sick note

Two poor old girls

It has been a long, hard winter and the blessed anniversary of the long awaited, but somehow still surprising, wedding was a good excuse to get away to an hotel and indulge in big beds and cordon bleu.
Unhappily an evil virus came too, which at least meant I got to make full use of room service and the wide screen gog.
Back muscles are still uptight so I am not in the sunniest of moods, fortunately it is still sunny back here at home, the daffodils are waving energetically on the bank and the Mothers Day flowers delivered on March 14th are still in petal.

This is weird, what do they do to flowers these days. I was all for throwing them away before we left, but RP could not bear to see his triumph so disrespected. When we got back, I crawled in to find them looking more robust than I.
The theme of the anniversary this year was "furniture" google claimed, not at all traditional and not one that can be spontaneous really. We could do with a new couch, as it now obviously belongs to Hattie the Dog but that will have to wait as a diversion on a sadder day.

This is not "furniture" just one of the fishermans huts which we witness slowly disintegrating as the years pass, unlike the flowers........
The quay has recently been spraunced up and dredged so the fishermens' boats are in better fettle. Mostly muscles and lobsters are hunted - however tho I have no idea if that is an erroneous assumption, what are those nets for, they look fairly meaningful, especially if you are a fish.

It wasn't the best break we have had really, as the car broke down on the drive up the coast. Some seal, I think the Paul Whitehouse character said, cheerfully, as he loaded us, and car onto his truck.
Whatever had become unsealed meant the clutch didn't, so we were stuck on this roundabout, half way. As confirmed hedonists we decided onwards was the only direction so PW contacted the Rescue and they made us pay another £70+ before he was allowed to ferry us to hotel.
Fortunately the one garage in the village or in a 20 mile radius did repairs and by the time I could maintain the vertical had us ready to roll home.

a bit medical

Have been knocked off my perch by some form of dreaded Virus.
Today I am dressed for the first time, so maybe tomorrow I will be coherent.
During the many sweaty times of temperature peaks Visions occurred of how to move forward with some of the stalled stitching projects so maybe it will have been worth it, if I can just remember what they were and recover the euphoria of the experience...........

Things seen in trees

The pungent piles of manure [horse and possibly pig] had been distributed over the fields by the muck spreader just before we promenaded by with Hattie the dog. She was delirious with the richness and variety of aroma, we were less impressed.
For a moment there tho we thought that the birds had started nesting. I have clocked the odd blackbird pecking up wisps of dried grass instead of seeds from the feeder lately. However on closer sniff it became obvious that the muck spreader had been flinging its beneficence at the bushes too.
Further along gleamed the evidence of a broken windscreen
Rather attractive


as opposed to this weird conglomeration
which seems to be the fused remains of a pheasant and a rabbit, the back story might make a rather darker chapter then Alice would wish to see.
The final contribution is this rather substantial rock, did it do in the windscreen or the wild life.

I have just finished reading several crime stories on the trot, so my appetite for death and destruction is probably over stimulated. Cormac mcCarthy's No country for old men was excellent, but hardly a barrel of laughs, I daren't even start The Road. Arnaldur Indridason's Voices was engrossing also. I learnt Icelanders eat strange things for Xmas dinner - boiled smoked lamb.....
Now I am reading MRHall The Disappeared, it's that terrorist theme again, even crime writers are in the zeitgiest, or do they just take plots from the news reports does death and destruction follow fashions, am I Carrie Bradshaw....... I note from the Sundays that Jo Nesbo. Sara Paretsky, and Ann Cleve all have new murderers to pursue, I shall have to take up Austin again for some respite.

fantasy figures

Working on the Gossiping Goddesses hardly seems like work, it is straight forward getting on with it. None, or very little, of the angst trying to get a piece designed for the Deeply Rooted exhibition. In fact the only angst is that it is so relaxed that it must be worthless and I am just making exotic Barbies.........
but I am enjoying them, except when I have to be tidy in my stitching.
I have been very careless as to size, but fortunately there are two short arses and two Amazons, so they can chat in pairs. Venus is to have a shell to surf in on and some seaweed as decoration to embellish her nakedness.

Went to see Alice in Underland in 3D last week, daughter and loud friend adored the Cheshire cat, whom I thought was very ordinary so I guess it is always in the imagination of the beholder.
We all lusted over Mr Depp so at least we could agree on something.

scarf

As requested - one curly scarf.
I got Repetitive Strain whatsit in my upper right arm because I was so determined to finish it in 2 evenings.
But it was thick wool and a big fat crochet hook so it grew quickly. This was 4 rows I think,- a one chain row to start. Then 2 or was it 3 rows of doubles and then a final flourish of a row of trebles.

PS I have just checked back in the blog and the first daff was out on 19th February last year. Same daff this year is just about to unfurl - they are all still stubby and mostly not even in bud yet. Obviously they needed scarves some time back

food for thought

It has been a sunny few days, but the wind is still blowing from the NE, so even the horses have balaclavas. Wish I had one.
I crocheted one of those curly scarves where you increase the stitches each row so it twists round and round, so it is thick in velour wool, but there is still my face hanging out getting cold.

Only Hatty the dog and the birds cannot appreciate the drawbacks of having to walk the fields and rivers when the wind is blowing straight off the Urals.
RP has decided to expand his repertoire of warm and nourishing meals so being a man he had to go out and buy new expensive tools.
This was an Hungarian recipe of pork and rice, which was quite nice, but until it is perfected I suggest tumeric will do rather than saffron.............but maybe I should just shut up and be grateful

nests

Smashing sunny day to take Noisy Friend and the 2 dogs for a walk. It is still cold at night, so good excuse for coal fire remains, but we haven't had the radiators on today, so it must be getting warmer.
Neighbours donated their coal, as they have gone over to a woodburning stove for welcoming glow, so RP had to ripple his muscles and wheel barrow it over, which satisfied him mightily.
It is those funny bricklet things looking like little cakes of coal dust that burn down to very soft ash. No feeling of ancient wood at all.

We all went to visit the BirdTable Man and Woman. Their cottage is tiny and today rather brisk as they had not yet lit their roaring fire.
BTM was mucking out his outhouses and BTW was trying to fork up the creeping buttercup.

He makes his birdtables in this shed, the cottage is too small for an extra chip of wood. He says that usually he will work a complete week on each table, and enjoys designing new shapes.
We suggested that Noisy Friend should ask for a Big Ben table as her father was once an MP,the Foreign Secretary no less, it seemed too much to request the Houses of Parliament.

This is their little sunny arbour including the oven that was once in the cottage. There was talk of a BBQ later in the year which might be fun.

The empty phone box just across the lane probably explains why Mr and Mrs BirdTable have finally got a phone at the cottage.
The sun lit up the damp little church too.

be prepared

Change of routine today as I went with some of the sewing ladies, to the funeral of the ma of another.
The ma was 90, so not that sad an occasion, as we all have to go sometime, and she had managed to put it off for quite a long time. I would guess tho that it didn't seem that long to her when she looked back however.

Attractive old church, high and light inside - did think about taking a couple of pics but desisted.
Very high Anglican, the vicar would probably have thrown the incense at me, or drownded me in the holy water he was splashing on the coffin.
One of my colleagues is Lutheran and was quite agog at the goings on. This was her 5th funeral in five weeks however so she was hardened to the task by now.
The vicar was a sprightly old bloke with the traditional twinkle in his eye, even as he intoned the rituals he did refer to God as "him, her or whatever you will".
Us heathen were welcomed too, which instantly reduced me to snuffles at the generosity of inclusion.

One of the readings was from Paul to the Corinthians? - the one about the "greatest of these is love" which can also make one weep if one doesn't watch out. The hymns were robust and well known so enjoyable to sing.
The eulogy was less generous. The oldest daughter was still rather annoyed with her mother, feeling her ma had not been loving to her children, grandchildren and great grandchildren. So thus she wrote, saying she might have been praised to her mothers friends but never to her face
So NB to remember to tell ones off spring how much one loves them, often, or one will get a dusty send off.

I wore the black silk hat I made years ago for just such an occasion, and added peacock feathers, even tho they may be unlucky [evil eye], I felt a funeral was an appropriate luckless situation
.

cold comfort

Short feature film starring Glorious Grandson, Son, Son's Girlfriend, Daughter and Snow [and their best friend television].

I had an irate friend P on the phone this week as she had been inches deep in snow and unable to travel to the Big City and all we had here 15 miles away was rain.

I would have preferred the snow really as all we did was trundle into town, which at the moment is just about resisting the one in five shops will be shut syndrome [as in run out of money rather than early closing]
I bought me a heavy weather jacket, given that next year most of the shops will have disintegrated and there will be no petrol to reach them anyway - or something.

We have always regarded ourselves as pretty much the Golden Generation [this girl does like her Gs] as we have had the benefit of the NHS, Free Education, House prices going up and down at almost the right time, and Lord love a Duck we have even got a Pension.

We also expect to expire before the worst of the global warming takes effect.
However the next election [May i suppose]. will herald terrible cuts in public services and we will no longer be able to look forward to meals on wheels, continuing free bus travel, extra heating allowance, cheapo train tickets.

It will all be snatched back and we will have to live on memories.

bird man

Went to visit the birdtable man today, as a couple of friends Need to own one of his one offs.
He lives with his wife and dog in a tiny cottage, we found it by knowing the right area then looking for a garden with one of his tables on show.

He works in his shed down the garden, his wife does patchwork and knits.

They have just had the phone put on so people can phone them, so I can now arrange to take friends down there.
It was lovely to talk with people who also have this insane need to "make" things continuously.

long February weekend

Yesterdays walk in the sunshine, glory be praised, was in wellies thru icey mud.
The gorse is bravely in flower once more and lunatics were sailing, have you ever been on a yacht - it is freezing at the best of times.

Went to a Textile show on Friday, the Three Disgraces went too as a homing beacon on our Forum table to all stitchers with a rebellious frame of mind. Seemed to work, but maybe I wasn't there to witness the more critical responses to work that was so merrily bodged.
Not merry today, rain is p*ssing down, sky is overcast [as it would be to maintain a logical world view] and I have a headache.

Can't remember what this intense line of concentration was viewing, obviously some fascinating technique, most of the stall holders seemed to have sprouted eccentric headgear this year.
Re-upholstery seems to be a good practical craft to learn, also good for the hips it seemed as the demonstrators had the tightest leanest jeans on show.

gnomes in spring

Another cold wet day, with what was possibly a hoar frost this morning over the river and the fields, looked very mysterious and attractive but made us all wet.
Sue has put some Spring cheer up on her blog, these catkins will add to her her aconites and buds.
The primroses are coming thru but looking fairly weak and wobbly, but the snowdrops are thrusting in a very bold manner, encouraged no doubt by the resident gnomes. They are not all mine, next door abandoned them when they moved away and new neighbours binned them, which seemed unnecessarily tough. The frosts haven't harmed them unlike several pots which are cracked or losing chips.
The daffs are playing a waiting game, only one in bud, the rest still staying short stemmed and unobtrusive.

poo to everyone

Lots of cold wet rain. Mother has chosen today to go on a coach trip to Kings Lynn, I suspect she will wish she hadn't.
However i am sat at home whinging, so not much fun here either.
We walked Hattie the dog round the Long Fields, RP in his new hat and moi under a woolly hat tied tightly under my chin, and then with my hoodie over the top. {I noted that hoodies are not viewed with negativity or anxiety in the States, everyone there seems to wear one at one time or another, burkas in Reno would probably cause a flutter however].
My shoulders, as they do, got cold and wet as the rain tipped mercilessly down, alos the knees as the water puddles down off the jacket. Thick bed socks in my wellies saved the day tho.
There was a new notice, thanks to the Parish council, decorating Pages Wood requesting that poop scoopers do not throw their full bags into the spinney, as the plastic is not degradable and the scoopers will disappear before the bags do. Cheering thought.
Maybe we should choose one tree and decorate it with used bags to exhibit that we can be thoughtful ramblers.
Why aren't the bags degradable anyway. Surely eventually in landfill the contents will warm up and explode. Hopefully.
I am not in a good mood it seems.

snow again

Winter Summer house

Snow is still enough of a novelty to take notice, even celebrate - especially as I am designated stayer in today to await delivery of RP's new hat while he and Hattie the dog have a trudge.
They claimed they delivered it yesterday and we weren't in at the time, which was a lie, RP is ranting and may get up to the Court of Human Rights [to have a new hat] before he is satisfied.

I took this shot from the upstairs window today as horse and I are wearing matching colour jumpers, but you can't see mine as it is several layers down.
Daughter rang late last night to claim the GG is much recovered, and I could hear him chortling in the background so I think he may be on the mend.
Have been making figures for my new Group, Gossiping Goddesses.This may one day be Venus plus shell

This one is going to be Kali
I am also working on Hathor at the instruction of Hattie the Dog, as she is her namesake.