of years’… meaning … get it right! At the painting stage. Paint and fire until the painting is right. 

I think I always think, get it right at the design stage so you cut glass only once. Which mostly I do. And I paint and fire. Mostly only once. 

But now she’s got me thinking. Deeper and darker. There’s a way to go eh.

Here. My painting experiment..

A Man Ray book presented itself to me in my local Oxfam window just minutes after planning debs visit to mine. Deep and dark. Perfect. 

We chose an image and daubed paint swiftly (time was tight)… and fired once. 

I looked afterwards and thought I want to play more with this. I went deeper and darker and fired twice. 

Such fun! (I really do love painting on glass)

Debs will be back. Next time we will visit churches. Look at masterful projects. This stained glass stuff… it’s been around for hundreds of years… And I will share here with you, my love of it. (here, pics from a recent jolly to Underbarrow Church…. think i’d like to have a go at hands and feet!)

My Qest scholarship, as well as funding the years Mentoring with Deborah Lowe, will also fund two painting masterclasses. One block in September with Jonathan Cooke at Swansea Architectural Glass Centre and another block with Surinder Warboys at her home studio in Suffolk in May of next year. Oh and my favourite Life Drawing classes with Catherine McDermid at my local Kendal Brewery Arts Centre will also be supported.

Wow. What an exciting year ahead I have planned.

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High Lights.. you may have missed…

What a busy old year or so….

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