Lucy K Shaw

I’m writing on the train from Paris to Nevers, where I haven’t been for two months. I spent Christmas and New Year’s in England, and then the next six weeks on the south-west coast of Spain, working and walking along the beach every day.

It’s strange to be back in France, with the three languages mixing together in my mind, and even some German thrown in too. There were a lot of German people in the town where we stayed.

‘Los alemanes quieren el sol’ said some lady in a hallway.

‘Estamos lo mismo,’ admitted Chris.

In Andalusia, the sky was bright blue and the light was so incredible and you could see so far in every direction when you were on the beach that I had to take my sunglasses off sometimes to remind myself that it was real.

Picture me: I’m running in the morning and I’m listening to a podcast and I’m surrounded by absolutely nothing.

Picture me as though from a drone.

Here the sky hangs heavy and grey, there are no leaves on the trees. The ground is dark and everything looks damp.

It doesn’t seem to make sense that both things could be happening at the same time?

That it’s possible to travel between such different landscapes within a couple of hours.

That we, as a people, can fly?

And yet I, as an individual, am so simple...

I went back onto social media after a month without looking at it, but it started to feel something like drinking a Monster energy drink and eating a bag of Haribo sour mix at the same time, so I haven’t been looking at it much since my return. I become aware of myself being sucked into a disgusting-feeling scroll almost immediately, and then I’m repulsed by it. The layouts of the apps feel clunky and chaotic now that I’ve untrained my eyes from looking at them.

I was ready to get back into active participation but now the thrill is gone.

So I’m ready for a new mode of communicating. Hence why I started writing this blog.

Which as you know, you are welcome to join me in.

You can write whatever you like...

But I understand if you don’t feel the urge right now.

I just love writing for absolutely no reason.

Putting these words together, just to play.

Talking to nobody.

Making myself laugh...

Oh, one thing I keep meaning to mention to somebody, but so far have kept to myself:

This month marks ten years since I started working on Shabby Doll House.

Ten years since I had the idea to make some kind of magazine and bought shabbydollhouse.com...

Kind of an interesting fact.

I feel like I should be invited somewhere to stand in front of a podium to give a rousing speech about how I changed the world.

I do actually, on some level, really think that.

And I suppose I could just write the speech here on this blog...

But no, I will wait patiently for my invitation from whoever owns a podium.

And then I will say no, sorry!

I don’t want or need your institutional support!

Thank you, but no thank you.

And then, and only then, will I post the speech in full, here on this blog, so that people can read it alone at their computers, the way Shabby Doll House was intended to be experienced, by God.

Just kidding, God is not, nor has ever been, an editor of Shabby Doll House.


There was literally no point to this blog post, other than the pleasure I have felt in writing it.

I just wanted to take myself for a nice little walk.

Where shall we go next time?

Ah, I just looked out of the window and saw the river Loire.

And then I actually said out loud, Ahhhhh!

On returning to the place where I wrote an entire book in the past year, I can’t help but feel like the protagonist.