Clare Gaylard Glass 

I wanted to get a photo of the stack of shells on our garden table as the colours suddenly jumped due to a shower of rain. My scrapbook fell open in a perfect place.

I'm enjoying reading 'The Uses of Enchantment' by Bruno Bettelheim, a phsycologist who published this influential analysis of fairytales in 1976. I have just finished reading the wonderful myth-punk novel  'The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making' alongside my youngest. Fairytales, folktales, Biblical tales and the myths and legends of many lands were the building blocks of our reading as children, often unabridged. I like fractured fairytales much better than sanitised ones. Introducing Red Riding Hood and Wolf.

I made the bracelet while doing my degree in silversmithing, circa 1988. As I edited the photo for contrast in Picasa I saw that there was a '1980's effect'. It seemed to flatten and heighten the image in a most unpleasant way.' The Eighties. The splendid tower ring was made by my elder daughter for my birthday this year. I re-discovered the bracelet afterwards buried in the cellar and thought it a great bit of synchronicity. I got a lot of static for making such an unwearable item, I'm pleased beyond measure to be given one.

Some of our photos from Venice earlier this year for an instant colour fix.

My sources tell me that the proliferation of berries, hips and nuts mean a hard winter is on its way. It's good to see so much in the way of the way of a last shout of colour.

Massive toadstools this year, washed out colours and an obliging moth on the window.

What a wonderful place this is. My neice showed me her own sketches of the very strange bird ladies (thanks Mia!) so I was delighted to stumble across them. I love the whimsy of the gold cat among the birds and the curious hand of Sabazius. I could happily spend days there drawing but its usually a couple of uneasy hours scratching out the odd sketch while chaperoning the children and their friends and racing back to check that they haven't been lost or stolen.

Saw this in London and not sure if it's a Banksy or not, the message seems a bit mild, the style is such common currency now.

An ancient, little village church that has seen a lot of history. Plenty of empty niches but some fine angels still support the rafters. A brief and lively exhibition of art opened today and runs until this Sunday. Some cases of my glass alongside monumental sculptures, iconic Suffolk scenes, a single Maggie Hambling and choice portraits of pedigree livestock. This is where we are, come and visit!

Would you like to see the process? Largely unchanged over hundreds of years, immediate and rather alchemical. Send me a note via my 'Contact' page and I wil let you know when I am having Open Days.

Our good friend is one hundred years old today, that's a fairytale, historical, more-than-biblical sort of age. He loves animals and when his dearly loved dog died, he decided not to get another in case it outlived him. Some twenty-five years later we first got to know him as the kind gentleman who always has dog biscuits in his pocket. I'm pretty sure his particular friendship kept our small dog alive throught the trauma of losing a leg.

Lived through two world wars, served in the second, still independent, honourable, generous and aiming to make sense of his life. We salute you Mr Riches!

Fort William and through to Mallaig, ten kinds of weather in a day, seven of them wet, all worth it.

We liked the graffiti that morphed landmarks, the Scott Monument as a rocket and the dinosaurs as a bridge, I shall have to check which one... At the Fringe, amongst other things we were lucky enough to catch 'Anatomy of a Piano' by Will Pickvance:, 'The physical, emotional and spiritual anatomy of the piano..' which took place in a Victorian anatomy theatre. A lyrical, skilled and hilarious performance. Followed by a serendipitous visit to the Da Vinci anatomy exhibition at Holyrood Palace.

The Da Vinci was stunnng, lyrical and also shocking. This opened book of uniquely skilful and enlightened work and theory has spent much of its five hundred years or so in private collections, hidden from the eyes and minds that might have brought the contents into mainstream use.

We did this back to front, read about and sought out this impromptu tribute to the BBC adaptation of Sherlock Homes in London. Now we are watching the first series, great stuff. Our source (who walks past it daily) says the council clear out the booth every month or so and the notes just creep back. Belief and self-expression being powerful forces.

I was taking a quick shot of this glass on a gloomy day- today and realised having googled 'vines' yesterday I should have just walked outside and looked up.

Instant cure for ill humour on the morning walk.

Buttons on request, its easy to see the way the glass is wound, I'm not sure they will stand up to an extended spin-cycle, I suspect handwash ony.

Minotaur, Ariadne (Mistress of the Dance) and the unwound clew (ball of thread) winding up through a labyrinth.

Sometimes I have to fight an urge to keep my certain pieces of my work, some things just 'say' what you wanted them to. It might not be complex but it can be deep. Primavera just went and I shall miss her ultra femininity. When I was nine my mother made me an 18thC crinolined lady as a birthday cake. Her upper torso was entirely sculpted from icing, she held a fan and wore a white pompadour wig studded with tiny roses. That elaborate, royal-icing and Victoria Sponge lady could kick any of todays Barbie cakes to the kerb. Primavera makes me think of her.

My amazing mother also made cakes of Aladdin's Lamp, forts, treasure chests, Sleeping Beauty asleep on her bed, dragons, dinosaurs, fairytale castles and another personal favourite, a large pumpkin drawn by plump white mice on liquorice strings. Her talent fairly gilded a childhood where I'm sure I was once I was told I was having a new sibling instead of a bike.