Anne Louise Avery
@AnneLouiseAvery
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Writer. E.M.Bannister research. Reynard the Fox/Fox for All Seasons published @BodPublishing . European editor @Panorama_J
Oxford, Dorset & Paris
Joined July 2011
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Pinned Tweet
Wonderful & enormous displays of Reynard the Fox in
@blackwelloxford
! Poultry of Oxford, watch your tail feathers!
#MeetReynard
🦊
Fabulous window display of Reynard the Fox in Broad Street Blackwell’s Oxford.
@blackwelloxford
@BodPublishing
@AnneLouiseAvery
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Feeling very low tonight - not really looking forward to starting radiotherapy next week, which will last until Christmas. Would be very, very grateful for any prayers to keep me going.
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What will happen to the men who felled the Great Tree on Picts' Wall, asked Old Fox. The Lady Coventina will rise from her course below, said the King, & draw their torn & tattered souls down past the sweet harebells & the glass beads & the rings of jet, down past the soldiers'…
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Sitting in the cancer ward crying because some horrible person has just said here that my work is pointless - nobody needs your "pretty fictions." Why are people so cruel - can't they at least check to see your circumstances before they tear you down?
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A ribbon manufacturer from Saint-Étienne, Félix Thiollier's (1842-1914) melancholy photographs, shaped by the humanity of the Barbizon school, capture fragmentary moments in time, shards of light, twists of smoke, glances– vast narratives from the most transitory of experiences.
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Bloomsbury, 1933, and each week my father & his pals were going to meetings & marches to try to do something, anything, about the rising anti-semitism in Germany. Everyone was fully aware of what was happening. Fully aware. This was six years before the outbreak of war.
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My small son, who is very, very poorly at the moment, nevertheless just won the first prize haiku award at his Japanese school. I'm so proud of him. Here's his poem (foxes are very loved in my house):
Cold day, Midwinter
Snow falls on my lawn
The fox stays hidden
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A delicate sequinned silk evening dress, the colours of a clockwork hummingbird in an Oscar Wilde fairytale, dusky blue and foam green, encrusted with gold, made in Paris in around 1905.
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In 1890s London, if you were 'among the number of those who "detest to have men about the place,"' as one London guide put it, there was an obvious place to go - the Dorothy Restaurant, 448 Oxford Street (near Orchard Street), which "admitted no men."
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Made on the cusp of war, a last design before she closed her atelier & escaped from Paris in 1940, a shadowy silk dress by Madeleine Vionnet, self-confessed "enemy of fashion", overlaid with pitch-black swallows, far-fallen from the pale, untroubled skies of high summer.
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When you're the only witch in a very small town, at the very end of the railway line, you deserve a good cabinet photo.
Taken at Emil H. Klemke's Photographic Studio in Scribner, Nebraska (population, 827) in around 1900.
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🎉Last chemo done! It was a very long day & very hard and I still have to recover & go through all the side effects, but it's done! I'm so proud of myself - I'm absolutely the least brave person in relation to medical things, but I carried on & kept entirely to the timetable!🎉
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Finished radiotherapy! All done, just need to recover from the side effects now! 💫🎉🐉
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A pair of stockings from the early 1830s.
FIDM Museum
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A delicate Lammas dress from 1902 by Gustav Beer, richly decorated with silken wheat stalks, for drinking chouchen and telling fortunes in an old country garden, as a great golden moon rises in the dark Breton sky.
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A deadly arsenic-green House of Worth tea gown, circa 1897, from the wardrobe of Élisabeth de Caraman-Chimay, Countess Greffulhe, after whom the Duchess de Guermantes, a central character in Proust’s À la recherche du temps perdu was based.
Musée de la Mode de la Ville de Paris
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In the 1880s, a young man named Wilson A. Bentley decided to try to photograph snowflakes by dropping them onto black velvet. Studying them under his microscope, he had realised that no one design was ever repeated & was desperate to record their ephemeral, miraculous beauty.
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There is a death of sorts in the moments after being diagnosed with cancer. The self you were before is torn and blasted with the suddenness of a dozen mines, the heavy sword of Damocles is roped and hung, your own thin ghost steps forward from the shadows.
It feels like being…
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A deadly parade of Paris Green dresses, thick with arsenic.“Well may the fascinating wearer of it be called a killing creature. She actually carries in her skirts poison enough to slay the whole of the admirers she may meet with in half a dozen ball-rooms,” wrote the BMJ in 1862.
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Pale grey-blue velvet and gold leather button boots from 1870, probably made by a team of elves after midnight in a starving Flemish cobbler's freezing atelier.
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Etheldreda Laing (1872–1960) became entranced with photography as a young woman in Cambridge. When the autochrome became available in 1907, she began to experiment, taking dozens of photographs of her daughters in the gardens of the family home, Bury Knowle House, in Oxford.
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The most beautiful 1890s Parisian Butterfly Evening Cape, from the atelier of Emile Pingat. Milky-white satin & chiffon lie beneath layers of stiff black net butterfly wings, encrusted with silver sequins & jet beads. A further jet butterfly rests on the high neck at the back.
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🦊🌿Competition time! To cheer up a gloomy January, I'm giving away a signed edition of my brand new "A Fox for All Seasons", complete with map endpapers & ribbon, a further copy of my Reynard the Fox, & a charming fox companion! Simply like, retweet & follow to enter! 🌿🦊
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A complicated, Byzantine evening dress by Girolamo Giuseffi (1864-1934), c.1912, the sort of thing to wear in Venice, in the springtime, in the midst of a fatal love affair.
(Indianapolis Museum of Art)
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A glimmering butterfly dress & matching headdress made by Worth in 1912. Ivory silk charmeuse overlaid with chiffon, bodice and back exquisitely fashioned in butterfly wings glittering with amber beads & iridescent peacock-blue paste jewels.
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Once there was a Tabby Cat who ran a bookshop by Canterbury Cathedral. It was a marvellous place, with treasures on every shelf & free buttered toast & hot tea for all who visited. At Christmas, it glittered with lights & its window was a wonder of the city.
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My scan was fine! I'm so relieved!
It's an MRI scan day today and I'm feeling the usual feelings of dread and worry and all the old endlessly engulfing waves of trauma. Any prayers or good thoughts very gratefully received! (Illustration by Angela Barrett)
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An 1895 Arts and Crafts velvet coat in a deep pansy, with a vast medieval collar, hand-embroidered with sprays of Sweet Cicely (Myrrhis odorata), a wild flower much loved by the Elizabethans.
By Marshall & Snelgrove, a London department store specialising in bespoke dressmaking.
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There's a fleeting scene in Brief Encounter when Celia Johnson nips into Boots the Chemist to change her library book: “Miss Lewis had at last managed to get the new Kate O'Brien for me. I believe she’d kept it hidden under the counter for two days.”
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Look at this beautiful photograph of the drowsy Thames taken by my son! The sky has fallen deep into the water!
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Once, an old bear found a girl weeping in a churchyard, close to his cottage. He took her home & tucked her up, & fed her cloudberries & plain cake & let her sleep for days & days under cold linen sheets & feather eiderdowns, & he didn't speak, not one word, unless she wanted to.
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Merry Christmas one and all! xxx
(Painting by DD McInnes)
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The silence of the deep snow: Kiyoshi Saitō's (斎藤 清 1907-1997) series of prints depicting the harsh winters in Aizu (会津), where the snows cover the land for five months of the year.
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All packed & ready for the hospital. Absolutely terrified but trying to be stalwart & brave. Prayers for tomorrow would be most, most gratefully received.
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She's home! She's home! Very thin & a bit trembly, but overjoyed to see us, and asleep after lots of fish and treats. Thank you so much everyone for prayers! 🐱💫
Our beloved cat is missing and it's absolutely torture. We're jumping at every possible meow or footfall. Prayers for her return very gratefully received.
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@AlpacaAurelius
Why are you using Tess Newall’s photo without her permission? Also, she’s not a stay-at-home mother, but a highly successful decorative artist who runs her own business full-time! In England, where there are no bison.
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🦊💫Competition time! To celebrate my birthday this week, I'm giving away a signed edition of my gold-tipped 'A Fox for All Seasons' journal, complete with map endpapers & ribbon, a further copy of 'Reynard the Fox', both published by
@BodPublishing
& a charming fox companion!…
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Just cut all my hair off, as it had pretty much completely fallen out. Having a huge cry. I know all the good points - but it's so hard and I am so sad.
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For the first time since July, I don't have to endure another chemo tomorrow! Still feeling very weak, but it's such an enormous relief to be finished.
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A comet-viewing dress from the 1920s, smoke black & pike green, for drinking sour old vin de la comète & stumbling through hemlock, through woundwort to the river, to spy that vexed & augured blaze, that pale arched sword-star, the finest of swan feathers etched in sky, in water.
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🦊🍁Competition time! To cheer the last days of summer, win a signed copy of my Reynard the Fox, perfect for autumnal reading, a charming fox companion and a heavenly bar of Tony's Caramel Sea Salt Milk Chocolate! Simply like, retweet & follow to enter! Closes Monday.🍁🦊
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High over the river, the crows are circling, calling and weaving, back & forth, they cannot settle. Something has shifted deep in the land, deep below the snow and the flood and the rocks, and they need to measure it for themselves.
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My 10 year-old son is walking across Oxfordshire, 68 miles in total, to raise money for the anti-bullying charity
@BulliesOut
. It's a huge deal for him, as he's been so very, very badly bullied himself. Please support him if you can!
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Vivien Leigh as Titania in A Midsummer Night's Dream, The Old Vic, 1937
#Midsummer
#SummerSolstice
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Feeling so poorly today. Would very much appreciate any healing thoughts & prayers, as I need to be well enough for more chemo on Monday.
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A delicate sequinned silk evening dress, the colours of a clockwork hummingbird in an Oscar Wilde fairytale, dusky blue and foam green, encrusted with gold, made in Paris in around 1905.
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A mouse conscientiously transcribes a book which is being read aloud by his colleague.
Unnoticed by these elegant and diligent scholars, less erudite rats are thoughtlessly munching away at their library behind them.
Kawanabe Kyōsai 河鍋暁斎 (1831-1889)
ca. 1870s
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Out of surgery! Feeling very slow-witted and in tons of pain, but it’s done! Bring on the laudanum!
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Torii Kotondo
Morning Hair
朝寝髪
This image was considered so wildly provocative in 1930s Japan, that it was banned from further publication, remaining prints being destroyed.
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Old Fox is visiting Pine Marten in his flat in Ealing. Pine Marten is thrilled & has made a supper of mushroom soup & rolls & chruściki, deep-fried pastry ribbons clouded with sugar. Afterwards, Pine Marten repeats over & over again to the moon, I have a friend, I have a friend.
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What will happen to the men who felled the Great Tree on Picts' Wall, asked Old Fox. The Lady Coventina will rise from her course below, said the King, & draw their torn & tattered souls down past the sweet harebells & the glass beads & the rings of jet, down past the soldiers'…
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It was very late, the very end of her birthday. But the Hare was surrounded by light. Light from this World, earthy, gilden, spun of sugar & candles & ink. Light from the Other, wrought only from love, solemn as stone, silver as unfixed stars & ever present, ever, ever present.
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Cumbria, 1391. The last wolf in England felt desperately alone. He lived in the thorn woods at Humphrey Head & his one friend was a kind girl who gave him bacon & buttery scones. When he was killed & his soul flew over the sea, he howled her name to the dying sun, to the waves.
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3rd Window. Each Christmas, in the little hamlet, a great fir tree at the edge of the woods was decorated, tin lanterns hung from every branch. Mouse could see the lights from her bedroom window. They looked like stars fallen to the earth, blazing bright in the winter darkness.
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We are on that same slippery trajectory today: greased by normalisation, collaboration & a false sense, which everyone always has, that this is as bad as it gets. This isn't as bad as it can get. It has already become so much worse in the past 2 years.
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💫Happy Birthday to me and to Wolf! 💫
(Illustration by Taryn Knight)
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Mary Shelley’s dressing-case, full of relics from the storm of her life: glass bottles & boxes inscribed with her initials, a bracelet & a fob chain formed from her hair, gathered at her death, & locks of hair belonging to Shelley & Bryon, wrapped in little envelopes.
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The Old Gentleman of the North had been making lists since Midsummer. Lists of the lonely, of the poor, of those without family, without friends, without hope, and whilst he couldn't change very much, he would do what he could, when the snows came & the stars were as cold as ice.
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Old rose at dusk. It smells of myrrh and violets and long-ago gardens.
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Such wonderful news this morning! So very, very happy & deeply honoured to have been awarded a
@Soc_of_Authors
grant for writing my great big Old Fox book, to be published by
@BodPublishing
!
#soagrants
@robynlaw
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There was once a rabbit who dreamt of wild adventure, of liners sailing to Brazil, carrot fields in Norfolk, creameries in Normandy. I have a small life, he said. But before he died, he looked up at his beloved human & he realised that a life of love is never slight, not at all.
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She was so tired, she couldn't write anymore & slept at her desk by the window. All night, the little rats & mice worked, they found references, listed volumes, edited difficult passages & when she woke in the cold, clear dawn, the entire manuscript was arranged neatly before her
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Having a really terrible & heartbreaking week with a poorly child. This has really become a very grim month. Any spare prayers anyone could send our way would be most appreciated.
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🦊🎉Competition time! To celebrate my birthday next week, I'm giving away a signed edition of my brand new "A Fox for All Seasons", complete with map endpapers & ribbon, a further copy of my Reynard the Fox, & a charming fox companion! Simply like, retweet & follow to enter! 🎉🦊
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The First Window. It was a freezing morning, frost on the thatch, on the apple trees in the orchard, on the long, sloping fields across the lane. Old Fox had been up for hours, lighting fires & oil lamps & making a special breakfast for the beginning of December. Buttered rye…
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Old Fox and the King all of Gold were resting, up on the snow-deep head of the barrow, looking down across Dorsetshire, across the good brown fields & the villages & the ancient roads & streams. It was Saint Stephen's day, a day of those who are brave, who keep going despite all.
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There was once a Cat who lived in an attic on Sandwich St. in Bloomsbury. Every day at 4 pm, she watched a young poet opposite rush home to his love. The Cat had never seen two humans so happy, & it made her feel that the world had perhaps a thin sliver of light in it after all.
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21st Window. When Grandcub arrived at the cottage, he stood in wonder just for a few moments before rushing up the path. He could see Old Fox lighting the candles on the Christmas tree & Wolf eating cake in the parlour, & everything was joy & light & happiness to come.
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4th Window. It was twilight when Old Fox, carrying a lantern, walked back to the Sheep Church. The sky was mottled dun-grey & the first flakes of snow had begun to fall. In the quiet settling of the darkness, he lit the second Advent candle.For love, he told the ghosts, for love.
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Pulled from the crepuscule tide-swell, a sea-water-in-sunlight dress by
@costarellos
, froth-foam waves of tulle embroidered with dusty white dandelion clocks and seed pods like fine coral and summer birds calling in the clear salt air over the cliffs in Midsummer.
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Feeling rather frail & exhausted, but my fifth (and scary for me) chemo is done! Thank you so much everyone for your amazing support, it helped so much.
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Old Fox had got up very early to plant some roses. It was a beautiful morning. The light had changed now. It fell heavy & golden on the apple trees & the half-moon was high above the cottage & the gulls were calling over the flax fields.
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The children's ward at night feels like a cathedral, deep shadows and peace and prayers and a ragged, exhausted community of parents. The edges of everything, of the great meanings of life are very close here . My little one had a better evening & is sleeping very peacefully.
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Mouse's little bedroom in the hamlet felt more like a nest than a room. The bed was very high, with an ancient bolster & soft pillows, & the moon shone in from the fields & the country moths flickered around her candle. I am safe now, said Mouse to herself, I am safe now.
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I'm so sad, whispered the Mouse, my heart is breaking. As they began to light lanterns in the snow, all along the cliff edge, Old Fox pointed into the crashing darkness. Look, it's only 20 miles to France. Only 20 miles. All will be well in the end, Mouse, all will be well.
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A late Meiji kimono from around 1909, snow-damp sleeves trailing high drifts of blossom & pine sap smoke from deep mountain gorges & thin torn clouds from vast scoured skies. For black tea in worn silver cups like fallen moons & slices of bird cherry cake steeped in sour cream.
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Made on the cusp of war, a last design before she closed her atelier & escaped from Paris in 1940, a shadowy silk dress by Madeleine Vionnet, self-confessed "enemy of fashion", overlaid with pitch-black swallows, far-fallen from the pale, untroubled skies of high summer.
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Such a dress! From 1908, a year of strange comets & explosions. Dark lace filigree, trailing lakes of fallen spring stars, dark as crowberries, trimmed with beads of fennel flowers & water beetles & cold green Siberian rivers & the pinkest of Punschkrapfen rum cakes.
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Our little Narnian Christmas cake is finished!
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❄️🦊Competition time! Just in time for Christmas, I'm giving away a signed edition of my gold-tipped 'A Fox for All Seasons' journal, complete with map endpapers & ribbon, a further copy of 'Reynard the Fox', both published by
@BodPublishing
& a charming Arctic fox to read them…
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And this really intensely annoys me too because I don't write pretty fictions anyway. I write about the human condition, about loss and illness and pain and betrayal and cruelty and ageing and friendship - the beauty and meaning and grace within all of that. The importance of…
Sitting in the cancer ward crying because some horrible person has just said here that my work is pointless - nobody needs your "pretty fictions." Why are people so cruel - can't they at least check to see your circumstances before they tear you down?
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Mouse was having a very bad day. The Bears had been busy at chapel, & she had gone for a walk alone in the cold. From the hill, she looked across the river to the village & the sea beyond. What a mess I've made of everything, she said to herself, what a mess I've made of my life.
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🦊🌸Competition time! For Easter, I'm giving away a signed edition of my book, Reynard the Fox, a copy of my Fox for All Seasons lined journal, a chocolate bunny & egg & a charming fluffy companion! Simply like, retweet & follow to enter! 🌸🦊
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3rd Day of Advent. Once there was a Tabby Cat who ran a bookshop by Canterbury Cathedral. It was a marvellous place, with treasures on every shelf & free buttered toast & hot tea for all who visited. At Christmas, it glittered with lights & its window was a wonder of the city.
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The last swallows were leaving that morning, a clear golden morning so warm that Old Fox was serving breakfast in the garden. One came to the table & told them in her elaborate, ornate language of their journey ahead. When she had finished, she bowed & Old Fox spoke the…
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❤️My small son was very poorly this morning, but was determined to press ahead with Mother's Day. He had made me dozens of origami animals, picked forget-me-nots from the garden & had created an entire day's activities in his bedroom for me, including a magic show with snacks!❤️
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The Eighth Window. Early that morning, Miss Rabbit had made a Christmas wreath by candlelight, a beautiful wreath of holly & bay & spruce & sweet red apples. As the first light honeyed the church windows opposite her cottage, she hung it carefully on her front door, & then stood…
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Just came back - all clear right now! What a relief!
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Old Fox had baked great earthy potatoes in the embers of the kitchen fire & as they ate, paws dripping with butter, he began another haunty tale. A dozen years ago, before the War, some of the panelling up at the Manor had to be torn down. Wood ants. I know this one, said Wolf.
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Just back from the hospital - I’m now halfway through radiotherapy! 🎉
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It's an MRI scan day today and I'm feeling the usual feelings of dread and worry and all the old endlessly engulfing waves of trauma. Any prayers or good thoughts very gratefully received! (Illustration by Angela Barrett)
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From the Ridgeway this evening, one of the most beautiful sunsets I think I’ve ever seen.
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Lady Hale demonstrating the potential for vast novelistic sub-narratives offered by a correctly chosen brooch. What a tangled web we weave, indeed.
#Prorogation
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Past midnight, but Old Fox had walked down to the church. He unlocked the heavy Norman door & lit the oil lamps. Then he sat under the wall painting of the great angel Michael & prayed as hard as he could. Prayed for his friends, prayed for his village, prayed for the world.
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@JohnnyMercerUK
If
@MarkFieldUK
has a panic attack so severe that out of a room packed with people, he alone attacks and half-strangles a woman half his size wearing a delicate silk dress, then I would suggest that he is unfit to be in his position and needs some urgent treatment.
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Wolf had found the evening paper hidden in Old Fox's desk. He took it to his room & with heavy paws found the toll – 338. He wrote the number carefully in his diary & thought of each soul, earthy & loved as roses, high & holy as falcons, fire stars raken into the breath of night.
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