another invasion?

Apparently, so the story goes, the cottage was built after the Battle of Trafalgar, 1805 as we all recall, for the widows of the slain. As there are only five in the terrace I would guess it was limited to officers wives with no private income.

I guess their families turned to fishing as a quieter way of life and the strange tall net drying huts were built down on the shore.
The Art Gallery is to be built next to the huts so they all sport signs stubbornly saying NO TO THE GALLERY, totally ignored by the workmen constructing avidly beneath them.

The fishing boats still sail in on the high tide straight up onto the shingle where tractors pull them up onto the beach out of the water.
Hopefully the shoals of intelligentsia expected next year will still enjoy fish and chips and jellied eels.

We spend a lot of each day pottering on the cliff tops, there are at least half a dozen magpies nesting, rooks [or are they crows] and crowds of very raucous seagulls. The gorse is a gorgeous buttery yellow, the bluebells are still there hiding under the trees, as everything is late here too.

Hattie the dog ignores it all and scurries back and forth tail wagging and hoovering up rabbit poo - her favourite delicacy.
Happily east and west cliff each have a funicular / lift thingy for when the steps down to the cottages seem too many.
They were out of commission for a year, but are now renovated and smoothly slide up and down like vertical ski lifts if you see what I mean, they don't make any horizontal progress. Slowly the place is being gentrified, public buildings gtting a face lift, junk shops are getting rid of their junk and importing tat, maybe the fishermen are right.

hail to the chief

If I ever win the Lottery [which will be difficult, as I wouldn't lower my dignity or common sense to buy a ticket - but the Retired Person is locked in, as he chose fixed numbers, so he can't stop]........I would force Dick the Wig to sell us this cottage and then we could come down to stay every few months........that's after I had spent my weekends in my London riverside flat of course

So far it has been great here, long walks, good food, even some sunshine.
Too many of the junk shops have been arty fartyfied however.
Today has been a bit different, this afternoon it hailed - ricocheting remorselessly off the couple next door who were trying to break down their front door.
They had locked themselves out. Being older, responsible citizens every door and window was securely locked against them. [NB Always expect the unexpected or leave spare keys with a neighbour!]
Meanwhile Pinky and Perky have been madly coalitioning, doling out jobs to the boys except the poison chalice of Home Secretary to Theresa the shoe shine queen. Hopefully they will play nicely.
I see the even more weird of the Milliband brothers has stepped forward to offer to lead us all to glory once Pinky and Perky have absorbed all the venom generated by the inevitable cuts. Poor Gordon is probably much better off spending more time with his family.

politicking

Back again, for the seventh holiday in this fisherman's cottage, fortunately he is no longer needs it.
They are building an Art gallery down by the shore, the locals are furious as it will be on top of their coach park - who will buy the fish and chips and ride on the carousel? The Worthies obviously have a different clientele in mind.
We are here for two weeks and already I can feel my shoulders relaxing - sunshine, doggie walks and lovely food - remarkable that we are still in England, if only clinging to a Southern edge.
The cottage has been equipped with a new TV and digi-box thing so we have been able to keep up with the political machinations, it all seems so craven, crawling up to Cleggie offering him goodies if only he will play nice.
How can the Tories just fold and reverse their statement that they do not believe in Proportional Representation?
I think the Lib Dems are mad if they hitch up to either, the Tories should just go with their minority government and see what comes...............but there again what do i know, I am on holiday.

hanging chads?

Jelly babies were my only friends last night as the election went from bad to Tory, apart from Hattie the dog and the Agamemnon the cat of course.
It was all very strange, seats slipping and sliding and ending up in quite unexpected places. Thankfully, IMO Labour were not wiped out as the Tories were 13 years ago. I guess they are still hamstrung by that defeat as they couldn't win outright this time even in the face of the country's finacial implosion.
But what on earth happened to the LibDems, after all that enthusiasm and excitement they actually lost seats.
Weird - was it an MI5 black op?
And queues at Polling stations! voters so keen they waited for hours and then couldn't even be let in to vote. Amazing.
Here in the village we strolled in after walkies with Hatters, the only punters in the hall. I toyed with the idea of a tactical vote but Dim Yeo had a 6600 majority last time, so no hope of putting the skids under him. The stub of pencil scratched in a big thick cross for this young woman I knew nothing about and somewhere a socialist fairy smiled.
The BNP and UKIP seem to have been struck down in various ways. I went to school in Barking so I am pleased they no longer have 12 BNP councillors, not that Margaret Hodge is anything to relish.
What ever will happen next? Young Nick is crushed then is raised again pampered and flattered by that awful balloon faced, mean mouthed Tory, tho I can't really revile his nasty little opening without agreeing that Gordon smiling should probably not ever be done in front of the children.
All so weird. Fortunately we are off on hols tomorrow, so by the time we get back life may have returned to something resembling normal.

when a tree falls

Very windy here the last few days. One of the poor dead elms above the Lane could stand it no longer and started wavering in a very sad manner.
RP was delighted/disgusted that he could get out the chain saw thingy and hack away again - but on the whole he'd rather not, at the same time.
I quickly realised I was merely lumberjack's mate offering only timely advice, as ever.
For an impulsive person with no mathematical or spatial relationship expertise I do seem to have some talent in logistics...........kids and teaching will refine that talent i suppose.
It was a very tall tree.
Someone once told us that the elm beetle doesn't attack until the trees reach a certain height, if that is true they fly high.
I gazed with some trepidation up the ivy clad trunk and tried to measure how far it would fall from the neighbours garage below.
Fortunately the ivy actually helped as it netted the tree to the others [ashes I think] so once he had chopped sections off we could haul it down from the vertical to the lengthening horizontal, and then dismember it.
Two nearby dead elms reviewed our performance and decided to remain firm for now.

rooting around

It was first of May again and the nearby village lays out its Plant Fair to gather shekels for their church. Lots of healthy little seedlings at very reasonable prices

Usually they claim to open at 10 a.m. but the locals/locusts always turn up early and queue aggressively until they break down the resolve of the organisers and are let in.

Those from further afield who turn up on time then grumble that the tables are no longer groaning with a pick of vegetation.
So this time it opened at 9a.m. this seemed to have some effect as my ma dipped out saying she couldn't be civil at that time and gave me a list.
However on our arrival at 8.5o the queue was already champing and we were let in 5 mins later. A queue of elderly obsessives is not one to gainsay.
Price of entry is steady emotional blackmail to buy several raffle tickets.


This is the resident expert and her heavy books to answer all queries. I know so little I don't even know what i should ask.
The plant trays have names and little pictures taped to the front with a hint or two as to size - that's far enough for me.
We bought some geraniums and petunias and clematis as far as i remember, one goes a little buy crazy. They are outside now still in their little pots, presumably gazing round and wondering if this is a good spot to have landed. It is raining heavily, and then not, and then heavily again - after weeks of drought; at the same time helpfully softening the soil and swishing out the pots, so all would seem promising for them to set root when it stops.

Democratic vote

Different group, same obsession.
We are a newly formed group still searching for a name. Some suggestions are somewhat risque.......HOOKERS = Happy Circle Of Key Eastern Region Stitchers.........another more wholesome suggestion FIESTA = Friends In Every Sort Of Textile Art.
Guess we will put it to the vote at our next monthly get together

We are meeting in this drear village hall, so any aesthetic excitement will have to be generated by our work.
We are pledged to raise an exhibition in six months time, preferably not at this venue.
We also discussed the theme for another exhibition arranged for 2011. It is to be titled Concept and Meaning, it will take us that long to sort out what the heck it means.
Suggestions welcome.


At home the magnolia is finally out
At last, too many blossoms to count.

additions and deductions

Me and us took a short trip today to visit another group's textile exhibition.

I liked this small piece best, it had depth and the skills in building up the little bits of fabric and stitch produced a pleasing result.

These large and blousey sails were very kitsch and didn't meet with instant approval. The maker wanted them taken to her Spanish villa but they were a bit big to transport, they would probably look more at home in the Spanish sunshine than in the dusty museum where they now hang, even tho the walls are bravely newly white washed
While I was out artisans had taken down a spare chimney before it fell down
Please view in reverse



And RP and son had bonded in a manly way by chain sawing down the poor old apple tree that didn't make it thru the winter.

garden

Suffolk seens

Little egret/
white heron?


Big fat sticky buds

fluffy lambs tails

Blackthorn?

My dream would be to still live in London as well as here.

London seens

Took a snap of the London bus just to remind me of years passed, spent queuing,or more likely cursing and missing them.


Hungerford bridge has always been in the centre of my mind map of London, if I can get there I can usually then strike out and find somewhere else.
It has been refurbished and smartened recently, but it doesn't take long for the city to start imposing on the clean white lines.
This umbrella has been trapped on the spikes for months now, reminding one not to float off the familiar track in any big city

The balloon could be one's youthful dreams of flying high, fortunately it becomes tethered - or who knows what could happen.

rich stitch

Popped up to London to see the Quilt Exhibition yesterday at the V&A. Pop was a bit extended as our train got stuck behind a long, long freight train that was going slow.
Lots of people and kidlets around as it is still the Easter holidays. Fortunately as we all marched down the tunnel from the tube station to the sunshine most peeled off like an excited army of chirruping chickens to the Natural History museum. Haven't been since mine were small,and I hear lots has happened, but will wait to re-acquaint with the dinosaurs at a less seasonal time.

The show was excellent, well set out, each quilt in its own space, well lit and impressive. It was all so richly colourful; I felt the museum was granting the makers total respect, equal to all the other pieces in all the other galleries of art and crafts. Stitchers aren't usually allowed the same gravitas as sculpture or ceramics.


Most of the older quilts were embellished with stitching and applique and obviously took ages to complete, revelling in the sheer joy of making, and then making some more.

Quilts by men, often soldiers were very structured - often made from cut up uniforms. Tailors also made historical didactic quilts, carefully planned as masterpieces to show at big exhibitions.

The women's quilts were more domestic, meant for use but from fine silks or velvets and expensive scraps of printed textiles they were still intended to impress.
The contemporary quilts were often much more spare and cerebral, dyed and designed to impress in a different way, often quietly including opinions and attitudes that would not be discussed in general society.

The whole cloth quilts, painstakingly quilted by well trained apprentices were meant to provide an income, so competed to display the skills and twirls of the handstitcher, working in a group, flawlessly completed, the only spontaneity being the chat between the stichers as they worked long hours together.

One quilt that combined the two, individuality and total control was by a colleague, Sara, who uses text. She took some lines from a love letter found after her mother had died and created a poem, each letter trapped in a grid of machine stitching. very much appreciated by the women at the exhibition. The few men tended to sit on the benches and wait.

This quilt explored abortion and was hung at the back of the space allowed, out of reach, as was our Tracey's, bed covers of a young girl reflecting her fears about sex. I so wanted to get nearer to read the text.
This difficulty affected many of the ladies peering at the perfect/imperfect stitching and concepts. The warning siren sounded repeatedly as the line was over stepped by extended pointing and then all went quiet except an embarrassed titter as we were repelled back into our proper place.

This link hopefully will give you an idea of the riches.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/entertainment/arts_and_culture/8578091.stm

a sunny view

It is a lot colder in my room than it is outside in the sunshine. Fortunately I can resist the siren calls of the RP to go and help with the weeding and instead de-camp to the conservatory [wish there was a less pompous name] and join the amaryllis soaking up the sun.

Stimulated by these clever plants that don't need BetaBlockers to get on with their productions I am stitching on my bit for the next big show.
The theme is Deeply Rooted and I am exploring Original Sin. It was going to be much more political and biting till I saw this medieval painting

The simplicity and gentleness inspired me and so far I have produced this


The embellisher, which I had forsworn, [more like sworn] because I/it kept breaking needles flowed like a dream, when I quit trying to force it thru thick felt, and the rust stained dyed material seems to have set a good gentle colour range. The snake is begging to be a force............no surprise there
The female family tree art farty cushions are progressing, tho I keep losing confidence as they are undoubtedly odd. The goddesses are gossiping away in an increasingly bejewelled fashion so I am happy in my work, except when I fall into a little wimpy heap thinking I should just do a huge quilt which could keep me occupied without so much angst for the rest of my life, or till arthritis takes over.
However going to the V&A tomorrow to see the Quilt exhibition - 18th century to our Tracey, so might return with more respect.

oodles of tomato ketchup

Just returned from watching the above.
Absolutely excellent, but only if you are adolescent or of restricted emotional growth like me.
If you can't laugh when baddies explode in the microwave or worse when 11 year old girl gets punched hard in the face, twice, by another baddie, then don't go.
But if you can enter the comic book laugh and cheer, it is really excellent, I left with a smile on my face, good conquers bad, the underdog fights back and wins [with big guns] - always a good story line.

raise high the roof beam carpenter

Got off my couch [largely metaphorical] to visit a friend's new kitchen last week. They have a thatched pink house deep in the countryside, but decided to make the kitchen more airy fairy.
Builders for months, a side room with a "dirty" sink for her dyes, pluses and minuses.
Now they are open to the roof beams high high above and have underfloor heating to compensate.
Draw back here is that the cat brings in half eaten dead things and leaves them as gifts over night, the heating kicks in and by the time friend groggily descends in the morning the offering is "cooked" onto the tiles.
She likes colour and has had each tall triangle topped wall [whatever it is called] painted the brightest fuchsia pink, if you have migraine you can compare the colour exactly to the pink tablets one takes at the beginning, an exact match.
Unfortunately as I was still taking the tablets I forgot to take any pics.
Likewise next day a visit to a new stitching group, whose member bought a derelict sixteenth century manor house 18 months ago.
I encouraged her to host us so I could have a look, and a real eyeful it is. The builders, still in situ have stripped everything back to the cabalistic wall painting and beams.
The first floor had fallen in so they crafted wide new floor boards and hand waxed them. I cannot begin to describe how gobsmacked I was. Too much to remember to take pics.
Her daughter and pals were up in the attics smoking and playing pool. Made me want to slap them. [i did have a headache]
I have tried googling lady of the manor and the house name but no hits for pics so have to inveigle another visit however unworthy I feel as my eyes are dazzled by so much beauty and money.

Elizabeth, Florence & moi

I have more in common with Elizabeth Barrett Browning than lots of hair it seems.
Florence has things more under control as one would expect, but I follow in their foot steps in "taking to my couch" thus I am not shopping at Sainsbury's.

The Retired Person has bravely taken on the daunting task of equipping us to withstand bank Holidays and Easter celebrations [there is even a FunFair in the next village - unfortunately it is pouring with rain, what a surprise] and I am free to languish and express myself.
This is a good and well tried wheeze which ladies have adopted to avoid getting pulled down into the minutiae of endlessly organising life for everyone else.

RP resolutely "keeps going" whatever his temperature/colly wobbles, it only once took a leg broken in two places for him to finally take to his bed sucking pain killers. Man flu is not in his repertoire.

Of course when one has young people in ones care one has to struggle on, and one is encouraged to do so.............but threse days I find if one decidedly takes to one's couch one is allowed to read, stitch and watch TV undisturbed. One can even complain that one is being left alone with one's pain too long and acquire company, till a nice little nap achieves peace once more.
I did have to suffer for my art however. the post virus migraine was so long and extended I had to be ferried to docs who prescribed morphine, so that was impressive.
And I shall make the most of it!