The Three R's Blog

After all the snow, the rain... time for some colour.

2010-03-02T02:40:00.001-08:00

Those of you who read my ramblings know that my blog isn't a fancy one.... I don't do clever things with the camera and photographs, it's not intellectually stimulating or challenging, it's not tales of daily life in our quiet little household, it's not showing off latest acquisitions after hours of trawling charity shops and boot sales. It's plain and straightforward, postings of things that please and displease, living up to it's Three R's... rants, raves and ramblings. So you won't read my waxing lyrically about blue skies and Spring, quoting this or that writer... just showing a picture of our silver birch against the glorious blue sky this morning, a very frosty day to begin with but now that the sun has come out fully, it is warming up, and I am off out into the garden for an hour before lunch. But before I do, I wanted to share some colour with you, something I am sure we are all pleased to have in our lives after what seems a long, long winter.

If I could, I would ALWAYS buy British flowers, but round here, at this time of year, it's impossible, and for the rest of the year, sometimes they are out of my price range. So I buy a supermarket bunch of flowers for a few pounds, because I can afford them, because I love the colours.

Colourful crochet, a corner of a throw made from 25g balls of primary colours so I got lots of variety.

This photograph below shows an incredible piece of needlework. I can't claim the credit for it, it was made for me by a very special friend many, many years ago. It is some form of Japanese needlework, beginning with a polystyrene ball, which is then covered in a mesh of very fine yarn or thread...it's about the thickness of fine crochet thread. And then a pattern is woven in and out of this base mesh. It took hours and hours, and is incredibly beautiful, like the friend who made it.

A little pot cover I made...

A pair of socks to go inside my husband's gardening boots, in the making ...

Some crocheted bunting....

A pair of patchwork hearts ...

A pair of crocheted hearts,which I am going to attach to ribbon and hang, somewhere ....

Some gorgeous wool courtesy of Sue at the Old Piggery, to be used in a crochet throw as it is just so wonderfully cosy and cuddlesome when made up ...

And here endeth a brief display of colour.

Now a word about language before I go. Those of you who know me will know I hate the use of abbreviations like LOL, and BTW (which I thought was a sandwich!), and the use of text message language, which is fine if you are in a hurry, and that's about all. So I love to discover new words, even if they are not in our language. I am re-reading the Big Stone Gap trilogy of books by American writer Adriana Trigiani, set in Virginia, and some of the language is a bit strange, some of it, when thought about, quite apt. My latest discovery is the word LOLLYSWAGGLE, which means to laze about like a cat lying on a rug, you know the way they roll on their back and so on?

My next words are CHEERIO .... and thanks for dropping in.

And the winner is...

2010-02-15T01:58:00.001-08:00

Sumea at skippinginthemeadow.typepad.com. Parcel will be despatched this week, and thanks to all who joined in, it was really nice to see some new names!

Our wonderful weather, some crafty bits and bobs, and thoughts on St. Valentine's Day.

2010-02-11T03:03:00.000-08:00

Moan about it we certainly do, but which would you rather live in... a place where every day was the same, be that snowy and little daylight, permanent sunshine and little rain, or more rain than sun? Or...somewhere you get variety, where you can tell the seasons (usually) by the weather outside your window. We complain about snow now... but it's winter, what do you expect? But how wonderful to go from sunny, cold, frosty wintry days which leave you with evening skies like these...

to mornings when you wake up to this.....

Very little snow really, and more what has been termed 'soft hail', which resembles those tiny polywhatsit granules they use in packing sometimes. When it hits cold ground, it freezes solid, and you find intriguing little clumps of perfect, pure white tiny balls that look like they fell off some giant cake decoration. But I love the changes in seasons, and all the delights, and negatives too, that they bring. But enough about the weather...

Here are my two works in progress.... a pair of chunky cable socks for my husband, to wear inside his gardening boots, knitted on two needles using Sirdar Escape, which is a gorgeously soft, wool-rich doubleknit which changes colour as you go along. They feel so warm, my only concern is whether or not the seam under foot will be uncomfortable? Time will tell. The crochet is a throw for the new summerhouse seat and because I wanted a lot of different colours, not bothered whether they were strong or pale, just a good mix was my need, I bought one of those bags of 25g balls of doubleknit used for toy-making, as it gave me such a good variety. I shall also use up odds and ends from my basket, at the moment I am working my way through the small yarn stash, so it can be replaced with another!

Some of you will have been following Jill Taylor over at her third age musings blog, and seen the fabulous creative calendar she has been working on, amongst other things which frankly, make me a little envious of her skills. Well, as all who know me will testify, I am not really arty. I can make my own cards, but they are not free-flowing miniature works of art, though pleasing to the eye, and always well-received. In fact, several of my closest friends have been saving them for twenty odd years!! But I liked the idea of the calendar, so gave it a go. Now many people would perhaps have kept quiet about this, and certainly not exposed their lack of talent (and not looking here for any contradictions you understand) to all and sundry. But.... I am not so reticent at times, and wanted to show you it, just to make you realise that (a) perhaps you weren't as bad as you thought after all, (b) just how good others are in comparison and (c) it doesn't matter at all, what counts is that I tried something new, something different, something out of my comfort zone shall we say, which was one of my new year intentions after all. (One of the others was to get myself into print and that's come about as well... we'll gloss over the losing weight one!) So this was January...

And this is February, or half of it. On the right hand page will be scraps and photos of things that I love, such as my granddaughter Summer, my husband, pretty china, cats, my garden etc., etc. This page just has words and quotes to do with love.

Now it isn't fabulous, but it pleases me, and that's important to me. But, I have decided to have a change of tack, and rather than make it a calendar, as you can see I am going down the scrapbook/journal route instead. From now on, one page will be painted, and the other will be covered in scrapbook paper, taken from the ones below, which I have just bought from Panduro, mostly at 60p or 75p a sheet, but there are SO many great designs, it was hard to limit myself. On the painted page will be notes, maybe calendar or diary type entries for the occasional day when something is worth mentioning, or maybe little labels stuck on the decorative papers. I haven't decided yet, but these papers are just so lovely, don't you think?

This weekend is of course, St. Valentine's Day... heard being described by someone this morning on breakfast television, as 'a totally unnecessary stressful day'. It was a man, though maybe some of you would think that goes without saying? But what are your thoughts? Do you think it's important that there is one specific day set aside when people express their love for one another? Should you not need reminding that it's nice to be told, and to tell someone, how much they matter to you? Is it just a commercial rip-off? We all know about restaurants putting up prices, the ridiculous price of cards and teddy bears, of roses being hiked up in price, chocolates too. The television is full of adverts by various supermarkets all offering special Valentine's Day meal packages for a tenner or less, or more. To me, I think if someone sends you something on Valentine's Day, you might wonder if they had only done so because they couldn't escape the advertising and media hype about The Day, maybe not done for the right reason. Whereas, if they give you something out of the blue, when it's not Valentine's or your birthday, or an anniversary or Christmas, then it shows they were thinking of you especially, not prodded into it. That makes anywhen or unbirthday presents much more special to my mind, which is perhaps as well, because my husband, bless him, is not the most romantic of men shall we say, and so a bunch of flowers when I am not expecting them, when it's not reciprocal for a surprise pressie I gave him, means SO much more.

But is Valentine's Day only for partners?No of course it's not. Several of my oldest, dearest, closest friends have received a little gift from me this year, for Valentine's Day, each with a heart-shaped gift tag, to thank them for being my friend and sending love on Valentine's Day for that reason. (Because believe me, being my friend ain't the easiest thing at times!) I used to send my sons a card, just to tell them I loved them... embarrassed they may have been, but I stopped doing it years ago anyway. My Valentine's gift from my husband this year is him doing the Sunday lunch whilst I just sit, enjoy copious cups of tea being made for me on demand (I don't drink alcohol any more) and reading my latest copy of Country Living. The day will have started with a lovely hot soak in a scented bath followed by breakfast, also prepared by him, in the conservatory, some letter-writing in the afternoon, and tea in front of the fire watching something on a DVD.... we are currently working our way through Monarch of the Glen and Friends. It will be a lovely relaxing weekend altogether, with no chores. And that, for me, is a perfick way of spending Valentine's Day weekend.

Whatever you think about it all, however you will be spending it, enjoy your weekend, and thanks, as always, for dropping in.

A giveaway for my 100th post.

2010-01-30T03:12:00.000-08:00

Well, I've been blogging for over a year now, somehow the first year anniversary passed me by, so I decided to have a giveaway to celebrate 100 posts, and now is the time. As knitting is so in vogue at the moment, though I know for some of us it never went out, I decided to make it knitting-themed, and the above photo shows some of the goodies going in a box to be given away. As with the last time I did this, all names will be printed off, entered into a hat and one drawn at random. So email addresses would be helpful to inform the winner please.

It was September 2008 when I introduced myself to the world of blogging, to start putting down random thoughts and 'stuff' to anyone who would be mad (or desperate) enough to read. Only two did.... which I have to admit was a bit of a disappointment. Well, when I say 'bit of' you will know that for days I walked around in a blue funk, weeping and wailing that yet again, nobody liked me. I couldn't even make virtual friends. What was wrong with me. After much hair pulling out and gernashing of teeth, I decided to persevere though.

I have never attracted huge amounts of blogging groupies, of commentators (or commentors, whichever is correct). The most comments I have had left has been 17, the highest number of followers, 20. Small fry indeed compared to some with dozens or even hundreds of followers and comments left every time they post. They could post that they had cut their toe nails and doubtless there would be dozens of comments left. But, it's OK, small is good, small is beautiful, and in this case it's not size that matters, but the quality. So I like to think I have a small, but perfectly formed group of loyal followers.

I have learnt a lot along the way whilst walking the blogging path; new things to make, books to read that would otherwise have passed me by and denied me a real treat. I have found again my love of crochet and quilting. I have tried new things that haven't always worked out... needle felting for one. Creative journalling is another, though I've modified my interest in this to the creative calendars over at thirdagemusings (thanks Jill for the inspiration). Mine will never be as good, as arty, as free flowing as hers, but I am having fun, which is the main thing. At one point I was stuck though.. here I had this lovely new book (courtesy of The Pink Pig company), full of empty pages and promises/hopes to be fulfilled, of being arty and clever and have folk oohing and aahing over it, positively salivating at my wonderfully creative calendar. Well.. you gotta have hope!

One thing I have decided about my calendar is that in future, after January, it will be different from Jill's and the normal calendar with a square per day and so on. I shall use wonderful scrap book papers and other embellishments, just have a square for a day when there is something I particularly want to say. Though it's difficult to find anything as I keep a daily journal, so all my thoughts and ideas go in there. But January was all about hope, it being the beginning of a new decade, and of being inspired. It seems many of you felt the same, something to do with the blue moon possibly? But I have been inspired to take up my creative writing again and so Wednesday is Writing Day when I do lessons and exercises, work on stories or pieces I want to submit to magazines, and have already submitted one to YOURS which is under consideration, and had a different version of my Norfolk Village blog published in our bi-monthly all colour village magazine. I am inspired to read more classic literature this year, and am reading (for the umpteenth time) Pride and Prejudice at present, a lovely cloth-covered old version with illustrations.

Next month the calendar pages will be pink, it will all be to do with LOVE of course, with hearts and pictures of things and people in my life which I love, which are important to me, and words of love too, from some of the romantic poets. I have lots of ideas, and thanks to the Panduro catalogue, lots of lovely scrapbooking papers to decorate future pages with, so it may not be as good as some, but I am enjoying playing and being creative in my own way.
And just a final note.... we went out yesterday, and drove along Sunny Hunny seafront towards a snow storm blowing in off The Wash. It looked much more exciting and dangerous than the pictures depict... a mobile camera is OK but not brilliant. A couple of hundred yards further along and it was like driving through thick grey fog along pristine sparkling white roads. The cliff top car park was almost devoid of cars, just one hardy couple battling the elements which hadn't been there when they set out probably. It was spectacular.

And this shot of the lighthouse doesn't do justice to what it actually looked like either, but it will do!

So, those of you who want to be included in the knitting giveaway, just leave a comment with your email address please or some way of getting back to you if you don't want it displayed, BEFORE FEBRUARY 14TH, which is the cut-off date. And thanks for sticking with me, those of you who have.

The joy of books and secondhand bookshops.

2010-01-18T03:54:00.000-08:00

Whilst there can be no doubt that the Internet has made it easy and cheaper to buy books, with the competition between the big book retailers bringing down the price of books to the advantage of us, the buyers, to my mind there is nothing like going into a proper bookshop. I use the internet for my new book purchases generally, and occasionally that hard to find secondhand one has been purchased online as well, but I have to say that when looking for old books to buy, I do have to feel them, smell them and just see them properly really.
So it has been sad to see so many of our favourite haunts closing down and changing to selling their books via their websites. We would eagerly look forward to an hours' drive and a morning spent in a favourite bookshop, but now there are so few to choose from, half of our favourites have closed down.
However some still remain, and one close to home being only ten minutes away. The shop has been run by the same lady for thirty years now, and is a real treasure trove. We used to visit regularly, but haven't been for years when suddenly, last Saturday on a wild, wet and windy morning, we decided to abandon the chores we had planned around the house, and visit this bookshop instead.
You walk in and are surrounded in the first room by fiction mainly, and lots of childrens books, plus cookery and craft. Into the next room where you find history and topography, gardening and wildlife. Out into the hall and there are some more special and specialised books, plus more gardening and nature and geography. Upstairs you will find classics and music and theatre in one room, together with old newspapers, old prints and musical scores. Another room houses more history and religion, and another has a miscellany of books, a real hotchpotch which haven't been able to find homes elsewhere. These are great shelves for browsing, you never know what you may find here.

There are also modern books, secondhand, like the Kate Atkinson and Diana Athill above. The beautiful leatherbound copy of Rebecca, which is illustrated (see end of blog) cost me less than half the price of a new paperback of the story I bought at Christmas - it is in my mind to read more classics this year you see, at the moment it's an old favourite, PRIDE AND PREJUDICE, a small, illustrated cloth bound copy which is old and well-loved, with a lovely smell and feel when it's in your hand, something modern books don't have. And the top book is another oldie with a beautiful cover, by ELIZABETH JANE HOWARD, published by the REPRINT SOCIETY in 1956.

Then there were two more books to add to my ANNE OF GREEN GABLES collection. I never read these books by LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERY as a child, never even heard of them until I happened to see a Canadian television production of the first book on television, and I was hooked. I have all the stories in paperback, and am now collecting the hardback, but only with dustjackets, though I will buy a clothbound if I see one, to replace with a dustjacketed one likewise. The one on the left is from 1961 bearing the rubber stamping of DERBYSHIRE COUNTY COUNCIL SCHOOL LIBRARIES and the one on the right is much earlier, being inscribed inside 'With love to Cecily, December 1941'. I do have a preference for books which have been inscribed.

Now I know you can buy those lovely little Observer books on just about any subject, but I am so happy when I find one on a subject which interests me, but is something different, like the above. This has some lovely illustrations inside as you can see from the two examples below.

Plus it's a smallish book, and I like those very much. Fortunately the print in this particular instance is easy for me to read, it's not always the case of course, with small books.

Along similar lines is this flower book, again a great handy size and lots of lovely illustrations.

Below is the book on the top of the pile..

and this is one of the illustrations from the REBECCA book ...

So I got quite a nice selection, with change from twenty quid... can't be bad!

Just to say that the next posting will be my 100th, with a giveaway, more of which later.

Thanks for dropping by again.

Time for a rant... ranting space to rent... feel free to add a rant!

2010-01-08T04:05:00.000-08:00

Sorry, but this is my space, it IS the THREE R'S blog and one of the R's does stand for RANTS - the others being RAVES and RAMBLINGS for those of you who don't know - so here goes my rant(s).

Recently we bought some roller blinds from a certain DIY store - I won't shame them by naming them - and had to take one back. Mr A, my other half, took the unwanted one back, looked at all the others, saw there was a space for the shorter width one we wanted in its place, but the space was empty. Went to the customer service desk to enquire when they would be getting one, to be told that this particular store wasn't designated to carry this particular size (even though there was space for it remember, and they had it in all the other colours!) and therefore couldn't order one for us. Mr A came home disgruntled, convinced that somehow we were going to have to cut it down to size, not easy as it had stitched edges and flattened pleats. Mrs A, that's me, yet more disgruntled (common occurrence) decided to go on the website of this company and speak to someone. I was told by a schoolboy (for that is what he sounded like, too young to be in charge of the 'customer-services-my-name-is-blank-can-I-help-you? telephone) that the staff member should have offered to have one transferred to the store from any other store in the region that had stock. Had they done so? No. He asked which store I was referring to, checked in his little machine and found that a couple of others in the region (an hour away) had stock and then just disconnected me. Next thing, the customer service desk at my local store was answering the phone... so we went through the whole rigmarole again. She checked, found there was stock of the blind at Peterborough (over an hour away) and that she would get one transferred. Which was OK, until she then said that she wasn't sure when it would be as they didn't have an inter-store delivery/collection service but relied on members of staff, in this case a man who lived in Peterborough but worked in my local store, going to the store to collect the item and bring it into work with him. Can you believe that? Surely they have large lorries going from one store to another, why not simply put the item on the lorry? Is that it, too simple? I shall be writing to head office of said DIY chain to see what they have to say about it all, but to me it seems crazy, and well worth a rant.

Next.... no doubt many of you have been watching the news items on anti social behaviour on the main ITV news... the ASBO loutish family making life hell for two sisters in a cul-de-sac and so on. My old friend FYLDECOASTER on his blog has his own remedy for it, and whilst part of me believes that if you can't get mad you get even, I am not advocating violence. But somehow you think this might be the only language these people understand. They know that the police do nothing, or that when they do, the punishment is derisable (is that the right word, my brain has white out at present) and they laugh it off accordingly. They wear their tags like a badge of office, they flaunt their ASBOness as something to be proud of, they make life absolutely miserable to put it mildly, and think, somehow, this is funny, or clever, or makes them look big. Even their small child shouted foul-mouthed language. Hardly surprising you can see a mini-thug in the making, someone who is going to come to no good as they say, not living where he does. But whilst we all shout at the television screens in our anger and frustration and sympathy for the people who are subjected to this bullying, it may assuage our feelings, but does nothing to help the people suffering. What can be done? Well, it seems that persistence and not giving up even in the face of bullies and physical attacks might be the answer, as shown by the two ladies who stood up to them. In fact there were two lots of women in different areas who were making a difference to their neighbourhood.... what strikes me is.... why is it women? What's wrong with the men doing something? And more generally, what is the answer?

Next... switched on to watch the Hairy Bikers and their Mother Knows Best cookery series which began last night, and absolutely loved it, love the idea of it and everything. But was gobsmacked and dismayed and angry, in about equal measures all three, when the opening titles revealed the word FAVOURITE spelled the American way... FAVORITE. I couldn't believe my eyes, am still not 100% convinced that I saw such a bastion of Britishness resorting to American spellings. Did anyone else spot it? Were you annoyed by it?
Next.... why can't our binmen replace the bins where they got them from? The council are quick to TELL us (not ask) the specific place we should leave our bins ready for collection. So is it too much to ask that they are put back in the same place? Apparently so, because there have been innumerable complaints to the council from myself and others, about bins left littering the pavement, all day in some cases, until the householder returns from work. The pavements are not the widest, we are on a busy main road through the village, there are a lot of elderly folk on mobility scooters and the like, mothers with buggies, who all have to walk into the road to get around the bins. When I complained last, I had a visit from the appropriate head of department who told me that the contractor would be warned about it, fined and if it continues, then his contract would not be renewed. That should be incentive enough you'd think, but not so. A man from the council sat in his car early one morning to watch them, highly visible (surely better to hide up a bit?) and lo and behold, all the bins were nicely put back in place. And for a couple of weeks after as well. But then they resorted to their old ways. There is one culprit in particular, a little runt of a man who wears completely black clothes, not even the regulation dayglow vest, and he has a hat pulled down to his eyebrows, and a scarf pulled up to his lower eyelashes. He scuttles about the place, looks weedy but can fling a bin with the best of them. Sometimes they end up roughly where you put them, but more often not... often not even near your own house. I'd like to go out and slap him... but I don't condone violence do I? Shame.....

Well, the last one might seem a very minor rant... but when you have to look for your bin, drag it back through thick snow, take someone else's back to their own house, you get a bit cheesed off, to put it mildly. You want to jump up and down and ask why people can't do their jobs properly, surely it's not asking for much, it would take less effort to put the blessed bin back properly than simply swing it around. I'd like to swing him around...but I don't condone violence, did I say that?

Of course, had we seen hide or hair of a council gritter, then the pavements might not be ankle deep in snow, or ice, or slush, and not as hazardous to walk on. But that's another rant, and I bet there are lots of you out there with a similar rant waiting to come out! So go on, let it out!

I am coming up to my 100th posting soon, and will be having a GRAND KNITTING-THEMED GIVEAWAY, for those interested. But more of that later, meantime, take care when you go out and keep warm when you stay in.

PS... A late rant. I should explain first of all that we never answer the phone, but leave it to the answering service to take the message. This is because (a) we hate using the phone and friends know that so don't bother calling unless in an emergency of some sort and (b) despite not wanting nuisance calls and taking appropriate steps, we still get them. So, there were a series of calls last November and when I did 1471 it said that someone had tried to make a reverse charge call. Now not anyone I knew, of that I was certain, but there seemed no way of finding out where they originated, since there was no call back number, no message about number withheld, just the reverse charge bit. So in desperation I wrote to OFCOM, and six weeks later a reply has been received, the upshot of which is they can't tell me who the 0800 Reverse calls were from due to the Date Protection Act, Freedom of Information.... the long and the short of that is they can't tell me where the calls originated, nor if there had been other complaints. Nor did they answer my question as to whether or not calls that just left a recorded message when you checked them, were illegal, as I had always thought they were. So writing to OFCOM was a waste of time.

HAPPY NEW YEAR .. and may all yours be white!

2010-01-01T02:02:00.000-08:00

To all my blogging chums, fellow crafty folk, avid readers and hopeful wannabee writers... HAPPY NEW YEAR!
This was what we woke up to this morning, an inch of fresh snow, broken only by the large footprints of the local pheasant and a young male black and white cat, who are regular visitors to the garden, though not at the same time obviously! Refreshingly cold, not that painful uncomfortable cold (apparently that's coming for us next week, something to look forward to then!) but the sort that revitalises you and fills your lungs with clean, fresh air. So peaceful too, but then, so was last night. If there were fireworks, we didn't hear them... but we are always fast asleep by midnight anyway!

But it is at this time of year I always feel hopeful, positive, energised with new ideas for the decor of our little home (so we bought new blinds for the conservatory yesterday, taking advantage of bargains - we only went out for storage boxes!), for the garden, this year the summerhouse gets a revamp. I'd like to say, so do I.... and at this time of year I never make resolutions, for they put too much pressure on you I think. But I have good intentions... like losing weight is a given, I say it every new year, and the best I can hope for with my medication is to control it.. if I am lucky. I intend learning how to use my sewing machine for something other than everyday stuff.... taking up a subscription to my favourite writing magazine again, for a year, and to do some creative writing exercises for at least a couple of hours one day a week, probably Wednesday. Because it begins with W too (for Writing) and is easy to remember that way. I am not good at routine. Had years of it of course with young children growing up, then a part time job. But I think getting into some form of routine with my writing is the only way it will progress, but it will be hard sticking to this resolution I know. A bit like cleaning the oven, if it's something I tell myself needs to be done, I can prevaricate with the best of them and ALWAYS find something better/more useful/more interesting to do... even ironing has its appeal at times like this!

And the other thing I am doing is a creative calendar, which many of you will know about from jilltaylor-thirdagemusings.blogspot.com who has laid down a challenge. I had already started mine anyway, having been inspired by sights of her own calendar on previous postings on her blogspot.

This book is my inspiration. It is so easy to read, gives you ideas aplenty, if you need a kickstart in the arty department. I just don't need a kickstart, I need to be pushed along as well, for I am not that good an artist. No, correction. I am a lousy artist. I can design abstract and other designed cards, can do freestyle tapestry, but when it comes to actual drawing... forget it. However, Violette in the above book tells you how to draw a face. I followed her instruction and voila, I had a face. So this has filled me with hope - and determination to try harder with this as well. So I am starting with the calendar, using bits from the JOURNAL BLISS book for inspiration.

I love the colour purple... this has come out more virulent than it actually is I have to say, but I wanted to start the year with a colour I particularly liked, to inspire me to carry on, and because I love the colour. I have two inch squares of blue card cut out and a plethora of bits and bobs to play with to add texture and colour.

I saw this carrying bag in a certain craft catalogue a couple of years ago, it comes in two different sizes. I loved it, wanted it, but couldn't justify the cost. Then sometime last year (nearly put 'this year' then!) it was on sale, so I could suddenly justify buying it.. to myself only you understand, my lovely husband never questions what I spend our money on. Then it sat in a cupboard, as I couldn't fill it, it didn't look right with needles and yarn, didn't seem designed for that, even though I had seen it so filled. Then I bought pots of paint, discoverd boxes of chalks, tins of watercolour pencils, glue sticks, felt tips, gel pens..... and all those little pocketses were about to be filled.

Then there are packets of paper notions, different shapes and colours and designs.

Then a box of rubber stamps and inkpads.

And suddenly I have enough crafty pieces to be going on with, though I still want some smaller pots of acrylics. And no doubt by the time I have finished looking at the craft catalogue again, there will be a few other little items I can't manage without!

I am also coming up to my one hundredth posting on this blog and plan a giveaway all to do with knitting. But more of that anon.

For now, let me wish you all a HAPPY NEW YEAR. I have so enjoyed this journey through blogland, read some fab blogs, some not so good so they were only read the once. There are some intersting, talented, funny bloggers out there, mainly women it has to be said.. or maybe it is only women mainly who follow me. I know there is the lovely Mark with his often thought-provoking postings from the bikeshed, and my old friend Fyldecoaster, who has finally got his blog up and running at fyldecoaster.blogspot.com if you fancy a bit of nostalgia, which is the theme of his first posting, and possibly future ones as well.

I look forward to reading more of your postings, all of you, and your comments on my own blogs.

Thanks for dropping by as ever.

It may be a cliche but.....

2009-12-18T02:34:00.000-08:00

... when it snows, it really does turn the outside world into a 'winter wonderland'. Can you just make out the twinkly lights on the summerhouse? So pretty.... we had over four inches of snow, and incredibly strong winds last night, the latter disturbing all the twinkly lights strung around the garden, so that when the snow finally clears, we need to get out there and put them all back where they should be. Shrubs and so on are weighed down with snow, birds struggling to get on the feeders. But luckily for them I have a daft soft-hearted lovely husband who braved the falling snow to go and lay food under the holly tree, where the pigeons can't get it, where there is no snow, and within minutes robins were back to eat. They had been scrabbling around looking desperately for some food, which is what prompted the explorer like trudge across the garden!

The lacy window is pretty don't you think? This is the north-facing window of the front porch first thing this morning. I just love snow, a big kid at heart I suppose, and so I was out in the garden taking the above photos whilst husband had breakfast, he being the more sensible of the two as you can see! Though would a sensible person go out in the heavy snowfall to feed small birds? Anyway, it looks beautiful from the inside, but venturing out brings a whole new different perspective to the lovely white stuff.

And be warned, here beginneth a small rant!

We had planned to go shopping this morning, though I was a tad worried at the lack of traffic through the village. Normally one hears the bread van delivering to the shop down the road, buses, and on Friday, the dustbinmen. Well, the latter made it at least. But the road was snow covered on our side, less so on the opposite, so not much was coming into the village, but the usual amount of people going to work etc., was leaving. So, rather than turn left out of the drive - once we got out of it that is because there is a slight dip just at the end then a slight rise onto the pavement - we turned right, going along towards the bypass. We would have been surprised, though pleased, had the gritters been out along the main road through the village, but felt sure they would have done the main A road, the bypass, the main arterial road linking the bigger towns. We were dismayed to see that NONE of the road had been done at all, traffic was crawling, and listening to the local radio station in the car when drivers were phoning in to report on the state of roads, one man who lives in our village and works on the same estate as my husband, had left home at the normal time of 7.15am, which would have got him to work by 7.40 at the latest.... two hours later he still hadn't got there, so that means that by the sound of it, absolutely no roads at all, not even one where there is a hospital, had been treated. It seemed to be the same across the whole of north Norfolk.

Speaking for our own area only since I know for a fact the road hasn't been treated, this is a disgrace. They can't pretend they didn't know about it, for we were told at the beginning of the week to expect 'significant snowfall late Thursday night, early hours Friday morning'. There have been severe weather warnings for the last twenty four hours, so why has nothing been done? As usual, the country grinds to a halt, even when we are prepared. Most of the schools around here are closed, buses are few and far between and taking hours to do relatively short journeys of twenty miles. Even when prepared and warned, it still causes chaos.

So, winter wonderland it may be, but only if you don't have to go out in it. We have abandoned plans for shopping, having enough food for a few days, and so I can just enjoy the sight of it falling, gently at the moment, in huge white flakes.

Wherever you are, I hope you have the weather you want, and none of the chaos you don't want!

A bear, a book, baubles and beads and other stuff!

2009-12-10T03:34:00.000-08:00

When you stand in the window, look out at the clear, pale blue sky and feel the warmth of the sun on your face, it is hard to believe that Christmas is only two weeks away. However, there are predictions of wintry showers, possibly snow, and low temperatures next week, so maybe it will feel a bit more Christmassy then. Out in the garden there is still masses of colour from penstemon and snapdragons, marigolds and cranesbill all valiantly hanging on to their flowers, and this fatsia has produced masses of 'flowers', and I should think they would take to removing and spraying gold or silver for a wreath? I have loads of hollies and ivies in the garden too, which will be used with plain cream candles in the dining room, and this is all the decoration that room will get - anything more would be too much I think, and with its deep red walls, alcoves lined with books, large fireplace with mantlepiece and big mirror above it, I have always felt it needed just candles and natural foliage.

And I know this pineapple sage should really be indoors now, but it seems happy still in its pot under the laburnum, and so I will leave it, until the predicted freeze arrives, and then put it in the summerhouse.

This is Henry. I swore, years ago, when I gave away dozens of bears to the Children's Hospice in Milton, that I would stop buying them. But sometimes, just sometimes, one catches your eye, you know? Well, possibly you don't. A slight deviation from the theme of the blog, but did any of you see Kirstie making her little bear on C4 last night? Watching her, rather overly made up towards the end I thought, I couldn't help but notice how she has slimmed down, and how much she has possibly changed from those early days on C4 with the lovely Phil Spencer. At least on this latest show she only seems to be wearing three different outfits, unlike when she was doing out this cottage and seemed to wear a different outfit for every camera shot almost!

I thought some of you might be interested in this book, one of our recent additions. It is divided into chapters, with headings such as 'Nothing like a bad start in life', which includes Isaac Newton and Salvador Dali; 'Happy-go-lucky' with Edward Jenner and Benjamin Franklin amongst those famous people mentioned; and 'Driven', Genghis Khan and Mary Kingsley feature in this group.

Well, it may not look like Christmas, but there's no denying it is that time of year. Last year we had a beautiful Spruce, one of the no-drop variety, and once Christmas was over, outside in a pot it went. And to say it looks odd would be an understatement, since there is a bit of a pointy green bit of a stem at the top, then a gap of over a foot, some bald branches, and then full lush greenness. It won't be coming indoors, but inspired by a feature in COUNTRY LIVING I am going to hang bird treats off it.... I have done pine cones with seeds in before, so will do that again, as well as hang fat balls, peanuts, fruit rings off the branches.

So instead of the real tree indoors, I have opted for two small artificial ones instead.

The first is this white one, which will be decorated with small purple baubles and beads, and go in the sitting room, which has purple walls. (Not that I am alwayas fussed about colour co-ordination I have to say, sometimes the trees have been rather gaudy to say the least!) Then there is a little black one, slightly smaller than this, which will be decorated with red and silver. Which makes this little lot redundant this year....

And finally, inspired by Jill over at jilltaylor-thirdagemusings.blogspot.com I have bought some lovely books of cartridge paper to have a go at one of her gorgeous calendars. I am not expecting to do anything as beautiful or arty to be honest, but I just loved hers so much I wanted to play too. These fab books are so incredibly reasonably priced, were delivered within 48 hours, and came from the pink pig over at http://www.tummybox.com/ for any of you similarly inclined to buy notebooks and journals like me.

So, all that remains is for me to wish you all a very happy Christmas, may it be just as you hope, just as you want, and that goes for the new year as well. Thank you all for following me, for your comments, and your kinship.

All heart.

2009-11-26T02:58:00.001-08:00

Hearts. Fabric hearts, knitted hearts, felt hearts, paper hearts. Hearts everywhere you go these days. I love the shape, and have used it in embroidery, crochet, tapestry, papier mache, and, as you can see, knitting. I don't normally bother with Christmas presents for friends, preferring to make more of their birthdays, which I see as being more personal to them, but this year I decided to send a knitted heart to a handful of my closest/oldest friends, and these are examples of them. Each one has had a few drops of scented oil added to the filling... I have used a warm-scented honey and vanilla, figuring it would make a change from the usual Christmassy scents. I'm quite pleased with them....

I shall wrap them in pretty tissue, tie with flamboyant silky ribbon and make hand-made gift tags of the luggage label shape, just to make them a bit more special.

But there's no escaping the heart shape.... it is a very popular shape in crafts as most will know, but originally, according to Wikipedia, 'The heart has long been used as a symbol to refer to the spiritual, emotional, moral .... core of a human being.' It was widely believed to be 'the seat of the human mind', the word now being used to refer to the soul, the heart symbol representing romantic love, seen most frequently around the time of St Valentine's Day.

There are literally thousands of sayings to do with the heart - a few of my favourites are ...

'Train your head and hands to do, your head and heart to dare'. JOSEPH COTTER

'Write it on your heart that every day is the best day of the year'. RALPH WALDO EMERSON

'Within your heart, keep one still, small spot where dreams may go'. LOUISE DRISCOLL

And where would poets be without a heart? One of my favourite is 'i carry you in my heart' by e e cummings, which I have included in a past posting so won't repeat here. And of course Mr Wordsworth's heart filled with pleasure and danced with his daffodils.

Wendy Cope wrote a short poem entitled 'Valentine', which begins and ends with the lines ..'My heart has made its mind up, and I'm afraid it's you'. And Christina Rossetti in her poem 'A Birthday' wrote in the first verse of having a heart like 'a singing bird.... an apple tree.... a rainbow shell'.

Musicians and song-writers too, have the heart to thank for success. Where would Billy Ray Cyrus be without his 'Achey, breaky heart'? Bonnie Tyler without her 'Total Eclipse of the Heart'? McFly had 'The heart that never lies', whilst Michael Nyman had 'The heart seeks pleasure first'.

Writers of television series have made good use of the word heart too... HEARTBEAT, WILD AT HEART, WHERE THE HEART IS to name but three. (Actually they are the only three I can think of off the top of my head!)

There are many sayings associated with the heart.... 'Have a heart', having 'a heart of gold', then there's 'your hearts desire'.

Oh, and on a sweet note, who could forget LOVE HEARTS?

So, dear heart(s)... this is my daft little posting about hearts. Enjoy the rest of the week, and your weekend, and thanks for calling by again and leaving your comments.

Presents and ponderings.

2009-11-21T02:36:00.001-08:00

Well, it's not my birthday for a couple of weeks yet, but you know what it's like on Amazon, sometimes the prices of books goes up as well as down, a bit like the value of investments if you have any, and so I tend to look at books I want, and then buy them, just in case. Hence the delicious mixed bag below. And, it goes without saying that there will be a few more treats on the day itself - this is a warning as much of a hint to Himself who will be reading this I know.
Now for a closer look at some of them, well most of them really, I've left the ordinary modern fiction out of the closer look.

I loved the film '84 Charing Cross Road' with Anne Bancroft and Anthony Hopkins, and after seeing the film got the book, which led me to more books by Helene Hanff. But as someone who has been penpalling for decades, I am attracted to books like the Helene Hanff, and the above, 'Dear Mr Bigelow' by Frances Woodford. This latter is a selection of penpal letters written in the years 1949 to 1961, between Frances, an unmarried woman living and working in Bournemouth, and a wealthy widower living on Long Island, an unlikely couple on the face of it.

And isn't the cover of this book just gorgeous? I know a lot of you are attracted to books by their covers initially, and had I seen this on a shelf in a bookshop, it would have caught my attention, for the cover and the author. One day Susan Hill was looking on her landing bookshelves, for a book to read, when she discovered quite a number of books she had either read and forgotten, or not read at all, and that was the prompt for this book. I did think it would be an interesting exercise to do the same myself in a journal; then I realised that I do keep notes of the books I have read in my daily journal, as I have read them, a brief resume of the book, and what I thought of it, not going into too much detail or writing an in-depth critique you understand, just enough to act as a reminder.

One day I will get an old copy of REBECCA, I know they are available from various online sellers, but I prefer, when buying old books, to look at, to handle them, rather than just going by a small thumbnail on a bookseller's site. I have a few old Daphne du Maurier books, 'Rebecca' is the one I want next, but for now, as I didn't have a copy of it, this new imprint will suffice. The Virginia Woolf diaries I filched from another blog, someone else I had been meaning to read for years and yet never got around to, now I have no excuse. The print is very small though, so it will be slow going...

A couple of new craft books caught my eye... actually about half a dozen caught my eye but I restricted myself to these two, for now. Looking forward to sitting snuggled in my chair with a mug of tea and a piece of home made cake to browse through these, leisurely.

And there you have it, my birthday books. Now for the pondering.

I was prompted into a train of thought on this subject after reading Mark's latest posting over at viewsfromthebikeshed.blogspot.com and the subject is FRIENDSHIP, or more to the point, FRIENDS, or even more to the point, what makes a FRIEND?

Youngsters these days seem to have friends by the score, people they meet on Twitter and Facebook apparently. Whatever these two are I have no idea, having only just come to terms with how to use a mobile telephone that has now been discarded, sits on a shelf, only to be used in times of emergency, when I may well discover the battery is flat, which won't be as much of a surprise as it might have been, as the thought it used batteries never entered my mind until my other half pointed it out to me. Anyway my mind is so full of STUFF that there's hardly room for anything that isn't absolutely Essential.

Right, off the rambling track and back onto the original ponder. These youngsters all consider these people, many of whom they have never met, and may never ever meet, as friends, people they know personally. Now had these inventions been around in my teenage years I doubt I would have had the same take on what makes a personal friend. I had penfriends, one a DJ on a pirate radio station and one a girl my age in California, but although the term used for them was 'penfriends' I am not sure I would class them as friends in the same way I use the word these days.

People I meet via blogging, people who leave comments on mine and who visit regularly, those who visit occasionally; people who write blogs I follow or visit occasionally; I don't actually consider them 'friends'. More acquaintances. How can they be real friends when I don't actually know them, don't know anything more than that they reveal via blogs and comments? Plus there is a certain amount of anonymity isn't there? Whilst we may know where each other lives roughly speaking, we don't share addresses for the most part, and if they were real friends, then you'd have addresses, birthdays, swap cards at Christmas and so on, wouldn't you?

Surely a REAL FRIEND is someone you know quite well? Your BEST FRIEND is someone you know intimately, someone who knows you inside and out, loves you warts and all, is there through the bad times and the good, always there when needed, and not there when you want to be left alone. A blogging acquaintance doesn't fall into that category, that's for sure... well, not in my case anyway, but as close friends will tell you, I am not the easiest person to get along with. (I can see you all now with a wry smile... and you know who you are!) So maybe I don't get as close to blogging companions/acquaintances as others?If they all stopped writing, I would miss them, but maybe I would miss them more for the approbation, admiration, support that their comments have brought, still bring, than for the person behind the blogging. Because do I really know the person behind the blog? In most cases, no.

There are exceptions, and I won't name them. But a few are actually what I would call close friends, either through longevity, or because somehow we just clicked and the blogging is only a small part of our friendship, certainly not the main part. But the majority I only know basic, surface stuff about them. And that's fine by me. But does that make them friends in the real sense of the word? And what is the real sense of the word, for you?

OK, end of rambling ponder. Enjoy your week, and thanks for dropping by, and a big Hello to the new followers, thank you for joining me!

A touch of the blues, with some purples too.

2009-11-19T03:29:00.001-08:00

Well, this opening picture may not be exactly blue, or purple (though there are some dark purply bits there) but I couldn't resist using it. Taken from my workroom window at seven thirty this morning, quite spectacular. At the back of the house, which I couldn't quite capture, it was dusky bluey grey with deep rosy pink brushstrokes of colour splashed across it. But the colours were glorious, whichever way I looked. What you can't see is the way the smaller clouds are scudding across the sky at a fast rate of knots, for it is windy here. Or was... it seems to have abated, after having sent a garden chair across the garden yesterday, and the mini plastic greenhouse upended. Today less windy, but even so, I gave up rescuing washing when pegs gave up the struggle and things were left hanging, well...not by a thread, but a single peg. Our postie declared it not as 'knackering' as it was yesterday, cycling head-on into the wind, but added that compared to some, we were very lucky. I know this from friends in the north-west who have told me of swollen rivers, flooded roads, and with more rain to come, a desperate time of worry over the next 48 hours or so for them.

And no, this isn't a blue movie, but the DVD is a rather fetching shade of blue, don't you think? This is one of my favourite old movies of all time, and so I couldn't resist getting it, along with another Julia Roberts for the collection, ERIN BROCKOVITCH, though as she's in a bright hot pink case, wouldn't quite fit here. Do you think that Cary Grant would have resorted to Botox, had it been around, to fill in the chin dimple as a certain celebrity chef is said to have had done recently?

Well, this definitely falls into the blue and purple category. A throw recently finished. I had the idea for the colours in my head, and so made up this design, with a separate flower attached to the central square, as you will see from the photo beneath this one. It is done in quite a thick DK wool, lovely and soft, and somehow looks a bit Red Indian-ish to me... maybe the colours? Maybe just my weird imagination. Whatever.... I had originally thought to try and sell it, but now think I might just keep it.

Some of you will have seen this fluffy, heart-shaped cushion before... it fitted the theme of the posting so I have included it again. I made a few of these, was going to make one in a rose pink shade for my granddaughter, but those of you who know me will know why I decided not to bother.

The pudding was more purply than it looks here, honest....

I have got back into the baking habit lately. I used to bake cakes and so on when the children were small, but when it was just down to us two old fogeys, I stopped. But now I am back into it again and happily spend time on a Saturday morning, whilst himself is out in the garden usually. I am tucked away in my lovely snug kitchen, making a mess, happily baking away. But I do like my short cuts too, and this pud was one of them, since the spongey bit was from an old Yorkshire Farmhouse Kitchen recipe book (is there anyone out there who also used to watch this I wonder, back in the seventies?). It involves one egg, two ounces of butter, three of sugar, four of flour, all chucked in a bowl and mixed up, with a little milk added if it needs it. Hence it's called 1-2-3-4 sponge!!! I also use cake liners courtesy of a certain company in the North West, so I have no tins to grease, or greaseproof to cut. I simply put a layer of blackcurrant jam on the base, then added cooked plums, pears and apples, tipped the sponge on the top, smoothed it out, and baked. Delish served warm with custard, or cream, or ice cream, though it's not really the weather for that, more a comfort food time of year.

Now this is definitely blue, and shows how changeable the weather is. These were taken a week ago, when we had days of glorious sunshine, which had been preceded by misty grey and damp days, and were then followed by this wet and windy stuff. But the leaves of the birch are still hanging on, despite the strong winds.

Well, this is me for now, hoping you are all safe from floods, not losing your electricity or roof, and thanks for popping in, as usual.

Talking music.... does any of this strike a chord with you? (Sorry!)

2009-11-03T02:17:00.000-08:00

These days I rarely listen to music. At one time it was there most of the morning whilst I worked at whatever I was doing, and always, always out in my little Mini I would have music playing, usually something with a good beat, deep bass notes... that would get me dancing on my bum, tapping the steering wheel with my hands, singing - badly and loudly. Yes, I was one of those annoying people I now berate who seem to find it necessary to have loud music in their cars, windows open, destroying the peace for old fogeys like the person I have now become!! Now all I listen to in the car is the strange noises it seems to make... 'What's that knocking sound?', 'Did you hear that?' etc., etc.
Of course, there is an exception to my preference for silence... it's coming up to that time of year when I like to have something a little seasonal, these are just a few of my current favourites which will be played as background to my baking days in the kitchen, to my addressing and writing Christmas cards in the conservatory, blog writing and reading in my workroom. Ah yes, she who must be obeyed shall have music wherever she goes!

My husband's music collection includes everything by The Moody Blues (some of which I love to play loudly on a summer's day with the windows open!), George Benson, he even has a couple of ZZ Top albums. Ah, ALBUMS.... there must be some of you old enough to remember buying them?????

How about this little group, anything you had in your collection, still have maybe?

Then of course CDs came along, and the advantage to them is that they are small and take less room, but somehow lack the romance of vinyl. But shown here are some of my favourites, and you can see, I have a wide range of tastes!

Some is for bopping about to, some for exercising to...

And then there are those you just play when you want to sit and be quiet and relax, nothing with words that can distract you, just gentle music to wrap itself around you like a comforter. It could be classical like these...

Or not....

And then there is my collection of spiritual music, music as a background to meditation...

Music for whatever mood I am in. When I am in the mood for music that is.

Just a short one this week, to maybe jog a few memories? Have a good week and thanks for popping by again.

Talking books.

2009-10-29T03:46:00.001-07:00

And that's talking about books, as opposed to talking books on disc. I know books are important to many of you, as they are to me, and so I thought I would share some of my favourites, just a few otherwise we'd be here all day! And tomorrow probably....
I enjoy reading about 'famous people' but mostly I prefer an autobiography to a biography, though if the latter has been authorised, that makes it all right. But I feel that if it is actually written by the person, then you are closer to the truth. So in here there are two that fall into the latter category, those of Katherine Hepburn and Dusty Springfield. I wonder if there is anyone else reading this who remembers Dusty Springfield, and whose name conjures up happy memories of teenage years? I once 'played' Dusty in a school concert, the one and only time I ever appeared in one, when I was fourteen, complete with back-combed hair, lots of black eye make up, and miming to 'I Only Want To Be With You'.

The book above by Imogen Smallwood is about life with her mother, Enid Blyton... cost me 35p from the library, and the one about Gertrude Jekyll a princely 50p from another sale at the local library... aren't library book sales marvellous? The Monty Don book was the first of his I ever bought, whilst on a visit to Hay-on-Wye, and a happy hour spent in a shop specialising in garden and nature books.... don't you love the fact it's by MONTAGU DON?

These are just some of my favourite authors, and I have all the books written by most of them, having just treated myself to Elizabeth Jane Howards' 'Cazalet' series of books, my winter reading project.

I'm a bit picky when it comes to Alexander McCall Smith, as I only like his Edinburgh novels, I don't read crime fiction and in any case, would find the time it took to get the pronunciation of his African ladies correct, too testing for a woman of little patience! I have all Maeve Binchy's books, but this is another of those 20p bargains from the library.

There are also books about travel, people's lives and so on, and these are just a sample of my favourites. 'Mrs. P's Journey' by Sarah Hartley is a fascinating read, being about Phyllis Pearsall, the lady who created the London A-Z. A slightly eccentric lady, she was increasingly fed up with the lack of proper street maps of London, making journeys within the city longer than necessary, so she single-handedly set out to change all that and in so doing created 'a publishing phenomenon'. During the course of one year she covered the entire 23,000 streets on foot and mapped it all out, as the author says, thus disproving the theory (by men of course) that women can't read maps.

These are some of my spiritual books. I have some self-help books, just a handful I kept out of my collection. The top one is WISDOM OF THE TAO, since you can't read the title properly, and all of them are books I dip into now and then.

Some of my favouritest books are old ones with faded dust jackets or cloth covers, and again, this is just a handful of the collection. I am looking for REBECCA, since I have a few of Daphne du Maurier's with faded, intersting dustjackets, and somehow they suit the book better than a modern paperback reprint. 'Blandings Way' is the book following 'Mr Blandings Builds His Dream House' one of my favourite old movies.

Well, crafts are always on the go here, and these are some of the books I dip into for inspiration. I love making papier mache, but haven't done any for years, bowls being my favourite item to make, so tactile and such fun getting all dirty-handed (I use newspaper) and sticky-handed (wallpaper paste). Mind you, if the telephone rings, you're in trouble!

And I love what are called 'coffee table books', again for dipping in and out of as the mood takes me... though they should be called 'weekend books' since this seems to be when I do most of my dipping! The top one is THE BOOK OF IDLE PLEASURES.... and certainly reading books would fall into that category.

Oh and one final thing, a message for 'Sherlock' if he's dropped by again, skipping to the end... you might like to look at the end of your last blogs, as I left a comment for you there!!

Happy weekend everyone, be it idle or otherwise.

A rambling we will go....

2009-10-27T06:54:00.001-07:00

For the first time in a couple of days, it was dry enough to go for a ramble around the garden. I'd gone out quickly yesterday to pull up a few carrots, heard this rustling noise and out from my little would-be (or should that be 'wood'-be) woodland area (under a laburnum and a HUGE hebe which measures about ten foot across and high) scuttled a young black and white cat. You get used to rustlings in this garden, hedgehogs, birds of all sorts, the occasional cat, and often you walk out there when it's quiet, half-listening out for any surprise noises. (There was an interesting debate on LOOSE WOMEN today about 'listening', how much we actually listen. There is a subtle difference between hearing and listening, isn't there?) Today when I went out, the same scuttling and half expecting a small black and white furry creature to emerge at a fast rate of knots, instead out dashed a pheasant. He ran down the path and stopped. Not sure if I had seen a pheasant or not, it happened so fast and I had the wrong glasses on, I stopped too, and then slowly edged my way along the path. But it's hard to be quiet on shingle paths, and with a whoosh of his wings, he was off, startling the wood pigeons as well as me. I did try shouting that he'd be safer in our garden than out in the open, with all these trigger happy hunters and poachers about the place. My lovely friend Grace used to have a tame pheasant came to her cottage garden, and she would leave food out for him... he seemed to have quite an appetite for things out of the ordinary, and would have made a tasty roast one day perhaps. Grace should have been known as 'the bird lady' for she had blackbirds and a robin who used to hop onto the bottom half of her stable back door, when the top was open, and chirrup or whistle for food! The blackbird even had the nerve to wander onto the worktop, to the corner where she kept a container of cheese and dried fruit specially for the tamer birds.
Anyway, I took some photos of the autumn foliage, just before the skies went slightly greyer and the mizzle began again. There are some lovely colours, from the maple and mixed hedging below, to the cherry tree and dying peonies, and still so many flowers in bloom.

I've found myself in a funny old mood this past week or two, which has culminated in my leaving the only forum I belonged to, and I won't bother naming it, those female friends who know me, will know the name anyway. I had never been happy, never felt I belonged, to this forum. I felt a bit like the new kid on the block, despite having been in it for over a year. Like being at a new school, being a bit too needy trying to fit in, please people, make all the right noises, compliment them on something just to be nice. Agreeing sometimes with things because I wanted to fit in. This happened with the forum, with every other forum I have looked at over the last couple of years, which only amounts to about four. It never happened at school, I went to one school from aged four and three quarters to fifteen and three quarters, and never tried to fit in there anyway, happy with my little group of two close friends. It was all I needed and wanted.

As an adult, I still couldn't get on with women en masse, or en group of more than three! And I am annoyed at myself for trying to fit in with the rest on this forum. For projecting an image of someone who wasn't really me, partly because I wanted some semblance of anonymity, but also because I thought it might make me more interesting, more acceptable. But as others have said, if you don't fit, you don't fit and why bother trying? And to be honest, it's not like me to be anything other than who/what I am, so why did I stray from this I wonder? Many times comments or threads I made were ignored, and it felt like I was banging my head on a brick wall, wasting my time. In the end, I just left, told the people who ran it I was going, changed the email contact address I had used on there, and that's it. No more forums, no more trying to get on with women in a group like that. Just as I can't get on with women in a group in real life, so that also applies to the virtual world it seems. I don't feel any sense of loss, in fact, in some respects, it's a relief.

But the antsy mood which I have been in still hasn't lifted properly. I feel as if I want to do something, but don't know what. It's like when you want to read and can't settle into a book... do any of you readers know that feeling? You pick up book after book, nothing holds or even grabs your attention for more than a few pages. So you discard it and turn to the next on your pile, and the same thing happens. In the end, in situations like this, I often find myself returning to old favourites, classics often, or earlier novels by favourite writers, whose earlier works might not be their best, several of them taking a few novels and years to really hit their writing stride.

Crafts which I was enjoying now seem to be dragging on, taking forever to finish. Knitting a scarf using just three balls of wool, which are only 50g balls but which seem to be neverending. I am knitting until the wool runs out, but it's taking longer than expected and I am now fed up with the pattern and the knitting and want to move onto something else.

A time for regretting, to a degree, some decisions made in the past. A very introspective time, is it to do with the seasons, the shortening days? I don't think so, because I am not someone who is depressed by lack of natural daylight, or who hates this time of year because of the dark dreariness often associated with it, the long winter with the light of spring at the end of a very long tunnel, so long you can't even begin to think about seeing the end of it for many a month yet.

A time for planning as well, not just the new layout of a small organic vegetable garden, but thoughts too, about extending the kitchen. When we bought this house there was a small back room extension, which had been the original kitchen when the house was built in the early 1930s, the huge fireplace, minus range, was still there. The previous owner of the house was an acupuncturist, and this small room was his surgery. For years we would find little needles in the oddest of places, whilst we had it as a small office/craft room. Then one boozy Christmas I drew up plans for extending the space into two brick outhouses at the back of it, and turning it into a kitchen, which is about sixteen feet long by nine across. I designed it with units down the two long sides, the original back door then leading into a lean to, now into the conservatory, one window already looked over the the paved area, and I added another at the far end to overlook the garden, which is where I like to lean on the sill and look out at the pond, the birds on the feeders in the trees, the geese flying over... not to mention the odd pheasant! The plans were drawn for my own amusement, I love drawing room layouts, houses and so on. But we decided to go ahead, and so I got a new kitchen and the rest of the downstairs rooms were changed in their purpose, to suit our needs.... a cosy sitting room was made out of the old dining/kitchen at the back of the house away from the road at the front and overlooking our lovely back garden, and at the front, where we had the original sitting room, a dining room cum library.

Now I am thinking I would like to extend the kitchen again.... Himself has always regretted that we didn't double the size of the original extension, but knowing me, I would still probably be thinking about extending again! I want a bigger, lower window with a table and chairs in front of it, a door to the back garden to save walking through the conservatory, a larder cupboard to save my back and neck as I scrabble about on my knees looking for something in the cupboard under the worktop. And even as I carry on with my ruler and pencils, coloured pencils too, graph paper, tape measure, I know this will remain a pipe dream, unlike the last time I dreamt up an extension.

Still, it pleases me to play around like this, and what does it matter if the drawings get used as fodder for lighting the fire? My mind is wandering, drifting from one scheme, one idea, one plan to another, not settling for long on anything, like a nervous butterfly flittering and fluttering about. If any of you stayed with me this long, and this won't include The Crap Blog Detective I know, thank you. Oh, and before I go... the pinkfairygran@yahoo.co.uk email address no longer exists; it is now maggiegray59@yahoo.com just in case any of you had tried emailing me.

PC-ness strikes again, the latest MUST HAVE pet and just a bit of this and that.

2009-10-19T02:46:00.001-07:00

It seems the world is still going mad with Political Correctness, especially in the world of childhood. As if it wasn't bad enough that someone decided conkers had to be banned because of health and safety, now they're mucking around with nursery rhymes. Humpty Dumpty, poor old soul wasn't he? Remember how all the King's horses and so on couldn't fix him? Well, it has been decided that is too downbeat and negative, so now they can and the ending has been altered to say they could make him happy again! Well, that's nice for old Humpty of course, but whatever next? Jack and Jill will no longer be able to go up the hill together, who knows what they might get up to? Little Jack Horner can't go sticking his digits in his food, health reasons obviously. Little Bo Peep will now employ a well-trained collie to round up those lost sheep. The old woman in the shoe would have been reported to social services for whipping her children. The rock a bye baby rhyme would be banned as being too depressing and sad, or perhaps for putting ideas into jealous elder siblings' heads. And Contrary Mary, in the reasons of equal sex rights and all that, will have to have pretty maids and men all in a row!
Coming up to Christmas and pretty soon the ads will start trying to dissuade parents from giving in to their children who want a puppy for Christmas. The usual 'A dog is for life, not just Christmas' signs will appear, and rightly so. However, this may soon have to be changed to either 'A pig is for life...' or 'A hedgehog is for life...' Yes, I really did say 'pig' and 'hedgehog'. Local news items in the last week have featured mini versions of these animals, which are, if the news is to be believed, THE pet to have, big business... especially for the breeders of course. At £750 for a mini pig, which grows no bigger than an average, adult cat, and looks ever so cute (especially the mini Gloucester Old Spot with it's little pink nose) you can see why it's big business! Not many chops for that outlay I can tell you! As for the hedgehogs, well they are special African pygmy hedgehogs, and they have the advantage over our wild native version of not having fleas. Now that really must be a plus sign, because one of these little fellows, who can sit inside a mug when fully grown, will set you back £150. For something that can get into the smallest of spaces your house would need to be as secure as Alcatraz to make sure it didn't escape, or get behind the fridge, under the cushions on the sofa... the list of possibilities is endless.
Had a bit of a day out last week, visiting a favourite small, independent booksellers in the lovely town of Holt. We normally visit at Christmastime, my birthday treat, but decided it would be Himself's treat instead. I normally buy my books online, shopping around for the best bargains, but needless to say they are nearly always found on Amazon. But the one thing you don't get is the discovery of little gems that you can't resist, so whilst Himself bought a couple of the latest offerings from two of his favourite authors, I came home with reprints of old novels. Not shown here is IN A SUMMER SEASON by Elizabeth Taylor, and that's not the Cleopatra Liz Taylor, but the Elizabeth Taylor, authoress, born 1912, and whose works are now being reprinted by Virago. I haven't read any of hers, but have had them recommended by several friends, so I am looking forward to reading this, once I have worked my way through the library-ordered books that is!

But I couldn't resist these two paperbacks either, the title of the one on the right especially caught my eye, and they just looked so 'take me home-able'. I have this thing at the moment about women writers from the late 1800s to around the mid-1900s and that era... Rachel Ferguson, who wrote the wonderfully titled THE BRONTES WENT TO WOOLWORTHS, was born in 1893, and Joyce Dennys, who wrote HENRIETTA'S WAR in 1883. Both books have been reproduced from the originals by Bloomsbury, and are part of a set of five. I also got THE IVINGTON DIARIES, the latest by Monty Don, but bought on line as it is an expensive book. But gorgeous, so readable, lovely photos of the garden, and already after only a couple of days, I am in July.

Needless to say there has to be some crafty bit in here, and this is a parcel of fabric received from Barbara in France, who responded to my 'Books for Fabric' swap posting on the PC forum. I want to make a quilt, six inch squares, which will go on a simple wooden bench seat in the summerhouse, next year. It will be quilted, though I am not yet sure if I shall quilt each square, or just tie the layers together with fancy little bows using contrasting coloured embroidery silk. I shall take photos, but don't hold your breath! There is, as usual, a long list of things to make and do, but isn't that the way it should be?

Enjoy your week ladies and gent(s), and thanks for popping by.

An incredible piece of natural home-building

2009-10-16T06:23:00.000-07:00

We just discovered this beautiful home, or what was once home, in the beech hedging, and it is so incredibly intricate, so beautiful and fragile, that I had to photograph it and share it with you. It measures about twelve inches from top to bottom, probably fifteen around at the widest point. Empty now of course, and since wasps never return to the nest, we have taken it down and been able to look at it closely inside. Amazing the amount of work, effort that has gone into it, for just temporary accommodation.

Some things pretty, some things colourful, some things useful.

2009-10-13T07:34:00.000-07:00

Just as I will complain about bad service, so I also give praise where it's due. I recently ordered some fabric from http://www.donnaflower.com/ who has some beautiful vintage pieces. It's not often I order, but now and then I see something that takes my fancy, often not knowing what I will do with it, but just knowing I would like to have it! Just in case... you know?

So when the parcel came, in a pink plastic mailing bag, and I opened it to discover this lovely dotty paper and stripey string, I was delighted, and wanted to share my pleasure. I did email her and thank her... the reasoning behind the pretty packaging is that it's nice to receive something packaged nicely, even if it's just a gift from yourself to yourself. I agree wholeheartedly. And just in case you are curious about the two pieces of material, here they are.

This is a village scene, and I haven't a use for it yet, though bag/cushion cover came to mind.

And this is a glazed cotton children's fabric, which I am going to make into a bag, and line it with red gingham fabric. Sometime.

This may not be pretty in the eyes of some beholders, and you will see my icing was a wee bit runny (but it did make a tasty bottom as well as top!). This is obviously perhaps, a birthday cake, Victoria sponge, strawberry jam filled, iced, sugar stranded and candled. And the number of candles is of no significance... I couldn't get fifty nine on the cake! It's my bit of madness for my husband's birthday.. luckily he's a bit mad too!

The garden is still being so colourful, here is a small posy of clove pink, dahlia, chocolate cosmos and a marigold gone over tucked in between. The pink still has that gorgeous smell, though perhaps not quite as heady.

The penstemons are still going strong.. next year I hope to be able to stop myself pulling up the seedlings mistaking them for weeds, as I have done for the past two years! But there are several small plants near the summerhouse, this has the most stems and flowers at present, and isn't it lovely?

My transplanted snapdragons look happy too, flowering for the third time now.

On to something really useful, something bought with a project in mind, just for once. This is Rowan four ply, gorgeously soft wool, in a shade of earthy brown, mossy green and tea rose pink. I am knitting a chevron scarf in these colours, in that order, reminiscent to me of brown earth, the green foliage of the plant, and then the pretty pink flower. I've photographed them in the wrong order here.... but perhaps you see my thinking?

And the other really useful thing is my raised vegetable bed. It still has one or two lettuces for me to eat, some carrots nearly ready to pick, garlic planted not long ago, and giant leaved parsley, all looking healthy, but I will pick them this week as it can't stay this mild forever. We have had one or two really cold nights, one even left us with a hint of frost one morning, so best to make the most of all this colour and usefulness while we can.

Enjoy the changing colours as autumn begins to really make itself at home for a while before winter comes along to take over. We are now getting the early arrivals of pink-footed and Brent geese which travel here every winter, in their thousands. Small skeins are now to be seen first thing in the morning and in the evening around tea time, and I am so glad we had the glass roof on the conservatory as I can see them clearly, they are often quite low down. I love to open the door and hear them too. We know autumn has arrived and winter is on it's tail when we see these lovely birds, and that spring can't be far away by the time they leave us next year. But that's a long way ahead yet. Still to come are more delights of changing colours, and hopefully gathering sweet chestnuts this week, roasting them on the open fire, cooking them in boiling water for a few minutes, then removing the skins, with much hopping about, blowing on fingers and cursing my love for these nuts! But I then freeze them, and they are ready to take out and add to stews, or be fried with parsnips, apples, pancetta and lentils. Yum!

Autumnal colours and comforts, some a bit racy, be warned!!!

2009-10-05T02:35:00.000-07:00

Despite the leaves falling from the trees, the distinct chill in the air early mornings and late evenings, still the passion flower blooms. I am mesmerised when I look at it closely, by the fine eyelashes that start out as almost black, then there is a stripe of white, then lilacy blue, perfect all the way around, another reminder of how clever is Mother Nature.

Elsewhere in the garden, the changing of the seasons is more evident, such as with the peony above, and the climber over the arch below.

Definitely a time for snugglies, like this hand-knitted one I made years ago, heavily fringed at either end, just right for grabbing and wrapping around myself as I sit in the summerhouse on a very slightly chilly morning with a cup of cappucino. Soon it will be too cold to sit out there, so on a morning when the sun is out, even with that nip in the air, I like to spend ten minutes or so just sitting quietly and letting my mind wander from one thing to another.

Below, a beautifully soft angora scarf which when wrapped around the neck helps keep the chill out when in the garden, doing some deadheading, and it will soon be time for the hottie cover to come into its own, another very soft and cuddlesome thing, adding to the comfort that a warm hot water bottle brings, whether it's to ease an upset tum, or just because you feel in the need of a warm cuddle.

Ah, now we come to the racy bit.... I know a certain gentleman who might need to take a cold shower when he sees these, be still my beating heart he will be saying, hunched over his computer at his desk in the middle of a governmental department office, populated by others in similar position, all 'working' of course.

These, in case you can't tell, are 'over the knee socks'. I am not a tights woman, hate them and find them uncomfortable and unhygienic in hot weather, when I go bare legged at home all the time. Not an option in winter, to go bare legged, and so I wear posh lacy topped hold-ups in sheer black or the usual tannish colour (told you this bit was a bit racy) when I go out, but at home... well, I wanted something more FUN than knee length socks. And I GOOGLED the words 'knee high socks' and got this fab site with loads of them, all reasonably priced, so I could get four pairs at once. Two 'Winnie the Pooh' characters, a stripy pair with a mad cat and some more sensible (?) tartany ones. I love them, though goodness knows what Himself will say when he sees them. Actually, I DO know what he will say... he will shake his head and say 'There's no hope', which is what he ALWAYS says when I revert to ditziness.

Of course, books aren't just an autumn comfort, though is there anything better than sitting in front of a fire snuggled in a comfy chair with a good book, or wrapped in a soft throw whilst you read? Lately I have been revisiting some of my favourite books on the shelves.

I have read these two twice, and know I will read them again. The ANNE FINE one is a story of four sisters, and when three discover something unpleasant, a rumour about the man the fourth one is about to marry, they have the dilemma of not knowing whether to tell her or not, and if so, who does the telling? The ANNE BARTLETT book is about Sandra, an academic whose husband dies suddenly. To cope, she throws herself into her work and never grieves properly. But as many will know, grief will find a way out in time; sometimes it needs help, and help for Sandra comes in the form of Martha, a talented knitter, who she meets by accident. Both were really good reads for me.. obviously, otherwise I wouldn't have read them twice!

The above are two books waiting to be read. The Barbara Taylor Bradford was won in a giveaway after I took part in a survey by the publishers. I used to read her a lot when she first did her WOMAN OF SUBSTANCE books, but sort of lost the taste for her style of writing, so it will be interesting to see if I enjoy her still, decades down the line. Mr T isn't to everyone's taste I know, but I have all his books, fiction and otherwise. When he was writing his first novel, I was in the throes of writing mine, and there the similarity ends! As many will know, he went on to write seven novels, and I am lucky that three of mine have personal letters from him inside. When I have read a brilliant book I make a point, usually, of writing to the author, c/o the publishers, to tell them so and thank them for it. Loosely calling myself a 'writer' I know the hours of work it takes to write, and the discipline needed to do so, which I sadly lack nowadays which is why I don't do much of it any more, apart from blogs, journals and the odd foray into short story competitions. And I know from my limited experience, ie winning a national short story competition, how gratifying it is when someone writes and tells you how much they enjoyed reading your work. That is why I write to authors sometimes, and why I have three letters from Mr. Titchmarsh. (It's not that I didn't enjoy the four next ones, but I ran out of things to say and didn't want to be one of these people who continually write to 'someone famous' for whatever reasons they do so.) I have to say he was very encouraging about my own writing, and I appreciated the time he took to write a proper letter, as opposed to a pre-printed one. When Colin Dexter announced the last Morse book, I found out how to get in touch with him direct as opposed to via his publisher, and wrote asking him if he would send me a card signed by him, so I could put it in a copy of the book to give Himself, who has all of them. Mr Dexter actually wrote a letter addressed to Alvin, which is now tucked inside the book. I have all Maeve Binchy books with cards from her, and many others too. They won't mean anything to whoever gets them when I am no longer here, but they mean something to me, which is what counts.

A bit like my blogs... not everyone will enjoy them or find anything of interest in them, but for the few who do and who leave comments, well... as I said to someone else on their blog comments, I enjoy the writing of the blog and the comments are the icing on the cake.. but I can eat plain cake too, it's just not as nice!

Enjoy your week, and thanks, as ever, for dropping in.

A brief crafty blog, with a bit of a rant thrown in!

2009-09-29T03:01:00.000-07:00

It's funny how you get fads isn't it? How, once you start doing something crafty, it's the only crafty thing you want to do? Or is that just me? I have always meant to crochet flowers, never got around to it. Got books of designs for knitted and crocheted flowers, all of which terrified me slightly with their diagrams of stitches (I prefer the written word to a diagram), and their complexity of pattern. I am a basic person in most things I do... I have basic cookery/gardening/knitting/sewing/crochet skills, and they suit me just fine. I have neither the patience nor the time really for extending the skills, and as long as they satisfy my crafty needs, then that's fine by me. But at last I found a flower pattern.... and since then, every odd bit of suitable wool has been turned into either a small granny square, or a flower. As you can see... and several of you will already have seen the large orange on in the front of the above group. I made it into a brooch, and sent it to a dear friend, Katiemac, aka Calico Kate, and she made a blog post of it, which elicited many compliments, for which I thank you.

Does the 'I LOVE YOU' button remind you of the love hearts sweets?

This is the result of the crochet squares from a previous blog, turned into a cushion, same front and back.

And this is a tapestry cushion I just unearthed. I made it many, many years ago, on ten count, with two ply wool, two strands together from cones, to give it a tweedy effect. It was looking a bit sad and squashed and dusty, so into the washer it went, and out it came, all plumptious and pretty again.

Cushions feature a lot at the moment... the picture below is of a cushion that Katiemac sent me, posted the day she received my brooch coincidentally... doesn't it look at home on my chair?

And this is it, closer.... she used her shirt front idea as the cushion back, which is so brilliant I am now hovering around my husband's wardrobe waiting for a shirt to be considered past it enough to be ditched. Trouble is, when they get soft and worn, that's when they are at their most comfy isn't it, so I may have a long wait! But to have that ready made opening with buttons and buttonholes already made is just such a good idea isn't it?

And this is my opal fruits ripple cushion...

But if this is a bit too loud for you, then maybe you'd prefer the back...

Here are some more flowers just made... I really must try doing something else now.

And finally, a little rant... and a question about saving/wasting money in the NHS. Yesterday evening, my husband received a text from our local surgery, reminding him he had an appointment this evening. To me, this seems a gross waste of money... I have no idea how much a text costs; I do have a mobile, but haven't switched it on for months since nobody knows the number and it is only there for emergencies (like the landline is only there so I can use the computer!). But my pragmatic husband, if that is the right word (pragmatic that is, not husband!) says that it is probably seen as a saving, since they lose so much each year in missed or cancelled appointments. What say you all... a waste of money, or a saving?

Right, this is my little posting for this week... off to net the pond now, birch leaves blowing about the place now, yet it doesn't seem a year since we were doing it last. How time flies when you're having fun....

'A fallen leaf is nothing more than summers' wave goodbye'.

2009-09-23T07:09:00.001-07:00

I don't know where the above line comes from, it's just something I read once that stuck in my mind, the way these things sometimes do. Why can you never remember something important when you need to, yet silly bits of daft poetry - 'beans, beans, are good for the heart, the more you eat the more.... ' well, you probably all know the end to that one, but it illustrates the mess my head is in, holding lines like that, which are absolutely no use to anyone, and yet the number I need for the cash machine is nowhere to be found. Ah well, must be because I am in the autumn of my life maybe?
No matter which school of thought you follow, we are now in autumn having passed the equinox at a quarter past nine last night, give or take a few minutes. The season of mists and so on, fabulous colours on trees, which should be extra good for many of us this year as there has been less than average rainfall, which does something chemical to the leaves and means there will be even better foliage colours for us to enjoy. But for some people it's a depressing time of year, it means summer is gone, and it's all downhill to winter/Christmas... but then dear miseryguts, Spring must surely follow, so not all bad news then?

We were delighted to discover a group of about four sweet chestnut trees recently. Well, we weren't sure that's what they were, and were rather hoping we'd be proved wrong as they are on a narrow, open country lane between two little hamlets, which we travel along many times during the year, and have never noticed these trees before. Instead, being lovers of chestnuts, we have spent lots of money on imports from Spain which are OK, better than the vacuum-packed chestnuts any day in my book. And what we don't munch roasted, or use in casseroles and so on, go into the freezer to be used later in the season when they are no longer around. Because like many good things, their season is short, and unlike strawberries and so on which people can grow all year round, to the detriment of the fruit many say, nuts are there that one time aren't they? Make the most of them... so we bought the above prickly offering home, and looked in our BOOK OF THE COUNTRYSIDE, and had it confirmed that yes, they were indeed sweet chestnut trees. Since then, of course, on other ramblings about the place, we have noticed others, and kicked ourselves again for lack of observancy.

My favourite garden centre is a riot of colour at the moment, having had a new delivery of plants when we visited last week. We didn't go for plants but for jigsaws... I know that seems strange, but there is nowhere else that sells them, and in the now obligatory (so it seems) gifty area you find in most large garden centres these days, there is a fabulous selection of Gibson's puzzles. We usually buy a few during winter, and always a couple of special Christmassy ones. However, when you visit a garden centre it would be churlish not to buy a plant, don't you think? Or two even? Maybe three? The heucheras above were so gorgeous, everyone was stopping to comment, and as we have a couple of them already, I decided to buy another, PEACH FLAMBE it's called, in autumnal leaf shades. I also bought a pennisetum, black stems and narrow leaves, with wonderful, fluffy, cat's tail-shaped furry flowers, which I can't resist stroking as I pass. I used to do it to our old Rosie cat, even though she sometimes objected! And we bought a crocosmia, in flower. The other two we have, the rather common (in that most gardeners who have crocosmia seem to have it) LUCIFER, and a smaller orange one. Both are well over now, just the interesting flower heads left, and we wanted another one to follow on.

But I resisted the mophead hydrangeas, such great fat cushions of flowers they had....

and this pinky spikey plant, and the conifer behind it. But couldn't resist getting out the camera.

Of course, there are many reasons why I love autumn. It's not just the colours, or the drawing in of the evenings, when you can close the curtains, shut out the world and snuggle down in front of the fire with a good book, or watching the telly with a bar of Green and Black's chocolate - one of the very small ones for me, thanks. Nor is it all down to spending time with gardening books, seed catalogues and Gardener's World magazine, looking at what to grow next year - and did you know Monty Don has just won a prestigious award for Columnist of the Year, something like that? So WELL DONE MONTY, and well-deserved too.

But I digress.... I also love the crisp, frosty mornings, with pearl necklaces strung across the plants, a white sparkliness covering everything, and that particular smell you get at this time of year, redolent of woodsmoke and compost, even though there's not a bonfire in sight usually. And I also love the foodie side of the season..... lots of appley puds, brambly puds too. Sponge pud and custard, with golden syrup. Heart-warming soups and rib-sticking casseroles... the former with garlicky croutons and the latter with herby dumplings. Lots of lovely meals made with lots of lovely root veggies like those above... I couldn't resist buying the squash... must grow some next year.

There is still a lot of colour in the garden to be enjoyed. The grasses down the bottom of the garden with their huge feathery plumes look beautiful against the blue of the sky, as does the holly tree below. But some of the foliage in the garden is slowly changing colour, this photograph shows a climber over one of the arches leading to the lawned area. Pretty soon it will all be in varying shades of this red, and then not long after, they will all fall to the ground and the bare bones of the arch on show again, revealing the fact that it's a bit out of shape. Leaves do the wonderful job that clothes do for us humans, hiding the imperfections.

And amongst the hundreds of holly berries, a honeysuckle still flowers, but you can't get close enough to smell it.

There are marigolds, small wild poppies of all colours, chocolate crocosmia still flowering like mad, as is the white cosmos, penstemmons, wallflowers opening now too, and lots of foliage from the many grasses we have dotted around. The peonies dying, have a wonderful deep red colour to the leaves, the hostas are dying too, their leaves going a bright, bitter lemon colour, some a deeper shade almost buttery, and others still vibrant and green. In the raised bed my carrots are still growing, as is the garlic and giant Italian parsley, and there are still a couple of lettuces to be cut. Tomatoes ripening like mad, but I am not happy with this particular variety, which are small, but with very tough skins, large seeds and little flesh between the two. I shall maybe roast them and make roast tomato soup at the weekend. That's a good autumny flavour, don't you think?

Enjoy your autumn, and thanks, as ever, for dropping by.

A happy, smiley, thankful sort of blog post.

2009-09-15T04:03:00.000-07:00

Although the skies are grey and heavy, my mood is golden and light. Well, that may be stretching it a little, but you get my drift. So even though I still can't put weight on my left ankle, and now the right one has produced a small bright red itchy patch so as not to be left out of the attention stakes, I am in one of those moods when it's good to reflect on the positives. My friend below says it all... the GOOD bit at the bottom can be turned to show BAD, but of course, that rarely happens!
And the main reason I am in a happy sort of mood is due in part to the box of goodies that arrived from the lovely, clever Alex yesterday. If you remember I won her giveaway, news of which came on a rather grey and heavy day, mood-wise.

This was the box, revealed when I had opened it, complete with prettily-wrapped goodies.

And here they are, revealed. A warm woolly hat, a green swirly brooch, a lovely beaded and embroidered heart sitting in a fabric box, a photo album with a crocheted cover, the mad loveable dog and gorgeous rabbit complete the contents. Here's a close-up...

And this is where rabbit and box ended up... the box is holding small crocheted squares, plus a large fancy one I don't know what to do with yet!

And dawg is in my cupboard looking after Yvette, the french knitting dolly and keeping company with the rocking horse etc. He hasn't stopped smiling, so I guess he's all right with being in a cupboard, and I am definitely all right with it as I get to see him every day, several times, same for rabbit of course.

And this is an overall view of one of the craft shelf units, so you get a bigger picture of rabbit and gorgeous fabric box.

Thank you Alex, so much... I love them all.

Other things which made me smile today.... almost-finished crochet project, smiling because it means I can soon choose what I want to do next as well as the satisfaction of seeing a project from start to finish in one fell swoop. Often they go in a cupboard, where they are forgotten until the next time I decide to have a blitz on clearing out cupboards.

Then when I was dusting the dresser in the hall, there was this photo of Simon, my eldest son when he was a year old - and now he's almost forty!!! I just love this, taken at a boat yard where my late mother worked at the time - would they could stay like this, I sometimes think! Then I hobble around the house on my poorly ankle and thank my lucky stars I don't have a toddler to chase after of course! But still, there is something sweet about that innocence.

A couple of new magazines to read, this always makes me smile, and thankful I can afford them when there are many people who struggle to feed themselves, let alone have the luxury of expensive magazines.

And I am thankful the forecasted rain didn't happen and I was able to enjoy pegging out and bringing in fresh-smelling clean washing.. pegging out being one of those simple pleasures, as we have talked about before.

And I am thankful for the friends I have made via the blogosphere, and look forward to reading comments, and more blog posts from you. Enjoy your week!

Thoughts of finding fame, having a close relationship with a bag of frozen peas, plus the usual ramblings.

2009-09-10T02:18:00.001-07:00

Well, I wouldn't say that this sudden fame has put me on cloud nine, or even has me with my head in the clouds. It came as a surprise, and still has me a little perplexed. So what is this fame... well... you might need to be sitting down for this but I was nominated for the POTD on authorblog. YES, I KNOW!!! Heady stuff indeed. Well, when I found a strange comment on my last blog, strange in that it was from a stranger not that it was weird you understand, and she was congratulating me on this POTD thingy, I had not a clue what she was talking about. Nor did I know what authorblog was, and I was beginning to think I had missed something, but then another fellow blogger assured me she had never heard of it either until she was nominated. I felt less dinosaurus-ish then let me tell you!
And for those other dinosaurs of the blogosphere among you who don't know what this is, let me direct you to a blog ... http://david-mcmahon.blogspot.com This man has over NINE HUNDRED followers would you believe!!!!! Any road up, he has this POST OF THE DAY 'award' for want of a better word, and mine was a runner-up. Personally I didn't think the posting was one of my best, but somebody obviously did, sent the suggestion in to him (which seems to be how it works) and so there I was, Honoured indeed. I have to also admit that most of the winners and other runners up over the last month or so are people who I have never heard of. I did go and look at a few, but then got bored, as I usually do. Of course, the lovely Maddie Grigg was there amongst those Honoured, and Mrs Jones too, she with the fab coloured hair... oh that I had the nerve!!! And the face under it to carry it off. Anyway, there you have it, fame at last. I would like to think fortune would surely follow, but somehow I doubt it.
Before I go any further, I should perhaps mention my reference to frozen peas. Occasionally you will now find me sitting with said bag of frozen peas on my left ankle. Not the most comfortable of things to do, but needs must. I seem to have strained/sprained the ligaments in my left ankle, no wonder it hurt for the past ten days when I put weight on it! I am terrible about going to the doctors, maybe it's because most of the time I have no say in the matter and it's just routine, so that when it comes to going to the GP about matters other than renal, I am reluctant, to put it mildly. I will put up with something for ages, but always know, from this inner voice of mine, when I really should just go and get it over with. Yesterday was one such occasion, when within minutes of getting out of bed I was hobbling around like a little old lady, minus walking stick - though that will definitely be employed come shopping day! I decided enough was enough, that this latest niggle wasn't going to go away by itself as they usually do, and that as it seemed to be worsening, perhaps seeing the GP was the sensible thing to do. (Not known for my sensibleness, when it does appear, it is ALWAYS commented on by Himself!) Anyway, that is how I know I have done this thing to the ligaments, and the only treatment is good painkillers when it's bad, getting up close and personal with the frozen peas, and resting it as much as possible.. which is the really easy-peasy bit of the whole treatment. Now I have legit reasons for watching recorded LAND GIRLS, reading for hours on end, doing my crafts likewise. And so I am especially looking forward to the weekend, when I can do the resting bit properly, having Himself here to make me a cuppa, fetch me a biccie, peel me a grape and so on.
And speaking of crafts, as I just did briefly, did I mention that I love getting my hands all sticky with papier mache? I do it the really dirty way, with strips of newspaper and wallpaper paste... can you imagine the colour of my fingers with all that newsprint? I never use coloured bits of the paper, since this can sometimes leach through, and it is so difficult these days to find a newspaper without lots of colour. So it's not something I do that often, and indeed, these two examples are years old. The above bowl, was painted with a matchpot of this glorious pale purple paint which has a slight silvery sheen to it. I then added glitter whilst the paint was wet, and now it sits on the landing windowsill, filled with rose pot pourri, and because of the deliberate ripples left in the paper, once painted it took on the look of something covered in pale purple silk fabric.

And this is Henny... I made her about ten years ago possibly, no frame or anything, just scrunched up newspaper made roughly into the shape I wanted, of a fat, sitting hen, and then I added the strips and paste. She is a bit battered, normally sitting on the outside of the kitchen window ledge, which is actually in the conservatory, so that when I open the window, she invariably falls off. But I rather like her, for some strange reason.

Most of you who regularly read this rambling will know of my glamorous raised bed, kindly built by Himself earlier this year, and in which I grew carrots, spring onions, lettuce, beetroot and so on, quite successfully if I do say so myself. Well, we are having more raised beds next year, only not as high. And this is the proposed first row of them, three feet away from hedging on the left and at the back, and this taken at nine in the morning, when there is some shade cast by the birch tree off to the left, but during the day, in full sun until later when it has begun to sink and has moved to the right. The one furthest away will be for leeks, then the middle one for broad beans, and the one nearest the camera will actually be built up another couple of layers, and I plan to sink a pot of mint, as well as growing garlic chives and chervil. Each bed is about a metre long by just under that in width, a lovely, easily-manageable size I think.

There is a lot of colour in the garden at the moment.. this white crocosmia has been flowering its little socks off for months now, and the pink-flowered salvia something-or-other which you can just see a little of, has been going even longer, and improved greatly since we moved larger plants out of the way. I love geraniums, have a large blue pot full of them on the terrace/patio (terrace always sounds too grand, patio too common somehow but don't know another word for the paved area which wraps around the house on two sides!), plus other pots scattered around the place, dotted in amongst other things or standing alone, and then these on the kitchen wall, where I can see them from the conservatory. A bit slow to do anything, they are at last looking pretty. I also have lemon scented ones which are just lovely, delicate pink flowers and the most heady lemony scent comes off the foliage when you brush past.

Reading has to feature in my ramblings doesn't it? These are the books I have read in the last week. The one by Louise Candlish is absolutely brilliant, I couldn't put it down, a real page turner if ever there was and definitely one of the top five books I have read so far this year. It's about Olivia, happily married with two young sons, whose mother dies and leaves her the address of her first boyfriend. Olivia and Richie met at University, he was from California and she was madly in love with him. For her, it was the Real Thing, but he left, went back home and that was it. It felt like unfinished business for her, but what about him? When Olivia goes to find him, she tells her husband she needs a break after nursing her mother and will be away for the weekend. That turns into the whole summer and what will she do at the end of it, for there has to be an end to it all, again. Great read.

My reading of Patrick Gale, great author though he undoubtedly is, has been very hit and miss. Some of his writing I have loved, and then gone and chosen another to read, and been disappointed. Some I can't put down, others I can't even get started with. This was somewhere in between really, and again is about a couple who meet up after having broken up twenty years previously. Life has changed a lot for both of them, but have their feelings? Interesting read at the end, not what I expected and felt a little flat in a way, maybe because of that. But a good read nonetheless.
And so this brings me to the end of another rambling, with no rants, and just a little bit of a rave. Thanks to everyone who popped in again, and for your comments, and especially whoever it was who recommended me for the POTD.

How a little ray of sunshine lifted my mood and a bit of retro this and that.

2009-09-02T02:53:00.000-07:00

As someone who is no stranger to depression and who used to counsel women with depression brought on by low self esteem, I know the difference between feeling a bit low and being depressed, and today I am feeling a bit low. Or I was, until a ray of metaphorical sunshine came my way. It came via Alex at pinkfeatherparadise.blogspot.com and her recent giveaway, consisting of lots of lovely handmade goodies. I never win anything, but put my name forward and as she said, everything happens for a reason (something I firmly believe in) and I read the message from her today, on my blue day, saying I had WON!! It may seem such a little thing, but it has really lifted my mood. I won't bore you with the whys and wherefores of The Mood. Suffice to say that some childhood habits are hard to leave behind it seems, for I used to build up my hopes and expectations out of all proportion to reality sometimes, and was always let down. Like a pin stuck in a balloon, the hopes and optimism would leave me, I would be left deflated and empty and sort of sad. The Mood will pass, in time. Thankfully I don't often feel this low and empty. And if truth be told, the reason for my feeling this way is silly and would cause some to raise eyebrows quizzically and wonder at my sanity... much like I do myself sometimes. It should have been a cause to rejoice and sigh with relief, but other options had presented themselves which I sort of built my hopes upon, now they are being shelved for the sake of being wise, acting wisely and grown up and sensibly. For now, I hope. Maybe they will be realised in the not too distant future, those dreams and expectations and hopes of mine. But thank you Alex... and Jamie, who drew my name out of the hat - such an intuitive child don't you think?

I like retro stuff... and think these book covers fall into that category. Those of you who know me, will know that books form an integral part of my life, and many of the books from the forties and fifties in our collection, have been bought as much for their wonderful jackets as for the content. The contents have all been read though, black and white photographs evoking a sense of the romantic to travel books as well as nostalgia for a more gentle, slower and less stressful life. In the ENGLAND'S PLEASANCE book for example, there is a photograph taken in Derbyshire of a popular walking trail near Raven's Tor, and there is only one couple walking, whereas often these days a similar photograph would show many groups of walkers. There is a photograph taken in Ramsbury in Wiltshire, on what was obviously a sunny summer's day, showing thatched cottages lining the street, overhanging eaves giving some shade to the upper rooms from the glare of the black and white sun, and a mother pushing a large cumbersome pram, a toddler by her side. Are those thatched houses still there? Would a similar scene today show people hurrying by, ears plugged with music cutting them off from the rest of the world and prohibiting conversation (is that the idea?), mothers pushing these ugly three wheeled contraptions instead of the stately Silver Cross prams of this bygone era shown in the book?

And THE ENGLISH INN, what a lovely notion that is, where it still exists. We have heard that there are hundreds of pubs going out of business in the recession, so the days of an Inn in most villages are long gone - though most of the inns in this book seem to be on a rather grand scale, no little village inn with it's skittles alley, sawdust on the floor in these photographs.

I am not a fan of Dennis Wheatley, though his KA OF GIFFORD HILLARY was one of the first grown up books I read in my teens, and to this day I haven't a clue what a KA is or was, and nor can I remember what the book was about! I do remember the Mazo de la Roche books though.

My mother was a great fan of this series of books about a plantation called JALNA, and again, these were amongst the first adult books I read, along with Georgette Heyer and Elizabeth Goudge. Later I read Nevil Shute's 'A Town Like Alice', and John Braine's 'Room at the Top' as well as the above title.

H. E.Bates's stories of the Larkin family are well-known of course, and this book, 'When the Green Woods Laugh' (taken from William Blake's Laughing Song) is the third and final book about Pop Larkin and his lively, colourful lot, following on from 'The Darling Buds of May' and 'A Breath of French Air'. This one is set in the long, hot summer of 1959... when I was almost eight, and amongst life's greatest pleasures for me were taking my dolls for walks in their pram in the Marine Gardens, paddling in the edge of the sea across the road from where we lived, watching the marionettes show and eating an ice cream. Would it have had sprinkles on I wonder?

Because obviously this has!! I know that a 'proper' English trifle doesn't have them. Nor does it have jelly apparently, so this is very common possibly, and no, it didn't come out of a packet with BIRD'S written on it! It has sherry-soaked sponge fingers in the bottom, a thick layer of fresh raspberries and peaches covered in raspberry jelly, then a layer of custard, finally cream and of course, SPRINKLES. It may not be posh or proper, but boy was it good or what? My husband has a way of telling if it is a particularly good one or not, and it is all to do with the sucking, wobbly noise made by the jelly when you remove the first spoonful. If it doesn't make the right sort of sucking, squishy, squelchy sound, then he gets a look of abject disappointment - after all, he only gets trifle a couple of times a year, maybe three at most, so like me, builds up his hopes and expectations from the time the sponge fingers go in the bowl. I am pleased to say his hopes are rarely dashed.

And finally... is this a bit retro do you think? A crocheted cushion just finished, two sides of it, this can be the front...

and this the back...

or it could be the other way around of course. But I am grateful to Vanessa (doyoumindifiknit) for reminding me about the pleasures of crocheting little squares, which had been long forgotten. Then I sort of got hooked on it, and made a couple of things, this is the one I kept.

Thank you for dropping by again.. feel free to leave comments, but only if they are positive, for despite the lifting of the mood, I am still feeling just a tad fragile in The Mood department!

Childhood memories...

2009-08-27T03:41:00.000-07:00

Unusual for me to do another blog so soon, but one posted by my dear friend Rachel about her childhood prompted me to do something similar, and invite my faithful few followers, a small but perfectly formed, though slightly motley crew, to reveal their own memories. Rachel did it perfectly, with sound bites as it were, just a few words of this and that to convey a memory.. doubt I can be so economical, but this is more of a Rambling of a Three R's posting. Just to see where it takes us...

I grew up across the road from the sea... first memories of sharing a tall, Edwardian terraced house include the annoying little boy who lived downstairs, called Peter, a rather soppy blond child who insisted on holding my hand as we walked to school, aged five. Of the smell of home made lemon curd; and although I don't remember much about the furniture and so on, I do remember a pale blue Eastham kitchen cabinet - an all in one sort of thing with shelves behind glass doors at the top, a pull down worktop bit and cupboards below. I remember sitting in a huge window, on a window seat, watching all the holidaymakers in the summer, coaches arriving from all different parts of the country; the smell of the sea; the sound of the gulls; watching the model yacht races; standing by the lighthouse waving goodbye/hello to my father as he left for the fishing waters off Iceland with the fishing fleet - the banana boats as I called them because of their colour not exotic cargoes.

The smell of fresh fish is an integral part of my childhood as my father brought home his choice pickings of the catch, and eating out from an early age too, being propped on several cushions and treated like a little princess. How I hate being the centre of attention now!

Feeling above all, loved and safe, and happy, no fears, no worries about predators or nasty things happening... apart from my doctor's boxer dog which was exuberant to say the least, and was meant to be kept in the back garden, but somehow often managed to escape into the basement where the surgery and waiting room were.

School days? Loved the work, the sisters who taught us (for the most part, there were one or two harridans though!), but wasn't Miss Popular. I had one friend, and was never invited to any other parties, always the last one to be picked for team sports. Teacher's pet when it came to spelling and composition writing... her whipping boy when it came to maths and history! Nature walks along the beach which had an added frisson after the day the flasher appeared from behind a sand dune! Climbing to the top of a local landmark called The Mount, and then rolling down the other side on the grass, and not sure now, which left me more breathless! Going to play tennis in the park, more for the attractions of the junior park-keeper for many of us teenage girls, some with handkerchiefs stuffed inside their bras to make themselves more alluring, so they thought. Some of us unfortunately were blessed with the real thing.. though not sure 'blessed' is the right word to use to be honest. And I remember too, the way it was seen as 'normal' for a man from the school uniform company to come and measure us girls, always with a nun in the room, but even so, it wouldn't be allowed today. Music lessons in the music room of the convent, a small waterfall feature outside running into a pond, the playing of The Trout on the piano, girly voices practising carols at Christmas.

Away from school my memories are all tied up with my mother, who was such fun to be with, and who more than made up for the lack of a father's presence. She and I had great times... picnics on the beach where she would smoke one of her three or four menthol cigarettes a month, disapproving of women who smoked in public, but this was to keep the sandflies away, she said. Going to work with her during the school holidays when I was thirteen and she had gone back to work after being a stay at home mum all my life to that point. She worked for a tea and coffee importer, and I can't smell freshly ground beans now, without thinking back fifty years almost. Going on day trips, Belle Vue Zoo, Southport Flower Show, the Dales, we loved these coach trips. As we did our weekly visits to the library, a lovely Gothic building, all wood inside, the smell of polish, old books, the squeak of the librarians shoes as she moved around the shelves, the thrill when I was able to go into the adults section at last, choosing books by Frances Parkinson Keyes, Elizabeth Goudge, Mazo de la Roche....

Food memories are rather strange... flat bowls of oxtail soup with chips in... Liverpudlian Scouse... chips with curry sauce.. branston pickle sandwiches... chips with scraps and mushy peas and lots of salt and vinegar... school dinners of meatballs, leftover Sunday roast (from the convent), sponge pudding with jam and coconut on the top, tapioca which most of us hated, but the meals all freshly cooked in the convent kitchen next door and mostly delicious. Posh nosh when my father took us out for a meal, lobster, steak, prawns... watered down wine, just a little at first, but more as I got older, and then of course came the days when it wasn't watered down any more!

But overall, despite the lack of popularity at school, still feeling loved and cherished, happy and safe.

Then into the world of work, and apart from one horrendous memory here, where the feeling of being safe was taken away temporarily, this was a happy, happy time. Fun to be 16, 17 and so on, childhood left behind, but the rest of my life ahead to be filled and enjoyed. Of course, real life doesn't always work out as planned or dreamed of does it? But on the whole I have felt as I did as a little girl all those years ago... loved and safe and happy, and I hope I have made my own children feel the same, and that they in turn pass it on to their children, and that all their memories will be as happy as mine.

Things go with a 'Bang!', I learn another new phrase, nature's foibles, plus the usual weekly mixture.

2009-08-26T02:42:00.000-07:00

At the moment here in North Norfolk, it's breezy but dry. Later this afternoon it is expected to get windy and wet, due to the tail end of Hurricane Bill moving across from the Irish Sea/Atlantic sea coasts, to the North Sea. Fortunately for us, by the time it gets here, Bill will be almost blowed out, but the rain will be welcome.

I decided to make fish goujons for our evening meal, preparing them this morning, leaving them to chill and the coating to set, in the fridge. So I got out my trusty old blender, attached the coffee bean smashing bit, and prepared to make breadcrumbs. This may sound a little strange to you, but it works for me! Of course, you can only make a small amount at a time, so you need patience for this. I got the first batch made, and then put in the crusts for the second, switched on and BANG! Puffs of smelly smoke, horrible smell... hastily switched off and unplugged the machine. I have been saying for more years than I care to remember that I should replace this, it's got to be over 25 years old, if not more. Now I have to... it could be something that husband could fix, but what's the point? Some of the attachments are past their best, so I might as well get a new one, Tesco probably do one for a fiver, which is good enough for the amount of times I use it! So, it was making breadcrumbs with the grater, and outside with the smelly old blender.

Those of you who know me, will know I love language, and words, and so I was delighted to discover, quite by chance yesterday lunchtime, a little programme of twenty minutes duration on channel five, about words and their meanings, presented by the sometimes slightly mad Tim Grundy. It was all to do with churches and associated subjects, and it was thanks to TG that I learnt another new phrase....'Four Wheeled Christians'. Husband couldn't figure out what it meant, can you? Apparently, this phrase refers to those people who only go to church on three occasions.... Christenings (pram wheels), Weddings (wedding cars) and Funerals (hearses). I suppose there will be those who say it doesn't matter why you go, or how often, just that you do. Just as there will be those who say it matters not, either way. Each to his own.

This is one of those little foibles of nature, thrown up to intrigue and bring a smile. The campion is happily flowering away, beautiful cerise flowers, except for just this one which opened up and revealed all its stripey glory. There are no others like it... strange or what?

I love knitting these little bags, found the pattern a few months ago and there has been no stopping me. But what to do with them all? Well, two of them have been put to good use I think, the above as a holder for gloves, and the the one below as a holder for small crochet projects, little balls of wool and a small hook. I am really into these comfortable hooks at the moment, they are so easy to hold and use.

It is thanks (I think!) to Vanessa (doyoumindifiknit) that I have got hooked, sorry, on small crocheted squares. Seeing hers reminded me of a project I made more years ago than I care to remember, consisting of small squares, sew together backed with a very fine cotton lawn, then sandwiched with fine wadding and a backing of pretty fabric. I stitched around the squares to give a lightly quilted effect.. it was a cover for a Moses-basket type crib I seem to remember. Anyway, the memory of it got me thinking, and without further ado I grabbed the small balls of leftover four ply, a 3.50 hook and made one and a half inch squares. Here are some of them, alongside a scarf I just finished crocheting in hand dyed Araucania wool from Chile, which is expensive, but I have just found an online shop that sells it for almost half price.

And here are some more. And no, I haven't a clue what I am going to do with them, possibly a cushion cover as I have a crocheted front in stripes, that needs a back, made of similar colours.

Books, as usual feature. These are two I have just bought myself as I am always on the look out for different ideas for gifts, and for what to do with leftovers, apart from crocheting small squares and so on. Often you buy more wool than you need, or end up using, and can have a complete ball left, so getting ideas for using them more productively, seemed a good idea. I am looking forward to spending some time over the coming Bank Holiday weekend, looking through these, plus THE SKY AT NIGHT magazine, if I ever find one around here!

As for reading matter... I am a great Anne Tyler fan, and am slowly getting all her books, only about four or five to go now. This is her latest, NOAH'S COMPASS, about Noah, aged 60, made redundant from his job, forced to leave his apartment for a smaller one, and coming to terms with who he is, and what his future holds. It seems a little bleak to begin with, especially as the first night in his new apartment he is attacked by an intruder and wakes up in hospital, having no memory as to how he got there. And Catherine Dunne I first read a few years ago, loved her writing and am looking forward to this, a couple of years old now, about four women who get together to celebrate their friendship, twenty five years of it, the negatives and the positives.

Books about women's friendships attract my attention, both fiction and factual, and I wonder why there aren't as many about male friendships... or is it that because I don't read male fiction I don't know about them? Which leads me to consider the differences between friendships that men make, and those between women. Do you think there are any differences? Do women forge stronger friendships than men, and if so why? Is it because we are more open with our feelings, that we find it easier to let out our innermost fears and hopes, trusting that another woman will understand, not judge or criticise? Someone remarked recently, on a women's magazine website that I belonged to, that I was strange because I didn't spend time with women friends, that all my women friends were 'accessed' if you like, via the email, letters, maybe the telephone on the odd occasion (I hate the telephone!). It's not because I live in a remote area geographically, but because in some ways, I am a remote person, detached from the hurly burly of everyday life, or that kind of 'normal' everyday life that most of you have. I don't belong to any organisations, am not a joiner in, and as many of you know, the very idea of mixing with a group of women makes my toes curl. I don't need the company of others, so why should I seek it out?

Anyway, even if you think I am strange, I hope you will enjoy my ramblings and rants and ravings, my weekly mix of books and crafts, this and that, and thank you for popping in again. Enjoy your Bank Holiday weekend, however you spend it.

This latest trend called SIY, books and sew on, do fish have ears, and a bit of poetry.

2009-08-19T02:59:00.000-07:00

Apparently, the latest in thing is SIY, Sew It Yourself. A resurgence of interest in the idea of 'make do and mend', an upsurge of interest in buying clothes from charity shops and making changes to turn it into a unique item, or dressmaking from scratch. Stores report incredible increases in the sales of sewing machines, 500% in one case, and apparently Tesco sell one particular machine every two minutes, if you can believe the figures. All to do with the economy of course; it couldn't just be that this is the latest in a long line of fads and crazes, there has to be a reason for it apparently. Of course, there are those amongst you who have been creative with fabric for years and don't see what all the fuss is about. Then there are those of us with big ideas but pretty useless when it comes to the practical. My problem, and of course I meant me with that last statement, is that I tend to rush at things. I am not known for my patience, for taking time... I put it down to wanting to get as much done as I can, from having the attention span of a gnat, and a head bursting with ideas, colours, fabrics, wools all of which need to be turned into something Wonderful! But one accepts ones limitations... wonderful we don't do. Passable at a distance is nearer the mark. But none of the sewing things I make are fancy or original, I just do it because I like doing it. And have been every morning this week for some reason. Out comes the machine, which I only use for the long boring bits, preferring, really, to handsew as much as I can... I find it very relaxing. The Ashes on the radio, and sewing in hand. Or a story tape in the stereo and sewing in hand. Some of the things are good enough to go to a charity shop, or a friend who is involved with a small, local cat rescue operation constantly needing things to sell at fundraisers, more so than ever these days. (And who hasn't gone AAH! at the kittens at Battersea and elsewhere, featured on the news this week because there has been a dramatic decrease in the numbers of people wanting to take a kitty home. I find my resolve not to have another cat weakening at such times!) But mostly, they are for me, for the house...

This is a patchwork tote I made this morning, with one blue side and the other yellow, though the colours on the latter don't show up too well. Lined, one side with a purple to match the blue, and the other a sort of maroon picked out from the pansies, a piece of wadding between the layers, and with two-colour handles. It is at the finishing off stage now, a job for this afternoon, along with finishing off the second of the two envelope cushions for the outside dining chairs.

These are two little tote bags I made with a hexagon patchwork flower on the front. One of them I am going to add an appliqued 'S' on the reverse, a gift for my granddaughter when she starts nursery. Now I have no idea whether handsewn is going to be treated with the same lack of interest, disdain almost, as handknitted, but I shall send it all the same, and what I don't know won't harm me. I shall hope though, that it gets used, sometimes.

This is obviously not sewn but crocheted. I found the pattern in a magazine, it is meant to be a door curtain. Hanging off the heart bit are crocheted strands turning it into a posh, cottony version of one of those awful plastic strip curtains meant to keep out flies presumably. I don't like them at all, but thought this would be a nice alternative. Well, when I had done the two hearts bit, I rather liked the look of it as a shelf edging, so that is what it is. Never fancied the idea of a door curtain to be honest with you, much prefer it as it is. Crochet seems to be the big thing as well lately, certainly amongst PC-ers, some of you doing gorgeous things... isn't it addictive, but do you think that's true of all crafts? I know that sewing seems to be the big thing with me at the moment, but then in the evenings I happily get out my knitting or crochet instead... I like variety.

Normally by now I am doing my reviewing for the RNA, but the books seem to be rather late in being sent out this year, or at least neither myself nor a good friend who also does it have received that tantalising parcel of books waiting for us to read and either sing the praises of or pick to pieces! So, every day I listen out hopefully for the ring of the doorbell to announce the arrival of parcel postie... every day I am disappointed... such is life!

My own reading has been from the library this last week. The Meg Rossoff book, 'What I was', is one of those strange but good books, set in East Anglia, about a boy sent to his third boarding school on a part of the Suffolk coast that has, over the years, vanished into the sea. On the beach one day he discovers a hut, being lived in by a boy of his own age, called Finn. Finn claims to have no family, earns a meagre living helping in the local market, and lives in this cosy shack. It is very basic, but so described you almost wish you could live there, even with the ever present threat of the sea coming in your front door. But Finn isn't what he seems to be at all, as we find out near the end of the book.

The book by Julia Glass is one of those books I find myself reading sometimes, rather against my will in a way. I haven't really got thoroughly immersed in it, yet it compels me to carry one. I can't put it aside to return to the library unread, it somehow demands I read it, and properly, no skipping the odd page here and there. Well, maybe the odd paragraph, but read it I must. About two sisters, Clem and Louisa and their very different lives, and told alternately by each of them, and is essentially a story of sisterhood.

William Nicholson's 'The Secret Intensity of Everyday Life' I got because of the title and a review, which said it was about what goes on behind the facade of normal, everyday lives. Laura is the main character, and we are introduced to her on the morning that she receives a letter from an old lover in the mail. She is happy enough with her married life, her children, husband and little job she has, but this letter brings back memories of what it felt like to be younger, freer, and when life seemed to be, on reflection at least, more exciting. This book is next to be read.

These are some of the little fish in our pond, and what I want to know is.. how can they hear me rattling their food container from the conservatory door? Or hear my footsteps as I approach the pond from any direction? They always assume I am going to give them food, often they are disappointed if it's not the right time of the day, but still they live in hopes. But the rattle of the food container means their hopes are not in vain on that particular occasion, but how do they hear it?

And seeing as there are no garden photos this time, I thought I would end with a bit of poetry about a rose, written by the wonderful Dorothy Parker, and called One Perfect Rose.

"A single flow'r he sent me, since we met.

All tenderly his messenger he chose.

Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet -

One perfect rose.

I knew the language of the floweret;

'My fragile leaves' it said, 'his heart enclose.'

Love long has taken for his amulet

One perfect rose.

Why is it no-one ever sent me yet

One perfect limousine, do you suppose?

Ah no, it's always just my luck to get

One perfect rose."

Another splishy splashy day in Norfolk.

2009-08-12T02:28:00.001-07:00

It's raining.... cooler than yesterday thank goodness, but a mixed blessing. Had the skies not clouded over late last night, then I would have spent an hour or so in the summerhouse. I gathered together snuggly afghan, snuggly little hottie (just in case), snuggly bear (for company) and a flask for hot chocolate, and was all set to go into the summerhouse and watch the promised beauty of the meteor showers. One of the best places around here was over near Ely at the bird place on Wickham Fen, but too far to go. And anyway, I have my own lovely place to sit and gaze at the stars.. if it's too cold then we just open the ceiling blinds in the conservatory and I lay back on the sofa and stargaze, though for this to be successful the glass roof needs to be clean, and it often isn't, what with jackdaws taking a liking to our chimneys, pigeons fighting said jackdaws, the occasional owl and all the other avian visitors we have. Still, the summerhouse is perfect too, but sadly, the weather wasn't. It was cloudy from early evening on, seemed to clear up over the Wash and away inland for a time as we could see the moon, but even that disappeared by about ten o'clock, and even though I kept looking out of the landing window I could see nothing at all. Such a shame, it happened the last time there was a good showing as well.

It's been the usual week for me of crafts and gardens and books. This gorgeous chilli coloured wool is called SUBLIME, and so it is in nature and name. Gorgeous and soft and fluffy, and it has just been used to make a pair of wonderfully cosy (well I thought so anyway) bedsocks, a present for a very dear old friend, whose birthday is today... so HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY OWN BIT OF SWISS CHEESE! Like many readers of my ramblings, she doesn't have a Google account and so can't leave comments, but I know she catches up with me every now and then. I have more SUBLIME wool to use up, for hottie covers and a scarf, but the only drawback to it is that it is a bit flyaway in nature.

Yesterday was a sewing day.. do any of you have those days when you just want to do one particular craft? I got out the sewing machine to do the long sides of the two cushions I was making, but then put it away and did the rest by hand.

The fabrics are Laura Ashley, circa 1980s, and courtesy of a friend who gave me loads and loads of it, in shades of pinks and greens and off-whites. I made a huge, double bed size and then some, throw, and it has been used in different houses over the last 20 years, until we had a change of bedroom colour. I knew it wasn't going to be used, and so spent last Saturday afternoon cutting it up. I made a toddler-bed sized throw, backed with pink and white gingham, for a friend's grand-daughter, a canopy which will be attached via rings and hooks to the corner of the summerhouse, and then two large poles, for very sunny and not breezy days. I also made two cushion covers for the outside dining furniture, this is one of them, and still have some pieces left over.

I then decided I wanted to do some embroidery and made this lavender-filled heart for a friend who has recently moved into a new place and liked it so much I decided I would have this one and will now make another today to replace it for the friend. I am having a Shaker type peg rail in the hall, with a narrow shelf above, and hanging off the pegs will be this heart, one of my little knitted bags hanging open and possibly something else too, and my collection of little fat jugs will sit on the shelf itself.

Two of my favourite authors are called MARGARET, Drabble and Foster respectively as shown. I only recently discovered that Margaret Drabble was the mother of gardener JOE SWIFT.. his father being CLIVE SWIFT, the actor who played the long-suffering husband of Hyacinth Bucket. I don't know why I was so surprised at these two bits of information, but I was! Anyway, I love their books, and these are the two I have re-read recently. Another favourite MARGARET, would be Margaret Mitchell, who wrote GONE WITH THE WIND. A struggle of a read sometimes, but with such a memorable last line, and a marvellous film of course.

I also love picture books, or to give them their grown up name, coffee table books. The Carol Klein is a recent purchase, I wanted to find a no-nonsense approach to growing organic veggies, and this was highly recommended by all my gardening friends. SHED CHIC is a fabulous book showing the inventiveness of people and exploring our strange love affair with the garden shed. Nothing humble or ordinary about the sheds in this book, and I have been inspired at last, to sort out our summerhouse. I haven't been happy with it for a while, it just seemed too much of a mish-mash and now I know it's because it is dual purpose and that really such a small place as that, only six by eight, needs to have a single, defined purpose. So over the coming autumn I shall gather together pieces of old linen, embroidery, needlepoint, chintzy, anything that looks cosy and homely. We will go to a favourite antiques centre, three floors of it in an old granary in Ely, and look for another Lloyd Loom chair to tart up, matching the one in the summerhouse already. Plus a small bamboo table perhaps. There will be carpet and a rug on the floor instead of a couple of cotton, cheap and cheerful rugs on the painted wooden floor. It's going to be a cosy resting place, where you sit and quietly drink your cuppa, listen to the cricket, read a book when on your own, or chat with whoever shares the space with you, all year round. So that will mean making a couple more snugglies of course! The other books is all about vernacular village buildings... I think now I should have been an architect, though I know, deep down, I'd have never got my head around the maths. But I love architecture, looking at houses, drawing them in my own clumsy way too. And drawing floor plans.. I've done that since I was a child. Still, looking at books of houses and architecture, though not the grand sort, satisfies me.

If I were to write a list of all the things I say I want to do, want to try... well, it would be a very long list indeed. If I were to cross off those things I have achieved, the list would still remain a very long list indeed. Patti Medaris Culea is an American soft doll maker of incredible skill and imagination. Don't take my word for it, if you have never heard of her she can be found at www.pmcdesigns.com and here you will see the most fabulous dolls. On my list, is making one of these dolls.. There are places you can buy patterns, kits even, and I am just waiting for the day when I decide prevarication does not rule OK?

Of course, there has to be flowers... this is the largest of the accidental sunflowers that grew from dropped bird seed. I love it for it's brashness and brightness. Today, it is lifting the space by the holly trees, no sun shining on it, but with three of these beauties, it doesn't really matter.

I wonder why it is that this honeysuckle, by far producing the largest flowers of the many we have in the garden, and being the only pink one - the others being yellow and white - doesn't smell as strongly? Does it put all its efforts into producing big flowers and so has none left for smell. Anyway, it is growing up and around one of the holly trees...the statue is Justin.

And standing all alone and forlorn was this salmon pink gladioli. I am not a fan of the flowers particularly, but we have a small grouping of them by the birch tree..this one was several metres away by the holly, looking a bit silly on its own, so I picked it, along with the smallest of the freebie sunflowers and some foliage, to brighten up the conservatory on this grey, splishy splashy day in Norfolk.

So thank you all for dropping by again. I hope you are having a good week, that the weekend will be a good one for you, whatever your plans.

A little moan, some gratitude and the usual bits of this and that.

2009-08-05T02:20:00.000-07:00

Did you know that Christmas was something like twenty weeks away? Did you want to know that? Does it feel you with dread, alarm, despondency? Dismay perhaps, at the way time slips past so quickly? Does it have you itching to make your cards, plan your celebrations, make endless gift lists and lists of 'things to do and the order in which to do them'? NO!! Maybe like me, the sight of a GMTV presenter standing amid fake snow, with a Father Christmas beside him, outside a certain Knightsbridge store for whom the run-up (or run-down, depending on your point of view) to Christmas has already begun, just has you gnashing your teeth, shouting GRR!! and switching off, mentally as well as physically. It's not that I am a Scrooge, just because we don't have family Christmases, just because we don't do the exchanging of gifts thing, doesn't mean to say I am immune to the magicality of it... I love fairy lights and have them up on a dresser all year round, and have strings of twinkly white lights hanging off holly trees, and on the summerhouse, and on bushes AT CHRISTMAS. I have one or two small Christmas trees, one of which is definitely non-traditional, but AT CHRISTMAS. I make cards, pies, sometimes a pudding, but AT CHRISTMAS. You get the message now don't you? I don't even want to think about it on a day when I step outside and the heat is so oppressive it's almost like someone throws a heated electric blanket on you the minute you go out. With luck, the forecasters will have got it right and there will be thunderstorms and rain this afternoon to break it up.

So that's the moan, now for the bit of gratitude. We hear a lot in the news of youngsters attacking one another, of teenagers attacking adults with knives and so on, gangs roaming around, vandalism, and stories of teenage binge drinkers - and according to a recent report the reason they drink is because they are bored... ah, diddums. Even with all the technological gizmos and more freedom to roam and get up to mischief than is good for them in some cases, they are bored. When you hear of the mayhem young children wreak, of the misery and damage they cause, and see groups of children walking around your own village, and then when you read in your village magazine, as I did, of the anti-social behaviour reports in your own village, you worry that it's all getting too close. Especially when you have been a bit smug and boasted of the low crime rate in this area generally. You read the report, dreading what you will find.... apparently some young children had been knocking on people's doors on one street, and running away. (Isn't this something children have been doing since time immemorial, and didn't they have a name for it back in the 40s and 50s?) Our modern day miscreants were made to face up to their anti-social behaviour, and were taken with their parents, to the people whose lives they had made a misery, and made to apologise. Will this stop them repeating? Time will tell. And the other report was of teenagers swearing loudly on one particular street. They too, were made to apologise for causing this breach of the peace. So whilst I am not condoning anti-social behaviour at all, I did feel thankful that this was all we had to put up with, and hope it remains so.

Onto lighter matters now, and crafts... this is a tweedy brownish cushion cover just completed, with ribbed back and basket stitch front, and fastening with old brown leather buttons, dating from the 70s, which I have had in my button jar since removing them from... something!!

And these are some crocheted squares I am making, a patchwork confection using these colours, different squares, a real sampler type afghan, a project for a friends' birthday or Christmas present, depending when I finish it... and it might not even be this year since I keep getting sidetracked. At the moment I am crocheting a holey bag, a round bag, and knitting a bag as well. Do I like making bags? No, whatever gave you that idea!!!

Books as ever, are making an appearance. I don't know if there are any fans of Alexander McCall Smith amongst you, but I like his writing. I don't like the 'Ladies' series, crime fiction isn't my thing and I have no patience with trying to pronounce the names in my head as I read. But I love his Sunday Philosophy Club series, and 44 Scotland Street. This 'CORDUROY MANSIONS' is another similar novel to those set in the block in Scotland Street, only this is in London and the original appeared as 100 episodes I think it was on the Telegraph website. It is just the same as Scotland Street, with a diverse set of characters living in this mansion block of flats, and about their lives. Anyway, this was a real snip of a bargain at a fiver from one of my regular mail order book catalogues, so I couldn't resist? 'A CHATEAU OF ONE'S OWN' by Sam Juneau is another of those books about people who leave their native country to go and find a better life/follow a dream in some foreign climes. This is about Sam, who is American, his wife Bud who is Irish, and how they leave their cramped and smelly apartment in New York when they buy an old, huge chateau which needs an awful lot of work. Well written and easy to read, which is just what I want on a Sunday afternoon.

I love anything to do with the seaside, grew up across the road from a beach in Lancashire for the first fifteen years of my life (barring the first couple of years or so) and now live just a few miles from it, from the famous beaches at Holkham where the Household Cavalry are visiting this week and taking their beautiful horses for a canter in the sea, and where Stephen Fry can be seen looking out to sea at the start of 'KINGDOM'. It is a fabulously beautiful and wild place, a definite place to visit for any of you planning a trip to Norfolk. So these three little books caught my eye, and although only small, are packed with history and photographs. Another bargain they were too!

At the moment Norfolk is suffering with plagues of wasps, having previously been invaded by swarms of ladybirds last week. We haven't seen either in large numbers, there are no more than usual, but we have been affected by the invasion of the Painted Lady butterflies. In fact, I don't recall ever seeing as many butterflies in the garden as we have this year. Not just the Painted Lady, who sit sunbathing on the gravel and the moment you set foot on it rise, en masse... well, that might be over-exaggerating somewhat, but certainly there are usually at least a dozen in one area. We also have several other varieties in abundance, the peacock, the comma, common blue, red admiral, cabbage white, common white and last week the fabulous brimstone butterfly, which is such an acidic yellow, with a red dot on his wings. Truly a flash of brightness as it darted around the garden, where there is an abundance of plants for them to feed on.. for a start, at least six different buddleias. Sadly, they never sit still long enough for me to photograph them... unlike this fluffy bumble bee, who was either too lazy, too hungry, or too greedy, to be disturbed by a mere mortal with a camera, from his feasting on the yellow buddleia.

And before I go, another boast about pickings from the garden. All our Sunday lunch came from the garden, apart from the roast chicken. But here are the last of my carrots - I sowed a couple more rows yesterday along with garlic, lettuce and giant Italian parsley - the first of our stringless flat green beans, and some of the potatoes from a large pot. As I have said before, they wouldn't win prizes, but they are mine own, grown from seed, nurtured, watered, kept free from weeds, covered with net to protect them from nasty flying creatures and grown at table top height for ease in the case of the carrots, and I am proud of them. They were so fresh and full of flavour, as all of you growers will know.

And I had to have a bouquet from the garden for the dinner table... chocolate cosmos, white cosmos, a crocosmia which is smaller than the LUCIFER and produces pretty orangey flowers, the red BISHOP dahlia, some effervescent foliage from a euonymus, the apricot-yellow buddleia, and a small sunflower. I love sunflowers, this is one of three which have grown all by themselves, no seed planting here, since they have obviously fallen out of the bird feeder and germinated. I am not complaining, but it has made me determined to try growing them again properly, myself, next year.

And so on this flowery note, I shall leave you for this week, with my usual thanks for dropping by, for your comments on this and my last posting, and for the new people who have joined the gang of followers. Thank you, all are welcome. Take care and enjoy your week, your weekend too.

About food and wine, with the usual mix of crafts, flowers and books too!

2009-07-27T02:36:00.000-07:00

OK, so these carrots and beetroot wouldn't win prizes, but I grew them myself, it is the first time I have grown them and they were delicious. These aren't the sum total of my crops I hasten to add... I had picked beets before and never thought to take a photo of them, but yesterday was so pleased with the little carrots that I put the two that were left from the previous day's baking in the oven alongside my carrots - all of which tasted so fresh and delicious, as the growers amongst you will know. We had them simply cooked and served with tiny new potatoes, fresh garden peas with mint, and thick slices of roast gammon glazed with honey and soy sauce. For pudding, our own gooseberries in a crumble with custard.

And no, this isn't a HUGE glass of wine, just a normal sized one.. it's the bottle that's very small. For reasons I won't bore you with, I can no longer drink alcohol as much as I used to. Not that I was ever a tope, well, not in the last twenty years anyway, and in the last three, that has gone down dramatically to less than half a dozen glasses a year probably. Which is why I buy these little bottles, since Himself prefers red and I prefer rose - and I don't appear to have an 'e' with a thingy above it for the accent, but I know the drinkers amongst you will know what I am talking about. Now it's not very often I drink red, in fact I had a mouthful a couple of weeks ago and that's been it since the last time I drank it, many years ago, and had too much and was, shall we say, a little poorly in the night? Since then, I haven't touched a drop of the red stuff. But we bought a small bottle of red the other week, a British wine called Silver Bay Point, and this red was the first one I have smelt, where I could actually smell red berries, raspberries and redcurrants predominantly. Usually wine to me smells... well, wine-y with no distinctive smells at all. So I bought the above rose and it has such a pretty colour and the smell... well, it's like those scented sachet boiled sweets that were around in the 50s and 60s, still are I believe in some places. It even tasted slightly of them as well, and I loved it, to the point I felt it deserved a plug and a pic.

Vanessa, over at the 'doyoumindifiknit' blog had suggested I put up some photos of my old crocheted afghans. I had commented on being surprised that they were actually considered vintage and saleable. Well, things are only saleable if you can find someone to buy them of course, and I wouldn't sell this one. It is HUGE. Covers a double bed with overhang, and was even made so that three of the sides overhung but the fourth sat at the top of the bed... do you follow me?

Anyway, it is made of four ply wool, slightly mohair-ish but incredibly soft, and I made it probably almost thirty years ago now. The wool, which was on cones, was given to me by an old friend who no longer had a need for it, and although I hadn't done much crochet back then, in fact don't think I had done any for years, I could see that the colours would make fab granny squares. So I began to make multi-coloured granny squares, and when I had an awful lot, I sewed them together, took some very dark grey wool, and crocheted the edging, four inches deep on one edge, twelve almost on the other three. I am thinking of taking this off and redoing it... but over winter, when the idea of a wool afghan on your knees is more welcome than in summer. Although having said that, it is pouring down with rain here today, so not very summery.

It is incredibly warm, quite heavy and so, so snuggly and soft.

This one is smaller, more colourful, still soft and snuggly though, and again, made with the wool on cones, but this time, just going around and around, not separate squares. It is being modelled by my lovely husband, and I'd have perhaps done better to have photographed it on a day when there wasn't a strong wind blowing as he was in danger of being lifted off the ground.

But it's colourful don't you think?

Isn't this lovely? Actually I don't like the plant at all, eryngium is it called, bluey purple thistley thing. We had lots of it down the bottom of the garden, but got rid of it, and then this smaller plant arrived, about 25 metres away from where the original plant was, and whilst I don't much like it, I do like the look, the colour, the texture of the flowers.

And knowing I love daisy type flowers, some of you won't be surprised to see these!

Anyway, enough of the horticulture, time for books I think.

Prue Leith is a name most people know, but usually associate with cookery. However, she is a good storyteller as well. I have all four of her books, and two of them have been connected with gardens and gardeners. this one, 'A LOVESOME THING' is about Lotte, who gives up her job as a successful architect to study horticulture and garden history, and having gained her degree takes herself and her children off to the beautiful Maddon Park estate where she gets the job of restoring the gardens and estate. There is much history attached to it, over the years left to its own devices, much of this has been lost or overgrown, and now it has been brought by a millionaire who aims to restore it all. He has more passion and money than knowledge... she provides the latter and together they set about restoring the estate.

THE LONGSHOREMAN is a non-fiction book, a mix of autobiography and natural history by Richard Shelton, taking the reader from streams to rivers and ponds and beyond, from his childhood to adulthood, with some eccentric characters met along the way. The cover attracted me, then the drawings inside, and it was one of those impulse buys not regretted.

THE HOUSE BY THE SEA is the second book I have read by May Sarton, an autobiographical work set out as diary entries, as was the first. In this book she moves to a house on the sea coast in Maine, from inland New Hampshire, and at first finds it hard to adjust to the solitude, her creative side seems to lie dormant for a while. But gradually it returns. I love the black and white photographs, especially of the views she has from her house, of the sea in all its moods. She is a lady who is the perfect hostess when friends come to stay, is happy with people, but equally happy in solitude.

So this is me for this time. I hope the weather is as you want it to be... I'd prefer a bit of dryness as I want to sow some more seeds in my raised bed, but after non-stop rain since dawn, which followed on from heavy rain last evening, I doubt I will get around to doing much in the garden this week, which is set to be sunshiney and showery. Enjoy yours, whatever you are doing, and as ever, thanks for dropping by and leaving your comments.

The usual mixed bag of crafts and books and rambling

2009-07-21T01:48:00.000-07:00

Well, it's a very wet morning here in North Norfolk, and it's Tuesday.... which is probably obvious to most of you, but after a few days staycation it has taken me several hours to catch up with what day of the week it is.

Now, there's a word for you, 'staycation', and as an aside, just who is it who makes up these new words for our vocabulary? A 'staycation' is rather obvious once you know the meaning. In recent times of financial crisis it has been reported that large numbers of people are preferring to holiday in this country, rather than go abroad. And then there is a smaller number who are opting to stay at home, to sleep in the comfort of their own bed each night, to sit and appreciate the beauty of their own space, the area around them where they live, which often gets taken for granted and not looked at that closely. So a 'staycation' is when you vacation by staying at home.... as the meerkat says, 'Simples'.
Well, some of us have been doing this for about ten years, for various reasons and we just had a long weekend of it, which included breakfast in the summerhouse, a picnic in the summerhouse where we packed the basket with goodies and books and crochet (for me) and spent the afternoon, enjoying the total peace and quiet... well, apart from the blessed seagulls, though some would say that added to the impression of being in a beach hut!
Anyway, not much was done for three of the four days other than lots of R and R... the fourth day made up for it with the start of the demolition of the humongous pyracantha hedge which goes halfway across the garden, separating up the areas, creating a quiet, contemplative green-planted only room behind. As we get older, the chore of cutting hedges begins to get too much, and so we decided this was one hedge we could do without. Cutting it out is a mammoth job, piling it up in the aforementioned green quiet space easy, getting rid of it all will be the tricky bit!! That was yesterday, and Himself has gone back to work for a rest now, leaving me to catch up with emails, blogs, letters and the like.

I first crocheted as a little girl, and in my teens crocheted a waistcoat, and then crocheted some baby girl dresses when I was pregnant, but somehow my over-active, ginger-haired little tyke didn't suit them, and at that point, not thinking there was much you could crochet for boys, I gave it up, apart from the odd crocheted square from leftover wool, turned into blankets for cat baskets. Then in the 90s I made two large crocheted afghans/bedcovers, which I now realise are quite saleable..... amazing! But this year I have really taken it up again, and spend almost as much time with the hooks as the knitting needles some times. The above is from leftover wool, and will be a cushion cover, making the fabric back out of denim, slightly smaller so that the edging sticks out, like a frill kind of thing. It will be used on the garden bench, which is the same shade of blue almost.

Then I finished a pair of socks in self-patterning Sirdar Crofter, which is delightfully soft. I also used the same wool, only in pinks and purples mainly, for a pair of fingerless gloves for Devina in the recent knitting and crochet swap I took part in. I love using the wool, for the softness of it, and watching the pattern develop.

This is one of my extravagances, hand-painted wool... I have two skeins of it, one this colour and the other deep purples and blues and maroon too, and so I bought some of this much cheaper Stylecraft four ply, which is incredibly soft to handle, and will crochet either mixed colour squares, or self-coloured, which are easier and quicker of course, no fiddly ends to sew in and so on. But I like to have a simple crochet project on the go, to pick up and leave at will, when I am in the mood, and this fits the bill. I also have a basket of odd balls of doubleknit, which I shall use in the same way.

And before moving onto books... a quick plug for Sarah at http://www.bloomingfelt.co.uk/ whose website was a godsend for someone like me, whose eyes aren't as good as they were, and whose hands sometimes not as steady. Cutting out felt hearts and flowers can be a pain, in more ways than one, and so to find someone selling good quality, thick wool felt flowers and so on, at reasonable prices, was such a treat, so thank you Sarah.

Well, it wouldn't be a blog from me without mentioning books would it. I am working my way through Debbie Macomber's 'Blossom Street' series of books. Set in Seattle, Blossom Street is a newly-rejuvenated area just a little way from the riverside, and amongst the shops are a wool shop, a florists, a book shop and a small cafe, and it is the people who own these establishments, or work in them, who feature in the books. This one, 'Twenty Wishes' is about several of the women who own, or visit, the shops who are all widows and how they transform their lives, by making a list of their wishes. They are nice, easy reads, good to break up the heavier reading I sometimes get into. Alongside is 'The Hours' by Michael Cunningham, which was made into a film with Meryl Streep, and spans the decades from 1920s London to 1990s New York. The book is one of a set of ten called THE PERENNIAL COLLECTION, one of those special offer sets available from THE BOOK PEOPLE which I sometimes can't resist!

These are two of the heavier books.... the Nicola Humble book is all about women's fiction, books for women and by women/men, but aimed at the female reader in the inter-war years, a subject which I am particularly interested in. Not the lightest of reads, it's one of those that has footnotes on every page, sometimes taking half the page, but worth the wait from the library definitely. The Victoria Finlay book is a richly decorated little paperback, all about the history of gemstones, where they came from, how they were discovered, and whilst I have no interest in jewellery, I am fascinated by fossils, the unearthing of gemstones, that kind of thing. As with most books like this, I tend to dip in and out of it as and when the mood takes.

So this is me for now, hoping you all had an enjoyable weekend and thanks, as ever, for dropping by.

On finding beauty where you may.

2009-07-13T02:01:00.000-07:00

I'm not a doll person really, my thing has always been teddy bears, and I still have one given to me when I was about ten I think. At the moment, my 'hug' (the official name amongst beary people for a collection of teddy bears) numbers about forty... now that may seem a lot, but the majority of them are between six inches tall (or less) and eight inches so don't take up much space. And whilst forty may seem a lot... it is about half of what I used to have. The rest were packed into huge boxes and given to a children's hospice a couple of years ago. I decided then, that if I were to buy any more bears, I would concentrate on bear artist bears, but haven't bought one for many years now, but below are a couple of examples. LULU on the left and LUCY LOCKET on the right, who has a mechanism which turns her head. I also love squidgy ones too, and have a couple which sit on the floor of my workroom, beiing more than eight inches high. But all of them are beautiful in their own way, and in the case of the bear artist bears, the amount of workmanship that has gone into them astounds me sometimes.. not to mention the imagination!

I also find beauty in fabrics and yarns, in colours and textures, and those of you who read my blog regularly will know I had been amassing pinks and oranges, plain and fancy, for a snuggly I had intended knitting. Well, dear readers, the thing got so darned heavy I knew it was going to be impractical as a comforter - you'd never crawl out from under it without the aid of a tow truck, that was assuming you hadn't melted away under the combined weight and heat of course. Plus knitting it was also becoming somewhat of a feat of endurance, no need for gym visits this week then. Not that I go anyway, but if I did, well, I could have saved myself some money whilst making this. Thankfully the weather had cooled down last week, and I was able to crack on with it, and once I realised it wasn't going to be fit for the original purpose, and I had decided to make it smaller, I wanted to get it finished. It now is finished and sits on a newly-painted, very pale pink directors chair in my workroom, ready for when I want to sit and check out a pattern book, or read a bit of poetry, or plug myself into some relaxing sounds for a meditate, all of which I am wont to do, when the mood strikes.

Yesterday morning a huge cavalcade of old scooters, Vespas and the like, drove through the village, en route to Sunny Hunny (Hunstanton) presumably. They were of all ages and colours and boy, did they bring back memories! Had I been quicker off the mark I could have photographed them, but at the time I heard this unusual noise as they approached, I was in the midst of cooking Sunday lunch - for those of a culinary bent this was slow-roasted pork cooked on a bed of carrot, butternut squash, onion, garlic, onion, fresh thyme, lemon thyme, pineapple sage, ordinary sage, mint, parsley and seasoning, with some elderflower cordial watered down a bit. I often use cider, apple juice or wine, but fancied a change, and as it turned out, when all these bits and pieces were mashed and the liquor drained off, there was a lovely sharpness to the resultant jus... too posh to call gravy, sorry but I have to be a bit cheffy here. I served it with fresh garden peas and broccoli, and new potatoes. Pud was apple and blackberry pie by the way.

Anyway, the scooters were followed by two chaps on elderly motorbikes, hardly a Hell's Angel chapter, more a sentence really.

But the sight and sound brought back such memories of the Sixties, when my first 'boyfriend' was David, who had a motorbike. Now he was a friend who was a boy, well young man, rather than a boyfriend. He was gay, the first time I had ever encountered one, and as you might imagine, back in those days, and living in a small parochial place, he rather stood out and came in for a bit of a hard time on occasions. He was a hairdresser, so not only did I get a brilliant friend, but one who cut hair for free too! Of course, when my father discovered I was going out with a biker, he was not amused... that turned to puzzlement when he heard David speak and it became obvious I wasn't his preferred choice of partner.

I don't like the word 'gay' applied to homosexuals, and I don't much like that word either, but what else do you call them? Anyway, I have had three such friends over the years, David was the first when I was 16... and I quickly learnt that when on a motorbike, you DO NOT lean into the curve when you go around corners! Then there was another David, this time one who was in the Royal Navy serving during the Falklands. He and I had such a hoot when we spent a morning in Harrods, after that particular crisis was over and he was back home.

Then there was Stephen, who was/is absolutely gorgeous looking, a talented musician and really nice chap. None of these friendships are a part of my life any more. The first David ended up moving away, the friendship with the second David just sort of fizzled out and with Stephen... well, that was down to a jealous partner who seemed to resent me, our friendship, so for the sake of peace and quiet for Stephen, we let the friendship drop. But I miss it, they were all great friendships but his was the best. Just because they didn't last longer than a few years doesn't mean they were any less valid or important as those friendships which stand the test of time and are with me from schooldays, or my early twenties, to the present day. Some friendships last a lifetime, others are a mere interlude in our lives, but each was special in its own way, just not permanent. I find beauty of a kind, in such deep friendships, no matter how long-lasting.

And of course, there is beauty in flowers. Yet another little bouquet from the garden, this time containing red valerian, deep magenta lychnis (campion), nigella both in flower (blue) and the lovely ripening seedheads, lavender, clove-scented pinks, heuchera flowers, alchemilla, marjoram, cosmos and cranesbill.

'A thing of beauty is a joy forever' so they say... cut flowers like this don't last forever, but the memory of such a thing of beauty, like friendships, lingers on.

On being a blogaholic, on a work in progress, something else pink and more garden pics

2009-07-10T03:46:00.000-07:00

I heard recently that there are several questions you can ask youself to find out if you are addicted to blogging, amongst which are the rather inevitable ones, do you blog every day, do you read other people's blogs every day? Well, based on those two, and several others I won't bore you with because you maybe all heard the radio programme anyway, I am sad/pleased to say I passed/failed!!! Actually, truth be told, I don't blog every day, and nor do I read blogs every day, but I still think I am addicted, just a little bit! Maybe we ought to have a bloggers anthem... do you think Status Quo would mind if we pinched their 'Rockin' all over the world'? and changed it to 'Bloggin' all over the world'.. I can hear you now singing the chorus, 'and I like it, I like it, I like it........'

Seriously, it does amaze me that people find something new to talk about every day, and to my mind, it takes real skill to make a daily blog fun, interesting, innovative, fresh. One of my favourites and the one I always, without fail, read most days is that of Vanessa, who I am sure many of you will know through her blog - doyoumindifiknit.typepad.com. I love her photographs, and how she can find magic in simple things, like colourful buckets and spades yesterday. Just seeing the photo brought back memories of childhood for me, and a shop across the road from where I lived as a little girl, which was in an Art Deco parade within metres of a sandy beach, and during summer the outside was festooned with buckets, spades, beach balls in nets, plastic windmills and so on.

I don't get out much, as regular readers and friends will know, so I have to rely more on my imagination than real life to stimulate my blogging brain. I thought I would show you my latest craft project, which is fine to do when it has been cooler, but with the temperature creeping up into the seventies today, I doubt it will be picked up as already it is quite heavy.

Remember the stash of pinks and orangey wools I was gathering like a squirrel gathers nuts? Well, I finally got around to winding some small balls and picking up the long circular needles (not knitted in the round but it's the only way to get 160 stitches on needles!) and starting, grabbing a ball of this, with a ball of that, and seeing where it led me. You can just see some of the fringing at the edges on the above photo, which is created by leaving a long tail, of about eight inches, of wool when starting and ending rows.

This picture is especially for Seashell Cosmos, who has bears who make ice cream, whilst I have bears that just like to sit around looking cute! Or trying to climb into the work basket for a snuggle down in the work in progress! I put a comment on your ice-cream making bears posting SC.

I recently had a blog of pinkness, and couldn't resist - well, I could have, had I tried hard enough - showing you the latest addition. Isn't this mouse mat gorgeous? You can just make out my pink laptop underneath it, which some may consider taking pinkness too far, but it is a beautiful colour and cheers me up. The mouse mat came courtesy of the lovely Clare (or CLURR if you're of a scouse persuasion) at http://www.vintage-home.co.uk/ and is so pretty.

Time for garden pics again... two hostas, untouched by slugs and snails and other nasty creatures who seem to find them irresistable as a rule. I took these last week, and only now noticed they have produced lots of flower spikes, and whilst the bottom one still looks pristine and unnibbled, this one below has been got at, with small holes in the foliage. Nowhere near as bad as it has been in the past, though with heavy rain expected again tomorrow, maybe that will encourage the little blighters out again.

This is a little tin birdie house which stands outside one of the conservatory windows, so I can sit inside and watch the little birds come to feed of the dish, which is just below the house itself. We are plagued with horrible wood pigeons, who thankfully find this too awkward to land on, but as much as I might hope someone would actually move into this des res, nobody has... maybe too near the house.

This of course is Buddha, one of my leaving gifts when I gave up my job in a local hospice back in the nineties. A bit pock marked now, but his smiley face brings out a grin on mine.

And there you have it... my last blog of the week, don't all sigh with relief now. I hope if you visit before the weekend, that you have a good one, despite the rather dreary weather forecast. Well, some might find it dreary but I, being a bit strange, am looking forward to it!

Thank you for visiting.. oh, and the latest I have on Kate's husband Brian is that he is stable, but will be in hospital a 'wee whiley' as she put it!

Gardening, crafting, reading, eating.... my weekend.

2009-07-08T02:35:00.000-07:00

We have this lovely crocosmia in the garden, 'Lucifer', such a vibrant red, and set against a backdrop of tall, dark hedging of pyracantha, it really stands out. We also have a mini crocosmia in an ambery shade, and they are among our favourite plants because they come back year after year and require little attention, just the deadheading you do when the flowers have gone over. The astilbe is one of two, the other, like the crocosmia is a mini version, and really this larger one, which is many years old, needs to be taken out of the large pot it's in and planted near the pond. Each year there are less flowers, and it gets stressed out without lots of water, so planting it in some moist soil alongside the pond, would suit it better I think. But I love the featheryness of the flowers, and the contrast of the pink and green is pleasing, gentle, a contrast to the crocosmia which is definitely more in your face.
Down at the bottom of the garden we have a contorted/twisted willow, which I bought for a pound, a sad looking twisty twig in a pot. I bought it home, repotted it into a bigger pot, and it grew from this foot high miserable twig to a three foot handsome twisted walking cane twig. So, we planted it in the ground several years ago, and it is about ten feet tall, and beautiful. But... it seems to be in a bit of trouble, with the amount of foliage reduced by almost half this year, lots of dead twisty twiggy bits, and I am thinking it has come to the end almost. Should it be pruned, cut down... will that encourage more growth or kill it? I may just take it out and replace it with a rowan, or something of that ilk, something providing interest all year round. The willow, in winter, is just a collection of twisted branches and stems, but in its own way, I find that beautiful, and interesting, and if we ever have decent frosts, it looks even better. Were it nearer the house and more visible, I would leave it as a holder for fairy lights in winter.

I like to mix my reading between the make believe and the factual, as you can see. The JG Ballard is one I had been meaning to read, one of those books you hear about but never get around to buying or reading. Can't say I enjoyed it, such a disappointment really since most people I know who have read it, had nothing but praise for it. Maybe I wasn't in the right mood, but I found it a bit of a trial to read. Not so the Debbie Macomber, another of her books set in a small New England community.. I seem to be drawn to books set in that area, Anita Shreve being a favourite author of such books. 'The Monk Who...' book is about... well, what it says on the jacket! It's one of those self-help (in a way), feel good, change your life sort of books, about a hot shot lawyer who had a near fatal heart attack in the courtroom, which event caused him to re-evaluate his life and go on a spiritual odyssey to an ancient culture. Not to everyone's taste, and probably this was the last of this type of books I bought. I do have quite a few, buying into the culture that was prevalent a few years ago, and still is, that if you change this or that about yourself, your life, then you will find fulfillment and so on. To some, a load of boloney... to others who believe it, a real life-changing experience. I thought, at the time, that I needed to change things to make me a better, different, person. I realised though, that I was ME, that basically, although I have many faults, I was happy with this person, and that no amount of reading books would change me. Only ME could change ME, and only if I wanted to, only if I was willing to put in the great amount of work it would need to bring about a new ME. But you know, I am changing as I get older, without doing any work. I am still bossy, still controlling, though have found it easier to let go in certain areas. I am still happy with me, but there are certain parts of my psyche that won't change, but it all makes me who I am, the person my husband fell in love with, the person my close friends love too, so why change? But still, the books are interesting to read sometimes. For a change.

Matthew Kneale's book, ENGLISH PASSENGERS, was another of those books people said I should read, and whilst saying I should do anything is like a red rag to a bull and is likely to (still, at my age) make me do the opposite or not do what they say I should at all, I got it, and again, can't say I was particularly enthralled, and doubt it will be read again. Fannie Flagg's book, FRIED GREEN TOMATOES AT THE WHISTLE STOP CAFE, another of those 'You must read this' books, was worth the read, and the second reading too.

I love to pick flowers from the garden, usually at the weekend, and this is the latest bunch, of crocosmia, deep purple dark-chocolate smelling buddleia, feverfew, curry plant, an anonymous one which has black stems and white flowery bits (some sort of elder I believe, maybe), delphiniums, long stemmed lavender (because it is struggling to get its flower heads above surrounding plants and catch some rays) and large daisy flowers too. They only last a few days indoors, longer at the moment because the temperature has dropped so much, ten degrees down on last week, but they give such pleasure, don't they, flowers? Especially when you have walked around like the lady of the manor, in your flowing skirt and straw hat, secateurs in hand, trug over the arm, picking and choosing carefully, just which flowers will grace the hearth or table.

I have again been making a small knitted bag, this time in palest green wool with a jazzy lining. I love it. I think I may make some more and sell them, or try to... maybe even set up a separate blog to sell my hand made crafty bits. I had intended having a stall at a local fete or something, nearer Christmas, when folk would be looking for reasonably-priced gifts maybe, but I have lots of days when I feel a bit woozy in the head, and don't feel safe, and sometimes not well enough to be left behind a stall or anywhere for that matter. So a little webspace, blogspot, would be easier. In some ways at least. But this is the finished bag below, and as I make them, I try to think of different uses for them, to try and broaden their appeal.

We had a delicious apple pud at the weekend. Desserts using apples, fresh fruit in general, are my favourites, and when I can use our own from the garden, well, that's even more satisfying. But, if I want Bramleys, I am having to buy them at the moment, and so I made a toffee apple pudding. Not one for the calorie/sugar conscious amongst you, so you have been warned!

You make a sponge with 3oz melted butter mixed with 7 fl oz milk, a beaten egg and a tsp of vanilla extract, added to a bowl containing 5oz self raising flour, 4oz golden caster sugar, a tablespoon baking powder and pinch of salt which you mix together to a smooth batter. On the bottom of your pudding dish you lay two peeled, cored and sliced Bramley apples (or any other cooker), then pour the batter on top and smooth with a knife. Then you pour 250ml of boiling water over 5oz soft, dark brown sugar and stir until smooth. Pour it over the pudding mix, scatter over a couple of ounces chopped pecans and bake for about 40 minutes until risen and golden, at 180C/gas 4. When you dunk the spoon in to serve, the bottom will be covered with ever so slightly tart apples and a rich toffee-like sauce. It is delicious served warm, with either a pouring custard, cream or good vanilla ice cream. ENJOY!!!

And finally.... just a serious note for a moment. I heard from Katie (calico kate) this morning, that they had another emergency with her husband Brian last night, which resulted in his being airlifted from local hospital, to Glasgow Royal in the early hours of this morning. I won't go into details, but I know Katie won't mind my telling you, so could we all send healing thoughts? Thank you.

Just a bit of this and that....garden stuff, and some news stories for your comment.

2009-07-02T01:28:00.001-07:00

This is one of those haphazard bits of planting that abound in our garden. We have this small, oblong bed alongside the terrace and in spring it is full of mini tulips, with pointy petals of vivid orange and red, and green leaves striped with deep reddish brown. When they have gone, the wayfarer appears... don't know it's proper botanical name. It was taking over, as these things do, so husband removed it. As you can see, not all that successfully. But the brilliant thing is... that once the tulips have gone we put a wooden tub there, wherein grows the dahlia 'Bishop of Llandaff', and these remaining shoots of wayfarer grew up around it. He asked did I want it removed, but I rather like the juxtaposition of the bright yellow flowers and green foliage of the wayfarer, against the deep almost black foliage of the good old bish. So it stays.

This is SIDNEY BEAR, a present from my husband for the tenth annniversary of my transplant, back in the mid-90s. He was, like most bits of statuary you buy, pristine.. but now he is mossy, and bitty. Birds use him as a stepping stone onto the bird bath, at the foot of which he reclines, sometimes covered in wild violets and ivy, other times I clear it away so he can see, and be seen.

Another of the daft bits I have around the garden is FLOWER POT FAIRY... no explanation of the name needed! She has an alpine in her little pot, but I am always forgetting to water it, and it's not one of these that seems to like being deprived of water, so it shrivels up and you are hard put to see it now. Note to self... maybe plant something else?

Chocolate crocosmia. Well, I had heard all the hype about how yummy it smelt, that it did indeed smell of good, dark chocolate, and even though I don't eat dark chocolate, that doesn't mean I don't appreciate the enticing smell of it. So after wanting one for years and never getting around to buying one, this time I didn't resist when I saw it in the local garden centre. And it does smell divine... no plug intended for a certain chocolate brand honest, though if anyone from the company should be reading this, all donations gratefully received! We also have a large, old, very dark purple-flowering buddleia, one of many in the garden, which also has the most delicious smell of dark chocolate, no wonder we have happy butterflies and bees! And how do I know they are happy? Well, because they're smiling of course!

In amongst knitting for the swap I am taking part in courtesy of Melanie, I did a bit of hand sewing. Allow me to introduce you to PEGGY PINNY. I know, mad woman naming a pinny.... but she is for those times when I may have a little hand washing to peg out, or just some towels, and don't want to bother with the peg bag. I stuff the pegs in her capacious pocket you see. She is made from a piece of calico I had lying about, with felt applique and contrast stitching around the edge. Just a bit of madness..... I blame it on the heat myself.

Round Britain on a plate, is the title of the below still life. Here we have produce from ESSEX, WORCESTER, LINCOLNSHIRE, SOMERSET... and Norfolk. That'd be my contribution then, the lettuce, from my raised bed! I know there are some of you, and you know who you are, who will be able to show pics of plates full to bursting point with your own harvestings. Well, I only have a high raised bed and two lower ones.. the latter have climbing beans and purple sprouting broccoli in them, but rest assured, I shall be showing them off when the time comes! May not be much, but 'tis all mine own.

Several things I saw in headlines today, or heard on the news, caught my attention. One was that two police dogs allegedly died from exposure to heat after being shut in a police car outside a police station in Nottinghamshire. When they are banging on about us not leaving pets unattended in cars in this heat and so on, a bit of an embarrassing situation this. At one of the local country shows around here, the local police were patrolling the car parks, checking to see if any dogs had been left in cars, and if they had, then they had the powers to break the windscreen and take the dogs to the RSPCA creche on site at the show. Do you think a member of the public would have got away with breaking into a police car to rescue their dogs?

It seems that fresh calls are being made for the prescription charges to be stopped, that this is just another tax really, because the money goes into the government coffers rather than to the NHS. And since we are soon to be the only part of the United Kingdom who has to pay, is it time they were dropped?

Ronnie Biggs seems set to end his life in prison, or in hospital, since Jack Straw refused him parole. Was he right? His argument is that Mr Biggs has shown no remorse, that he hasn't served his sentence for the crime committed. Is this still relevant to a man who is old, and frail and in bad health? Should his family be allowed to have him in a home nearer to where they live?

You can't escape the Michael Jackson news stories either for they seem to still dominate our news programmes. Do you think there is too much fuss being made? Should the news have been reported and then that's it.... move on, there are more important issues to broadcast?

I would just like to say it was sad news to hear that Mollie Sugden had died yesterday.. what a wonderful Mrs Slocum she was!

Hope I have given you some food for thought....enjoy the rest of the week and have a good weekend ladies, and as usual, thanks for dropping by to both my blogs this week.

An interesting little museum, some more garden pictures, and incredulity at some Health and Safety measures.

2009-06-23T01:59:00.000-07:00

When I was doing my feature writing, we would often just go out for a mooch around in the car, taking the odd turn here and there, just to see where it led, and on one afternoon in early summer, about ten years ago, it led to the little building you can see below. This is the Shell Museum at Glandford in North Norfolk (http://www.shellmuseum.org.uk/) - Glandford itself is a tiny hamlet of half a dozen houses or so, most of them with this Dutch gabled fanciness. It's another of those really small, really quiet places... a haven away from the busy road we had been travelling on, which leads to the coastal villages of Cley, Blakeney and Wells, some of my favourite places to visit, out of season, when it's quieter. The Museum is run purely thanks to donations being a small, private trust which receives no public funding at all, or didn't the last time I checked.
The village itself was built around 1900 by Sir Alfred Jodrell of nearby Bayfield Hall, and the beautiful little church alongside the Museum, St. Martin's, was built by him in memory of his Mother. It's main claim to fame though is the carillon which plays religious tunes every few hours. The Museum itself was built in 1915, is the oldest purpose-built museum in Norfolk and claims to house the finest collection of seashells in the country. Apart from the shells it also has cabinets of curiosities really... Victorian shell-covered boxes, a cannonball from Cromwellian times, elephant's teeth, just a glorious mish-mash of all sorts of interesting items, though the stars are the shells themselves. If ever you are in this part of Norfolk, it is well worth a visit.

I have been busy taking photos in the garden, since I discovered the button that allows me to take close-ups without the blurring. Marvellous things, handbooks that come with cameras and gizmos... trouble is, I have no patience for reading them, so my patient husband does the reading, and then does a precis of the important bits! After hearing me moan about not being able to get clarity with the photos, he read the book and lo and behold! There is a button you select when doing really close up shots. Hurrah! So, these are the delphiniums, obviously.

This is the lovely white rose which scrambles up an iron archway... covered with rust spots on the leaves it may be, home to aphids it definitely is, but the scent is gloriously sweet and delicate.

This beauty sadly has a rotten name... Stinking Iris... at least that is what you gardening types told me it was when I put up a picture of the plant, minus flowers, but with seedpods of bright orange seeds. The markings are beautiful, but what a shame about the name.

This is my raised veggie bed.. yesterday I picked the first of the salad leaves, and today I planted a second row of carrot, salad onions and the lettuce. It is VERY warm today, even at half past eight in the morning, the skies were clear bright blue, the sun was quite hot, and I know now that I shall have to spend the rest of the day indoors, until later this evening at any rate.

There are two types of honeysuckle growing in the garden, though only one of this particular variety, which grows up and around and through a holly tree, and the deep pink flowers look quite spectacular against the glossy green foliage of said holly.

And this is part of what is, undoubtedly, the best fabric conditioner in the world. The other two elements are sunshine and a good breeze... this honeysuckle, rampant in many areas of the garden, is happily taking over one side of the small laburnum, growing all over it, clinging to branches, providing a lovely scented home for the goldfinch's nest, and in the warmth of the sun, the smell is quite intoxicating... and as it is growing along branches near the washing line, and up the washing post itself, which is mainly hidden in the laburnum anyway, the smell transfers itself to the washing. I don't use conditioners and softeners, finding the scents too manufactured and heavy, but with this alongside the washing line, and lavender plants beneath it, what more do I need anyway?

Health and Safety.... now we are all used to hearing about new regulations put out by this body of people, and whilst I agree that many of their outpourings are sensible, necessary too, there are some which beggar belief. Like... children no longer allowed to run in school playgrounds apparently. Why? Because they might fall and injure themselves. Aah, diddums. Isn't that part of growing up, taking the knocks in life, in every way? In craft lessons they are no longer allowed to use empty egg cartons because of the risk of salmonella, which I have been told could cling to the box, being transferred there from any infected eggs, so maybe I'll give them that one. But not using the inner tubes from spent toilet rolls because of the risk of infection? Not sure I'll give them that one though! And teachers, apparently, are supposed to wear goggles when using blue tack, glue sticks.... why?

And here endeth my blog for this week. A week which promises to be warmer and sunnier than last week, good news for most people, but being a bit of a killjoy, I prefer it cooler myself, and loved the rain we had last week.

Enjoy yours, whatever your preference, and thanks for dropping by again.

Everything's coming up... well, pink actually!

2009-06-16T02:54:00.000-07:00

As a little girl, I never wore pink. Maybe my mother thought it would clash a bit with my freckles and red hair, but my favourite dresses were both blue, one royal blue with with a red-spotted sash around the waist, and the other was in a mid-blue and white toile du jouy type of fabric. No, pink never featured much in my life, in fact it wasn't even a colour I particularly liked. I didn't dislike it you understand, I just never thought of me as a pink person. Well, then I became the pinkfairygran, by which time pink had begun to creep into my life. Pink accessories began to appear in my wardrobe, nothing more adventurous than scarves or gloves, though pink wellies are on the agenda!

But as an adult I have always loved pink flowers , and the pink rose and gerberas are among my favourites. I love daisy-type flowers, even ordinary little daisies, and the flowers on feverfew, right up to the big and blousy type above. I have no luck growing them however, these are from a bouquet my husband bought me at the weekend... one advantage of letting him do the shopping on his way home from work is that I get a bunch of pretty flowers!

But we have lots of pink flowers in the garden, like the little cranesbill above, and the beautiful foxglove below. These both grow like mad in the garden, in fact down at the bottom of the garden we have a bit of wild area where foxgloves and grasses are left to their own devices, along with opium poppies and honeysuckle which rampages over and amongst the lot of them. We also have tidier pink shrubs, like one of the spirea family, and peonies, as well as an unidentified plant or two.

Now I know a lot of ladies love to get flowers on Valentine's Day. I love to get flowers any old day, and don't celebrate Valentine's Day anyway. But last year, out looking round shops, not something we do often as I find it totally boring as a rule, we were in a lovely cookshop, and this fab kettle caught my eye. The shape of it is seductive, you can smooth your hands over its pink roundedness, like a piglets' bottom I would imagine, and the colour is just gorgeous, and goes with the kitchen perfectly. Not that it's pink you understand, but I do have a tiled splashback which is of a patchwork design I devised twenty years ago, with cream, beige, coffee, and the odd pink one here and there. Anyway, I was lusting over this kettle, positively drooling, and my husband asked the lady to wrap it, and said HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY as he presented me with it. Not as romantic as flowers to some maybe, but it was what I wanted more than flowers.

And so with a pink kettle you have afternoon tea, with a few pink accessories. The cosy hides a brown betty teapot, and the plate came courtesy of a friend, along with a matching teacup and saucer, neither of which my husband will wash as he is afraid of breaking them. Again, they please me enormously, visually. And the French fancy pleases me inwardly!

Some of you will know I make my own cards, for birthdays and Christmas and as notecards too. These are just a small sample of my current stock, with a pink theme.

I love my journals, collect them and can't resist having a nosey in a stationery shop when I get the chance. The one below has a lovely pink leather cover, so I can write in the journal, take it out and put it with my others, which are kept in an old suitcase. I will probably decorate the cover of it, as it is rather plain cardboardy type, fine when concealed within this gorgeous pink leather, but a bit nude and sad without. The wonderfully soft pink leather gloves were a Christmas present from my youngest son several years ago, and I love wearing them. I was a bit precious about them at first, not wanting to wear them in case they got soiled or spoiled, but then I realised beautiful things are meant to be used as well as admired, and by wearing them, well... I can use and admire at the same time!

A while ago I showed my collection of pink wool, this is just a small part of it, being gathered for a comforter/afghan or 'snuggly' as I call them. The idea is that you put all the wools in a basket, and just draw out a couple at a time to work together, knitting in garter stitch, changing colours every row or second row, but leaving a long length of the wools when you start and finish, so it is ready-fringed when you have finished. I have yet to start this, I am enjoying seeing all the wools massed together on a shelf in my craft bookcase, so much so I am loathe to start using them!! But I will, maybe in autumn, which is the season to be doing something like a snuggly, don't you think? When your thoughts turn to Sunday tea of crumpets and French Fancies or a slice of Victoria sandwich.... of warming thick homemade soups for Saturday lunch, with home made bread... of comforting hotpot with dumplings, and sponge puddings with homemade custard... of walking in the woods, kicking up crispy leaves, wrapped up in warm coats and scarves and gloves, and going home to hot chocolate or frothy coffee and a bun. Not something to knit when it's warm and sunny and salads the order of the day for lunch! Who needs a comforting snuggly then?

I love romantic comedies, and anything with Hugh Grant along those lines is fine by me. As is everything with Julia Roberts, and as these have a pink cover, I thought I would include them... you will see another favourite in there, both in film and book form, anything by Jane Austen is good for just relaxing on a quiet afternoon, any time of year.. though best in winter or autumn I find.

And it wouldn't be me without a mention of books. I was surprised to find there are quite a lot in my collection which have pink covers, these are just some of them.

Amazing, for a non-pink person, just how much pink there is around me. I was going to include a photo of my 'pink'-ing shears, but thought that might be stretching it a bit too far!!

Have a lovely week ladies.

Ramblings about our love of anything 'vintage', charity and the age of chivalry.

2009-06-12T02:00:00.000-07:00

I find it a bit disturbing that I come from an era where the clothing, music and so on is nowadays described as 'vintage'. How the heck did this happen, I thought 'vintage' was like really old. Heavens, does that mean I am heading that way......

There seems to be a proliferation of vintage clothing fairs up and down the country, though of course the big ones seem to miss out East Anglia, this not being an uncommon occurrence it has to be said. It's almost as if this little bit of England that sticks out into the North Sea is invisible to organisers of events. Luckily, though, we have our own thank you very much, and the Vintage Lovers Fair is one such event. The most recent was held at Blakeney on the North Norfolk coast, and was a feast for the eyes. I won't go into it here, but you can access it, if you are interested, via www.kitschenpink.blogspot.com and they are holding another in the village of Heydon on 2nd August.

Heydon is one of those charming villages which are often found off the beaten track, and is in fact one of only a handful of villages in Britain, perhaps no more than a dozen, which are privately owned, in this case by the Bulwer-Long family, who own everything... shops, houses, hall etc. And reading about the fair being held there reminded me of another such village, only this time much smaller. Rougham is one of those village where you feel you are stepping back in time. When I first came across it back in the 90s, it was one of those days when we were out for a mooch of a drive, a turn left here, right there and see where it leads. In this particular instance it led us around a corner and into a scene straight off a typical, even 'vintage' maybe, chocolate box lid.

Owned by the North family, the village seemed to consist only of some tiny cottages, a half timbered house or two, a large Hall seen down a winding driveway, with an old huge dovecote where 999 pigeons were kept in the old days. A handful of council houses, and a post office (at that time) and not much else. No street lighting and when we approached there were children playing safely in the road, with ducks waddling across it. It intrigued me, it was like a village lost in time almost, and so I did research, and eventually interviewed the matriarch of the family who lived in her own dear little house set apart from the Big House, and wrote a piece for the Norfolk Journal which was printed in 2000. The photo above is of the well-head in the centre of the village, dedicated to the memory of Marianne North, who was born in 1830. As a young woman she travelled the world with her father, and always, wherever she was, she painted. By the time she was in her early forties, her father had died, and she set herself the task of painting flowers from all over the world, and off she went, with her maid. At the end of this, she had a collection of over 800 paintings and having become friends with Hooker, the head of Kew Gardens at the time, she had a gallery built there to house her works of art, where they can still be seen.

Rougham, like many places in Norfolk, isn't on the road to anywhere, so retains this air of calm and whilst it may not be to everyone's liking, to live somewhere so quiet and away from the hustle and bustle of town and city life, it has its attractions for many people who really want to get away from it all.

But to return to the subject of 'vintage', how much of the 'stuff' handed in to charity shops could be called 'vintage' and how much just plain old tat. Like many people I have been watching the Mary Portas television programmes about charity shops, and how she plans to turn around the fortunes of one in particular. And no doubt like many people I was also gobsmacked at the things people leave in bin bags outside the shop door when it's shut, or hand in. A used baby nappy is the one item which springs to mind immediately... a yellow jacket that was so stiff it stood on its own... surely the people who stuff these items into a charity shop bag don't really think anyone would want to buy it, not even for charity? Is it that as Mary says, they see a black plastic bin bag and 'rubbish' immediately springs to mind and so that's what they chuck in it? With no thought to the resale value, or the health of those who have to unpack these bags.. and why didn't the volunteers have plastic gloves? I give to charity shops whenever I can, but only ever give decent things with some life in them, cleaned first if clothing, but more often than not it's jigsaws, or books, or something I have knitted perhaps. It seems a shame there are many who don't care what it is they put in the bag, so long as it's out of their way.

At the other end of the scale, I was hanging around the local tip the other day.. sorry, recycling centre... waiting for husband who was disposing of some old bits of wood and plastic, and watched a woman in one of these ugly petrol-guzzling vehicles, which was stuffed with black plastic bags. She was taking things out of the bags, asking for directions as to which container they should go in.... she had shoes, hardly worn, clothes the same by the looks of it, lots of decent looking stuff that was just being thrown away. I wished I had more gumption about me, to be able to go up to her and ask her to please take the good stuff to the charity shops, or give it to me and I'd do it.. but I didn't. I kept my mouth shut and wondered once again at the vagaries of human nature.

Part of which, amongst the gentlemen of this world, seems to be chivalry. Or at least it was. Are boys still taught by their mothers to respect women, to hold doors open in shops when a lady is going in or out, to give up their seat on the bus for a lady or older person? I caught sight, briefly, of the lovely Peter Bowles on 'The One Show' the other evening, and Adrian Chiles felt he had to mention that Peter had stood up when the female co-presenter came into the studio, and only sat down when she had. He seemed to find this remarkable somehow, yet surely, it's what a gentleman does? My own dearly beloved always opens the car door for me, holds doors open for me and any other woman, and won't sit down at the dinner table until I have. Do we still set great store by such niceties do you think? Some say women's libbers spoilt it for us women, that poor men no longer know what they should do for the best, maybe the one male who comments on my blog will have something to say on the subject?

Enjoy your weekend, the sun is shining and summer is back... for now!

Storms, storm-chasing, bits of knits and that.

2009-06-08T03:26:00.000-07:00

Well, I don't know how the rest of you got on yesterday with the stormy weather... I know that about half an hour to the south of us they had a terrific hail and thunderstorm, other areas had thunder and rain, and several gardeners I know were worried about their baby crops out in the garden. This is my raised bed, and after the heavy rain and thunder I was keen to get out and see how the plantlets had fared. All were well... from the top are lettuce, salad onions, beetroot and carrot... I appreciate you can't see the salad onions and carrots all that well! They were the last to germinate, and the beetroot and lettuce are at that stage where they are nearly ready to be thinned. I am hoping for some warm weather to dry out the saturated soil today. I also have some tomato and sprouting broccoli plantlets in peat pots, in a home-made cold frame alongside the raised bed, and although they got a good drenching, they have survived the heavy rain, as have some stringless bean plants we bought at the local garden centre at the weekend... along with a chocolate cosmos, snapdragon and double white hollyhock, for the cottage beds. But it's amazing how resilient little plantlets can be isn't it? One week they have nothing but lovely warm sunshine and a kind person sprinkling them with cooling water first thing in the morning and in the evening... then WHOOSH, down comes this heavy rain. But they bounce back, thankfully.

Are any of you interested in the programmes on ITV about storms and storm chasers? My husband can't understand the fascination with storms, the sense behind the people who chase or follow them and often find themselves in quite scarey situations. But I can... storms fascinate me, not so much the hurricanes they are showing this week, but the twisters of last week I found incredible to watch. And a good lightning storm is something else isn't it?

Vanessa on her blog, had been talking about a ladies afternoon club who had been knitting buildings in their village, and it reminded me of this little terrace I knitted decades ago. Of nowhere at all, just a jumbly of little houses, knitted separately then stitched onto a piece of fabric, and mounted onto a piece of plywood. It has moved house with us about five times I think. In the same year, I must have had a thing about knitting things like this because I also knitted a wallhanging for a friend, of her back garden, as seen from above... rows of veggies, beds of flowers, a tree or two, a shed as well. And I did one of a landscape too... grey slatey wall in the foreground, then fields of different colours, hills, sky, with clouds and the odd bird embroidered on after. I haven't done anything in this 'creative' line since then though.

At the moment I seem to have a thing about knitted bags and this is the third I have made, a fourth is under construction as well as one in a chevron pattern. This is in a tweedy wool, and as you can see from the photo below, is lined as well. It's not big, measuring about ten inches across by eight, plus handles, and obviously not one of these capacious ones you can stuff all but the kitchen sink into. No, this is a more genteel size, the sort of bag I would take with me on one of our mooching about, let's go down here and see where it goes, type of days out. When we pack up the picnic basket and just go.... inside I will have a small purse, handmade in Chinese silk and given to me by an old friend, and just big enough for a bit of loose change and a credit card, a small pack of tissues and not much else. What else do I need?

It was on one of our days out we decided to investigate some of the tiny hamlets around this part of Norfolk. They consist usually of nothing more than a few houses, maybe a large farmhouse, sometimes a small shop or pub, but more often than not, not the latter! Babingley is one such place, on the Sandringham estate, and consisting of a handful of pretty old cottages and a fabulous social club, a big old log cabin of a building which always has gorgeous hanging baskets on the verandah, and sits nestled amongst pine trees. These are on the main road, and then tucked away down a side road opposite is the church of St Felix, along with a few large houses.

The church is built of corrugated iron.. I first wrote about it in 'Suffolk and Norfolk Life' back in the 1990s, when it was undergoing restoration. Up to that point, it is fair to say it was a sad and sorry sight, despite still being used as a church. The outside was peeling, thatch was green or missing altogether in places, window frames rotten. But then money was found for restoration, and the picture above is the result. Often called 'Tin Tabernacles' these little churches used to be found in many places around the country, but as you can imagine, time and weather takes its toll if the fabric of the building isn't looked after, and often it isn't, through nobody's fault really. By the mid-19th Century galvanized corrugated iron sheeting was developed, strong, long-lasting, easily moved to where it was needed and easy to use for buildings. There were even catalogues of buildings that could be bought, like flat-packed furniture... you could buy a chapel seating 150 for about £150, double the number of souls to be seated and it would set you back about £500, and by the end of the 19th Century, there were hundreds of these iron churches. This one is beautiful, it has a wonderfully rustic simplicity about it, and inside, like all churches, it has that certain something, that special feel.

Flowers... who amongst us doesn't appreciate a bunch of flowers, and a bargain. When the two come together, magic!! This is a couple of bunches of sweet williams, sold as a BOGOF at my local Tesco's, and as I love the flowers, I couldn't resist. Well, I could have, but as someone famous said, I can resist anything but temptation.... who was it? Did someone say it or have I made it up? Anyway, they are beautiful, sitting on the hearth in the sitting room, whilst the gorgeous peonies below, from the garden, along with some lime green alchemilla and white nigella, sits on the dining table in the conservatory, where I can see them from the kitchen and from my chair in the sitting room. They are just gorgeous, next year I hope to have more, of a different colour to this deep carminey pinky red, which the camera and light didn't do justice to. Much like myself really...

I hope you are able to enjoy your own gardens as much as I enjoy mine, and thanks for dropping by again.

Reflections, a Rolf Harris moment, and why isn't my square, square... or flat?

2009-06-01T00:49:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was the 23rd anniversary of my kidney transplant, and during the day I reflected on what had been happening at that time, all those years ago. I can remember it as if it were only last year... the panic when the early morning call came to tell me there was a kidney waiting for me at Addenbrookes hospital in Cambridge... the mad dash to take our sons to my inlaws who, very luckily, lived only a ten minute drive from the hospital... then once at the unit, I totally relaxed. Now anyone who knows me well will know what a revelation this was/is. I get anxious about going for check ups, going to the local surgery, white coat syndrome with knobs on, which doesn't help my already raised BP! But waiting to go into surgery, I felt so calm and peaceful, and at 2.30 that afternoon, after waiting four hours, down I went to theatre. I remember a lovely anaesthetist asking me to count backwards from ten... then nothing until that evening when I partially awoke to find my husband sitting where he had been all day, at my bedside, patiently waiting. He had actually been home to his parents, seen the boys and eaten a meal, but didn't stay away long. Every day I give thanks for this gift of life, it is just such a wonderful thing to give, and to receive. There have been a couple of news reports on local television about people who have had transplants recently and the rather unusual circumstances surrounding them. One had been waiting two and a half years, the other ten months. This is not long to wait at all, and I sometimes wish they would make a fuss of some of the hundreds of patients who have been waiting over five years, some many years longer, when they finally get a transplant that will transform their lives. Hundreds die each year, waiting....
So this is a copy of a very old photo of said in-laws, Gus and Ellen, taken at Southend a few years after WWII ended. Neither is with us now, lovely mum-in-law.... it was her birthday the day of my transplant, so she had been in my mind as well. She was my second m-in-law, and such a contrast to the first, a dragon-in-law if ever there was one. I always vowed I would be more like the second than the first... sadly, it turned out more the other way around I think! But I just love this photo, it always reminds me of a spiv and his girl, out for the day.... Dad laughed at that notion!

And this is a pretty nosegay picked from the garden to decorate the celebratory Sunday lunch table, a meal we cooked together... and now today I regret that extra bowl of home-made trifle!But in here are peonies, heuchera, nigella, mini foxgoves, dogwood foliage and three of the many wild poppies which grow every year down one side of the driveway. They range in colour from white through to deepest carmine pinky-red, with so many variations in between - pale pink edged with a dayglo pink, mauvey grey striped with pink or white. Of course, they only last a day inside, but even so.... there is also some red valerian in there, which grows down the other side of the drive, the space in the middle is getting narrower as the season progresses, thank goodness we don't drive one of these ugly, huge gas-guzzlers, there wouldn't be room!

And now for the Rolf Harris moment.....

Can you tell what it is yet?

I need help identifying this very tall shrub. Planted about eight years ago possibly, as a small 18 inch thing in a pot. Now it is between 12 and 15 feet tall, is a fabulous conical shape as I hope you can see by the picture below.

It is evergreen, has shiny mid-to-dark green leaves, and at this time of year produces delicate panicles of flowers, almost lily of the valley-ish in appearance, but not smell... they smell a bit soapy, not particularly pleasant, tiny creamy white flowers that open. Does anyone have a clue please?

The next query is this.. why isn't my crocheted square, square, or flat. It is a bit wavy as you can seen, and definitely not square. Maybe I am a tight worker and it's pulling. So I tried another deliberately working looser than is normal for me. Nope.. that didn't make any difference. So does anyone know why, please?

Hope you all had a fandabbydozy weekend, the lovely weather we should apparently be making the most of as this is the last day of the high temperatures and clear blue skies. For now anyway.

Five things that made me smile today

2009-05-28T03:28:00.001-07:00

There are quite a few blogs where the writers talk about what inspires them, what makes them glad to be alive, what they are thankful for, so sorry if you've heard it all before. Even I succumbed and did one some time ago. But I make no apologies for doing another in the same vein, I think it does us good to relish the good things in life.

This is a pretty cream-coloured wire heart, bought last year to put Christmas cards on, and once the cards came off, it was too pretty to be stuffed into a cupboard with the box of vintage baubles, the fairy lights and sad fairy. So I decided to use it in my work room, to display all the postcards sent to me by friends on holiday, or just cards to say HELLO! Trouble is, when Christmas comes around - just over 200 days to go! - I won't want to relinquish it, so guess we'll need another one! I like to look at the cards, not to look at the places they depict, as you can see, many of them don't show places at all, but to remember the lovely friends who sent them - I know at least one of you will recognise a card (or two) you have sent. Does it please you to know it's kept on show I wonder?

This is my sewing thingummy box... thingummies being those things you want, but can't quite find the name for.. the quick-unpick for undoing stitches, and the cotton threader so necessary for those of us with poorer eyesight than when we first began sewing, as well as the plastic templates for patchwork, bias binding, tape measure and so on. It has a striped inside, and I just love it.

Don't love the feet, but love the slippers. I am a fan of the ballerina type as opposed to kitten heals with maribou fur trim, the slip on mules which more often than not slip off at inopportune moments (climbing the stairs as a rule), the slippers masquerading as rabbits or some such silliness, and the old lady tartan, furry lined type. These are palest pink (getting paler because I keep shoving them in an old pillowcase and giving them a wash in the machine when they get a bit grubby, I so can't bear to throw them out!) and softest suede-y type fabric, with lovely felt flowers as you can see. There's not much to smile about when it comes to feet - and that's not just mine but anybody's - but when they have pretty slippers on, it's a different matter.

I can't resist Norfolk Handmade soaps. They lather well, have fabulous, natural scent and don't cause me any skin problems. I suppose the latter should be the most important reason for buying them really, but it's the scent that does it first and foremost for me. Here is a traditional Norfolk Lavender, gorgeous Rose, Jasmine, and Geranium and Rose Petal. I love anything rose-y, so that is my most favourite, at the moment. I also love them because they have those bits in, which are brilliant for exfoliating without pain. I recall using a soap in the seventies and eighties, which came in an orangey wrapper I think, had a fab smell and lots of rough oatie sort of bits in it. For the life of me, I can't recall what it was but I loved it and was sad when I couldn't get it any more... bought it from Boots if memory serves me right.

Ah well, this small package of wools came this morning, Patons Smoothie as used by Vanessa who thought very highly of it over on her blog - do you mind if I knit? - and so I bought some for crocheting with, squares to make a comforter for a friend, or maybe myself, not sure yet. But opening a package of wool always makes me smile, even though I know what's in it. Opening a parcel of books has the same effect, and any time now I am hoping to get the first parcel of books from the RNA for reviewing for this year's award. I just love getting parcels I don't know I am going to receive as well...

All these things make me smile, so what has made you smile today? Doesn't have to be five things, but I hope at least one.

Just a little gardening blog

2009-05-27T05:26:00.000-07:00

Wasn't it a gorgeous Bank Holiday weekend, weather-wise? It was for us here in Norfolk, not that we two saw much of it. We were spending six hours a day working on the emptying, redecorating, rebuilding of my workroom.. worked so hard that my darling husband has gone back to work for a rest! But it was well worth the effort. Gone are the haphazard bookcases, different colours of wood, different sizes, books split when they should be in groups and so looking for a specific one took longer than necessary. Now they are all in tall bookcases, my craft materials which were scattered about in drawers and cupboards are now in shorter bookcases, and instead of sitting facing a wall, with the window slightly behind me to my right, and working on a too-small desk, I now sit facing out into the room, with the window on my right still, but to the front so I can watch the world and it's aunt go by, and work on a much larger worktable, resting on trestle legs with shelves, so handy for all those useful things, like pen holders, jotters, stationery etc.

So whilst we were busy indoors, outside was getting on, burgeoning into life in all that lovely warm sunshine. Here is the pond, home to damselflies, an occasional newt, about twelve frogs of varying sizes at present, and twelve small fish... there were more, but you all know about the heron! The irises are lovely, three plants, purple, white and lemony yellow, plus there are waterlilies as you can see, as well as oxygenating plants, and a few other marginals out of shot. It's a lovely place to sit beside on a summery day, in the shade of the birch, with the fountain playing, and just lovely when the water is still, a reflecting pool.

This is part of the 'wild bit' of the garden, right down the far end. Out of sight, to the left of the shot, is a log pile wherein we hope lives the hedgehog, but we have let the foxgloves do their own thing, I just love them wild like this. We also have a rosemary at the back, and a couple of tall grasses, and to the right, out of shot, is a whole load of honeysuckle climbing over shrubs and fence. Behind me, as I took the photo, is the small fruit cage, with rhubarb and two different varieties of gooseberry. Sometime later there will be blackberry and raspberry bushes too. I have wild strawberries nearer the house, which have done ever so well this year, lots of little tiny berries appeared now... so gorgeous, so fleeting.

I love this iris - hidden to the left hand side is a white aquilegia, one of those accidents which looks just right. I know it has a fancy name, it was shown loads of times on the Chelsea programmes, but it escapes me. There are actually three clumps here, we meant to split them, but never got around to it. The greyish blob you can see is a stone cat, for this is where our Rosie is buried. Above this, in the laburnum tree, is the honeysuckle goldfinch's nest, now abandoned and crumbling. There are lots of babies in the garden.. blackbirds, starlings, chaffinch, wren, but no goldfinch that we have seen. Sadly no baby ring-collared doves, and thankfully, no squabs (baby pigeons).

This is a lovely jumbly mix of aquilegia, iris, not only the delicate blue ones on the left, but also some deepest purple ones as well. The majestic tall poppies, flowering better than ever before, and soon to be moved to the cottagey bit below. There are also, in the photo above but not clearly seen, nigella, allium, lemon balm, wild strawberries, heuchera - a pale green one which produces spikes of tiny bright magenta flowers, and a dark green with purplel undersides to the leaves, which produces spikes of tiny pale pink flowers - and a couple of pots of lemon thyme and pineapple sage.

This is the cottagey bit.. there is a six by four feet empty space behind, wherein I shall plant the poppy, and some lupins, and other taller cottagey plants. At the front you can probably see cranesbill, as well as the heuchera with purple leaves, and then there are penstemon, sambucus nigra, lavender in a large pot, nigella, iris, snapdragons, curry plant, and red valerian.

Several weeks ago I planted four tomato seeds in a pot, and nine purple sprouting broccoli in a pot, put them on the conservatory windowsill, where they all germinated within a couple of weeks. They have now been potted on into peat pots and in the absence of a cold frame, I just sit them outdoors from early morning until about seven in the evening, then bring them in. I also planted a mint cutting using a baked bean tin, as well as sowing some basil seeds in another baked bean tin, sitting these on one of the kitchen window sills, and the mint has taken and the basil germinated. Seeds planted in the super duper raised bed haven't done anything yet, but we had torrential rain this week and the temperatures have dropped, so they are probably biding their time.

We will have a cold frame, soon, for nothing. Where my husband works they ship in electronic components from Poland. They come in their own boxes, but then all the boxes are packed into wooden crates, not flimsy old hardboard, but REAL WOOD. They come to pieces, the upright corner posts have slots in them for the horizontal pieces to fit in, and they measure about a metre by just under a metre. And are perfect for the edge of normal sized raised beds, the horizontal pieces of wood being about 12 inches high. So we have two new normal sized raised beds. My husband is also in the process of building a lovely compost bin out of some of these crates as well, of course, having the slots and so on makes them really ideal for this purpose. And when this is finished, he will build a cold frame, and we'll just get a piece of corrugated plastic for a lid.

And this is the gardening journal I made to record all these gardening goings on, in. I covered it with some fancy card, stickers, used a bit of garden twine and a plastic plant label with OUR GARDEN written downwards on it, and stickers too. I also used a plant label as a page marker, you can just see it at the top. I think it looks quite good!

So that's my little gardening blog. Hope you all had a lovely long weekend.

That's another fine mess I've got myself into!

2009-05-20T03:36:00.001-07:00

Why is nothing ever as simple as you think/hope/expect? Why did I decide it would be a good idea to sort out my workroom, get rid of the mismatched and getting-tatty bookcases, replace the too-small desk with a proper worktable fit for laptop/cutting out/sewing and buy a cupboard with a glass fronted door for my made-up crafts? Can anyone tell me the answer?

To begin with it was so simple. I would remove the six hundred books from the afore-mentioned bookcases, stack them on the floor, make up the new bookcases - well, my other half was going to do this, he blanches when he sees me advancing with screwdriver or hammer in hand! - and put back the books, in a more logical order since the bookcases would all be the same size and it would be easier. The other four hundred books are safely sitting on built-in shelves in one of the fireplace alcoves and had no need to be moved. That was the plan.

The desk would be dismantled, top and drawer unit being reused elsewhere, open shelving to be discarded or used in the loft. Floating shelves to be removed off the walls, holes filled, dab of paint to cover and since they were having bookcases that were being used for craft materials in front, nobody would see the patched holes.

In the other alcove a built in low cupboard and two shelves above were to be removed, again holes filled and painted. And this is where The Master Plan fell apart. The walls were painted this rich deep pinky red, called LULU, long after the cupboard and shelves had been built you see, and so when they were removed, there in all its glory was the original colour of pale blue, as this was youngest son's room decades ago. But I wasn't too fazed, simply get another tin of paint, slap it on, problem solved.

Ah, why is nothing ever as simple as you think? The paint isn't made any more of course... none to be found anywhere, not even the manufacturers could help. No paint currently on the market, ie in vogue, matches, or is anything like really. And so we came to the stark realisation that the room would have to be totally repainted, so BANG went the idea of seeing this sorted over the coming long Bank Holiday weekend. At this rate I shall be climbing over boxes and piles of books for the next week at least. Still, I thought with all these paints on the market, I should be able to find one fairly close to this colour that I love, and which I managed to find a retro lampshade to match perfectly, last year. I hadn't been looking for one, but you know how it is.. you see something and then realise it's just the thing you have been wanting/looking for, so you get it, bring it home and it's perfect. Try as I might I probably wouldn't have been able to find one that matched so perfectly. Now I love it so much I don't want to part with it. Which sort of made the paint-hunt even trickier.

Why is life never as simple as you think? There are loads and hundreds of pinky shades, reddy-pink shades, none of them right at all, not because they don't match the lampshade, they just weren't right. So I came to the conclusion that I would have to change the colour of the room TOTALLY.

Now that is an easy decision to reach, not so to accomplish because of course, there are zillions of paint colours... which to choose? I eliminated most colour ranges on the grounds that we either had a room in that colour - blues/greens/purples/pinks/reds/browns - or because I simply didn't like them - yellows/oranges/magnolias/whites - or because they would clash with the carpet and curtains, and of course, the beloved lampshade. I was left with very few as you can imagine, so decided I might have to be a bit more relaxed about my choice.

Another problem is that the colours on the paint charts differ from the colours on the websites... and neither may be an accurate version of the REAL colour, ie that in the tin. How often have you bought a tin on the basis of a colour chart, got it home, prised the lid off with a knife or screwdriver, only to be faced with a colour you weren't expecting, and you let out a small shriek of shock/horror or groan of disappointment? Well, if you are anything like me, that'll be several times then!

In the end, I have settled for a feature wall - the fireplace wall - and three pale walls, with fingers crossed that the latter is nearer the colour in the chart than on the website. The feature wall colour is picked up in the lampshade, though not the main colour, and all will go with carpet and curtains. It will be a complete change to this womblike existence in the deep pinky red room, but I am looking forward to a more grown-up looking space, with well-organised craft shelves, book shelves, stationery cupboard.

But before that can happen, I now have to take all the books off the shelves in the alcove so that we can paint the wall behind it.... I know it will take two coats of the paler shade to cover this strong colour on the walls at present.... and I know this will take care of this weekend, the rest of this week, and probably most of next week as well. On top of which all my seeds have germinated and need repotting and all the poppy seeds I haphazardly chucked in a pot of old soil, sorry two pots, have germinated... I now have hundreds of black oriental poppies and the fabulous thick and frilly red poppy that appeared in the front garden last year, from which I took seeds - the black poppy seeds came from a friend in Scotland. I never expected them to take, but as my gardening occasional emailer James says, they are tough old things and will grow anywhere. (He's at Chelsea this week, a rare treat to see him on telly on Monday night, and even nicer to see Nigel Havers last night... sorry James!)

Still, can't sit around here blethering all day, need to get on and move these books. Have a great long weekend, whatever you are doing.

Silver threads among the gold.

2009-05-15T02:23:00.001-07:00

You can't see them clearly, but there are some silvery threads in here amongst the red... does that mean I have to grow up? Nah... that can wait until I am OLD(er).

But underneath that hair is a memory box, and it's strange how memories someone else is making can bring back some of your own. Katie, for instance, was telling me about an outing to Oban, and this took me back to being 13 and on holiday there with my parents. We stayed at a small hotel, outside the town centre, that was all blue tartan carpets I remember, and had the most awful scrambled eggs. I now know this is how you are meant to eat them, runny, but I wasn't used to them and hated it. Now I still have my eggs overcooked in most people's eyes, but it's how I like them. I remember too, looking in a shop window at jewellery with natural stones in them, red and green and although I didn't know the name, I thought them so grown up and pretty. I wanted to have one, but as usual didn't say so.. such a good girl was I, never one to whinge and say I WANT ONE in a loud voice that carries for miles... I am sure we've all heard them in the supermarket and the ensuing screams from mother and child when said request is denied. I never did that..if asked I would say what I wanted, but never thought to ask unprompted.
Anyway, years later I went out with a Chippendale-esque drummer, leader of a small group which consisted of drums, guitar, piano and female singer, who played Carpenter-type music at a posh eaterie several nights a week. He was originally from Oban, though now living in this small Lancashire seaside town, and when he went home to visit his grandparents, he went into that same shop, without my telling him anything about it, and bought me one of the lovely heavy silver bracelets with red and green stones, that I had admired years before. I still have it, somewhere.
And speaking of music, my day was started on a good note... BOYZONE were on the GMTV sofa. And... it was raining outside. This may not seem much like something to celebrate really, but I love rain, and have never outgrown splashing in puddles, to my other half's embarrassment no doubt, at times! But to sit in the conservatory with a window open, hear the rain dripping off the eaves onto the terrace, splashing into the pond, where the fish happily play 'miss the splashes', was a lovely accompaniment to my breakfast.. along with the sight of Boyzone of course.
My day will end on a high as well, as we are replacing the old printer with one of these all singing, all dancing pieces of kit that scans, photocopies and does everything bar make you a cuppa it seems to me. I shall not be sorry to consign the old one to what will be my other half's own little den - he gets the old kit and the smaller room as he rarely uses the computer at home and I need so much space for all my crafts, and books. It reminds me of the old adage about dogs and cats, you know the one.... dogs come when you call them and cats ask you to leave a message and they'll get back to you? Well, this old printer hiccups, groans, bits move about making clunky noises, things slide back and forth, and eventually a piece of paper will be taken in, sniffed at like an old dog sniffing a lamp post - and that reminds me of an old dowager I was interviewing once who had this awfully old smelly dog who tried to have it away with first my leg, then the basket I had on the floor, before giving up and going back to its favourite hump which was an old, and rather smelly cushion - and finally... VOILA, it prints. Or not, as is sometimes the case.
I shall be so happy to print off letters to friends in an instant for one thing... my letters tend to be long you see, and take forever on this old printer. But that's another thing... I miss letters. I know technology is fine and the way to go and so on, but don't you think there is something wonderful about opening a letter and sitting down with a cup of tea to read it? I love getting long letters, and have a few friends from the seventies and eighties who won't use computers, or don't even have one, and so still handwrite reams. Sometimes I reciprocate with a handwritten letter, carefully choosing pretty paper and a favourite fountain pen, often with coloured ink... more often than not, lazy old besom that I am, I use the computer. I still decorate the paper with stamping and stickers, but the computer is the best way these days, for my hands to keep up with my brain as the thoughts and comments and answers to questions in the letters spill out, tumbling one after another. But these days the postie rarely brings letters... back in the 80's though it was a different matter altogether, as I had about two dozen, or more, penfriends, all over the world and so most days brought a letter from one or other of them, from home or abroad. I miss that.
Do you see how words lead you from one thing to another.. so that what began as a blog about hair ended up with humping old dogs and slow printers and a dearth of handwritten letters.
I have mentioned I am doing creative journaling, and one journal I have begun using a website called www.inspiremethursday.com where each week there is one word to inspire you, either in words, prose, pictures, anything you like. This one word is the starting point.... just one word each week, on a Thursday, strangely enough! This week's is PETALS, and I have decorated the page in the journal with flowery stickers, dried rose petals from some pot pourri, and written lots that came to mind when I thought of the word PETALS. The week before it was FAMILY, so of course this has pictures of family on the page. It's an interesting exercise in creative writing, if nothing else.
As is a blog, dear readers... thank you for reading. Enjoy your weekend.

A poor effort, but 'tis all mine own!

2009-05-14T03:41:00.001-07:00

I have been looking at the blogs I follow, and the thought came to me that by comparison, mine are poor efforts really. There is Calico Kate this week with her wonderfully descriptive way of writing, which I am sure lots of us could do if we actually sat and thought carefully, about things like the noise the washing makes on the line when there is a strong breeze blowing. But instead we tend not to mention it. The minutae of people's lives interests many of us, which is why we follow the likes of Calico Kate, and Maddie Grigg, Vanessa too, as well as all your other favourites. They write about the everyday things, but somehow make them interesting, or perhaps more interesting than they would seem if they happened to us. Some of them add beautiful photos, of crafts, their surroundings, family and pets, which certainly add to the blogs. Mine own efforts seem paltry to me now, and I am left wondering should I discontinue this blog and just carry on with my 'Tales from...' blog?
I am sure my life is so mundane as to not be of any interest to anyone. I don't have exciting things like blowing down greenhouses to write about.... day trips either with or without huge dog.... I don't go anywhere much, though there may be some excitement at the weekend with a book sale in aid of charity to go to, if I can be bothered to get out of bed early enough on Sunday! The world from my window isn't worthy of note... though last Friday there was a farmers market for the first time in the car park of the lovely old social club just across the road and down a bit. However, it hadn't been advertised in the local papers, hardly anyone knew it was there until they passed by and saw about half a dozen stalls. It doesn't seem, by all accounts, as if it did very well, and may have been a feeble and useless waste of time and effort. There have been rumours that the social club might be closing, so maybe they are looking at ways to increase income and thus prove it's viability? If it goes, then some builder will come along and shove at least half a dozen small starter homes on the site, and I am sure the people living closest to it would rather suffer the occasional loud 'music' (for want of a better word for the cacophony of noise) from the disco, and cars leaving the car park at closing time, than the more constant noise from housing.
I can't talk about what I'm growing, because despite the lovely raised bed I still haven't sown seeds! Well, I do have a few pots, of tomato seeds, purple sprouting broccoli, and some rather special poppies, but that's about all. Oh, and a potato in a compost bag!! The grand plans have so far remained on paper and in my head only. But my excuse is that we were told there was to be heavy rain and strong winds this week, the temperatures have certainly dropped so the soil isn't very warm, and I thought, naively perhaps, that the rain would nicely moisten the soil, then we'd have some sun at the beginning of next week, which would heat it up and then it would be ideal for the seeds. Nice theory, shame about the practice - again!
However, come next week I shall be too busy to do any gardening as I have this workroom to dismantle, hundreds and hundreds of books to take off decrepit shelving, fitted cupboards to rip out, repainting and filling (not in that order of course) to do, before the new furniture can be installed over the long Bank Holiday weekend. Ikea assure me it will be delivered next Friday.. they better not let me down!
So my life is very mundane and normal and ordinary, and frankly boring probably, to those not closely involved in it. Are you remotely interested in the fact I have two new drugs added to my daily list of eight others since my transplant clinic check up last week? No, why should you be? Yet others manage to talk about their daily lives and I can't wait to read it.

Well, books are always a good fall back..... here are some of the books I have read, or have on the go. THE MAGICIAN'S DAUGHTER is written by a friend of mind, and is all about her life and some of the spooky, magical, and often weird things that have happened to her as a 'reluctant psychic' as she puts it.
I love Alexander McCall Smith's books, though only the ones set in Scotland, and this is the latest, The Incredible Lightness of Scones'. Now how could you resist at least picking up a book with a title like that? I have no time for his African detective series at all, having to slow down to pronounce the names properly slows me down which I hate, and I am not a fan of reading detective fiction.. though give me an episode of LEWIS or MIDSOMER MURDERS, and I'm a happy bunny. Erm.. .maybe that has something to do with the lovely Kevin Whately, Laurence Fox and John Nettles? Well, a little bit, but not a lot.

My husband has lots of books about Ley Lines and stone circles etc., but they are not something I have ever taken much notice of. Having said that, I love to visit old ruins and stone circles, my favourite being Long Meg in Cumbria, which I visited on a misty day, which added to the feeling of the place. However, of late I have had an interest in ley lines, and wanted to read more about them, and this, although it's over ten years old, is a really well written book for those who are new to the subject, it doesn't try to baffle you with science or high-falutin' language. The various theories for the lines I found interesting, and like to think that rather than having some prosaic reason for their being, it is all mystical and spiritual.

Having watched HELL'S KITCHEN recently, I was intrigued enough by Marco Pierre White to want to read more about him, and so bought his autobiography. There has been much written about him over the years, some of it true and some of it made up to look thrilling and so sell newspapers and magazines. It was ever so of course. Far better to read about his life from the horse's mouth I thought, and so it has proved. I don't know about you, but I prefer reading an autobiography to a biography, though if it is a properly authorised one by the subject, then I may be tempted. Mind you, there is no guarantee that the subject is being 100% truthful is there? Says she, ever the sceptic.

MOLLY FOX'S BIRTHDAY is by an Irish writer called Deirdre Madden, who has written several books though this is the first I have read. Molly Fox is an actress who goes away to New York and then London, lending her house to her closest female friend, who is a playwright and there ostensibly to work on her next play. However, being in the house of her oldest friend takes her mind away from the present day and to shared memories, and so we get to know about Molly and the circle of friends they both inhabit. It's a novel about friendship and 'how the past informs the present'... and it was a really good read.

So what do you think of this selection of wool then? It is just part of a large collection of wools in shades of pinks and oranges, with a bit of acid lemon, sharp turquoise blue. There are ribbony threads, knobbly wools, some wools with gold and silver threads woven through, some furry wools, some silky threads, cool cottons. They are for a throw, the idea being in a book on knitted throws, where you just chuck all the balls of wool in a basket at your feet (a la Kirstie Allsop for those of you who have been watching her rather expensive at times, makeover of a cottage, which by the way, for any of you interested, is available as a holiday let!) and just take out any thread you fancy, or take one without looking. You use it for one row, or two, more if you fancy. You leave a longish thread at the beginning and end of the rows though... you don't have to start rows at the same edge... the idea is that when it's finished all these hanging off threads give it a ready fringed look. Should be colourful, to say the least.

Well that brings me to the end of this, mine own poor effort compared to others more sumptuous in words and pictures. But I enjoyed rabbiting on anyway, and maybe someone else enjoyed it too?

The soundtrack to your life... your very own Desert Island Discs

2009-05-11T06:25:00.000-07:00

I read something the other day, a diarist recording her personal Desert Island Discs choices and why, and it made me think what music I would choose... and would I choose it for the memories it evoked, or because I liked it, and the answer was that I would choose for the best possible reason, a combination of the two.

Some of my earliest musical memories are connected with classical music, mainly because my father loved it and his mother sang it professionally, a leading contralto. I saw 'live' music for the first time when I was very young and taken to a recital of Handel's 'MESSIAH' conducted by Sir John Barbarolli, (or BANANALOLLY as I pronouncd it!) and when Nan stood up to sing, I had to stand also and tell everyone it was my Nan!

Iwas in my early teens in the early 60s when the next wave of music made an impression, and the use of the word 'wave' isn't unintentional, since it was the surfin' sound from California, mainly the Beach Boys. I was 15, with a boyfriend who was tall, blonde and tanned, not from surfing (there wasn't a right lot of it about on the Irish Sea) but from working outdoors on a local farm. He used to cycle to meet me from school sometimes, which didn't go down too well with the nuns who asked him to wait around the corner in case it offended parents of other pupils. Radio Caroline North was going strong then, not so well known as it's southern counterpart, which came first, but for us in Lancashire, this was such an exciting time, at last something else instead if FAB208 to listen to under the bedcovers! Also remembered from this era - Dusty Springfield, who I did an impersonation of at a school concert, complete with heavy black eyemakeup and back-combed to within an inch of its life, hair.

When I got to be 16-18 it was Gene Pitney I idolised, and my first boyfriend had a certain look which put me in mind of GP, a rather shy, diffident smile, a bit lopsided it was, cute. (sorry, Fyldecoaster, have I embarrassed you?) Memories of this time, the music aside are thigh length soft suede boots, tartan mini skirts and a purple mini kilt, Biba clothes, Houbigant CHANTILLY perfume, hairy afghan jackets, having a boyfriend with a scooter (not the GP-lookalike) when I fancied the leather-clad rocker down the road, pale lipstick and nail varnish, JACKIE magazine.

Into my twenties, when the perfume tended to be Estee Lauder's YOUTH DEW, or Nina Ricci's L'AIR DU TEMPS, or Revlon's CHARLIE, and the music I most remember from this time was Nillsen's 'WITHOUT YOU'. For me this is a very poignant song, as it was 'our song' for my late husband and I, and each time I hear it now, I am taken back to those few brief years we had together, the laughs we shared, the tears, the joys of our two sons, and then an overwhelming grief. I also remember the music of ELLA FITZGERALD for this my late mother used to sing.. she had a lovely voice, had auditioned for GERALDO back in the late forties, but that was just when she had met my late father and he objected to her having a career of this sort, so she gave it up, but still delighted me with her voice, and at this time, in the early 70's, she was at the happiest she had been in decades. Sadly this was a time when her life was brought to a sudden end, so again, music which has mixed memories for me. The smells associated with her are Boots 4711 cologne and Coty face powder, which I still catch a sniff of in the air, and know she is making a brief visit.

A very dear friend introduced me, in the 80s, to Tamla and Phil Collins, and particularly his music brings back memories of a time when I went a little crazy and carefree, fine if you are single and so on, but not when you are married and with Responsibilities. Lucky for me, my new husband was one of these men who would never try and rein you in, would let you have your freedom secure in the knowledge that wherever you go, you will always come home. That to stop people will only drive them away, and because of his attitude, I never did leave. But at this time my health began to fail also, and one particular film/LP ELECTRIC DREAMS reminds me of my time as a dialysis patient, as this was often being played in our dayroom by another of the patients. Several of them are no longer with us, some younger than me, some older. But the smells associated with this music aren't particularly nice, though one is hot toast spread with Marmite, eaten to bring your salts levels back up during and after dialysis.. or it was in our little dialysis unit anyway, hardly available in NHS units today. Sadly the very dear friend is no longer around either. And I can't hear UPTOWN GIRL by Billy Joel without being transported back to the early 80s, drinking Tia Maria and coke, laughing and joking with a particular male friend who I only discovered later, actually wanted to be more than friends, but who felt he was out of my league, hence the reason for sending me a tape of UPTOWN GIRL.

In the 90s I enjoyed all my favourites from the 80s, along with Bon Jovi as well as Chris Rea (introduced into my life by another dear friend who again, is no longer a part of my life - both of them were male friends, music doesn't seem to have been something I shared with many female friends for some reason.) and Boyzone for the first time.. I am still a fan! As I am of Jason Donovan, and keep your giggles down to a dull roar please!

Then along came IL DIVO, Vittorio Grigolo, spiritual music, natural earth sounds music, New Age stuff, more classical than anything else, music to relax to, music to meditate with. I still listen to Boyzone, and have an occasional sentimental wallow with the CD collection and listen to some of the above favourites from different decades, but I am looking more to be chilled out than anything else these days. Even so, all of these I would have to have on my desert island, music to suit each mood. Though I might just miss out some of the natural sounds, especially ones with whale song.. don't want any uninvited guests landing on my beach do I, looking for a mate or something?

A French Dolly, a large bed and some pleasurable pastimes!

2009-05-07T05:28:00.000-07:00

This is Yvette, and the eagle-eyed crafty ones will have noticed that she is a French Knitting Dolly. I had been knitting some drawstring bags and trying to do an i-cord, but found it so laborious and tiresome, took so long to get anywhere.. the phrase 'watching paint dry' came to mind! I then remembered french knitting, and had I had one of those capacious old-fashioned sewing boxes, no doubt in some corner would be lurking an old wooden cotton reel. In my husband's sheds are jars of screws and nails, and I am sure some carpet tacks could be found to create the old-fashioned tool of my childhood. (I wonder what I did with all those endless colourful woolly worms?) However, no wooden reels being to hand I decided to hang the expense and buy a propery French Knitting Dolly, and this is she. I sat and made the woolly

worms again, found it so relaxing I almost nodded off more than once. A fine pastime for listening to the Archers, or Desert Island Discs or cricket on the radio perhaps? I am blessed with a husband who will do anything to make my life easier, and so last weekend he built and painted this raised bed for me. I can no longer kneel due to a burning pain in one knee, nor can I bend over due to problems with lower back and dizziness! A right old crock am I. But I wanted to sow some seeds, especially having taken advantage of a free organic seed offer. I plan to grow carrots, beetroots, salad onions, maybe a courgette, some herbs.... haven't quite decided but as this bed is two feet high, I know that I will be able to reach to weed and prick out and so forth, with ease, which will be a first. Alongside this is a smaller bed, just four feet by two, and not raised to this extent, only about a foot deep, and edged with the same wood as its big neighbour. In here I shall have purple-sprouting broccoli and a bean plant or two on wigwams made from cut-down alder branches. A new compost bin, wooden this time since we have never really got on with the free plastic ones from the council, will be installed and we already have a rainwater collecting system in the same area, so I am all set to sow and grow, pick and eat. I also have large tubs on the terrace, filled with herbs and cut and come again leaves, tumbling tomatoes from a hanging basket as well.

Of course books had to feature again. The larger one is all about healing and creative journals. I have always kept a diary, but there is a difference between a diary and a journal... the former records events, and the latter the emotions felt at the time... that's a very simplistic description but conveys the differences between the two I think. Some of the journals created are works of art.. I don't aspire to that level of competency since my arty skills are virtually zilch, but with the aid of stickers, stamps, odds and ends and words of course, I think I can make a reasonable attempt at making a healing journal. I have a few books on the subject, having become interested in the idea of journaling, writing, for spiritual, mental and therefore physical well-being and growth. I was at the hospital this week for my six monthly check up at the transplant clinic, and always suffer dreadfully with anxiety, which manifests itself in unpleasant physical ways as well as mentally. I don't know why this is so, after over 26years of going to clinics of one sort or another regularly, sometimes monthly, you would think I would be accustomed to it. But no... the BP goes off the scale almost (though settles back down a few hours later, at home) and I feel pretty awful. Once it is over with, I almost skip with relief out of the hospital!But whilst waiting for the doctor I tried some writing therapy, writing down who was sitting near me, and how I felt at the time. It helped, took my mind off the wait, which in effect was no more than 15-20 minutes, but felt like hours of course.

The other book is 'The Palace of Strange Girls' written by Sallie Day. It is set in Blackpool, in one week in 1959, the Wakes Week holiday, an annual event when the cotton mills close down for their holidays and the majority of the workers from the Lancashire Mill towns head for the bright lights and gaudiness of Blackpool. Some are heading for foreign climes, travel to the Costa Brava has just become easier to access for all, but the majority stay with what they know. The Palace is one of those attractions on the Promenade, or was... a house of horrors, of weird and wonderful women, and this fascinates young Beth. She is not a healthy girl, has had major heart problems and is watched over like a hawk. With her parents and elder sister, a sulky teenager who wants to leave school but isn't allowed, she has come to Blackpool. Her father Jack is hiding a secret, her Mother Ruth is only with him for the semi she lusts after. Who gets their own way and what happens in the meantime, has happened in the past also, is contained in this lovely novel. I bought it because of the setting. At that time, although I only lived a few miles further up the coast, we never visited Blackpool. My late father, with ideas above his station, thought it too common, for a day out Southport, genteel and quieter, more reserved, was the choice. But once I left school, it was the best place to find work. In the town where I lived, the options were office work with soicitors mainly, shop work, working in Mullards Valve Factory, or in the fish processing plant on the docks. Blackpool offered much more, variety and money in your pocket, so that was where I headed. So Blackpool in the mid-60s holds lots of memories for me.. and someone who often posts a comment here!

Here are the drawstring bags I mentioned. I have no idea what they can be used for to be honest. I have done one is a cheery red, lined with Christmassy fabric of a red background and tiny green trees, made an applique from the fabric in the shape of a tree and sewn to the front, and tied with red glitzy ribbon. These I used the french knitting for, and I suppose they could be used to keep gloves in, stockings, little scented sachets and hung up somewhere, maybe? And then there are the sherbet baby socks, a lime green with yellow heels and toes, made the same way as my jelly bean socks of last year.

So that was my last bank holiday weekend.. I wonder what the next will bring? Most likely making a start on taking my workroom to bits and starting again. It is a clutter of different bookcases, cupboards and so on, and whilst that may look like shabby chic in some surroundings, in mine it just looks messy. So I am going for a more uniform look, getting a new work table, one that I can use the sewing machine on as well as laptop.. new bookcases matching, for my hundreds of novels.... new storage for craft materials and a glass fronted cabinet for the finished articles as well as my oldest, precious books which are a bit fragile. Should keep me busy!

Time for a dance but beware of shrews!

2009-04-30T02:54:00.000-07:00

These days it seems that time off work for days like Easter and the old-fashioned Whitsuntide, Bank Holidays and so on, are just that... days off work with no thought given as to why it is so, and what used to happen on those days. As someone who spent ten years writing about local and social history, I have a lovely collection of books old and new, about English Festivals, and one of the joys of writing about them was the excuse it gave me to browse around secondhand bookshops.
One of my favourites that I discovered was the 'wayzgoose', a traditional annual outing for printers. It is believed to date from the 17th century and originally referred to a picnic or outing for the workmen of a printing house, given by the master printer, and was always held around the feast day of Saint Bartholomew, August 24th. He was one of the Twelve Apostles and popular as a patron saint, for within his patronage he has bookbinders, cobblers, leather workers, plasterers and trappers. The wayzgoose itself usually consisted of a picnic meal, taken into the country, and there would be amusements, games and so on, with speeches and toasts after the meal. Although the word seems to have gone out of common usage in this country, it was still used in Canada in the 1990s to describe a printers art fair held at an art gallery in Ontario.
May Day is almost upon us, and up and down the country there will be various celebrations planned, including a weekend of family orientated events in St. Neot's in Cambridgeshire; in the Cotswolds, at Blockley, a new May Pole will be the focus of attention in their celebrations; in Norwich a family fun day is being held by three Norfolk churches and at the Museum of Norfolk Life near Dereham, a May Day Food Fair is planned.
Traditionally speaking, May Day is seen as the first day of Summer, and for centuries it was the custom for men and women, in town and country, to go a-Maying on this day... when young men and women took themselves off to the woods to gather garlands and boughs of flowers which they used to adorn cottage doors and windows at sunrise, and the rest of the day was given over to festivities, the highlight of which was the crowning of the May Queen.
Another tradition was the erecting of the Maypole, and the most famous was the one erected in the Strand, which was over 130 feet high and which stood for over fifty years. Usually the Maypole would be painted and carried in procession with a group of musicians playing ahead of it. It was erected on the village green or in a town market place, decked with flowers and the focal point for the May Day celebrations.
Morris Dancing was at its height in the 16th century, and still exists in many parts of the country today. Originally it made its debut on May Day, then no more was seen until Whitsuntide, after which it continued throughout the summer, sometimes even appearing at Christmastime along with the mummers. The roots of Morris dancing go back a long way, to celebrate the rebirth of spring, ensure good harvests, fertility of flocks, all of this connected with Northern Europe where it is believed to have originated before being brought over to this country. Traditionally a team of people included dancers and other characters, such as The Fool, and the Hobby Horse, some of which took part in the dance, whilst others didn't. But the form we usually see here, of non-traditional Morris dancers, began in 1911 when the English Folk Dance Society was formed, and twenty years later, a federation of Morris Clubs known as the Morris Ring came into being.
May Day is also known as BELTANE, the Celtic festival of the beginning of Summer, and before sunrise you should gather the 'May', which can be hawthorn blossom or rowan preferably, (there are some forms of greenery and plant life which are said to be insulting, 'gorse for the whores' for example!) and then left at a friend's door to bring them luck.
May, according to books on old traditions and beliefs, is also the best month for making your butter, is the month when bees swarm, leaving their hives to make new colonies, when kittens born turn into melancholy adult cats; it is the month said to be unlucky for marrying but a good month for making 'prognostications from the hands', when you should beware of shrews (the scurrying about vermin type, not pinch-faced old crones!) and make your Whitsun cheesecakes. Now not a lot of people know that!

Kiss-me-Quick, Easter treats and a fragrant des res!

2009-04-11T05:31:00.000-07:00

This is the fragrant des res. It doesn't look much.. on Easter Saturday when it was dark and miserable I took this photograph, so not seen at it's best. I certainly wouldn't make it as an estate agent, hardly the best photo of a desirable residence. No long angled shots to catch it's best side, no close ups to hide the swampduck neighbours tatty garden, no waiting for the sun to shine to show it in a favourable light.

It may not look much but it promises to be a lovely, fragrant home. Last year, we had four goldfinches coming to the garden, and the addition of thistle and/or nigella seeds to a pretty feeder on the bird feeding station ensured they stayed with us. But one pair have been seen off, and the other pair are staying with us, so we discovered this last weekend. About fifteen feet or so from the house, and close to the summerhouse, we have a smallish laburnum. Standing about twelve feet or so high, it has been here as long as we have, twenty years almost, never seems to have grown, but puts out lovely pannicles of cheery yellow flowers... after which we are sure to have stormy weather to knock them all off, it happens most years. At the base I have planted a honeysuckle to the left, and a jasmine to the right, to make the upright stems look more interesting all year round, and add some scent to the area. The honeysuckle has taken to it very well, growing up and along some branches, and in one place, it gathers in a large cluster, looking for all the world like a large, untidy nest. And this is what is seen in the photo, and inside this, a tiny home is being built by the pair of goldfinches. I can't tell you how excited this makes me, ridiculous really to get so carried away, some would say. Some people with no soul that is, and I have no time for such people and care not a jot, for what they think.

So the watching of the coming and going, carrying little bits of this and that, cobweby bits with tiny white feathers caught in them, loose bits of leaves and so on caught up on the fading flower heads of tall grasses, all have been carried back and into the new home. I worried about them on Saturday, it was such a grey and damp day, but they carried on, and added to the other Easter treats I have pictured here.

A posy from the garden, of streaky pink as well as yellowy orange wallflowers, blue muscari, tiny yellow daffodils with three flowerheads to a delicate stem, a pink and white striped miniature tulip, and some anonymous white flower, a ground covering type of plant, no idea what it's called but it will flower now right through until summer ends almost, so is a 'good doer' as they say. And a dish of edible treats. Usually we buy a normal size Easter egg each. Himself prefers a Bendick's dark chocolate and I go for Green and Black's. But this year I felt like a change, so bought several packets of little eggs, so there are 'malteser and friends' mini eggs, tiny Lindt chocolate eggs and bunnies, some dark chocolate ones too and the very small Cadbury's creme egg. Reading other people's blogs I am sure to read about trips out with children and grandchildren, Easter egg hunts in the garden, and there are times when I wish I was the sort of woman who enjoyed stuff like that. But I am not, and so Easter for us, which has no religious meaning at all, was a time for relaxing, for getting a pile of books out of the 'waiting to be read' pile next to the bed, a couple of magazines each, for starting a new craft project, and for doing those jobs one means to do all year round, yet never gets around to. For Himself, that meant Saturday was spent tidying his shed, a twice-yearly event at least, since it always looks as if it needs tidying. Luckily I have my own tool kit in the house, and a short step ladder in the shed down the side of the house, so no need to enter this DANGER ZONE of a MAN'S SHED. What is it with men and sheds? Having said that, one coffee table book on my list is called 'SHED CHIC', full of photos of what people have done to what was once the 'umble garden shed, the place blokes sat in to read magazines whilst supposedly being busy doing 'stuff' that only men can do in their shed. Best not dwell on it too long methinks!

Another treat for me was meeting up with an old school friend, passing through for just a day. She and I had some madcap times when we were young... we both fancied the junior park-keeper, and one day I pretended to have left my purse on the bus into school (no such thing as 'real' school buses, these were just your normal ones) and so asked the Sister could I go to the bus depot to see had it been handed in. She insisted I take a friend with me, 'Take Mary, she's a sensible girl'.... Haflippingha.. just a good actress, that was Mary! So off we went, it was a good twenty minute walk to the park, so we ran. That gave us ten minutes to mooch around the park, looking. The head park-keeper asked what we were up to, so Mary, quick as a flash, said we were just checking to see had the nets been put up on the tennis courts yet. We went there once a week to play tennis you see, so this was, or could have been, a legitimate point. He mumbled something, which we didn't understand since he had a cigarette hanging out the corner of his mouth, a mouthful of sandwich too, and no teeth. What an attractive picture that makes....

Anyway, we got up to all sorts, over the years, when we were younger, and decided it was time to bring back some of that silliness, so off we went to a nearby seaside resort and spent a mad morning in the gaming arcade, avoiding the modern computer ones, but going for the one armed bandits, and other machines which reminded us of our misspent youth on the pier in the seaside town in Lancashire where we lived at the time. We had cotton candy, later chips in a cone (of all things, a cone, I ask you, what happened to newspaper!), a run on the beach kicking sand and trying to make sandpies with no bucket. We used the vinegary cones that had held our piping hot, crispy chips, and had we had the time and inclination, and had the tide not been on the way in, we're sure we could have made a wonderful castle from this cone shape. We laughed till we almost wet ourselves, which got us to thinking how this only seems to happen at either end of your life; when you are young or getting older, and why hadn't we made the most of the middle bit when it never seemed to be as bad a problem? I didn't tell her it was almost as bad for me then, thinking if it hadn't been bad for her, then there was obviously something wrong with my bladder control. Mind you, she has never had children, could that have something to do with it? We had a mad morning, and ended up being sedate, having afternoon tea at a lovely award-winning tea rooms in the middle of nowhere, after which a walk around some old ruins, and then that was the end of our time together. She had her life to get back to, and I don't know when we will see each other again, but I am sure there will still be time for some silliness. Shouldn't everyone have a bit of silliness, now and then?

A blog of beautiful things

2009-03-31T03:20:00.001-07:00

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, so they say, and what can be more beautiful than the site of spring flowers in the garden? This pot of miniature Iris never fails to delight me, and the sight of the first, and at the moment, only periwinkle flower, hiding its light under a bush almost, was something else to give me pleasure. The garden is full of narcissi, and the late, tall snowdrops are out under the laburnum, along with little blue anemones, wild violets, blue muscari and the path alongside is full of flowering wallflowers, and on a day like today, clear blue skies and warm sunshine, the smell is almost heady. However, I noticed on a walk round there this morning, that there is a cluster of smallish white feathers on the ground... is this the result of natural moulting I wonder, or the new cat on the block, a delightfully pretty, pure white young cat, not well looked after in my opinion since it has no collar. It has taken to coming in the garden, hiding amongst the daffs and wallflowers, underneath the birdfeeder... I am not amused, having no Rosie to shout at for tormenting the birds, I don't intend an interloper like this young madam to start causing mayhem. That part of the garden is due to be changed anyway soon, the bulbs lifted, medium shrubs removed, so she won't have anywhere to hide. Will she be brazen enough to just sit in the open? Time will tell.

Words are another thing of beauty. Some can be harsh and wounding (as in an argument), can cut to the quick, make a lasting impression. Others can soothe and heal, can bring a tear to the eye, a quickening to the heartbeat (as in a love letter perhaps). Some can instruct and broaden your horizons, whilst others can jar.. like LOL which I absolutely hate! We have a beautiful language, why not use it properly? I have a journal of collected thoughts, dreams, poems, some by me, others kind words sent from friends, some written by strangers but which touched me. The following was sent to me by a friend in New Zealand and comes from a book of marriage sayings.. I think it is just lovely. It's called THE ONE.

'When the one whose hand you're holding is the one who holds your heart;

When the one whose eyes you gaze into gives your hopes and dreams their start;

When the one you think of first and last is the one who holds you tight, and the things you plan together make the whole world seem just right;

When the one whom you believe in puts their faith and trust in you, you've found the one and only love you'll share your whole life through.'

Isn't that beautiful? I have been so lucky to have two husbands to whom this could be ascribed. Sadly the first wasn't with me more than a few years, but still holds a special place in my heart, thirty five years on since he died. And the second also holds a special place.. I didn't think I would find someone to love ever again all those years ago, but I did, and we have been together over thirty years now.

So many beautiful poems... 'Love's Philosophy' by Shelley is a favourite, 'I carry your heart' by ee cummings another.

A short extract of just a few words from Peter Pan, caught my attention and I used it as the verse inside the welcoming card for our granddaughter, Summer. 'When the first baby laughed for the first time, it's laugh broke into a thousand pieces, and they went skipping about and that was the beginning of fairies'. Whether you believe in fairies or not, it's a lovely thought.

This to me, is another thing of beauty. So beautiful and moving did I find this to be, that I have a framed photo of it near my desk. She fills me with sadness, touches me, and when I actually saw it, I just wanted to touch it, and sit beside it. It is the Victorian tomb of ELIZABETH DACRE HOWARD who was born in 1883, and as you can see, died as an infant not long after. It can be found in LANERCOST PRIORY near Brampton in Cumbria, and is one of my favourite ruins, with some gorgeous stonework and a wonderful stained glass window designed by Burne-Jones.

Many people are touched by this photo, there is one very similar on Flickr or whatever it's called, and some fabulous views of the Priory itself on its website. Well worth a visit if ruins are your thing and you are in that area.

And my two favourite books this month have been 'KNIT TWO' by Kate Jacobs, the follow up to her best seller THE FRIDAY NIGHT KNITTING CLUB. This follows the group, along with new members, following the death of the founder, the gauntlet and the shop, Walker and Daughter, now being taken up, reluctantly it seems, by the daughter, Dakota. I loved the FNKC, and can't wait for the DVD of the movie, starring Julia Roberts, one of my all-time favourite actresses. The other book is THE HOUSEHOLD GUIDE TO DYING by Debra Adelaide. You could be mistaken for thinking this would be a really miserable, unhappy book. But far from it... it's all about Delia Bennet, an American writer famous for her HOUSEHOLD GUIDE TO... series of books. When she is diagnosed with terminal cancer, she decides to write this one last guide, to prepare her family for the inevitable as much as anything else. It brings out some ghosts from the past which she has to deal with first, before she can deal with everything else. A brilliant read, though I think the graphic detail of an autopsy could have been skipped!

We all have some beauty in our lives, maybe in amongst those SIMPLE PLEASURES I've written about, maybe something completely different. For me, other things of beauty include my husband's smile... the sight of four goldfinches feeding on the nigella seed feeder... my yarn stash... piles of fabrics waiting to be turned into whatever the fancy takes me to make... a pile of new books waiting to be read... pretty vintage china... pressed glass dishes in pink and green and blue, all lined up on a shelf... the last photo ever taken of my mother not long before she died in 1975... a piece of music, Barber's Adagio and the Pearl Fisher's Duet amongst my favourites... so much to admire and enjoy and be thankful for.