harvest

Life is difficult and emotional at the moment trying to support poor daughter thru her problems, so it is good that there is still some colour to cheer in the garden.


A colour for every emotion
We have dried some in a low temp oven,which we will store in a jar for a years supply and will experiment freezing some others. Apparently it says on the Interweb we have to line them up, not touching till they freeze separately, then we can wrap them and keep them in there for future use.
Trouble is the freezer is already full of odds and sods and many packs of gooseberries, harvested earlier this year.
When ma used to come to Sunday dinner each week we would extract one and have as dessert with some ice cream. Neither ma of myself are capable of making cakes, or .........trifles.
However ma has now decided that her occasional irritable bowel means she will restrain herself to a Royal Visit on Sunday afternoon, where I shall pay court and listen repeatedly to repetitions until she decided it is getting dark so she better toddle off.
The portability of stitching comes in very useful at these time, needlework has saved many a female's sanity under such pressure to look as if one is listening.
Thus we are robbed of the opportunity to have a nice roast and a pudding, sometimes the former, but the latter seems extraneous when there are only two of us.
Thus excessive gooseberries clogging up the system. Maybe a Gooseberry party is the answer............or for breakfast, that might be an idea.

head start

Went to see Felting Needle at her Xmas Village fair, first festive outing of the season.
The village hall was warm and jolly, just as it should be - as opposed to the miserable soulless lights that have been strung across the town streets since October, cheering no-one, except maybe the very young and the very old. Certainly not the medium-old like me.
Felting Needle has wonderfully made me a hat inspired by Lorina Bulwer and Elizabeth Parker and even Agnes and her jacket [Embroderers blog] which I hope to embroider with a few words
or perhaps something more chirpy

away days

Birthday by the sea, excellent weather, food, company. Much walkies. Almost worth being a year older.

Even Hattie the dog went on a go slow after several hikes, walking along the coast, thru the gorse, across the golf course to Southwold and back; birthday money burning a hole in my pocket exploring the posh clothes shops. Finally all I bought was a stripey Tshirt, but it was a posh one - reversible and organic cotton.

If the ferry had been running it would have shortened the mileage; the notice would usually have covered their lazy arses, being November - obviously they didn't expect the sun to be shining quite so brightly, and such a lovely few days.
Quite posh meals, tho mein hostess was a little confusing, one of those toffs that are all over you in a smarmy manner, but simultaneously seem to be disdaining any contact.
First night I had delicious rabbit and bacon casserole [sorry bunnies], next night was baked cod and then faggots on parsnip mash. The latter more working class fare was partaken at another hostelry after bonfire and fireworks, very jolly.
I did only have one almost full English breakfast, but the scrambled eggs on other days were Elizabeth David, so the lbs have piled on and will take till just before the next holiday to shift.
Now this was the strangest thing, the RP who notices very little outside his own head or something attached to a plug............. or roots.......................called me into the loo to witness one of those miraculous occurrences randomly formed with a spare bit of thread, presumably as a reminder from Hattie.

Holloween blues

Halloween is taken more seriously in America. Personally we just turned off the lights and hid under the table until the burble of little children had passed us by.



If imperious daughter had appeared i reckon they would have disappeared even more quickly.
She is hoping to get onto a fashion design course, I say her strengths would be exotic corsets and trousers, she says pretty dresses. Isn't it strange how one's offspring can't see sense when you wave it at them. Possibly just as well we live apart.
I could feel quite distraught at missing so much, fortunately I am enjoying what I am doing........if only they were next door.
Then of course the devil points out the kingdom of temptation ........daughter phoned with news that the house next door but one to them was for sale, for a very credit crunch price........we+they could buy it, rent it out to pay the mortgage, stay in it when we visited!! Soooooo tempting, five minutes thought piles up all the reasons why not........so frustrating.

books & boats

I am watching the film "the Boat that Rocked" on Sky Box Office, it is ghastly.
I hate it, but I have paid £3.99, so I am forced to let it burble on - so naffly, at least the music is soul stirring.
When we were young.............so young...........at College we used to have the pirate ships on all day, and possibly all night. I nearly failed my finals because I was incapable of turning Radio Caroline/Radio London off.
Keith Skeuse is still on Radio Norfolk...........................old DJs never die, some are unlucky and turn into Tony Blackburn, but most like John Peel linger in the ether, he lived near here....old DJs return to the roots - to marinate.........
Fortunately my run of good books continues.
Robert Crais - Chasing Darkness was diverting, and The Owl Killers by Karen Maitland was - frightening in a very muddy medieval way. I now know what a beguine is/was other than a dance from S America.
But best of all I have found Mick Herron, he is brilliant. I would download his trilogy of the lady private eye called Zoe onto my birthday pressi [my Kindle surprise] but it is a Yankee machine, and only seems to have the second part, why?
Also they won't have the new Terry Pratchett available until next week, always a glitch in new technology.

PS I must admit the flotilla of little boats rescue at the end squeezed a tear.

Homage to heide

Woke up yesterday morning with a determination to knit a Beanie. Dunno why, never have before, and in past eons when I did on occasion knit a cardie or two they never really fitted.
Anyway there was this undeniable urge to find a pattern and create.
Found many free patterns on the interweb and borrowed some circular needles from ma. That was where I went wrong no doubt.
Later she told me "I didn't think they were right" obviously she didn't say anything at the time.
Some time was spent wrestling with yards [seemingly] of plastic and 72 cast-ons that would just about cover from one eye to one ear.
Eventually I was forced to lunge from my traditional grannies armchair into "my Room" and tip up the metal tube fall of pointy things, with lots of rings and somethings festooned upon them.
It had been filling up for some time [years], but there they were - shorter and fatter circular needles. This time 72 looked enough and by bedtime I was protected from any winds that might blow.
Now ma wants one.

Misty this morning, but head was cosy.

two exhibitions

Went to an exhibition in Bury St Edmund's art gallery called Making and Mending, a group of artists using domestic textiles, to explore consumerism and sustainability. our focus on these themes being sharpened by the threat of recession, credit crunch.
The darned cardie connected emotionally, thoughts of time passing, connections with those whom we know who wear cardies. RP has a similar one for gardening - undarned so far, ........but I bought a gorgeous arty one recently, it cost the earth.......oh dear I hope not.
My ma never picked up a darning needle in my life time, thus perhaps my fascination with the stitch in my work, or just that cover lots of space with long fat stitches. Mother always worked and paid other women to make my school dresses etc, her mother was the same, which is an interesting [to me anyway] perspective on the nostalgia for times past when we did make and mend.......

This was the sock exchange, people have been encouraged to bring their socks in and get them stitched I suppose, sort of irritating till I reminded myself to have a sense of humour.
The armchair was very pleasing, with lots of thoughts about how I could customise the grubby one in my shed. It was "mended" with random icons of American culture that had been repeated patterned on an industrial pattern making machine that artists got hold of some time ago.
I think I have seen some of These old cardboard pin sheets, which were presumably sold before plastic boxes became so cheap.
I think there may be some in my favourite junk shop in Hastings where many kitchen drawers have been emptied into plastic bags and sold for 50p each. Sad. I could probably enter some of the bags "as seen" into an exhibition somewhere and someone somewhere would review them...........such is art these days.
In this case the artist has printed a repeat photo of a pin card and stitched it into this patchwork effect wall hanging.
After wandering and clucking around we stitchers went to another textile exhibition round the corner, an excess of treasures.
I name this one a "textile art" exhibition as it was much more heavily textile based, lots of dyed and stitched techniques.
Altho I sometimes find the glibness of contemporary art annoying, I realised I had enjoyed the first exhibition far more, as it stimulated us into discussion and further thoughts.
The second exhibition probably didn't have that intention, I guess it was meant to be more sensual and craft based.
It explored lots of skills , used modern printing and dying techniques and explored design, but it felt heavy and crowded.
There was a evident group ethos even in the variety of the second show, where as "make and mend" felt more individual, except even those works were part of another grouping, the Back to the Future - Green approach...............an agreed group concept, so not so individual. Risk taking but in a comfort zone.

room at the top

Exhibition went well. Even sold The Dancers and could have bartered the Crowd but have reserved it for G.
Of course i spent the lot on a bird table

this one





You have got to admit, it is magnificent.

a pec of dirt

Just to remind us g'mas that the perfect angels can sometimes be a pain, especially when they have just experimented with a good chew on a handful of dirt.