metaphorically speaking

We have escaped the village and travelled through time and space to ........another village. This cottage was once two workers cottages, now knocked into one for us non workers and a dog.

It is very warm and comfortable now, central heating plus wood burning stove - jammed with unburnt anthracite [what is that doing there?] and old fag packets among sooty logs. Most people have lost the ability to fire raise I suspect. I light ours nightly at home in the winter, but I rely on prepared "fire lighters" to initially get the kindling and coal blazing.

The stairs here are very steep, with hardly room for a foot to step, did they have smaller feet then? Were people really smaller 200 years ago, the number of times I have bashed my bonce on the bedroom door lintel certainly seems to bear out the theory. Surely tho they had lots of fresh veg and lamb, organic even.

The garden round the cottage is very small, cottages and houses built higgeldy piggeldy from the soft buttery Cotswold stone, I guess there wasn't too much time for gardening then, or keeping the odd Black Spot.

What did the workers do? Farm land all around, woollen mills in the area. No mill workers now anyway, most lucrative industry seems to be herding tourists and housing retired persons. Dry stone walls snake around into smaller and smaller mazes of tiny new houses and even tinier gardens. old walls demolished and old skills resurrected in rebuilding them.

The indigenous villagers are not to be pitied in the main, as it is they who are selling off their gardens to make room for yet another house.

We all need a home.

Maybe the indigenous are no longer here anyway, moved away to the cities when the mills fell silent, and the middle classes moved out of the cities and put central heating into the refurbished cottages .............and sold off the gardens so they could move to bigger houses.

This is one of the wells from which the villagers used to get their water until the 1930s. Now it is a Grade II listed "building" preserved in perpetuity for the delight of the tourists.

It will do as a metaphor.

layers

Went for a walk down by the river, buds are budding and the fungus is fungussing.


This tree stump is almost dressed throughout.


Close up the growths are so beautiful a detailed subtle design repeated and repeated in layers upon layers, a bit like sea shells, they are so amazing.

When we were learning to stitch "creatively" we are taught to layer up, pile up, embellish........lots of the well known stitching divas still do.
But I have this urge to simplify.

I guess I use the stitches instead of paint or pencil to make marks. I am more interested in the mark making than the stitch building, the textures and colours of threads are a feast but I seem to just want to snack.

















After the walk we all had lunch in the pub, views of cold brown mud as the tide was out. The pub is brown inside and out. They let dogs into the bar as long as they don't bring the mud in with them. They keep biscuits behind the bar for Hattie the dog, and she gets her "specials" -bits or beef from the sandwiches.


C. who works behind the bar went off to Australia but here he is back again.
Sometimes I think I will go mad if I stay in the village another day, it can seem to close in, day after day, it can be really testing dredging up the confidence to face myself and keep questioning whether what I do/am has any value.
When I was at work I sort of knew what I was about, I knew I was helping kids move forward with their lives; now I have to gird up my loins and move myself along. Not as far as Australia tho, actual travel can be refreshing but we are still there , wherever we go.

something old

A bit of a surprising day as the curator of the museum, me and my stitching pals visited, turned out to be the daughter of a bosom pal of mine from the sixties.
It felt like the usual linear narrative of time had suddenly made a hand break turn and looped back on myself.
She's the dark haired one on the left, sorry no need for explanation, she's the young one.
I guess it was a bigger surprise as my old mate lives in New Zealand, I knew her daughter was around but I never expected to just walk into a room and find her there.
I had to sit on myself for a while so I didn't just jump in her lap and yell Surprise, specially as she doesn't know me from Eve, after all she grew up on the other side of the world and I don't do longer haul than San Francisco.


Our friendly local curator had gathered together accessories thru the ages which largely meant in this case shoes, bags and hats. This neat Regency bootee was extremely attractive, and could have been worn by young Jane Austen, well possibly not literally as i don't know if she came to this neck of the woods, but I would happily have worn them if my feet had been quite a few sizes smaller.
Wish I could find some like it now, but with a tougher sole, these weren't meant for walking the doggy thru the muddy fields round here.
The late nineteenth century little baby boots are just cute, and now I am a g'ma I am helpless to resist.



There were lots of hand embroidered drawstring purses. The usual discussion about how "they" had more time as they didn't have many distractions then............not like me now, surrounded by the entrails of various bits of half completed projects, The Shield on the gog and the lap top in the appropriate position.
But i guess they didn't have washing machines, fridges, stoves with timers, cars, take aways, all to save time, but somehow we still don't have any more.
By the way, does anyone understand what the hell is going on in The Shield any more?

This tiny purse is seventeenth century, the 3 pansies make it seem very familiar, but it was used 400 years ago. Things survive, people don't that would be irritating if one thought about it too long.

I really liked this crazy Crazy Patchwork bag, the maker has gone potty scribbling stitches in patterns designs, pictures, looks like it would be fun to do in - spare time.

I found time to say hello to the curator, and when I got home I sent her some pics of her mum and me, when we were new.

toothless old crone

Went to a Patchwork Show. This Art Quilt appealed to me, I think Lowry would have approved.

This amusing triptych also caught my eye, encouraging us to drop everything and have a frolic.

I am not feeling too frolicsome tho as I have broken a tooth, and am now on antibiotics as apparently there is now also an infection, and eventually I shall have to have the whole caboosh out. Very depressing.

ladybirds

Ladybirds patrolling the rose bush amongst the Red Hot Pokers.

Health & Safety

L and I went to M to persuade the owner of the Gallery/cafe to hold our first SLAPPERS exhibition, fortunately she agreed, so we have to get to stitching our Big Women.

I don't think she will feel comfortable with anything too controversial so it is lucky it is just us girls paddling about in the shallows. She certainly doesn't approve of the name of our group. Not even ironically.

The Quay is still in uproar [in a very English way] about the horrible fence that has been inserted to save people from themselves. All that is lacking are signs saying - don't walk off the edge, the water is cold. ....................you might get wet.

As word play is so beloved of this island race, the rebellion neatly exploited the British habit of spelling sounds in wildly differing but satisfying ways which make us all so complacent when foreigners come around.

Being a quintessentially English understated protest animals [not real] were also roped in to support the cause. probably the real swan would approve as it is much more difficult to feed the birds [real] now.
Not attractive you will agree. All because Health and Safety said the owners may get sued if someone fell in [so far there is no record going back thru out recorded history of this ever happening, but maybe in pre -history, before notices or fences were invented something might have happened, of course there wouldn't have been the insurance cover then either.

This is where we will show out stuff come the new year. But a bit soon to worry about that. A drop more global warming and the whole thing goes to pot, as I notice the fence is not even waterproof.

the Assyrians et moi

I have done a bit of sploshing on the Arches, and I wanted to echo these Assyrian wall carvings [British Museum booty] to suggest the salt marshes and reeds. hmmmmmmmmmm

Also I am finishing this colourful portrait which started when I saw a Japanese bloke who was free machining faces, a long and often boring technique which seems to please the viewer as they can see it takes time and apparently skill, so they sold well. I should never have sold my own self portrait however, I wanted to show it off and put a silly price on it and someone bought it.

Then I was left with this last face and what to do; after a visit to Freda Kahlo I wanted to to be her [the way you do, without the back ache of course, and probably without Diego Rivera, tho I am sure he was very personable] so I started the winding lock stitch in place of her exotic leaves. Maybe I have done too much, maybe not enough.

Last week I gave my SLAPPERS stitching group a workshop on............getting in touch with their emotions and thus deeper into their work [pretentious, moi?] it went well and some tears were shed to prove it - which was OK in a small group who trust each other but I must have listened to myself a bit too as I threw caution to the winds [and priorities] and went full steam ahead with another Big Woman project this week. I sketched out some dancing figures, traced them and am now moving them around to get a gleeful feel.

Hopefully it will be fun stitching them, rather than the hassle most things become after a while, but then I get to that smooth zone where I know what I have to do and for a few weeks/days - then I am engaged and easier to live with.
Or maybe not, the Three Muses below I painted and stitched and then totally lost confidence about 18 mths ago. Since then they have been pinned on the wall shouting at me to finish the grass you arse- but I just look away and mumble I can't be bothered. However the photo looks OK so maybe they can ease into my hands soon, if I can fix that leg.
Today I am off with L to try and persuade a cafe owner we know that she would do well to put up our Big Women exhibition in January.
A deadline always helps.

enter the dragon

We had Spring weather yesterday, sun, sleet and rain in rapid succession, repeat.

We are running out of coal for the fire, and altho the house is probably warm enough most of the time I am going to have to go into rehab to be weaned off the cheerful flames dancing in the grate.

I tend to only own boots and sandals - I don't want to be dealing with that in between bit.

Daughter also had snow in Nevada again this week, after a bright warm spell, but it was obviously concentrated, serious snow with which someone [s] could create wonders.

live on the edge

Went down to the Ferry cafe again for lunch, lots and lots more cholesterol. {Eventually i will learn how to spell it] Even with my statin armour i didn't eat the batter, but I did have quite a lot of chips, tho I believe they are bad for arthritis, but sometimes you just have to live dangerously. I try to avoid all that family, something about enzymes, but I wish I didn't believe it, as it also thus forbids tomatoes, aubergines, chillies, and peppers.

It was a bright day again, sun glittering on the sea, so much so that you could hardly look at it.

Saw M there, looking like a Valkyrie striding the sea wall with Henry the Labrador. She reckons she has lost 2 stone thanks to her 3 hour rampages, marching from Felixstowe and back along the coast, she doesn't have the chips either, so that must help.

The little stall opposite sells fresh fish, locally caught, maybe not the sword fish. I don't much care for fish myself, but it is improved if they have just pulled it out of the water. Poor fish.

This is the little jetty that leads to the ferry to take passengers over to Bawdsey on the other side. So I guess this isn't really the sea, it is sea water but there are sand spits and stuff on this part of the coast, keeping the vast cargo ships far out on the horizon before they risk nosing into the docks. Lots of notices along the beach proclaiming it an ASBO area for speed boaters. Presumably they are usually going too fast to read them tho.

trip out

It is some years since I have been in a Mcdonalds. I was too early for the film, so decided to live dangerously. I instantly remembered that slight feeling of panic trying to choose which queue and what to order.........however now my kids are no longer pounding my ear drums so I was able to concentrate, breath and think at the same time.

I stuttered out my long forgotten mantra, veggie burger, fries and coke with an apology for my frantic stare, explaining i had not been on these premises for many years.

The lady took my order - and pity on me, told me to go and sit down and she would bring the food over on a tray!

Almost persuaded me to ask for a concession ticket in the movie house, but I am not going to admit my age to some flibberty gibbert - so well padded by cholesterol, and defended by my statins I sat in solitary state in the cinema and laughed and cried my way thru Slumdog Millionaire.

Brilliant, unexpectedly lived up to the hype for once. Always encouraging to see something well made. Torture scenes meant i had to close my eyes sometimes but otherwise a very good film IMO and so colourful.

death & despair

This was the end of our Tony Blair.

A few years ago the village had a competition to make scarecrows, to be placed on public view and judged as to artistic and maybe sarcastic merit.

Local lads expressed their enthusiasm by throwing many down the hill, after a night too long in the pub, so the communal spirit dried up and became rather prune faced.

We couldn't quite bear to eviscerate Tony, so he hung about for some years getting increasingly dilapidated and earning stinging epithets such as straw man, feet of clay, jerk etc.

Our Tony had a head then, but he lost it about the time we invaded Iraq and I realised I had been thoroughly hoodwinked and had likewise had to accept my jerkhood.

While Tony burned I was working on my new piece for summer exhibition.

We have to take a look at the area around the exhibition centre, an old Victorian Maltings and produce something relevant.

I decided to Do the arches

They are tall and elegant, which at the mo, my piece isn't. M gave me some lovely silks which I have juggled into position, but then I thought I would trap them behind a chiffon so i could set about stitching them to death.

Demise arrived earlier than I expected, unfortunately, as the lovely sheen has gone dull and all sorts of doggie hairs, fluffs and detritus have been stuck down as well.

Oh dear.

animal kingdom

Two males - masters of their territory.

Aggers doesn't seem to miss his sister, but he does make a big fuss of Hattie the dog whenever he gets the chance, washing her ears and face with big satisfied purrs.

Hattie puts up with it for a while, but then shakes off the attention and potters off to sit nearer the fire.

Aggers is not a nice cat, IMO, he ate a mouse last week and left only the tiny surprised little face on the mat to greet me in the morning, as I tottered down stairs.

garden of eden

The bird of paradise plant in the conservatory has produced it's 3rd flower, in a desperate attempt to prove it really is summer [which I guess it is in South Africa] here it is a cold and blustery day, tho admittedly it was sunny this morning.

This was my view of the garden in the summer, but I must admit to some artistic licence.
I have given over the gardening [weeding] to the Retired Person. He is digging away like a human Tonka truck I have to shut my eyes and wait till May when the next village has a Plant Fair, then i can buy some more plants to put in the bald spots.
I definitely won't complain at the mo as he is hacking manfully thru the couch grass and creeping buttercup with much energy and purpose.
When I lived in N London when the children were smallish there was a park a short walk away. It was called Paradise Park, which must have been some sarcy counsellors idea of a joke, as it was a horrible parched area - heaven only to paedophiles and junkies. The boys wisely played football in the side streets.
There was a city farm tho, further along, a community project with goats, pigs, a cow and donkeys, probably chickens and ducks. Daughter saw her first birth there as a kid emerged from a nanny goat, presumably she wished grandson had arrived with such ease.
Wow I have just googled it, things have moved on -See the magic of a caring government -

"Paradise Park Children’s Centre, a flagship new building in Islington has won the prestigious national award for ’Building for Sure Start’ at the annual Sure Start Partners in Excellence awards”. The £1.1 million building, which is nearing completion is a partnership between Sure Start Hillmarton and the Islington Play Association. The scheme was funded by provided by Sure Start, Neighbourhood Nurseries Initiative, London Development Agency, Islington Council and charitable donations.
A striking feature of the building is vertical green walls with plants growing from two sides of the building, supported by recycled rainwater. The green walls as well living brown roofs will increase the wildlife inhabiting the Park.
The building incorporates a community café linking the Centre with the park and the wider community. The children's centre is one component of a master plan for the regeneration of Paradise Park and Greenspace will be locating a park ranger in the building and looking after the green wall."

Wow again.

weather men

Chalk Head is a good friend of my son. When we were in San Francisco in December he rushed up in his loony way and announced he would be visiting us with his new wife, so Saturday there they were.

Americans doing the World Tour, I must admit we Europeans get a bit snide, until we go to the States then it all makes more sense,

We were lucky it was a lovely day, sunny and bright and after a couple of months trolling thru Europe in clouds and rain they thought we lived in Paradise, or at least a Disney Cartoon with fluffy sheep, moo cows, oyster catchers and even the odd cuckoo drilling in the woods.

The boat yards are messy, and they looked a bit confused.

Contrast between spending time and money in the States - so it shows, and aiming for the understated awe shucks approach here - where a definite effort is made to look as if one really hasn't made an effort.

CH had an emergency appendectomy soon after they arrived in Bangkok, so the first week of their honeymoon was spent with him in hospital attached to tubes and wifey sleeping in a chair.

Fortunately he had taken out super duper health insurance- for the first time- so had millionaire treatment.

They showed us lovely pics of the Eiffel Tower and Gaudi's cathedral, Amsterdam's canals [as an ex bicycle messenger he was particularly taken with plethora of latter trilling their bells] but every shot was dripping with rain.

I could feel their pain. Husband No 1 lived here for years but could never come to terms with the interminable cloud cover, specially when we lived in Carlisle on the NW coast.

Probably only the wetter, greyer area is Wales, oh no Ireland is wetter I imagine.

Husband No1 was a New Yorker, [lower east side] thus had a volubly expressed opinion on the subject of British weather, especially after a 6 pack or 2 and spinning Dylan for a few days.

Now I live on the English East coast and it is often bright, but when we stayed in Reno I had a yearning to move next to g'son and relax under the clear blue skies, maybe find a coffee shop to show my work..........but I couldn't afford the health insurance.

colour scheme

Us S.L.A.P.P.E.R.S. [Stitchers, Lacemakers And Patchworkers Practise Embroidery Regularly in Suffolk] arranged to drive to Cottenham [near Cambridge] to see their latest Textile show. It is on every year, - a couple of local groups exhibit but more exciting there are many many stalls, attended by encouraging people frantic to sell us threads and fabrics, so we look forward to it immensely.
Unhappily life has a habit of slapping your face just when you are smiling cheerfully, Isabel the tutor who taught most of us to take up a needle with menaces, found her husband dead, and the funeral was Friday.
L was nominated to represent us.
Then M's son who was appearing as Wishee Washee in pantomime and suddenly needed her to supervise the refreshments.
R's daughter decided to visit and could push the heavy furniture into new places for her........................ A offered to take me on Saturday, but I decided i just had to Do It! enough of interference from Fate, however weighty.



The colours were very therapeutic.




The only fat fly in the face cream was that I had a migraine and was in a very bad temper. I had already taken 2 magic pills on previous days and had only one left of the rest of my allowance for the rest of the month, so I staggered around growling clutching paracetamol and watching the clock until i could take another dose - and forced healing cash into willing hands.
I also bought some paper covered wire, quite thick so that it holds its own shape, from which to make more figures or even "vessels". We each have to make one for TAGS summer exhibition. It could be anything from a bowl to a pencil holder i suppose, I am thinking of a pregnant woman with a lid that lifts from her stomach, but what to put inside?
Then there was this Organza stuff that the printer, it is claimed won't eat and get indigestion. And some blue and purple dyed scrim, that was perhaps a mistake, but beautiful colours and cheapish.
And finally a pack of dyes and brief instructions. I have a book but I can't concentrate long enough to get to the end of the chapter.




This is some of what I carried home in triumph after a mediocre lunch at


Retired Person,who had filled the idle hours walking Hatters, disapproves of the beer, but any port in a storm, oasis in a desert, etc.
We drank a toast to Isabel in the hopes that the colour would return to her life in time.