tiny golem

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We had a nice little trip yesterday to an Arts Centre kindly funded by the profits of our supermarket purchases and the collection fever of the main man [and his wife


The main attraction was some textiles by Henry Moore


But mostly I enjoyed revisiting the permanent exhibition and probably taking the same photos again. But then we went downstairs to the Unearthed exhibition. Little clay figures made up to 5000 years ago.
The curator had arranged for a local artist Sue Maufe to give each entrant a little tiny clay figure, made by her and her elves.
We were supposed to break them as archaeologists had found so many broken shards they came to believe that this was the custom of the time, perhaps for luck.
Nobody in my hearing agreed to kill their little friend and mine is now watching me type.
It was good to feed the brain and imagination.
I heard the phrase today be pessimistic of intellect and optimistic of will.
That sounds reasonable.

deckchairs

Went to local museum/gallery where various "names" had been asked to paint deckchairs for some reason and for charity.

Your actual artists and illustrators did better than authors and actors in the main.

They scattered some round the museum rooms, mixed with local history and lined some up in the gallery, in front of the Gainsborough's and Constables who may or may not have been affronted.

They will be auctioned off in the fullness of time. Not sure what one does with your purchase, can't really sit on it and it will look a bit odd hung on the wall.

nature notes

Within a couple of days the green shoots of recovery.

Today up to seven baby blue tits on the nuts and a greater spotted wood pecker visited but didn't stay for his portrait.

It goes against my grain for some reason to be optimistic - I just foresee the cat. That doesn't mean to say I won't attack any problem head on, and then whinge, so I must expect somethings can be made better.
Daughter seems to be developing similar traits. We agree that since she has become a mother she has realised she just has to get on with it, whatever it is.
At the mo, as a single mum with no income and husband's debts accruing, she has a vomiting toddler with a throat infection and a big, elderly chow with maggots up her bum.
It seems that the dog has got sticky seedy things stuck in her hot fur/skin which have become infected. So there is Princess Daughter cutting back the fur, hauling out maggots and applying medication.
Fortunately no pics.

before and after

The bad news is that the boy child, in a cottage below, has been given a vuvuzela, unfortunately he is known to be persistent - he still bounces every day on his big garden trampoline usually kicking his beloved football at the same time, so I don't hold out much hope that he will lose interest in blowing his own trumpet for some time.
It sounds like a lost and weary elephant calling for his herd.

This is not the elephant, it is the hay binder that caught fire and set fire to several barley and potato fields plus some woods on Wednesday.



Driving back from stewarding I could smell the smoke two villages away and my eyes were smarting as I got near home. Visions of wet dog, cat and Retired Person dripping on the lawn while old homestead smoked in ruins.
However it was up aways and across the road and the firemen had doused the worst.
The poor old Millennium hedge has taken a bashing, which is a shame it took a lot of time and money sticking all those plastic tubes with twigs into the ground - so I am told.
We were hoping to live long enough to have the branches meet over our heads as we walked as they used to when G'dad was a boy

Hot work apparently, one doesn't think of these practicalities.
I remember being driven back to college and all the fields seem to be on fire to my urban eyes, I wondered if war had been declared [we were living under threat of the Bomb [not terrorism] but it in those days the farmers used to burn off the stubble. Not allowed now, naughty dirty smoke.
Naughtiness will always find a way it seems

smelling the daisies

Big white daisy time of year again. As with everything else growing in the garden all is flamboyantly flourishing. We had a couple of nights of heavy rain and lots of days of hotness, tho it has degenerated into muggy haze today.
The postman was complaining, tho his knees were nicely browned in his Royal Mail shorts. I have put the little fences down the front path again so the dew/rain doesn't dampen his enthusiasm for delivering bills.
I still expect letters, but apart from the occasional postcard there is nothing. Obviously i don't write by snail mail to anyone, but somehow I expect letters to still appear.

This deckchair by Jane is the highlight of our textile show, it sold as well for £190 which really was too little.
I am off to steward for the closing day tomorrow, always a test of patience. I am doing a bit of crazy patchwork as therapy so i guess I should take that with me to shut me up.

I liked this applique by Pat, so I have started one of white daisies but I don't know if my design is bold enough.
This is a felted version by someone else that I forget, tomorrow I will have time to remember each piece and it's maker several times over.
My bleak thoughts seem to have blossomed a bit, maybe because I am busier. Yesterday I went to my new Stitching group [I am in 3 now!] and the gentle enthusiam did raise my spirits, we hope to have a small exhibition in December, some of them have not exhibited before so I hope we do sell some things.
Liz has the confidence to charge £400 for her smallish stitched tapestries.
She is small herself with 2 small children, but she used to be in engineering and has a refreshingly literal approach to many things. Quiet but determined.
Ruth's trees and buildings I found pleasing
Nearly everyone did plants but these triads found a way in.

Went to the Guild last night in a desperate effort to kick start some positive thoughts in my poor soggy mind - which is dragging itself from day to day with no idea how to find the light.

Perhaps it was a mistake to even think that knitted brooches would do the trick.

Lots of jolly women enjoying the creative process pushed me even deeper into gloom.

The knitted brooches proved to be beaded flowers and were ghastly. I tried using more interesting beads which destroyed any shape they may have had. At least i have learnt to thread beads onto wool and knit them into a row, that must be good.......

It is extremely windy today but inside my head there is no breeze whatsoever.

and did these feet......

Walked Hattie the dog down at Felixstowe and had a lovely fish and chip lunch at my favourite caf - new table cloths!


The sea breeze was more welcome than usual as the sun was so hot.
They seem to be busy off the coast, surely they are not drilling for oil?


This huge black tanker was also hanging around on the horizon looking menacing.

Mind you I am reading The Passage which renders almost everything menacing after a while, and stayed up late Friday night listening to the wireless waiting for the bloke to shoot himself, almost more surreal than the novel. Why on earth did they tazer him? Why on earth did I lie there listening........I suppose in mitigation that unlike attending a public execution I was thinking that the police would talk him down, but the line between fiction and reality does blur at times.
We understand most things thru the words we use to describe it and it becomes a narrative, but sometimes wordless feelings can question the plot.
Yesterday we walked the sea wall again, some fresh air thru the brain helps I find.
I wondered if the geese were thinking "well who ever is nesting over the river must be pretty big"
Hatty got quite tired in the heat and came in a poor third for once.
Today we have topped and tailed a zillion gooseberries and noted Felting Needles recipe for making goosegog wine.
The bad news is that there are still a few bags left in the bottom of the freezer from last year but some recipes advise freezing the gogs first for wine making, so 12 months immersion should be very effective.
This afternoon I had a phone call from a posh woman named Leonora to say she had put a deposit on my Adam and Eve at the exhibition, so that makes up for the other gallery turning down my "Tracey Emin" - a bit anyway.

not cricket

Wow, as the Glorious Grandson says.
Finally free, I delivered the stuff to my stitching group today and have just finished the Minutes of our meeting, prior to the exhibition, so free............no more niggling demands to do some stitching,
Really I have hardly done any since the GG and daughter arrived, which means that instead of being tetchy because my stitching isn't going right I am tetchy because I am sitting here in the evenings realising just what rubbish is on the gog if I am not distracted.
The world cup football has added to my troubles as i have not got anything left in the recorded section. While the footie is on all they are showing are repeats, mostly of things I hate. presumably they don't want to waste any gems while most people are looking the other way.
The sport all piled up last week, with the footie, cricket and tennis, Sunday it will all be over. I think i was rooting for the loser in almost every case, rotten judgement which is a bit worrying.
Generally i seem to be alternating between somnambulant lethargy [with a side helping of whining] and speeding round at midnight chasing spiders with the vacuum cleaner. They don't seem interested in catching flies, just eating each other.
This afternoon i suddenly started cleaning windows, this is very unusual behaviour.Hattie is looking concerned.

keeping score

It is stupidly/seriously hot in this corner of the county and has been for days. Cups of tea are not the answer, but necessary.
The plants too are thirsty so have to spend ages dangling a hose or hefting watering cans.
At first it is peaceful listening to the evening bird song, but soon I gets sweaty and fractious. I start looking for mischief, mostly the evil white male cat [un-neutered] that has been terrorising Agamemnon and possibly Hattie the dog.
A good hoseful may make him change his visiting habits to steal Aggers meal and run round the curtains when I try to remonstrate.
Hurray Ghana have just scored, I do hope they win, sadly Mr Murray did not win, but at least he played well. How any of them can run around in heat I fail to comprehend, but it is nice to see manly thighs glistening with sweat.
We have been invited to a local hustings next week for Ed Balls but I doubt we will go, too boring him - and us.
It seems Ed Milliband sends his love too, I wonder if Diana will sweep thru the barley anytime soon. The fields are marvellously golden,
and one field is even pale blue - I think that must be potatoes.
The sun was so relentless we had to devise a Hatty the dog walk as much under the trees as possible, so we came upon the Boats graveyard, not seen for a while. Presumably there is a serial killer abroad as there are several extra hulks.

"They" are extending The Hard so that the Thames barges can come in for repair. This is a bit of a turn around as not many years ago the local residents were complaining about the noise and insisting the dry dock be moved up stream. I guess people have moved on, or been persuaded or taken hostage, whatever.

Ghana have lost on penalties.