Little Cottage Comforts

Making winter gifts: things to do with a fat quarter part 3

2012-01-31T18:00:00.004Z

January is on its last legs, thank goodness, and although the thought of February does not exactly fill me with untrammelled glee, I am beginning to be of the opinion that Emma and Mrs Thrifty are right, and Making Winter is the way to go.

What with the teeth falling out and the dodgy hand, not to mention the brown paper bag over my head to cover the only part of me visible above the endless layers of knitwear encompassing my rapidly inflating muffin top (or perhaps that should be muffin middle and bottom as well), I had begun to feel that the only Making that I was fit for this Winter was Making a Break for the Fireside.

A robin isn't just for Christmas (from Sew Sweet Violet)

However, I have been to see the nice lady with the computer program for retraining recalcitrant hands, and she encouraged me to try a little light needlework or knitting before I return to her cosy office and warm congratulations and patting on the back at my skill in playing computer games (sorry, Activities) that my children could have mastered before they were out of the cradle. (My left hand pinch grip might be pathetically weak, but oh I have such control of the movement - see, all that sitting by the fire and knitting and sewing might have overstrained things, but it has helped me to top marks in Control and a big happy gold star [I have always had Control Freak tendencies, so make that two stars].)

A winter gift

Having had severe needle withdrawal symptoms since overdosing on housework with consequent collateral damage to my pinch grip, I almost managed to skip back to the car (except that the hamster cheek kept bobbing up and down (mainly down) inside the large scarf and impeding my progress).

And so here is one I made earlier - a dinky, zippy bag known as a Ditty Bag (pattern from Keyka Lou), which I stitched up as a present for a very special person - and just the thing to make a small inroad into my embarrassingly large collection of fat quarters (which have been becoming even more embarrassingly guilt-inducing over the last few weeks as I pondered why I had a collection of fat quarters compendious enough to keep my family and friends in winter gifts for the next century when I couldn't sew a thing what with my dodgy hands and dodgy teeth to boot).

As ever, the lovely Keyka Lou pattern was easy-peasy, lemon-squeezy (very important when you are feeling small), and easily completed over the course of a quiet Sunday afternoon, listening to the radio, and getting distracted along the way. It comes in three sizes - I chose the large one as consuming the largest amount of fat quarter, but even so had enough left out of two fat quarters for little purses or wallets like the ones I made here and here.

The fabric was from the Annie's Farm Stand range (available from the Fat Quarter Shop), and I have a some handy little hints for you (as you know, I have a penchant for handy hints).

To speed up cutting-out time, if I have to cut multiples of a particular pattern piece I do a bit of folding and stacking - layer the two fat quarters together, and fold them over or concertina them if more than one piece of each colourway, and you can cut out all the pieces at once. (For these little bag and purse projects super-accuracy is not needed.) This also works well with interfacing.

It is well worth buying a teflon pressing sheet for interfacing - it saves glue on the iron and the ironing board, and tears at bedtime, and in my mind does justify the outlay.

And if you have so many fat quarters that you don't know what to do, weep not - you could make some pretty baskets like this (instructions here and no pattern required), or go into mass present production as I did here (and they were all a great success at Christmas time, I am pleased to tell you), or even another thrifty little present (those fat quarters are a historic cost, so you can feel very thrifty about using them up).

As to my hand, it is so cold here today that I am losing touch with my extremities - all is quite numb. I wonder if I could squeeze on another pair of gloves and some more socks. I have taken the paper bag off though, and am wearing just the one scarf . . .

PS My January has been singularly unproductive, but if you head over to Lily's Quilts, you can see what lovely things the busy bees over there have been making, as it is Fresh Sewing Day when everyone has to stand up and be counted. (She shifts uneasily on her seat and points to one solitary Ditty Bag).

An unfortunate encounter

2012-01-29T18:00:00.003Z

But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the first time that she has seen the cold light of dawn from an upstairs window for many weeks, and the cold light of dawn is one of her favourite phrases, betokening as it does all sorts of elopements, escapes and adventures.

She has had an adventure herself this week, having been marauded by a cheery dentist, who smiled and smiled but was yet a villain.

His gleaming white teeth were mouthing platitudes as he bent over the chair and as she opened her mouth to reply politely, wham! there was a needle embedded in her jaw, just a little scratch as it scraped the bone and made her teeth creak (he was actually holding it behind his back, would you believe, do they practise this on dental training programmes, the big smile, the pleasant conversation and the quick draw?).

And then what a sight she was (were people laughing and pointing in the street, she didn't dare look).

Would foundation be able to cover that big purple bruise? said Princess Bunchy. (Certainly, it would need stage make-up of a heavy duty sort.)

Your face has sort of dropped down on one side, said her dear sister, helpfully. You look like you have Bell's Palsy. (She tested her facial muscles by raising her eyebrow and essaying a tentative grimace. No, not a palsy or a stroke, one must be thankful for small mercies.)

It's all right, it's not a haematoma, said the dentist when she showed him that she really had turned into a hamster, in spite of what the receptionist had said on the phone. He smiled gleefully and said that perhaps she could wear a large scarf if she needed to go out.

A brown paper bag, more like, she muttered bitterly to herself, except then she would no doubt fall over and add to the effect so ably produced by the man with the sparkly teeth.

There was nothing for it but for her to retire to an armchair by the fire, eat copious quantities of very soft chocolate muffins broken up exceedingly small, and sulk (I think she will thus have a rotund midriff to match the hamster visage, and thus feel even more unable to meet her public face to face).

She would also like to thank all the lovely people who have sent kind emails and enquiries as to her wellbeing, and apologize profusely for her tardiness in replying, her only excuse being that January is the cruellest month and a period of hibernation proved to be the only solution.

February is almost as bad, but at least you don't have to get up in the dark quite so much.

Gifts from the past

2011-12-11T18:29:00.000Z

Travelling hopefully towards Christmas as the third Sunday in Advent arrives I feel the memories of Christmas past rising up to greet me, and this rolling out of the carpet of seasonal memories is one of those things that makes Christmas special, a time to take stock and think back and forward in both joy and sadness, as I once more pause to ponder with Floss.

Some of the memories are of things long since gone, and some are of the comforting continuities in life. And one of the continuities in our house is carpet farming - just as I think that those days are past, I find that carpet farming is once more underway and the riding school in business again - Princess Bunchy tells me that the riding school is an essential part of the celebrations for her, and that the mere sight of it makes her think of Christmas.

And the sight of my old riding school, so old that I couldn't possibly tell you how many years ago it entered my life, transports me back to the Christmas way back in history when this riding school was my special present - the Christmas when I was about five years old, one that stands out amongst many because it was one of those small tragedies of childhood that are never forgotten. This was the year that I woke up so very early and made a most tragically fatal mistake which cast a shadow over the whole day.

I awoke so early that all the family were still fast asleep, so early that it was long before the agreed time for waking my parents, and as I lay in bed in the dark I could see the mysterious lumpiness of the pillowcase overflowing with presents at the end of my bed, and the enticingly large parcel sitting alongside.

No one was stirring, the clock seemed to have stopped in its tracks, and I was consumed with desire to know what all those packages contained. And I could not contain myself but got out of bed, sat on the floor in the dim light, and started opening my presents one by one, all alone and solitary. I remember the riding stable, and the horses and riders, and fences and animals, but I don't remember one of those other presents - I opened every single one, with no one around to share my joy and excitement, and then a couple of hours later I had to sit and watch my sister open her own overflowing pillowcase of presents, very slowly it seemed, in the painful knowledge that I had burned my boats and jumped the gun, and completely taken the shine off the day.

From that year on, every Christmas eve I put my pillowcase out downstairs, safely out of temptation's way, and I resolved to open my presents as slowly as possible, so that never again would I have to sit and watch others open theirs, but they could sit and wait for me to finish my careful unwrapping. And I have kept to that resolution ever since.

So Princess Bunchy's orderly arrangements of horses and sheep, and tractors and fences, all open up a box of memories of my childhood, my children's childhood, a long line of years marching back into the past, with faces long departed smiling out at me as my mind travels backward in time.

I hope that you have some happy memories of Christmas past, and more to be made and stored in Christmas present and Christmas yet to come.

The weight of tradition

2011-12-05T16:00:00.003Z

I am running a little behind this week (It's only Monday, you say. But this is what is left over from last week, I respond, a touch plaintively.) and so I am still on the second Sunday in Advent, pausing with Floss, and only a day late (it's the thought that counts).

Festive vignette

Whether my thoughts will count, I am not sure, but I can feel that giant Tree of Tradition looming between me and the weak winter sun, and the weight of obligation swinging above my head.

Festivities

Tradition can be a bit of a millstone, but don't let it shackle you by the neck - cut loose and walk on (being careful to drop it behind you, rather than straight on to your toes). The only obligation you have to others is to smile and be pleasant, and say please and thank you nicely and sincerely - the rest is optional.

Weak at the thought

If the thought of cooking for the 23 people squeezed into your very small house fills you with horror and keeps you awake at night, then think up a new tradition which will enable you to be a beaming host/ess rather than a snarling one.

A season of silly hats

Perhaps someone with a bigger house and more plates is desperate to hold the party, but thinks they can't because everyone absolutely has to squeeze into Aunty Grumpy's bijou residence whether they like it or not? Perhaps you could do two manageably small parties, or alternate years? Or maybe dig a great big hole in the garden and go and hide in it (just remember to arrange the leaves carefully on top so that no one can see your retreat) . . .

A season of thrift and recycling

Then you can concentrate on the happy traditions, the ones that transport you back down the long line of Christmases past, only pausing at the ones that are smiling to greet you. So often these happy moments come down from the attic in battered cardboard boxes (smelling slightly of mouse).

A season of recycling memories

As you pull out the decorations, one by one, the memories come flooding forth, attached to those glitter-encrusted confections of polystyrene and cardboard that your children made in the days when their needs were simple and their vocabulary limited; the bird with the broken beak which is the sole relic of your childhood dreams; the box of carefully coordinated bells and bows marked 'Good taste 15 years ago', which now possess a disappointingly tawdry air.

Beware of the mistletoe

And then there are the words: Christmas is full of words - carols, and stories, and insincere thank you letters, and heated arguments over the right way to cook a turkey. And everything has been said and done and written so many times before, and so much better, that Christmas is a work of fiction from start to finish, an imaginary narrative of bonhomie and homecoming.

Dreaming of a white Christmas

I have my own special Christmas book full of poetry and prose, carols and songs, quotations and verses, and a warm glow of pictures of the past. It was a present to me twenty years ago and (unlike so many presents) I have continued to treasure it, and get it out again every December to wallow in the words of imaginary Christmases in story and history. There is no weight of tradition to burden one here - these Christmases are long gone, and so are those who people the pictures, smiling out of the pages, frozen in time and silently acquiescent in our dreams.

A new tradition in the making

But these stories also show that Christmas can be anything you want to make of it: happy or sad, remembered or forgotten, treasured or dreaded. The important thing is to write your own story, just how you want it, choose your own colours for the pictures, and remember that if it doesn't go quite how you wanted this time, it's like gardening - there's always next year waiting to give you a chance to do it differently.

A present from a friend far away

And if you want to bask in a warm glow of festive nostalgia, my special Christmas book, although out of print, is still available on Amazon here and here - starting price only a penny (which of course sets off a whole new train of nostalgia and reminiscence about geese and old men . . . .).

And here is one that I made earlier, accompanied by a steady gaze

An unsuspecting rustic and a couple of winners

2011-12-04T11:38:00.000Z

I told you that I would find an unsuspecting rustic to pick out the lucky winners of Amy's patterns, and luckily the Ploughboy bought three home for the weekend so I was able to buttonhole the nearest one as they attempted to leave the premises en masse.

I am rather good at this sort of thing

The Little Stranger tried to move in on the deal, but I feel that the attention has gone to her head rather, and she shows signs of living up to her Scottie heritage and thinking herself Top Dog, in spite of her nearness to the ground, so unsuspecting rustic it had to be.

A strategically placed chair soon put paid to any delusions of grandeur on the part of a Scottie dog with a stripy tail (no, it's not paint so I don't think she will be heading off to Crufts any time soon, unless she finds a bootleg source of Grecian 2000).

Was that you?

Such nice boys as these agricultural types are, he cooperated most charmingly and graciously, holding out the names for the camera, although I suspect that the smiling and bemused air veiled a most uncertain understanding of the significance of 'picking winners for my blog giveaway'.

The hands of an unsuspecting rustic

And so congratulations to Mary Jane's Tearoom (or Mary Jane's teapot, as Princess Bunchy so helpfully wrote down on a piece of paper in case anyone was mislaid or took wings in the breeze) who will soon be the proud possessor of a Ruched Happy Bag pattern . . .

An agricultural encounter

. . . congratulations to dear Frances, too, whose picture is a teacup, and thus continues the comforting theme of tea and cake from my previous post; a Hexiecase pattern is yours, my dear.

Tea and cakes all round

So if the lovely winners could please come forward to curtsey before the cheering crowd and simper fetchingly at the unsuspecting rustic, and then apprise me of their email addresses, I can forward these to the lovely Amy.

Commiserations to those who did not encounter the youthful hand of agriculture - however, I will be joining in the Sew Mama Sew Giveaway very shortly in a festive bonanza not to be missed, so pop back soon. And if you would like to buy yourself one of Amy's patterns to make a few last-minute pressies, they are available in her Etsy shop here.

Sew many reasons to be cheerful

2011-12-01T17:06:00.000Z

[If you were looking for the giveaway, you will find it here.]

No reason to be crabby

I am showing my age when I say that 'Reasons to be Cheerful' by Ian Dury is part of my cultural hinterland, but when I saw the confluence of two bloggy positive thinking initiatives, Planet Penny's Reasons to be Cheerful, and Lily's Quilts Fresh Sewing Day, I felt that it was a good idea to stir my stumps and come up with my own reasons to think positive.

First of all, thank you most kindly to all of you who have enquired about my hand. Yes, it is still there on the end of my arm, and it is still encased in rather revoltingly coloured plastic, which I have embellished with orange and white Sugru (if you would like some, too, they tell me there is a discount code until 19 December, which means you get your fourth pack free - just write YAYCHRISTMAS in the box). But I am quite reconciled to it all really, if a little frustrated when I try to put my coat on, and patience is a virtue, etc.

But I did of course manage to crack in a little bit of sewing before things went awry, and so when Princess Bunchy was working out her Christmas presents I was actually quite pleased to find that we had enough little purses (from the Keyka Lou Pleated Pouch pattern) . . .

. . . and wallets (from the Keyka Lou Basic Wallet pattern) to go round, including one for the £2 Secret Santa (I think whoever gets this gets a good deal!), and moreover, I have a couple left over for emergencies (you know, that feeling you get late on Christmas Eve when you are wrapping the presents and find that you have fewer presents than names on the list [which of course doesn't happen in well-regulated households]).

So in spite of a little hurdle along the way, my sewing for November is something to feel quite cheerful about (all thanks to the discipline of the Christmas Challenge, I am sure).

Quite astonishingly we still have lettuce in the garden, and a few flowers, too, and I can even feel cheerful about the rain, the more the better in fact, or it will be hosepipe bans all round next year.

So Reasons to be Cheerful, one stitchy, two horticultural, and three meteorological - what more could a body want? Apart from tea and cake, that is . . .

A happy/hexie giveaway

2011-11-29T18:00:00.002Z

As some of you might recall, my handmade Christmas looked like it was about to hit the buffers with a resounding crash when my hand decided to give up the ghost and go into retirement just as I was about to embark upon a mass manufacture of Ruched Happy Bags.

But luckily my friend Amy of During Quiet Time, whose pattern it is, chose that moment to line up some ruched bags of her own making neatly upon the shelves of her Etsy shop which quickly found their way into my shopping basket. These came winging their way over the oceans to arrive on my doormat and save me from much weeping and wailing and frothing at the mouth at my temporary incapacity.

Such beautiful bags they are, the recipients can't fail to be pleased with them, and I am most please also with the little Kokeshi Doll ornament which kept them company on their journey to Old Blighty. She is such a sweetie, and there are a whole bunch of her friends in Amy's shop if you fancy one yourself.

Now Amy, the kind soul that she is, has offered two of her patterns as prizes in a giveaway to you, dear readers, so that you may have your own handmade Christmas. One prize is a Ruched Happy Bag pattern (and to prove how easy it is to follow, here is my own version).

And the other prize is a Hexiecase pattern - here, in best Blue Peter tradition, is one I made earlier:

All you have to do is go to the During Quiet Time Etsy shop and come back and tell me which item in the shop you would put on your Christmas list (and also tell me if you have a preference as to which pattern you would like to win).

The giveaway is open to all, wherever you live, and I will find some unsuspecting rustic to pick the winner at the weekend - so that's a guarantee of howling gales and teeming rain, as is the tradition when I pick winners. For the weather today, I will refer you to the first paragraph of Jane Eyre.

Popping up all over the place

2011-11-28T18:00:00.000Z

I am quite taken with the concept of the pop-up shop (little one-off shops that pop up in obscure locations and exist for only a very short time). I went to two last weekend - both quite different but equally entrancing.

The first was Design Den in the Curve gallery in the Barbican foyer - modern, design-led, with an interesting range of products ranging from the supercool to the quirky - and the source of one or two interesting and unusual presents for me to tuck into the family Christmas stockings.

And the second pop-up shop couldn't have been more different: in a private rather than public space, and with a beautifully mellow and seasonally rustic feel.

This shop was hosted by my great friend Francine Raymond, of Country Living magazine fame: you may know her as the 'Chicken Lady', although her talents extend far wider than that epithet would imply. It was held in Francine's new house in Kent, which she has transformed in her inimitably stylish way since she moved from Suffolk earlier this year.

Princess Bunchy and I were quite overcome with the delights and ticked off a good few names on the old Christmas present list.

There was a wonderful array of original, reasonably-priced gifts - it is always good to find things that you have not seen anywhere else.

There were Francine's beautiful handmade wreaths and garlands, which were featured in the Sunday Telegraph on 27 November and are also going to be in a forthcoming issue of Farmers' Weekly. She also runs courses where you can learn how to make your own wreaths - information here.

Francine sells her distinctive books and cards through her website, Kitchen Garden Hens (there is a special offer on, as you will see). Princess Bunchy and I were rather taken with her new children's book, Three Little Hens (and we bought one of her other books, too, but we can't tell you which, as that is classified information).

And we also loved the painted wooden decorations from L'Atelier de Pascale - to be honest I could have bought every single one of them, they were so perfectly beautiful and stylish, but had to restrict myself to one as a present for someone very special. (If you fancy one of these for yourself, email pascalem [at] tiscali [dot] co [dot] uk for details.)

I always encounter this problem when I am shopping for Christmas presents - I can find a hundred and one things that I would love to find in my very own Christmas stocking, but you will be very glad to hear that I am quite strict with myself, and resolve to allow myself just one modest present (although often I don't even have the decency to wait until the big day to open it).

And I have already bought my present for myself, if I see anything else I like I will have to buy it for the Head Chef. Only last night I was discussing with friends the concept of the 'house present' for husbands . . . and with that 'handy hint' I will leave you.

Pausing for thought

2011-11-27T18:00:00.001Z

But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? Yes, it is the seasonal light show flashing on and off in a street near you. The countdown has truly begun, the days roll on apace, and time snaps at the heels of the unwary laggard.

What is that approaching over the horizon?

It is the first Sunday in Advent and Floss is encouraging us all to take a pause and ponder as we wait expectantly for Christmas.

Free decorations

I am well aware that my readers come from all around the world, and that many of you may not celebrate Christmas, through choice or custom. There are many paths to enlightenment and who am I to presume upon the efficacy of one over another? But the reality in this country is that Christmas has become more of a consumer festival than a religious one, with all the attendant stresses and strains associated with an impending deadline, impossible expectations and not inconsiderable financial outlay.

So while some wait in eager anticipation for the long wished for day, others watch its advent with a sense of impending dread. The last payday in November has arrived, and with it comes the shopping for presents and the draining of the bank account.

So perhaps it is time to think about what we can give for free. Given confidence by a lovely little present I received from dear Ang who spends her time Tracing Rainbows, I have in my pocket some pearls for my readers.

I have been lucky enough to be the recipient of a couple of gifts of wisdom over the course of my life, and in the spirit of giving I will hand them on to you.

The first is that a smile costs nothing at all, so of smiles you can give many, and such is human nature that you will receive an abundance in return.

And the second is that 'sorry' and 'thank you' are two of the most important words in the world - sometimes it seems that they cost a little more dear, but remember that your purse will remain unscathed.

And my further thought is: forget about the tit for tat, and the matching of gifts, which means that the wealthy receive most, and the poorest the least (and that goes for the poor in spirit, too). Give only what you can truly afford, but give it without thought of return, and with a generosity of spirit which can make small things precious.

And the most precious things of all are kindness and love: I know that love can be a bit of a tall order at this season of surfeit, especially when the surfeit is of relatives, but kindness is easy - just try it. It is quite possible to be kind to someone you don't like or don't know, and it will certainly make you feel better, and might even make them feel better too.

And then we come to that old saw - give and you will receive. The oldest ones are the best ones - give a teeny tiny bit of kindness, give a teeny tiny bit of joy, such a small amount that truly you will hardly know it is gone, and my oh my, you will be quite overwhelmed with the return, which will come scudding back to you some time, somehow, and in a way you cannot anticipate, but such are the mysterious ways of the universe that one day as you scan the horizon you will see a ship coming in carrying an enormous gift back for you.

And if you still feel stressed about Christmas, then try reading this. It certainly helped me to put things in perspective . . .

Have a crafty weekend

2011-11-25T19:09:00.000Z

First of all she says thank you, thank you most kindly, and curtsies awkwardly. Quite, quite touched, I am sure, and positively overwhelmed by all the kind thoughts.

And now she will set you some homework for the weekend.

Time to get crafting

This rather beautiful book, Christmas Crafting in No Time, by Clare Youngs, dropped through my door this week, courtesy of Cico Books, and in my incapacitated state I thought that I would only be able to look at the pictures and dream of next year.

But I was quite excited to find that there are quite a few projects in here to entertain me and Princess Bunchy over the coming weeks, even with a gammy hand.

Admittedly, I had to resist the urge to set to on some lovely sewing projects such as these little felt owls which would make sweet little presents, or folksy decorations for the Christmas tree (if you want to see some real life examples of the owl pattern in practice have a look at Andamento blog, where you will see some beautifully crafted versions in lots of different colours).

There is also a pattern to stitch some rather sweet owl fodder (not that one should call to mind nature red in tooth and claw when looking at such cuddly cuties).

Actually, I personally am going for the edible owl fodder - there is a recipe for sugar mice, which have been something of an obsession of mine since reading The Tale of the Kittie Poosies when I was a just a little scrap.

The Kittie Poosies have been a seminal influence on my life from the days when I marched my poor mother around every sweet shop in every place we visited in search of sugar mice, and Mama Pudditat's house has had a lasting influence on my decorative style - not to mention the feminist ideas encapsulated in this proleptic tale of a single mother becoming an entrepreneur in order to support her family with not a father Pudditat in sight. So we are definitely making sugar mice in order that I can surf towards Christmas on a wave of nostalgia.

I think Clare Youngs must have read the same books as I did, as she also includes a project related to the other deeply influential text with which I engaged most fully as a child - The Tale of the Gingerbread Man, and to this day the eerie howl of a fox at night, or even the glimpse of one running like the wind across the fields, engenders in me a visceral fear. My children always took the most eager and teasing pleasure in biting the heads and limbs off gingerbread men in front of me, as I felt the urge to run, run as fast as you can, for fear of being chased and eaten (I hope that there are no psychologists reading this - I can feel them nodding their heads in a most benignant manner). Luckily these little gingerbread people do not show a gender bias, there is not a fox in sight, and most important of all they are not edible.

Perhaps it is better to bring light into my darkness by making some pretty teacup candles, which are definitely within reach of the one-handed, and now that all the decluttering upheavals have tossed up my decoupage scissors in the tide of objets swilling from cupboard to cupboard (No dear mamma, I have not seen them, and if I did use them I put them away in the wrong place where no one will find them for a year and a day) Princess Bunchy can cut me out some white tree decorations to go with my tasteful new white-painted house.

So in sum, I am jolly pleased with this book, and can recommend it as a something for everyone type of craft book, with projects ranging from easy to skilled, and lots of potential for family participation, and holiday activities.

And thank you again for all your lovely comments and emails - I am truly grateful to you all. I am working my way through to reply to all the emails, but sadly I can't respond to the no-reply ones (this happens if you don't have your email in your Profile) as they come without a return address.

Have a very crafty weekend, don't let the preparations get you down, and if you are the Head Chef, I'd love a box of violet creams in my stocking, just click here.

Life's little ironies

2011-11-23T17:00:00.001Z

A sunny day and all seems calm - but lo, a cloud on yonder horizon . . .

Two women sit either side of a small, white table. The conversation is quietly rational.

So what have you been doing to your hand?
I was wringing out a dishcloth . . .
And how long ago was this?
A few weeks now. I was cleaning windows too. Quite energetically.
I can see that it is rather swollen. And the symptoms would indicate inflammation. You must rest it completely, wear a splint day and night, and then we can begin rehabilitation exercises when there is no pain at all at rest.
But I have to make my Christmas presents.
Not this year - maybe next. No knitting, no sewing, complete rest.
But I am a freelance - no sick pay, you know the sort of thing . . .
Essential computer work only, and wearing a splint at all times.

Of dishcloths be very wary, they are dangerous things

Sunday afternoon. At home. Our heroine paces the room. No knitting, no sewing. She casts about for something to do and growls at her keepers.

Three carrier bags later the contents of her wardrobe and drawers have been turned out. Princess Bunchy has heard a new word: What does dowdy mean? she says. It proves a useful word. Another handy phrase when decluttering: Is it meant to be that tight? She concentrates on the power of positive thinking and takes comfort in the fact that there is now storage space for new clothes. How exciting!

And if she can't make her own Christmas presents, she can buy handmade and support other lovely crafters.

The sewing cupboard must remain firmly shut

And as some of the recipients have been known to lurk on the borders of Blogland, she can tantalize them with pictures of packages with mysterious and beautiful contents.

Feeling festive

So here are two wonderfully enticing boxes from Emma at Silverpebble. I wonder what exquisiteness they contain and who will be the lucky recipients?

The lovely screenprinted fabric from Amy could, of course, be used to wrap presents, but she is not giving everything away and will bide her time because one day she will be able to sit in her newly completed, but sadly neglected, sewing room and stitch, stitch, stitch.

She will use tea towels for wrapping paper, though, and has them sitting all ready in her present basket (you will have to go here to look at them because they are Top Secret).

Little mirrors from Jenny Arnott

And look, there is another enticing little package from Thirtyfive Flowers (who are a new favourite shop on Etsy if anyone cares to buy her a present), together with the perfect little presents for a Young Person to give friends and teachers, which come from Jenny Arnott Textiles.

Word art from Mrs Eliot Books

She never realized until now that knitting was an addiction. I am in recovery, she says to herself, I will have more time for reading.

Motivational apparatus from Dottie Angel

She will be back in a day or two with a giveaway which is a cheering thought.

Small things and shivers

2011-11-17T17:00:00.002Z

There's nothing like a sunny day in November to lift the heart and after too many days of grey, grim, lowering skies, it seems particularly precious.

And the loveliness of the light impelled me to take out my camera to record a happy moment, a small, mundane moment to treasure for when the world turns grey again.

But what an unpredictable moment of bitter sweetness: Princess Bunchy is counting down to Christmas, and every time she tells me how many days to go, I feel a small shiver of unpreparedness grip my heart.

It is supposed to be a time of soup and mittens, and grubby root vegetables roasting slowly in the Aga - so how come I was eating salad for lunch in November?

Tomatoes and lettuce growing in the garden - a moment of joy at the sweet summer taste, and a small involuntary shiver at the uncomfortable thought that the seasons have gone awry . . .

Still, I think there are reasons enough to be cheerful . . . and I have found some more over here.

Things to do with fat quarters

2011-11-15T20:20:00.000Z

I have felt a little unsteady on the calendar front today, having woken up thinking that it was the weekend. It's not such a bad thing if one does that on a Friday, but a Tuesday . . . ?

Bunting from LittleTreeHouse on Etsy

But things looked up when the fog lifted and we actually had a couple of hours of sunshine, so I was able to take some exciting photos. Well, exciting for me, because they are of My Sewing Room - yes, you read aright, all our decorative upheavals have meant that the orange corridor next to the kitchen now has a name and a coat of paint (as does the Head Chef's coat, but we always have a paint accident when he takes to decorating, and there have been worse ones than this [it was the one I gave him for Christmas last year, but I have already told him that it is a waste of time giving him presents as he doesn't really like what I give him (except for this coat) and if he is going to get paint on his presents, well, then, it really is a waste of time, and I had only just said to Princess Bunchy, mind the wet paint, and he was the one who had actually applied the paint . . . ]).

My New Sewing Cupboard and paint accidents in waiting

So this morning I went into My Sewing Room, and pondered on what I could make from some fat quarters that would enable me to tick off another item in the Polka Dot Daze Christmas Challenge (yes, it is Tuesday, time for me to have to account for my week's progress, hence my presence in My Sewing Room [I am sorry, I am so excited about My Very Own Sewing Room that I am impelled to put it in writing]).

(For Christmas Challenge list, read Princess Bunchy's presents for friends list [I never had this trouble with the boys, you know, they never wanted to give presents to anyone], which grows by the day.)

Dear little Robins from SewSweetViolet on Etsy

I suddenly remembered the Basic Wallet pattern that I bought from Keyka Lou a little while ago (there is a sale on, by the way, and everything is reduced, if you are feeling the urge to be crafty), which, although it has rather a mundane name, makes a really pretty little purse - and what's more you can make them from the heaps of fat quarters in your stash. Isn't that thrifty?

Not so basic wallets

I also decided that it was time to step up the pace on the old making front, and go into mass production - well, three purses at a time.

Making nice things from fat quarters in a very methodical way

I was very methodical, and layered together three fat quarters to cut out three pieces of fabric at a time - the Basic Wallet pattern is very economical on fabric - you can cut out two of these purses from a fat quarter, with plenty left over (the Owl Coin Purse pattern is a good way of using up scrap fabric, and I think I am going to try that one next, as these would also make good presents.)

Oh so orderly

I was also able to use small pieces of interfacing left over from larger projects, so that was also very satisfyingly economical. I used Vilene Firm fusible interfacing on the main fabric, and Vilene S13, a thick non-fusible for the lining, and the combination produced a really nice structured purse - but you could use up any interfacing that you have spare as there is plenty of scope for flexibility. I think fusible fleece could also work well. (And a handy hint here - Teflon ironing cloths are wonderful for ironing on interfacing, and save an awful lot of mess on the iron or ironing board.)

Mass production - interfacing three pieces at once

This small-scale mass production was definitely a more efficient way of working - it does not take much more time to cut out three purses at once, and setting it all out in such an orderly fashion and doing each step for all three before moving on to the next made a lot of difference (I am sure you have all worked this one out years ago, but somehow I never got round to thinking it through).

More presents

Using small all-over prints saves time in terms of cutting, as I didn't have to think about placement as I did with the first purse I made (the pink one with the large roses), and it would have been even quicker if I hadn't had to change the thread to pink to topstitch the spotty one.

Pretty linings

So I can now sleep easy tonight, knowing that I have been able to show my face on the Christmas Challenge blog, and I hope that you have enjoyed the glimpses of My Very Own Sewing Room. I will show you more when it is all finished and all traces of paint have been removed from the Head Chef.

Cherishing the roses and winter gardening

2011-11-10T17:16:00.000Z

I must admit that I am not so much of a winter gardener - being a chilly mortal who sits inside at her desk swathed in cardis and shawls, with mitts on, and socks pulled up at the knees, you will understand that I find the nip in the air nips at my fingers and toes rather too much. In an ideal world I would retreat indoors in October, and venture out again in March as the green shoots are growing.

Reach out and touch the roses

But I did sneak out just before sunset today, as I felt I needed a small dose of fresh air, and to count my blessings in the face of some of life's difficulties.

November food

And I wasn't disappointed. It might be November in heart and soul, but we are still lucky enough to have spinach and carrots and broccoli and lettuce (yes, amazingly, lettuce!) all growing outside, a second flush of marigolds, and two precious November roses. As you can see, it is not a tidy garden, but the theory is that leaving plant debris and greenery will provide cover and food for wildlife.

Spot the green tomatoes

But my fairweather attitude to gardening is not the attitude to take when trying to live off the land - after all, we still need our greens in the cold months, and it can't all be stored in the freezer. And after the hectic harvest of summer, we now need to take the time to do necessary maintenance, and work on the structure of our green and growing space when the pace of life has slowed down.

Recycling in the garden - a mouse hotel

And when I say we, of course you understand that I mean the Head Chef, always ready to do the heavy work when I stand indoors and supervise through the windows, for after all, someone needs to keep the home fires burning, and if I wear enough clothes outside to keep me warm, then my movement is so restricted that I really can't be of much use on the hefting and heaving front.

And in terms of out of season hefting and heaving, I have been quite entertained by a couple of books I have come across from Timber Press, which are full of ideas and projects for me to add to the list of the Head Chef's things to do.

Garden Eco-Chic by Matthew Levesque is all about 'reusing found objects to create decks, paths, containers, lanterns and more', which certainly fits in with the permaculture principles we use in designing our growing space.

Be aware that this book is not for the faint-hearted or girlie amongst us - this is a book for chaps and chapesses willing to wield drills and saws, and get down and dirty on the constructive front.

I particularly like the ideas for creating different surfaces for paths and paved areas from a variety of found and recycled materials.

Levesque uses all sorts of interesting and unusual materials such as metals and plastics to make fencing, dividers, and more decorative items such as this mobile of copper offcuts.

However, with the price of scrap metal hitting record levels, I am not sure that now it will be quite so easy to find discarded copper and aluminium, and going by the levels of metal theft in our area, such things would be best confined to the back garden, out of the reach of passing scrap hunters.

The second book is rather uninspiringly entitled Concrete Garden Projects by Malin Nilsson and Camilla Arvidsson. However, it is a much prettier book than the title would imply, and has clear instructions as to how to make various containers, water features, and other garden structures using concrete, all very beautifully styled.

I was uncertain about the environmental implications of using concrete, but have found an article here which seems to be a thorough discussion of the issues. As will all things, there are pros and cons, and one has to consider whether one's use of the material is necessary, and also what the alternatives would be.

Am I mistaken, or is that a rather luxuriant crop of ground elder?

I had seen concrete stepping stones before, and do like the look of them, as well as the rows of concrete pots - the instructions are step by step with pictures, and such projects seem to me very feasible on a domestic scale, and the miniature ponds and water containers could be a very valuable addition to a garden in terms of helping wildlife. However, I am not quite so convinced of the rationale of making concrete 'cakes' using cake tins and jelly moulds and then decorating them with flowers!

On balance, I think these books are definitely useful for practical, hands-on types - there are lots of ideas for achievable garden structures and decorations, and they would make a really good present for the outdoorsy people in your life.

I, though, am retreating inside, heaping up the blankets, and looking forward to winter evenings sitting by the fire, knitting. I will see you outside when the days start lengthening . . .

Three little mades, and some noble thoughts

2011-11-09T16:00:00.000Z

Some of us in this world are blessed with tenacity, determination, and an iron will - those people who get on and succeed in getting things done regardless of the hurdles in front of them, or the chaos around them.

Unfortunately, I don't seem to be one of them, however much I aspire to such nobility of purpose. I need the spectre of Old Father Time scything at my heels, or Nurse Matilda wagging her finger in the corner, to counteract my slackness and love of displacement activities.

So I am pleased to say that the Polka Dot Daze Christmas Challenge seems to be offering me the right amount of swish and swipe to keep me on track for a relatively happy Christmas. My weekend disappeared in a maze of furniture moving and rearranging domestic artefacts, and one book project arrived hard on the heels of another - normally this would be excuse enough for Christmas crafting to back up merrily towards Christmas Eve.

But that jolly little email arrived in my inbox reminding me that Tuesday was progress day (I know, I'm late, but better a day late now than in December, and I really do have a Valid Excuse, ready stamped and dated, as I didn't finish until after the gloaming yesterday, and then it was really too gloomy to take pretty pictures). [By the way, if the parenthetical comment becomes longer than the initial sentence, is that a case for reversing the brackets? Hart's Rules is silent on this.]

So here are my three little mades, all in a row (that'll fool you, Mr Google, and no, I didn't mean maids), lined up ready to take their curtseys.

Once again I used Michelle's super-duper Pleated Pouches pattern, (the ones in yesterday's post were the Large size, these are Small (and there is also a Tall which I have not yet tried, but you never know)), and I have to say that I am rather pleased with the result, since they have received the Princess Bunchy Seal of Approval, which is not lightly bestowed. The fabrics are a selection from Annie's Farm Stand by Holly Holderman/Lakehouse Dry Goods, together with some buttons from my Grandma's button box.

And I am also happy to inform you that the passage of twenty-four hours meant all the difference to my relationship with my Ten O'Clock Scarf - we are now quite reconciled, because I took the momentous decision of throwing kilowatts to the wind and knitting with the lights on (low-energy, of course).

Or it may be because knitting with Skein Queen Plushness in Plumcious is an activity so pleasant that the result cannot help but be pleasing.

Thrift and November; or, I'd rather be making and creating

2011-11-07T19:58:00.000Z

How are things in your neck of the woods? Here it has been one of those grim, grey November days when the sky feels low enough to touch and the world sapped of light. I found myself much in need of the Making Winter cheer of Emma's lovely mosaics.

Dreaming of sunshine and sofa time

And contrary to Nancy's good advice, I have spent the day inside slaving over 103,000 words and trying to find somewhere in the house light enough to be able to read without turning the lights on. Like so many thrifty practices, there is a downside, and in this case my efforts at being thrifty have led to collateral damage in terms of aching eyes (not such a good idea) and a certain weariness of mien.

A happy place

I should also have remembered my previous attempts at knitting in the dark and not tried to be thrifty on the illumination front as last night this led to my ripping back my Ten O'Clock scarf twice over (and it is a very simple pattern, honestly), so that all I have to show for an evening's work is one small repeat (possibly thrifty, definitely stressful).

So what on earth am I going to show and tell in my Christmas Challenge weekly progress report? Oh dear . . . One week in and I am already falling behind. Not a good start.

Unbirthday presents

Rather than revving up for the smooth run to Christmas I have been sidetracked by a sudden influx of remunerative work, which of course is a Good Thing, but the trouble with paid work I find is that it eats into knitting and stitching time something rotten, which is quite a dreadful thing to say, but as part of the decluttering involved in redecorating, I have had to give up the dark and gloomy yarn cupboard in the corner of the sitting room, and now my yarn stash is awaiting a new home. Which means it is sitting on the bed behind my desk smiling and calling to me as I sit at the computer ostensibly working and trying not to roam the corridors of Ravelry looking for free patterns (thrifty? Hmm . . .).

I made them all by myself

And there have been unbirthday presents (not to mention birthday presents). I have a habit of being so pleased with myself when I make something presentable that I cast around for someone to give it to, so my two Pleated Pouches (the pattern is from here) rather than remaining in stock for jolly old Yuletide have found their way to new homes, the flowery one as a thank you for being a friend to Princess Bunchy, and the spotty one as a thank you for my dear Mamma.

Fun with velcro

But all is not lost - I have finished one book today, and with luck the next one won't arrive until the next day, and maybe even the sun will shine tomorrow, and I can sit and knit and sew to my heart's content, and who knows? Perhaps I may have some lovely Christmas presents to show you tomorrow . . .

Stitch, stitch, stitch . . .?

Credits: sofa pincushion and My Happy Place fabric from Amy at During Quiet Time; fabric for Pleated Pouches - Tanya Whelan Grand Revival Ava Rose.

Toasty toasty: the making of a granny fashionista

2011-11-04T16:00:00.001Z

The most wonderful thing about all this Making Winter is that has made my mind run along all the things that I do actually like about the chilly season, and I have come to the conclusion that really winter is a granny fashionista's dream time.

In fact, winter is the home season for granny fashion style. Just think of it, the opportunity to don a lovely warm vest every day (and I do like a nice cosy vest as I mentioned before), every day is a cardi day (and of course I have the granny cardi at the ready) and Slack Alice that I am, I welcome the relief of wearing thick woolly tights and boots - no need to worry about painted toenails or furry legs (in fact, furry legs might be warmer).

Toasty, toasty

And then comes my absolute favourite - woolly granny mitts to keep those fingers toasty, and I have just rustled up some from the delectably named and most comfortingly soft Skein Queen yarn - Duchess in Devonshire, with a couple of chichi stripes in Dove.

Perhaps the effect is more Dowager Duchess than Duchess of Cambridge, but I seem to have reached that stage in my life where I am moving more towards being an Alice in Wonderland duchess than a glamorously well-groomed, high-heeled one (I would only fall off the heels, I suspect, no, I know I would).

Filling the credibility gap

My first pair of Toasty granny mitts are still going strong - their short length makes them well suited for office wear (so you can see what a stylish office I work in), but to combat the howling gales and snowstorms that I anticipate this year, I have fashioned a rather longer pair to fill in the credibility gap that appears around the wrist area in those of us with gorilla arms, and also long enough for my fingers to retreat right inside if the air is really nippy.

Proof against nippiness

I did once knit some granny mitts with separate fingers, but I found that the effect was rather like those toe separators for painting your toenails (actually I am just imagining this, for I am not well-groomed enough to have such things), so I have gone back to my favourite Toasty pattern from Leslie at A Friend to Knit With.

A very simple knitting pattern

So if you would like to knit yourself some toasty granny mitts, you will find my handy hint tutorial here, and the details of my modifications to the original pattern on Ravelry here.

Are you planning on a granny winter? And what is your favourite granny wear? Do show and tell!

And I wish you a good weekend full of cosy granny happiness.

The trouble with orange, and shall we go vintage or romantic?

2011-11-03T18:26:00.000Z

My little cottage is still in disarray with books stacked up everywhere, the Lady Decorators trotting up and down the stairs . . .

A very orange house with the Head Chef as busy as a bee

. . . the smell of paint in the air, and ladders and paint pots waiting to trip me up everywhere, but the orange glow is slowly going.

Orange mess

I have come to the conclusion that I do not tolerate disorder very well, and have spent two afternoons hidden away, knitting frenetically, in an effort to keep myself in a state bordering sanity, and to fend off the guilt complex that I am not sitting in my office working.

But if I look at the before pictures in all their burnt orange gloom, then I can dream of Pointing and Old White, and remember that the alternative to the current higgledy-pigglediness is a house with a perma-tan.

Cupboards glowing orange

I have been sent some lovely books from Ryland Peters & Small and Cico Books to help me along with my dreams, and inspire me in my grand declutter and re-think of my little granny cottage which had been looking sadly down at heel.

Stairs with a suntan

And so I have been pondering on the differences between Vintage Chic and Romantic Style.

For some time now I have hankered after the cool whiteness and spare florals of Cabbages and Roses Vintage Chic by Christina Strutt, Cabbages and Roses being one of my favourite shops.

A sofa with rose printed linen and fine white curtains blowing in the breeze seem to be beckoning me to sit down and recline in a most stylish manner.

Romantic Style by Selina Lake and Sara Norrman is divided into sections with different interpretations of what constitutes 'romantic style'

- as ever, I am pulled between the calm and pale, and the bright and flowery.

The coloured chairs in blue and green remind me of my jolly kitchen and the way that such brightness can counteract our grey and gloomy skies.

The most surprising book of all has been Essentially Irish: Homes with Classic Irish Style by Josephine Ryan - I had no picture in my mind of what constituted 'Classic Irish Style', but the book is a feast for the eyes and contains some beautiful interiors.

I went to an Irish wedding once, many years ago, and I still remember the Georgian house where we stayed, once an elegant mansion, but become a farmhouse of faded grandeur with peeling paint and wallpaper, like a faded beauty down on her luck.

Not my house - this is a stylish house

I am so pleased to see that the heaps of homeless books occupying the beds of the Ploughboy and the General find their echo in one of these beautifully photographed Irish houses.

This is the General's bed, now become a library

Perhaps I could just forget about tidying the books up and just leave them on style grounds.

So think of me, dear readers, as I dally with the F&B paint charts, and choose my colours on the grounds of the beauty of their names, wordsmith that I am.

Who couldn't want Arsenic in their kitchen, Borrowed Light in their bedroom, and Slipper Satin in the drawing room?

I am just about to write my own fairytale in Vintage, Romantic Style and fashion myself a house of dreams.

Here's to a challenging Christmas

2011-11-01T18:29:00.001Z

No, not really! This Christmas it is going to be different. Every year I have grand ideas in October for giving absolutely everyone a handmade present at Christmas, then, after much musing, start making things in November, have a massive panic in late December and have to (a) rush out to do some stressful last-minute shopping, and (b) burn the midnight oil doing some stressful last-minute knitting and stitching.

Last year I was madly knitting a lace scarf on the train to London on Christmas Eve - yes, quite mad. And I am a slow knitter. And if it involves lace, I usually knit it at least twice over by the time I have frogged and tinked my way through it.

This year it is going to be different - this year I have the Polka Dot Daze Christmas Challengers to hold my hand. (And if you would like to join in, you will find all about it here.)

This year I have set myself realistic targets (at least, they seem realistic at this stage). If you go over here, you will see my list of things to make and do (along with all the ideas from the other Christmas Challengers).

Please go and have a look, and nod wisely, and come back and tell me that yes, these are realistic targets, and yes, this year it will be different. No last-minute stress, no last-minute unpicking, no last-minute blocking of scarves, no last-minute wrapping on Christmas morning . . .

Tell me that it will be different this year. Please?

Making winter with Silverpebble and Mrs Thrifty Household

2011-10-30T20:00:00.006Z

The clocks changed last night, it's going to be dark oh so early, and some cheery chappie on the radio announced this morning that winter had begun. My heart sinks at those dismal signs of the season of short days and long nights, of chill and damp, and leaden skies - but help is at hand in the persons of Emma from Silverpebble and her trusty friend, Mrs Thrifty Household. Together they have a cunning plan to avert the miseries of the grey days by Making Winter a happy time.

So I have heaved myself out of my incipient doldrums and tried to think of something nice about winter. And it being the time to hack into those poor pumpkins and give them scary faces, what came to mind were pumpkin soup, so cheery and warming, and another of my favourites, toasted pumpkin seeds.

Princess Bunchy has chopped away at Mr Pumpkin, and at my behest has given him a benignant face, and whilst she was doing the carving we gave her a bowl for the innards, in the spirit of waste not, want not, which prevails in our little cottage.

We took the seeds, cleared them of flesh, then spread them out on a baking tray. Sprinkle with olive oil and salt, then put into a hot oven for ten minutes or so - best to keep a close eye on them because the interval between crispy and burnt is a short one. They are done when they have browned and start crackling as the outer husk pops.

So that's a nice thrifty idea for a cheering winter snack, in the spirit of Mrs TH, who has a wonderful ability to conjure up goodies out of the orts and scraps of life. She sent me some of the most beautiful little lavender bags made out of vintage fabric - it was such a lovely package to receive in the post and I absolutely adore the willow pattern fabric.

If you go and visit Mrs Thrifty Household here, and Silverpebble here, you will find all sorts of Making Winter happiness - I am hoping that they can get me through January with a smile on my face.

I am also wondering if all the nice things in winter are edible - I have a horrible feeling that they are, and that is why when I emerge into spring I have a certain air of rotundity and all is straining at the seams.

The Dalmatian bath: Pomona's cottage gets a makeover, part 1

2011-10-29T13:14:00.000+01:00

It's been All Go at the Cottage this week, the Lady Decorators are arriving on Monday, there is a man in my bathroom huffing and puffing and making a lot of noise, and the Fly Lady has flown out of the window. What can one do when the contents of Zone 3 are cluttering Zone 5, and yes, we did it on purpose . . .

How did those spots get there?

First casualty of the upheavals is the Dalmatian Bath - twenty-five years' faithful service and the Dalmatian finds itself on the lawn in the company of a Little Stranger. Yes, I do feel guilty, but the depredations of unknown visitants hurling hard objects at speed onto the surface enamel has ensured that the quantities of 'not me, guv' Black Spots and surface crazing are incompatible with the Shiny Standards now upheld steadfastly in this abode. (I say 'unknown visitants' advisedly, as when the said Black Spots appeared so mysteriously, it always turned out that no member of the household ever had any knowledge of the manner of their coming into being, in fact, they had not been into the bathroom for days, weeks, a month of Sundays? What spot, oh that spot, oh not me, guv, oh no . . .)

What have you done to my friend?

And so the imminent arrival of the Lady Decorators is preceded by our Friendly, Local Plumber with a heart of gold and an infinite supply of local gossip, head-shaking advice, and roll-ups (or is it rollies?), who comes out on a Saturday at very short notice in return for a couple of cups of coffee, a pound of sausages and an exceedingly small amount of Cash.

Accusatory glance from dog sitting on Dalmatian spots in an economical bath

If you are planning on doing a bathroom on a budget, forget the DIY warehouse where there is no one to talk to you, and also the discount bathroom warehouse. The plumber tells us that these places tend to sell poor quality imported baths which look good on the surface to a layman, but are not hardwearing, and even the permanent half-price clearance 'bargains' will be two or three times more expensive than from a trade supplier. Get your bath from a builder's merchant - a basic unbranded white bath (ours is made of pressed steel, I am told). They are very reasonably priced at around £100 (we said no to handles and dimples, although sometimes I feel that I am headed that way, such is my physical state), and the tap fittings are standard, so we were able to reuse the taps (which are not 25 years old).

Economical taps (very shiny)

Again, the most economical way to source taps is to go to a plumber's merchant which supplies the trade - there are always lots of jolly types to help and advise you. Don't buy the very cheapest - these are a false economy as the poor quality will not stand up to much wear and tear, but you can always find some in whatever style you like, which are robust but not over-priced, by looking through the trade catalogues and picking the brains of the jolly chaps behind the counter. Hugely expensive does not mean hugely hardwearing or best quality - like so many things, you pay extra for famous names, and if you have decided that you really must pay several hundred pounds for taps, there will be a manufacturer with some ready for you at your price point.

I rather like this one

Be careful about buying continental taps, and this is a point worth checking: in many countries water is at mains pressure (which is high), so their taps have built-in pressure reducing valves, which works well for them, but not if you live in an English country cottage where the effect is to reduce your kitchen hot water to a pathetic trickle. (It took quite a few £50 bills from a variety of 'helpful' plumbers before we finally learned from our Friendly Local Plumber that the Italian taps which came with our Habitat sale kitchen would never, ever work properly for that very reason.)

Bathroom waiting for Lady Decorators

So after those handy hints, I can tell you that I am taking a big step on the paint front. I have always been one for a bit of Colour in my life, but after many years of blue woodwork in the bathroom, I have decided that it is going to be painted All White. I can't do anything about the blue tiles, but I feel like I need a bit more light in my life, and the window is small and north-facing, so the reflectiveness of the white will improve the light levels (and help my ageing optics as I peer into the mirror with trowel of concrete in hand ready to fill in the cracks in my visage). The tiles are pure bright white, so the combination of powder blue and white tiles precludes paintwork in one of the dirtier whites - it would just look, well, dirty (and so, possibly, would my face), so maybe not.

Shades of white

There is also the question of the bath surround - the burnt orange pine was toned down with a bit of distressing on the last makeover (so you can tell how long ago that was), but I am on a campaign to banish the orange hues which pervade the house (I will tell you more about the orange next time) and there is nothing for it but All White.

A basin just like mine in a Cabbages and Roses bathroom

PS The Head Chef tells me that he is going to paint the scullery while the Lady Decorators are here, along with five bookcases and a dresser. He has even bought the paint. I am wondering how far he will get and whether the Lady Decorators will have to be invited back to finish off . . .

Rose-tinted; or, a disquisition by any other name

2011-10-23T21:00:00.000+01:00

Wrap up warm

I just have to thank you all for your lovely comments on my previous posts - I am sure that you will all be most ecstatic to know that I have quite overcome any urge for a slot on Radio 4.

Boots tightly buckled

After all, it would probably only be three minutes long and as is their wont in the interests of Balance they would invite in someone guaranteed to disagree with every word I said, and I am sure that it would be all too flustering.

Thick woolly tights and extra skirt for warmth

And do I need such an outlet for venting my witterings on sundry subjects?

Don't forget a nice warm shawl

Why, no, I can stand on my soapbox in the orchard and expound my opinions to a captive audience, who are bound to nod sympathetically and agree with my every word, as if not they won't get their daily rations.

An adoring audience

Actually, I lie, it is not a soapbox, it is a beer bottle box, which would seem more fitting considering my heritage and connections (not that we are a family of soap-dodgers, you understand, there being only one soap-dodger in this little household and you know who you are).

Captive audience

Not that I know what a soapbox looks like, although I have always coveted one (along with a wrapover flowery pinny just like the one on Hen's blog here).

Distracted audience

And if the furred and feathered friends walk off, then all is not lost, as I have you, my dear readers, who say such nice things and fortify my resolve in so many ways (and raise my ratings with my offspring, as every lovely comment is another little point on the scorecard of people who agree with what their mother says, and also a demonstration of my long-expressed adage, 'If you can't say anything nice, then don't say anything at all.')

How interesting. Yes, fascinating. I wish she would go on forever. Don't worry, she will.

In fact, the days of expressing that adage seem to be fading fast, as the bickering has simmered down, and rarely now am I called upon to intervene in some sibling dispute, muttering under my breath blessed are the peacemakers . . . (I can never remember the second bit, in spite of the fact that I had to memorize the Beatitudes at school, but thanks to your encouragement I think I will now add, blessed are the knitters and needlewomen, the cooks and the bottlewashers for where would the world be without them . . .).

Did you say something?

The quiet has fallen again, although the house did erupt quite unexpectedly into noise, and grubby sinks, and wet bathmats, and voracious appetites, as my big boys arrived home again with laundry and empty stomachs, only to depart back to the groves of academe almost as suddenly as they had come.

And as they say, it Never Rains but it Pours - only a couple of days ago I was looking at my shiny sinks, and my tightly-laced shoes, and thinking that this is all very well but it won't keep me in cashmere cardigans, hand-dyed yarn and fat quarter bundles, then suddenly half-term hits me like a wave, with wall-to-wall B&B guests (the last two said that it was the best B&B they have ever stayed in, oh joy), sheets flapping on the washing line, sheets piled up in the ironing basket, sheets in the washing machine, and 100,000 words flying in over the wires (not a rush job, just a couple of weeks, you're not going away for half term are you?) . . .

Best coat

There was nothing for it but to put on my best coat and boots and my rose-tinted spectacles and gaze at far horizons, for the world to appear in a whole new light. And the best thing about those glasses is that the rosy glow is not the least metaphorical - I suddenly noticed, as I was driving the Princess about, that as we motored down the hill with the Kentish countryside spread before us the sky was the most wonderful Technicolor blue, and I said to the Princess, look at those most exceedingly wonderful autumnal colours, look at the leaves on the trees all marching across hill and vale in the brightest and richest coppers and golds that I have ever seen in all my born days, it must be the weather this year . . . and I took off my glasses to see more clearly, and the colours went out like a light and we were back to English watercolours in shades of grey and russet.

Bathed in a rosy glow

So back on with the shades, they make the world a happy place - they came free with a Tatler magazine (or perhaps the magazine was free with the sunglasses) and I bought them on a whim in the spring for the promise that they would make me look rich and glamorous and famous and thin, and a whole host of other enthusiastic adjectives so many that I can't remember but I know that they must be true for they were printed on the paper that came with the magazine.

I will stride forth into the future, secure in the encouragement that you give me, and loving the rosy glow.

Handing on handmade

2011-10-21T22:43:00.000+01:00

Last week I went a-visiting and took tea at the most charming little cottage in the country - a cottage quite out of a Country Living 'dreaming of the country'-style magazine spread - and there on the table I saw an array of pretty patchwork pieces, stitched together by hand.

My eye was of course immediately drawn to such prettiness and upon enquiry I found that this stitchery was the work of a little girl of very tender years, who has taken to working with the needle quite recently and with an enthusiasm and tenacity that made a great impression on me.

She had little in the way of equipment and her needle and thread sat in a recycled plastic tub. I thought of the needle case that Jane Austen gave to her niece Louisa two hundred years ago, also the housewife or hussif (a sewing case) that Austen made for her sister-in-law, described by the recipient's son as 'the kind of article that some benevolent fairy might be supposed to give as a reward to a diligent little girl', and enclosed within which was a little poem:

This little bag, I hope will prove
To be not vainly made:
For should you thread and needles want,
It will afford you aid.

And as we are about to part,
'T will serve another end:
For when you look upon this bag,
You'll recollect your friend.

In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries women often gave gifts of needle cases and pincushions to each other, and I thought of this little girl taking up her needle and stitching away, an occupation which was so commonplace in th past, so bound up with female gender identity, and which now is really quite unusual in one so young, not something that girls or women are bound to do whether they will or no, and which has become purely an expression of creativity rather than necessity.

But perhaps in the loss of compulsion, other things have been lost, too, and somehow I wanted to encourage that expression of skill and creativity, and retain a sense of continuity, of things being passed on from one generation of women to another in a positive way, and that sense of feminine friendship and community inherent in the exchange of handmade gifts.

So I sat down and made a little needle case and pincushion for this little girl; she too is moving away, and perhaps one day she will pick up these small artefacts, and recollect a friend, and her first hesitant stitches, and the beginnings of creativity in her world.

And maybe you could give such gifts too - so simple and quick to make, two pinked rectangles of felt, a stitched felt flower and button on the cover.

The pincushion was eight squares of fabric from my stash (including some early Cath Kidston left over from a skirt) - I used my Go! Baby die to cut 2 1/2in squares, 2in finished size, to make up a 4in square pincushion wrapped in ribbon like the gift that it is, and trimmed with buttons either side.

A gift that was a pleasure to make, and a pleasure to give, a handing on from one generation to another of the joy of the handmade, and a lesson to me that actually giving is oh so much better than receiving.

(And if you want to find out more about needlework in the works of Jane Austen, the poem and the photo come from Jane Austen Fashion: Fashion and Needlework in the Works of Jane Austen, by Penelope Byrde, a delightful and informative little book which is a great introduction to the subject. You can get all colours of felt and felt shapes from Paper and String, and the original idea for the pincushion came from Indigo Blue.)

All in the bag: heaving out a winner

2011-10-20T16:00:00.001+01:00

Twice in the last couple of weeks I have been listening to Radio 4 and heard people I know from university days, who are most definitely on the way to being Eminent (if they are not already) opining in a most grown-up and erudite fashion, the second time this morning when I was standing in the kitchen, enmeshed in domesticity, well wrapped up in a pinny and stirring up some double chocolate muffins.

I think that I am beginning to feel a failure, never having been invited onto Radio 4 and actually not doing too well on the grown-up front (although the very sagacious Angela did call me erudite recently; I am thinking of having a badge made with the label 'Erudite' to make up for my lack of an Important Job, or indeed Eminence).

Bag on a tree

I comforted myself with the thought that I do know how to knit socks (although I am struggling with my Postmodern Socks at the moment, not so much with the theory as the putting the postmodernism into practice), and that yesterday I made a Ruched Happy Bag and a Swatch Book Cover, both to be carried in my recently completed Multi Tasker Tote (made from a pattern by Anna Maria Horner) - fabric Pop Garden flowers in green by Heather Bailey, together with Bijoux Tile in ice blue and red (all from Saints and Pinners).

For Multi-Taskers everywhere

And anyone who has need of a Multi Tasker Tote must of course be multi-tasking, which seems to be a most happening thing to do, although possibly for credibility's sake the Efficient Multi-Tasker should be wearing a suit, and as you will see from the photographs so ably composed and taken by the Head Chef I am failing most sadly on the sartorial front, the recent vertiginous drop in ambient temperatures having necessitated the donning of vest, cardi and mitts (luckily we have B&Bs arriving tomorrow so lighting the fire is allowed (this is why I was making chocolate muffins again, and not of course for me to comfort eat while contemplating the ashes of my career ambitions, oh no)).

How not to stand

I would not dare criticize the Head Chef's competence in fashion photography. I hinted that the photographer must be below the subject for a slimming effect, and thus the suggestion was that I should stand on a very wobbly chair (one of whose ilk has been known to collapse under the weight of an only moderately large course attendee on a former unfortunate occasion).

Note the photographer's careful attention re extraneous objects in background of photo

On viewing the results of the Head Chef's shutter work and being asked to comment, I made the mistake of being honest, and ventured the opinion that the images were Not Up To Scratch at which point I found out that the fault was in the way that I was standing. It was good to clear that one up, and I shall be very careful not to stand in any pictures again.

Loops and pockets - how jolly!

I am happy to say that my jolly new multitasking bag is far more photogenic than Pomona the granny fashionista, the epitome of cardigan grunge chic, and I would ask you to admire the nifty little inside pocket, so artfully divided into sections for pencil and pen (for multitasking mummies always have such things handy for sticky moments in restaurants even when their offspring are way beyond the stage of having any call for such old-fashioned writing implements).

And the contents are even more exciting for one of my limited needleworking skills - I have made another Ruched Happy Bag, from Amy's wonderful pattern (you can see my first Happy Bag here); these are truly happy bags, for they make me most happy to have made such a professional-looking zippy bag.

And I have also made a Swatch Book Cover, from a Keykalou pattern, so that I may always be prepared with notebook to hand in case I have any Deep Thoughts, which I can write down in the hope that one day someone on Radio 4 would like me to expound them so that I, too, can join the pantheon of those who fulfilled their early promise and made their Aged Parents proud.

This is a rather nifty pattern, which works for the two sizes of Moleskine Cahier - it thus makes a good present, for wherever the recipient is located, they are sure to be able to find refills. Not only do Moleskine Cahiers come in large and small, they also come in ruled, plain, and squared, so by choosing the fabrics appropriately I have come to the conclusion that you can make these Swatch Book Covers as a present for almost anyone (can you hear the production line cranking up?). And what is even better about both of these patterns, they only use small pieces of fabric, so great for using up stash - just right for an thrifty Christmas as the world economy approaches ruin.

And now we come to the Very Important Bit: choosing the winner of the Sugru giveaway.

Can I help?

As I cast about for a receptacle capacious enough for all of you to fit in, my optics fell upon the Multi Tasker Tote and the Little Stranger lurking about with intent.

In here, you say?

As you will see, the Little Stranger needed a little explanation and encouragement, but I think she is beginning to understand the concept of the blog giveaway.

How far down?

A sausage roll is an added incentive - I am not sure what they put in dog sausage rolls, but I suspect that it is either Addictive or Mouse.

Oh, I see!

And so my little furry friend rootled around in the recesses, and out she came with a winner.

Got one!

The photograph doesn't make it clear, but hip, hip, hooray for Mrs Micawber - perhaps you could let me know your address so that we can get the Sugru winging its way to you.

It's Mrs Micawber . . .

The Little Stranger was disappointed that there was only one winner to be rootled for today, but hey, who knows, another day may bring another giveaway.

Now I must get back to the production line: the geese are getting fat . . . .

Fantastic chocolate muffins

2011-10-19T21:05:00.000+01:00

It's not just me blowing my own trumpet by telling you that these are fantastic chocolate muffins - I actually received a text from the Head Chef saying so, and that is a compliment indeed considering that his usual comment on anything I cook is that it could do with a little more salt . . .

So as a little bonne bouche for a weekday evening, and mindful of the fact that I have sadly neglected my adoring readers (cough) this week, here is my recipe for the most fantastic double chocolate muffins, baked in the Aga, but just as nice from whatever oven you choose.

Ingredients:

(For this recipe I use the metric measurements, so imperial are untested.)

Makes 1 dozen

150g (5 1/2oz) self-raising white flour
2 generous teaspoons (tsp) baking powder
50g (2oz) Green and Blacks cocoa powder
75g (3oz) golden caster sugar
100-125g (4oz) good quality chocolate chips (I use a mixture of dark and white chocolate)

75g (3 oz) unsalted butter, melted
2 free range eggs
200ml (7 fl oz) milk

Sift together the flour, baking powder and cocoa in a mixing bowl, then stir in the sugar and chocolate chips. Add some more chocolate chips if you feel the need.

Beat the eggs into the milk, then pour the melted butter into the egg and milk, and beat together.

Pour this liquid into the bowl of dry ingredients and mix together.

Divide between 12 muffin cases in a muffin pan.

In a 2 oven Aga, use the roasting oven with the shelf half way up and bake for 20 minutes turning half way. In a conventional oven, bake for 20 mins at 190C/400F (reduce by 10-20 deg for a fan oven).

Health warning:
These chocolate muffins are very delicious, and call to you from the cake tin when you are feeling a little low. If you don't have children in the house to gobble them up in a trice, your midriff is sure to suffer (don't ask me how I know). This effect can be counteracted by going to the gym, where 20 mins hard labour on the exercise bike will use up only 100 calories, but make you so hungry that you will need more muffins and a latte to revive yourself (this I definitely do know).

Absence note:
Pomona has been stitching away with the assistance of her dear Rose, and has several completed items of her very own manufacture as a result of such industry. Photos will surely follow if the sun shines, but hints are to be found here and here. (She is feeling very pleased with herself at this productivity - surely the Christmas season can hold no fear at this rate? This year there will be no emergency scarf knitting on Christmas Eve. Definitely.)

Fancy some Sugru; or, a giveaway by any other name

2011-10-13T21:45:00.001+01:00

Do you know what Sugru is? I know, it sounds like a game, except it isn't really, but actually I have had some fun playing around with it, so maybe it almost counts as a game.

I first came across Sugru (hack things better, as they say) when I went to the Power of Making exhibition at the V&A (which you can read about here). Sugru is quite amazing stuff which you can use to mend or modify all sorts of things, and when the nice people at Sugru sent me some to play about with, and offered to give some away to my readers, well, who was I to say no?

And in fact, mending things apart, I think I have found the perfect stocking filler or budget present for the chaps in your life. When the parcel arrived and the silver package dropped out, the chaps in my life all exclaimed excitedly 'What's that?', 'Can I have some?', and 'Wow, that's amazing!'

I promise you that they never normally say that about the contents of the parcels that arrive for me.

Luckily it comes with a book of hints and tips

The Sugru website is full of pictures and ideas of how you can mend and adjust and improve things with this innocuous-looking material which moulds like modelling clay, and then gradually becomes firm, but in a plastic rather than brittle way. The big advantage is that it sticks to shiny things (unlike most glues which never seem able to stick together the things that you want to mend).

Being a complete girlie, I liked the way it comes in a selection of bright colours, and in spite of being a girlie who gets the Head Chef to do anything in the form of mending and maintenance which does not involve a needle and thread, I decided to improve my world on my own without any male interference.

Tidy wires - the Flylady would approve

And I am so pleased with myself - look what I made.

Girlie desk

A little hooky shelf on the back of Hippolyta to hold those annoying leads which are in daily use, but trail messily on the desk, viz Ipod and camera wires.

I find the sight of muffins most comforting

And I even made a nifty-thrifty little stand to hold my very high-tech portable speaking apparatus while it is charging. I would like you to admire the little wedge I made at the back so that it won't topple over.

Where have all the muffins gone?

(The Head Chef and the General had rather more boyish ideas which involved mending an aerial and something to do with a plug, but being a girl I wouldn't understand that.)

I think I will be buying some Sugru for the awkward nephews and difficult uncles (not personality-wise, of course, uncle, if you are reading this, which is not at all likely) for Christmas - it seems to me the perfect present for any of those chaps whose wants are either silver and matt black, and when asked can't think of anything they want except a BMW, a Macbook Pro, or some inordinately expensive power drill. Sugru seems to hit on all fronts - silver package (they even do a boys' version in black and white, no colours), a bit techie, and very compatible with tools.

So if you would like a nice shiny silver package of Sugru of your own, to play with or to tuck into your man's stocking (that didn't come out quite right, but you know what I mean), just leave me a comment below. No conditions, post anywhere - I'll heave one of you out of the sink next week, or maybe I'll feed you to the dogs, and see who comes flying out of the bowl.

Pumpkins rock

2011-10-12T16:36:00.000+01:00

Colour is a funny thing. I would tell you that I am quite consistent in my likes and dislikes, have always been drawn to mixtures of red and blue in the kitchen, and on the clothing front various shades of teal are in the ascendant. I absolutely do not like orange, I would firmly assert, and as to anything with a hint of neon, how could you even suggest it?

So how did I find myself knitting my a pair of socks, with heels and toes and rib in Electric Lime, and vibrant Opal Fruit stripes down the legs?

Why did I pick such colours to glow in my stash of tasteful stash of misty blues and greens with a hint of dusty mauve? What on earth was I thinking? Yet drawn I was to the bright lights of lime and pink and orange, and I really enjoyed having such manic colours on my needles.

And now I have just finished my Electric Rock socks, which speak to me of sunshine and pumpkins, and glow quite magnificently as I stand in my stockinged feet. I don't think that I have ever knitted quite such a joyous pair of socks, which peek out between blue jeans and black Converses in a rather anarchic way which makes me smile to look at them.

Almost to the instant that I posted them on my Ravelry page I received an appreciative comment about the colours, and I just wanted to say to you, why not take a risk with colour?

Choose something that is the complete antithesis of what you think you like and see what happens. You could end up dressed to match the pumpkins just like me.

Why does the yellow hose sneak its way into every garden photo I take?

And for those of you who want some socks just like mine, the yarn is the appropriately named Skein Queen Squash, a lovely yarn to knit with and very soft on the feet, in Electric Lime and Olive Snook, pattern from Ann Budd's wonderful sock book. Go on, be brave!

Natural pest control

2011-10-10T20:00:00.001+01:00

Don't tell me that I don't keep my promises - a little venture into the realms of pest control is the order for the day, but for those of a nervous disposition I have respected your delicacy and have chosen a picture of Mrs Speckledy to start with and have saved the gory details for a little later.

Mrs Speckledy is trying to hide

The first thing to tell you about natural pest control is that Mrs Speckledy and Mother Blackrock do not like the caterpillars of the cabbage white butterfly - you can tell from their expressions and the way that Mrs Speckledy has gone to hide in amongst the raspberry canes in case the Head Chef tries to force one down her beak.

Mother Blackrock is just not interested

Mother Blackrock is more inclined to stand her ground and indicate her feelings by an expression of complete disgust at the sight of the nasty green creatures, before stalking off in a superior manner.

Rejected by hens and nowhere to hide

In fact, the most efficacious method of dealing with such creepy-crawlies is to send the Head Chef into the garden to pick them off by hand. We did try Enviromesh one year, but the combination of a windy site, and a certain racketiness about the installation meant that we watched the cabbage whites fluttering gaily about inside the enclosure all summer. Better to wait until the caterpillars are so large and virulent-looking that they are visible even to the middle-aged naked eye.

Nasty green slimy things

As to the small green caterpillars of the sort found in purple sprouting broccoli and calabrese, you need not bother with pest control if the consumers of the produce are ladies of a certain age whose near vision is not quite what it used to be. I had eaten copious quantities - a plateful, certainly - of broccoli, all the while thinking superfood, how nutritious, etc, before the younger members of the family, food inspectors all (in case someone has sneaked some chickpeas or lentils or other foreign or proscribed items into their supper) burst out in hysterical unison that the said superfood so eagerly consumed by their dear mother was teeming with small green caterpillars. So really, if you want to get rid of small green caterpillars, just feed them to a sensitive, long-sighted vegetarian.

Mrs Speckledy and Mrs Blackrock are, however, very partial to ants and the teeny tiny slugs to be found in the soil, so do make sure to get some of their ilk to rake over your earth come the winter - but remember to shut them out again in the spring because they do like scuffling up seeds and plants as well.

Soup in a basket

But all is not green and crawling in our little plot: we have delights both seasonal and unseasonal. On the latter front the Head Chef is still harvesting tomatoes to go with the salad leaves from the polytunnel. And we still have a few marigold flowers left to garnish a salad if the fancy takes you.

There are delicious juicy apples to be gathered - Gala, and Golden Delicious and Cox. Our B&B guests are still enjoying fresh apple juice for breakfast - one of the most popular things about the Head Chef's most excellent breakfasts.

There are quinces to be turned into paste and jelly, and generally admired for their beauty. Our trees tend to crop biennially which makes us appreciate them all the more in the copious years.

And walnuts cascading down from the enormous tree, which was pretty large when we arrived here, but certainly waxes fat on the, shall we say nitrogen-enriched, soil in the WET system.

We have been using the walnuts in a delicious recipe for stuffed peppers from Eat Well, Spend Less by Sarah Flower. (The Head Chef was quite sniffy about this book when I bought it on one of my late-night Amazon forays - you know, the 'we need to economize, let's buy things to help' idea; he prefers lots of big glossy pictures and let's not read a recipe, let's make it up as we go along.) And it's not often I say this about a cookery book, as they usually end up just sitting on the shelf, but it is definitely worth the grand sum of £6 or so which I spent on it. It is absolutely packed with really useful, everyday recipes and a complete antidote to the 'what on earth are we going to eat today' feeling, when your mind goes blank and inspiration seems a long way away. And unusually for this sort of thrifty cookbook, there are lots of interesting vegetarian recipes, rather than a token two or three old stalwarts that you have come across many a time before.

I actually prefer Sarah Flower's Eat Well, Spend Less to Gill Holcombe's How to feed your whole family a healthy balanced diet with very little money . . . I do have the latter, but I must admit that it only occasionally finds its way off the shelf as I find the recipes less inspiring, and there seem fewer of them, although plenty of people disagree with me on that one.

So plenty of handy hints there - how to feed extra protein to vegetarians and chickens, and how to feed a family on a budget, too. Thrift personified, that's me!

Comfort and joy

2011-10-09T18:01:00.000+01:00

I find that there is so much joy to be derived from making things for babies - as I sit on my sofa in my sewing and knitting corner I can be transported into a world of reverie, not only imagining into existence something cosy for the little newcomer but also re-imagining the past of my own big babies who have so recently deserted me.

An appley quilt

Sitting stitching, I find continuity in a world of change, and in the room where once I sat with my arms and hands full of baby and toddler and yearned for some time and space to think, I now sit in the quiet and stitch some comfort to enwrap another little soul marching into the future.

Today I finished this baby quilt and together with the satisfaction of completion, another thing ticked off the list, there was also something more. I had had a few uncertainties during the quilt's creation; I wasn't quite sure if it was going to work; I very nearly started unpicking, and even considered making something quite different entirely.

But as I looked at the quilt I suddenly realized that yes, this had worked: I had made a present that was full of joy as well as warmth. What I had in my head had come out in the stitches.

'It's a good job that the baby turned out to be a girl', said Princess Bunchy, 'it wouldn't have been quite right for a boy.'

Serendipity, perhaps, but I did try to make the mix of red and blue, and the mix of motifs ungendered. I wanted a quilt with plenty to look at, a quilt full of the potential for story with animals and plants and matryoshkas stumping through the magic woods.

Matryoshkas stumping through the woods

The squares are 5in finished size (5.5in cut) to accommodate a complete motif from the red and blue fabrics with the matryoshkas and dala horses in lacy squares - these were fussy cut, which was more time consuming, but the only way to deal with this sort of fabric, I think. (The fabrics all came from Fabric Rehab, but so long ago that I can't remember their names - apart from the apples I think they are Japanese ones.)

I did lay out all the squares before joining them because I have come to the conclusion that I am congenitally incapable of random piecing. Such is my love of order and almost symmetry that I can't leave such things to chance.

As with my last baby quilt, I did the binding by turning the backing to the front, and hand quilted in the ditch along the seam lines.

I have come to the conclusion that I really enjoy sitting and hand sewing like this - once again it is something that can be done sitting on the sofa in the evening whilst chatting, and I do like my sofa time. Machining for me is a daylight task, and if I started talking too much I would probably stitch myself to the quilt as an extra bonus.

The sofa is calling me, calling me . . .

Now I can wrap up my little bundle of comfort for the new little bundle of joy with a happy heart at the thought of sending my stitches out into the world - it has been a good weekend.

And next week I am going to tell tales of the most wonderful muffins and the vagaries of natural pest control - I am sure that you are beside yourself with excitement.

Shiny shiny

2011-10-05T12:28:00.000+01:00

As is traditional when it comes to the time to pick a giveaway winner, the wind is whistling and wuthering fit to blow bits of paper all round the garden. I suppose that I could have just stepped outside with my bowl and let the zephyrs do the choosing, but I didn't fancy chasing round the raised beds after the winner (especially as I don't have my laceups on this morning (oh no!)), so I took the coward's route and stayed indoors to do the mighty deed.

Not a trace of breakfast in sight

And the upside of remaining safely in the kitchen is that you get to see my beautiful shiny sink (oh yes!). The Flylady would be proud of me - no backsliding here - my sinks have been shiny ever since my first encounter with Her Flyness. And funnily enough, this shiny sink business really is like the broken window syndrome - this morning I left before the Head Chef and Princess Bunchy (not only am I knocking my house into shape, the plan is also to knock my cake-ridden body into shape by going to the gym at an ungodly hour), and returned expecting to see the dregs of breakfast leering at me from the sideboard - and instead, what did I find? A shiny sink smiling beatifically at me . . . The Head Chef hopes that I am impressed; I am reserving judgement.

Admire those reflections

I am getting on much better with the Flylady now that I have bought the book - I find the website slightly frenetic, and became totally confused about where I was and where I should be, and in one of those late-night book-buying sprees (I blame Princess Bunchy and her musical talents - it is always when I am sitting up late waiting for my nearest and dearest to return from some event that I run amok in the halls of Amazon because sitting at the computer is the only thing that will keep me awake) I bought the wonderfully titled Sink Reflections in the hope of demystification.

First shine your sink

And I am happy to tell you that now all is clear and shiny - I am much more at ease with the linear narrative of the written word, all has fallen into place, and I have sorted out my to-dos and my tick lists, my house is clean and I can spend the rest of the day hand-quilting (oh, happy day!).

The tension builds

And so, having made some more cake to fill the holes eroded in the gym (possibly), I can now present you with the winner. I did think about putting the Little Stranger into the sink to do the draw (and I am sure that she wouldn't have minded, as long as something edible was involved, and her definition of edible is comfortingly wide), but then I thought that I would have to start right back at the beginning with the bleach and Shiny Sinks 101, and I have made such leaps since then it would seem a pity to take such retrograde action.

Enter sausage tongs, sink right

So I opted for the sausage tongs instead. As a vegetarian this did involve some heart-searching but I felt that this would introduce an extra element of randomness as I do find them rather awkward to manipulate (not enough practice). It took a few goes, and a few restirrings of the bowl (I kept finding that I had picked up a whole bundle of slips at a time), but eventually I got the hang of it, and here we have the winner (and I can tell you that it was not easy to take a photo with one hand while keeping the tongs clamped shut with the other).

And here is the lovely winner: Menopausal Musing who said, 'I would love to own the Sergeant Pepper teatowel and the Tunnocks one - red is such a cheery colour!' Perhaps you could email me with your details, and I will pass them on to the lovely Al at All Tea Towels.

Oh, the bliss of a shiny sink!

Commiserations to those who did not win this time, but why not put your favourite tea towels on your Christmas list? Just think what fun you could have making things shiny, shiny - I think this one would coordinate rather beautifully with my sink, and this one would look rather fetching on the Aga. I have also used tea towels as rather fun recyclable wrapping for presents; it seems so much less wasteful than paper, and I have spotted a few in the sale which would be just perfect for some people I know . . .

Flying; or, the best gingerbread ever, with a few hints on cookery

2011-09-29T16:05:00.001+01:00

I have been Flying along on the housework front, you may be glad to hear (or not as the case may be), and am now feeling quite overcome with heat and exhaustion and am in dire need of Cake.

Looming domesticity

Today I did step up a gear - the Bedtime Routine is cracked (clean up the house just before bed - 20 mins - piece of cake), then the Gratitude Diary (thank goodness I can lie down now), and the sinks are shiny, shiny, so this morning I went a little further and put on lace-up shoes.

I think the Fly Lady's shoes would be cleaner (and probably shiny)

The Fly Lady is quite firm about this, and insists that you get up in the morning, get fully dressed, including Lacing Up Your Shoes, but I in my innocence and ignorance started Flying wearing ballet pumps. (They do have bows, permanently tied, and somehow I thought that I could get away with this.)

Have very High Hopes

But no, we Stay-at-Home Mummies (does running a business from home validate or invalidate this epithet?) have a nasty tendency to end up on the sofa if we can kick our shoes off easily, not to mention leaving said shoes lying around cluttering up the place . . . and yes, she's right, yesterday afternoon I suddenly found myself on the sofa, shoes on the floor, on the way to nodding off - and I wasn't even in the right Zone.

I had washed the mattress cover and patchwork quilts from our bed when I should really have been decluttering the sitting room where there are cupboards which have not seen the cold light of day in aeons (especially the yarn cupboard, which has to be approached under cover of darkness because it all has a nasty habit of tumbling out and revealing its excess when I dare to open the door).

Held together firmly

So it was lace-up shoes today, and my lovely Dottie Angel apron wrap to hold it all in - I have found that there is nothing like a nice pinny to make me feel domestically competent, but I am afraid that I peaked too early, in spite of Having High Hopes (no 1 on the list of Dottie Angel Dos) on the housework front.

Calming Dottie Angel traycloth and cookery book accessorized by food stains

There is nothing like scrubbing down the B&B to bring on severe cravings for Tea and Cake, and so I rustled up some of the most delicious gingerbread you could imagine (for the children, of course), baked in the Aga, but it works just as well in other ovens.

Cake tin

This recipe goes back a long way - I won't tell you how many years but here are its beginnings in my school cookery book, or Domestic Science as it was termed - nothing creative about domesticity there, Being a Housewife was an Important Job (scientific rather than airy-fairy), and a full-time one at that (I am beginning to think that Being a Fly Lady is a full-time job as well, and am already looking forward to my next holiday).

Inspiring drawing of gingerbread

Please don't be put off by the fact that I only got a B+ for this - I have refined the original concept over many decades, and would draw your attention to the A I received for my macaroni cheese, which went into the Open Day Display (I think my drawing of the toast garnish is quite inspired, almost as inspired as my drawing of the gingerbread squares).

A very wonderful drawing of toast triangles

And what about my breakfast tray? There was no mucking about there, we girls were taught to warm the pot and put half a glace cherry on our grapefruits before laying up a tray to impress invalids and husbands as we tripped upstairs to give them breakfast in bed. And didn't it all come in handy for running a B&B?

Model breakfast tray for model housewife

So here is your recipe for lovely sticky gingerbread made in the Aga (or whatever cooker takes your fancy). Being so ancient, the quantities are imperial - I have given metric conversions but not tested them.

Delicious gingerbread

Ingredients:
8 oz (225g) self-raising wholemeal flour
1 level teaspoon (tsp) bicarbonate of soda
2 tsp ground ginger
2 tsp mixed spice
4 oz (110g) unsalted butter
2 oz (50g) dark muscovado sugar
4 oz (110g) black treacle
4 oz (110g) golden syrup
2 eggs
1/4 pint (150ml) milk

Shallow rectangular baking tin, preferably non-stick, approximate size 8in x 11in (20cm x 28cm) - can be a little bigger as this will just make shallower pieces of gingerbread - greased and base lined with baking parchment or greaseproof paper.

Method:
Sift dry ingredients (flour, bicarbonate of soda, ginger and spice) into a large bowl and mix together, making a well in the centre.
Melt butter, sugar, treacle and syrup together gently in a saucepan - do not allow to boil or you will have toffee instead of gingerbread.
Pour the melted mixture into the centre of the dry ingredients and mix together gradually until smooth.
Beat the eggs into the milk and add to the mixture gradually, beating well as you go.
Pour the mixture into the tin (it is quite a wet mixture) and make sure the top is level.

In the Aga (two oven): put the grid shelf on the floor of the top oven, and the plain shelf on the second set of runners, and sit the tin on the grid shelf. Turn once half way through.
Conventional ovens: 325F/gas 3-4/160-170C (fan ovens tend to need a lower temperature).

Cooking time: 35-40 mins. The gingerbread is ready when it is beginning to shrink from the sides of the tin, and the top springs back when pressed (in the centre) lightly with your finger .

Leave to cool in the tin for 5 minutes, then turn onto a wire rack. Cut into big pieces or small as your fancy (or greed) takes you when completely cool if you can wait that long.

Time for tea

My cookery book says serve hot for tea - yum!

Look how Pomona has become rotund with grief

[I must stop baking so much cake as the Ploughboy is heading back to university next week, and the General marches off to be a fresher this weekend. I shall become positively rotund with grief if I carry on like this; I thought sending off number two would be a piece of cake in itself, but as the fatal day approaches I feel my heartstrings a-quiver and the tears waiting in the wings . . . Princess Bunchy and the Aged Ps will be all alone but for the dogs and the hens and the pigs and the spiders, oh so many spiders, the feather duster has been much in play.

Shoes that mean business and a faithful friend in adversity

She tightens her apron strings and marches firmly on into the future with High Hopes and tight-laced shoes.]

Time, tide and thrift

2011-09-26T21:04:00.001+01:00

[If you are looking for the giveaway, click here.]

For the first weekend in some time I did no knitting or sewing (in spite of the fact that I hauled a big bag of yarn and needles down to Devon and back), but luckily I can show you a pretty picture for here is something I made earlier.

Yes, yet another another patchwork cushion because I seem to be on quite a roll thanks to the dear old Go! Baby, which has certainly revved up my productivity.

I am beginning to realize that the thought of all that cutting out was a barrier to creation, and now that by winding a little handle for a few seconds, wham! 32 triangles can appear as if by magic.

You may remember that I made the cushion above for my sofa a little while ago, and I felt that it needed a friend to cuddle up to. I did not want to use exactly the same pattern, but I did want to use the Go! Baby to do the cutting, and being a relative newbie to this sort of patchwork, I found this book from Search Press very helpful in giving me ideas as to what patterns I could make with my half-square and quarter-square triangles.

It is called Patchwork: 200 Questions Answered, by Jake Finch, and is a handy little companion, particularly useful to the novice patchworker, as it answers all those questions you need to know the answer to but don't know who to ask.

It shows you exactly how to piece a huge range of blocks, from the simple to the complex, and also covers the finishing of quilts, sashing, binding, etc. The only criticism that I have is that the book would be hugely improved if it had imperial as well as metric measurements - I know that officially the UK is metric, but most quilting in this country is done using inches, and in fact when I started out I could not have bought a metric cutting mat or ruler in my local shop even if I wanted one.

After some thought, I decided to do the centre of the cushion using my 4in finished size half-square triangle die, with a border of quarter-square triangles to link up with the first cushion, using red and aqua reproduction feed sack fabric. The Go! Baby really came into its own when after cutting out all my triangles and laying them out I changed my mind about the colour scheme - I was able to cut out another 20 quarter-square triangles in a trice. I know that if I had had to start again with the rulers late on a Saturday afternoon I would probably have given up!

But I won't waste the rejected colour, which you can see making up half of the back envelope - I have another cushion design planned for the triangles I cut from this fabric, which I think will involve some of Amy's My Happy Place fabric. (I have also found out that if you sign up with Accuquilt, not only can you download the free pattern books I mentioned before, but they also have a big selection of free patterns which can be downloaded direct from their store, which I have found a great source of ideas and inspiration.)

So two out of the three sofa cushions are now done - and now I will give you a handy little hint. These cushions are sitting on two 'thrifted' chairs: in fact, they were so thrifty that they were free, abandoned to their fate by their original owners. But before acquiring a chair, please do sit on it. And if it is not comfortable at first, then forget the proverb encouraging you to try, try and try again, however wonderfully shabby chic it looks.

I spotted the chair on the right outside a cottage that was being renovated one day a dozen years ago when I was out walking the lanes, when thrift, and vintage, and recycling weren't nearly so commonplace as they are now. The builders looked incredulous when I asked to take away the chair and highly amused as I lugged it off down the lane, so pleased with my find. They had obviously tried sitting on the thing which has bitten and harassed everyone who has sat on it since, however many cushions it is loaded with. A stream of polite guests have said, no, I'll be absolutely fine here, when the family have vainly offered to take the pain as they seat themselves all innocent and unknowing at the table.

But enough is enough. Twelve long years and I have finally come to the conclusion that as nothing is going to make that chair comfortable to sit on, why on earth do I give it house room? The Fly Lady says that you have to declutter as the first step in gaining Control over your domestic situation; I am going to pack that pesky seat bag and baggage out to the bonfire and consign it to the flames and will not pretend any longer that its looks can compensate for its vicious tendencies.

And I have the Fly Lady to thank for a relaxing weekend away. The Head Chef and I took our short break - many kind thanks to those of you who wanted to send us to Tuscany, Canada and the like, but with such a short time available we headed south-west to our spiritual home for a revivifying walk on the beach at Padstein and some invigorating cliffs and crashing waves at Hartland Point.

I was able to head off with a clear conscience thanks to my very shiny sinks and buffed-up bathrooms; the rest really did not seem so very bad, and even a tearful phone conversation from Princess Bunchy due to her having suffered a very serious sick feeling All Day which necessitated Leaving the Pool Early at swimming club, and multitudinous phone calls between the back door and Guildford, only caused me the slightest wobble. You will be glad to hear that the Ploughboy took her in hand and administered his fail-safe remedy for all ills: drink two pints of water (preferably followed by a hearty meal) and retire to bed early, and I just concentrated on thinking about the uplifting power of shiny sinks.

So here are some handy hints: if you want a nice holiday in Devon I can highly recommend The Old Granary at Leigh Farm in Hartland; two pints of water proved very efficacious in curing a sick Princess; sitting on chairs is a surefire way to tell if they are comfortable.

Now back to the fray: real life begins again with sinks to shine, a house to declutter, and Routines which promise much (not to mention a new pattern to try out, too). Which shall I start with . . . ?

Swish and shine: a giveaway

2011-09-23T16:00:00.003+01:00

Having read about the transformative power of Lucy's engagement with the Fly Lady I felt quite inspired to take control of my own domestic situation. Unfortunately the Fly Lady does not do charitable home visits to those in need, so this is not a task that can be contracted out.

I am sure all of you domestic goddesses out there are sitting in neat and tidy kitchens and sitting rooms, uncluttered and totally up to date with your chores, which is why you can sit guilt-free wandering the hills and vales of Blogland.

Alas and alack, the same does not apply to poor Pomona, sitting in Clutter Cottage in a state of some misery and confusion. I was brought up in the cleanest and tidiest household you could imagine, and my dear mamma and sister are domestic paragons both; I love cleanliness and order, and everything spick and span, but somehow by the time I have achieved that in the B&B wing of the house, there seems to be somewhat of a falling off in our own personal domestic space, compounded by the fact that I would rather be knitting or stitching or writing or doing almost anything but housework. (And of course I do live with the messiest bunch of codependants in the known universe, bless their grubby cotton socks, she says in an effort to shift the blame onto someone else.)

Please avert your eyes from the messy bits - I couldn't crop them all out

So dear Readers I have signed up to the promise of domestic bliss, and at this very moment (Baby Step No 1) my sink is full of hot water and bleach, and I am about to start constructing a 'Control Journal' - Control (with a capital letter) is what I need in my life right now, it has a reassuringly firm ring to it. I am also sitting at my computer in an apron to emphasize the all-encompassing domestic routine which I am determined will Solve Everything.

And just in the nick of time, a very generous chap called Al McCavery asked me to choose two tea towels (or dish towels, or drying-up cloths, depending which language you speak) from his website to review. Well, you may say, how can you get excited about a tea towel? And I might have said the same thing, only the Fly Lady sets great store by them for imbuing your sink with the best sort of shine, and also when I visited the All Tea Towels website I was quite overcome with the impossibility of only choosing two. This is Tea Towel City (not to be confused with Smack Bottom City, just off whichever motorway you happen to be travelling on, and to be used as a threat for small children squabbling in the back of the car. Works a treat - no physical punishment necessary, just threaten to drop them off there if they carry on misbehaving. Remember to speak in an earnest but sorrowful voice, and elaborate with stories about government regulations if required).

Where was I? Oh yes, Tea Towel heaven: I have never seen so many tea towels gathered in one shop, and there is something for everyone from the traditional cats and botanicals to the retro, edgy, and absolutely hilarious (go on click that link and you will have a good laugh!) - in fact, this year I am going to do tea towels as stocking fillers for the men and boys as a gentle, but oh so amusing hint. Ha ha! And for those of you not from these shores, just go and look at the Rules of Cricket - it still makes me laugh even though that tea towel has been around for years. Those are exactly the rules of cricket, and it is the only team sport where I have the vaguest idea of what is happening.

I also think that these would make fun presents when you go to stay with someone - chocolate is so midriff-enhancing, and flowers so ephemeral; a nice jolly tea towel would certainly be something I would like to receive, and there is such a choice here that you could really tailor the gift to the person. (I'll have this one and this one please! Or if you are feeling more mature, then this would be very acceptable.)

Princess Bunchy was most taken with Keep Calm and Carry On, and I bowed to her judgement here, although I did insist that it stays in the kitchen rather than migrating upstairs to her bedroom wall. And I could not resist Where There's A Woman There's A Way (my capitals are very deliberate and assertive) and how could the chaps in my house disagree with that one? The latter is a large, good quality Ulster Weavers cloth, and the Keep Calm is also a real heavy duty cotton, large size - and I am pleased to note made in the UK.

Anyway I couldn't torture you with the joys of the tea towel without giving you a chance to experience them for yourself. Jolly old Al will send out two tea towels of choice to the winner of the giveaway - and I might even get the Head Chef to do the picking this time, as he is the biggest destroyer of kitchen cloths I have ever met, having the pro's habit of using them in lieu of oven gloves, pot holders and heatproof stands, and walking round with one draped over his shoulder at all times. (He is certainly not going to get his mitts on my new ones.)

So this is what you have to do:

1. Be a Follower.

2. Visit All Tea Towels here and tell me which two you would like if you win, then come back and tell me in your comment.

3. You get an extra entry for putting a button on your blog which links back to here - you are welcome to use one of my pictures for that purpose (right click and save to your computer to do that). Just remember to tell me that you have done so.

Open to all - anyone, anywhere with a postal service can enter, and I will do the draw next week - have fun choosing!

A bag of apples

2011-09-21T15:50:00.001+01:00

The sun is shining, the washing machine is working, and I have finished making the sweetest little bag - there's three good things for you with very little effort.

I know it was raining earlier, but I can hang out the backlog of laundry now, thanks to the third Mr W M Repairman in a fortnight paying us a call this morning. Today's Mr W M Repairman was very young, very polite, did not shake his head or draw in his breath ominously, and didn't even trip the electricity while I was working on the computer. We definitely like him, and have great hopes that we can get more than two loads of laundry done before Mr W Machine gives up the ghost again.

I have been distracting myself from laundry griefs with a wonderful Keyka Lou pattern called a Belted Tote Bag. Working through some patterns might add to the stresses and strains of life, but not Michelle's - her instructions are definitely Pomona-proof, being very clear and copiously illustrated, and enabling me to produce a very fetching little appley bag. It has come out so well that I somehow feel that someone else must have made it when I was scrubbing the floors or making tea for Mr Repairman or preventing a most vicious Little Stranger from hurling herself and her teeth at the neck of Charlie the friendly neighbourhood labrador who makes a point of escaping from the confines of his garden on a regular basis to come and play mad games with his friend the Mad Dog.

But no, I really did make it - in some lovely Alexander Henry apple fabric, and lined with yellow Lake house Dry Goods fabric by Holly Holderman called Annie's Seed Catalogue - the only Annie's Farm Stand fabric that I have found on these shores so far. I love fabric with writing on, and was recently discussing with Isisjem the fact that I keep seeing wonderful projects using text fabric, but never seem to find it on sale - although I have just seen that Amy from During Quiet Time has produced her own range, so maybe I might even get to be ahead of the curve for once, rather than trailing behind.

Having also seen Annie's post announcing that it is 100 days to Christmas and time to start making presents, I think that these bijou bags might be just the thing - depending on the fabric used they could be an ideal gift for a teenage girl, a knitting bag for a granny (no, I am not going to use this one for a knitting bag, well, maybe) or as a pretty eco shopping bag to carry around in your handbag so that you don't have to pay 1p to buy a plastic monstrosity.

Are you going to make your Christmas presents this year? If so, time to start now - you know if you leave it until November you will be a gibbering wreck by the time Christmas Eve arrives, and have to rush out as the shops shut to buy all the presents you so optimistically thought that you could make. Actually, I am sure you will be more efficient than that - as for me, I start off with good intentions, but by Christmas Eve I will be a gibbering wreck, . . . etc, etc.

So take it from me, just start making your Belted Totes now and come Yuletide you will be a very happy bunny.

Present joy

2011-09-19T16:00:00.001+01:00

Pomona's cottage seems to be becoming a bit of a bloggers' retreat at the moment - not only did the lovely Barbara ramble along from her English garden for a little holiday last month, but also this weekend I had the pleasure of meeting Emma from Silverpebble and Mrs Thrifty Household when they came to stay in our B&B.

It was lovely to meet them both and sit about and chat while the Head Chef rustled up supper and generally slaved over a hot stove, but what was even more of a delight was the present that Emma brought for me. As you may well know, Emma makes the most beautiful jewellery, and funnily enough, just before she arrived I had been dropping broad hints to the Head Chef about the acceptability of some of her jewellery on the present front . . .

Actually, they were more than broad hints it was more like 'Emma who is coming to stay makes the most wonderful jewellery and if you would like to give me a present (no, maybe it was more definite than that, more next time you buy me a present (eg Christmas)) you could (no, ought) to look at her website. She makes it all herself, you know, and it is just so beautiful . . .'

The Head Chef just looked bemused, because for him presents are impulsive things - no, not even impulsive - a present is a stress purchase, and it's no good, I have tried sending him the links in emails so he just has to click on them, but he doesn't even have a Paypal account, so that cuts out Etsy. (But come to think of it, he did manage to find a pig trailer and order it online, and a man turned up with it the very next day, and I have never seen him so beside himself with glee . . .)

[The weekend before Christmas he will go into town to buy me a present under pressure from Princess Bunchy, and they might get some bits and bobs she likes from Cath Kidston because it is one of her favourite shops, and he will remember to get some bars of Green and Black's 70% dark chocolate from the supermarket because he likes having it in the fridge and I eat the odd square (except by Christmas I will probably be trying to cut down and go to the gym more to eradicate the winter midriff) and he will also buy me a bottle of Neal's Yard bubble bath, as he has done for the past I don't know how many years, and a bar of Neal's Yard soap for Princess Bunchy to give me (and I do like Neal's Yard, but a surprise would be nice, except the surprises are often not so good, and have to be taken back after Christmas, and I get consumed with guilt for being so ungrateful . . .). And how could I not enter into the spirit of things when last Christmas I was given the most expensive present I have ever received from the dear Head Chef - I am sure that I am an object of envy being the recipient of a Caframo Ecofan to sit on the top of the log burner and improve the warm air circulation in the house so that I will never again be chilly in winter, and that is why I didn't have the usual little bag of treats as who could want anything else when they have an Ecofan, and anyway it must be better to have one expensive must-have gift, rather than a quantity of cheap fun . . .]

So wistfully I went back to ironing the sheets and then blow me down with a feather, Emma arrived bearing the most wonderful present - one of her beautiful handmade necklaces with vintage beads, and a lovely little knitty badge, all packed up in a silver-tissue-lined birdie box. Christmas come early and even better, because Christmas could bring a log splitter or heaven knows what sort of exciting gadget (it may help you to know that the Head Chef's most treasured possession is his log pile, and I wasn't here this morning when he showed our two lovely guests around, but I would be surprised if it did not include the ceremonial viewing of the wood stacks). [And come to think of it, I bet you if I expressed a desire for a Denver boot to fit a trailer wheel, I would definitely get lucky.]

So if you want to see more lovely jewellery, go and visit Emma at Silverpebble (I especially like her new Nature collection), and for thrifty hints and tips Mrs Thrifty Household is the person to visit, especially if you want to see nasturtium seeds in a new light.

And if anyone out there wants to give me a nice gift for Christmas I could send you a link . . . but for the present I am joyful.

Tea and cake

2011-09-18T15:35:00.002+01:00

The fire has been lit for the first time this autumn, I can feel the days shortening and my feet getting colder. Hand knitted socks, cosy vests, patchwork quilts and a superfluity of hot water bottles beckon.

Time to harvest Bramley apples and make delicious apple muffins (you will find my very easy recipe for these here) in the Aga. This recipe is so healthy that I am sure that the muffins are positively slimming, and if you count in the time pruning and picking the Bramleys then I think that they might even have negative calories.

There is nothing like a plate heaped up with apple muffins to bring a smile to the faces of your nearest and dearest on a damp Sunday afternoon - why not whip up some right now? Twenty minutes to make and twenty minutes to bake, and lo and behold! it's time for tea.

Style notes: willow pattern tablecloth from a charity shop, Bramley apples from a tree in the garden, plate from aged relative.

Canine capers

2011-09-17T14:29:00.000+01:00

Why it is that when it is picking winners time the weather always decides to take a turn for the worse?

Hmmm . . .

Have I ever picked a winner when the sun shines, I ask myself, and has this summer been so bad because there have been so many jolly prizes to be had?

There's something in here that smells rather nice

So, as seems to have become the custom, I took the girlies in fur coats outside to help me in my task.

Well, if she will, then I will

They had fur coats, I had a cardi (cashmere, of course, but you can't see me, so I could be making it up), and I had a butter dish for one set of entries, and a little chicken bowl for the others.

It doesn't look like butter . . .

Mad Dog was the front runner and was into the chicken bowl in a trice; the Little Stranger needed some enticing but in the end showed far more in the way of tenacity, enthusiasm, and tossing little pieces of paper around. Teddy-Face was nowhere to be seen - presumably asleep by the Aga, and utterly unaware of the fun to be had in the garden.

Any more for any more?

And here we have the winners (luckily I took photos, as I had quite forgotten who was what by the time I had battled through the gales and was back in the house).

Cue fanfare number 1 - the winner of A Green Guide to Traditional Country Foods is:

Pipany

And the winners of a copy of Organic Places to Stay are:

Summerfete, Noknittedknickers, and Nicky

So perhaps you lovelies (Pipany, Summerfete, Noknittedknickers, and Nicky) could email me with your addresses and your prizes will shortly be winging their way to you. And for those of you dears who were left on the lawn, commiserations to you, but I do have a couple more giveaways in the pipeline, one domestic and one constructive, so you have another chance to play very shortly.

The indignity of it all

And I am off to have a happy afternoon playing with my Go! Baby, a pile of fabric, and my free pattern book (if you want to join in the fun, you can sign up to download the patterns here). I have a baby present to make, but my cushion fetish is threatening to sidetrack my obligations . . .

Organic Holidays giveaway

2011-09-12T09:00:00.005+01:00

Today I have another nice little giveaway for you as part of the Soil Association's Organic September initiative, but as is my wont I also have an inspiring little tale which is an encouragement to those hurtling towards the half century and feeling washed up on the shores of motherhood, gazing in a bemused fashion at our wrecks of CVs and wondering what on earth a middle- aged woman with a patchy employment history might do to earn a living.

Well, I have been talking to a lady called Linda Moss recently, and her tale stands as an inspiration to us all. (In fact, she has just been made an Eco Hero here.)

A dozen or so years ago she was looking for a place to stay for her holidays - she had been working for an organic veg box scheme and rather fancied going somewhere a bit eco-friendly which served organic food. She couldn't find anywhere, or even a website or directory to guide her, so she thought to herself, why not start one up?

Linda wasn't deterred by her lack of computing skills or lack of experience - she went to an evening class to learn how to use a computer, and just ploughed on ahead, setting up a website, Organic Holidays, now one of Times Online's Best Travel Sites, and publishing a book, Organic Places to Stay, which has gone into several editions, and won the People's Book Prize Award last year. Linda says modestly, 'If I can do it, anyone can.' I found her can-do attitude to inspiring, and a real antidote to that feeling of 'if only I could'. She shows that, actually, there is no need to write yourself off because of your age, or perceived lack of experience or ability - just get on and do things, be determined to follow your dreams and ideas, and you will get there in the end.

I first came across Linda when a friend with a lovely off-grid B&B recommended the Organic Places to Stay site as a great one for marketing small B&Bs of an eco-friendly turn, and so we joined up, but I have also gone on to find this website a really useful way to find special places for holidays and short breaks, as well as courses in all sorts of crafts and skills. It list both B&Bs and self catering cottages, and covers locations all around the world.

Linda has very kindly offered to give away three copies of her award-winning book to my lucky readers. Anyone can join in - and at the same time you can give me a little help, if you please, as I am in need of a bit of inspiration.

To enter the giveaway, just pop over to the Organic Holidays website here - and then come back and tell me in a comment where you think that I and the Head Chef should go on our long wished for holiday, somewhere nice where we can get a bit of peace and quiet, and also go on a few outings (easy-peasy!).

The giveaway will be open for one week - I'll give you an extra chance if you blog about it or link to it in your sidebar, but don't forget to tell me that you have.

I am looking forward to seeing where you think I should go on my holidays - a nice little end of summer season break would be just the thing!

Sunday afternoon

2011-09-11T16:42:00.000+01:00

Late summer sunshine and time to sit and knit and count blessings.

Just about to turn the heel on my candy-coated colours of summer sticks of rock socks.

Cushions made from recycled Aran sweaters by my clever sister - cut off the sleeves, neckline and ribbing to form a square and stitch up.

My favourite garden chair - thrown out from someone else's life and come to rest in my garden.

Rustic recycled wooden bench made by my boys for me last spring.

Small good things - precious little pieces of happiness.

Second flush

2011-09-09T17:53:00.000+01:00

(If you were looking for the giveaway, you will find it here.)

Yesterday I wrote about the last knockings in the garden, the signs that things are slowing down, and harvest coming to and end.

Today I want to show you a tiny little bit of new growth, a second season which has happened so quickly that it seems like magic.

A week or so ago we cleared the dead marigolds and nasturtiums from the big tub in front of the house (known as the ram raid box to the chaps in my life - how unkind of them). The princess and I saw small nasturtium seeds sitting on the surface of the soil amongst the chips of gravel and we laughed and pushed them just below the surface with our fingers.

And lo and behold! (It's been a while since I have done some lo and beholding - all is not lost.) Tiny new nasturtium plants have germinated astonishingly quickly - the green fuse lit by the touchpaper of our hands.

I wonder if we will get any flowers before the weather closes in . . .

Last knockings and a present for you

2011-09-08T18:39:00.001+01:00

Organic September has arrived, and I am conducting a couple of giveaways in honour, which is a jolly thing - not that this September is a season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, being more distinguished by low and louring skies, and a definite chill in the drear air.

It seems to be a time of endings - the end of the summer that never was (I think there was one of those in the 18th century but I can't remember which year), the end of the holidays (Princess Bunchy has gone back to school), and in some ways the end of an era in my life for me, as both my big boys will be reappearing from the blue yonder where they have worked away the summer only to disappear back to university, leaving a little princess and her aged Ps.

The Little Stranger has been to her last puppy party before emerging into the world as a fully socialized member of the doggie world, or rather that was the idea. Princess Bunchy and the Head Chef took her to the earlier sessions, and apparently she was the life and soul of the party, a living advertisement for her breed.

Not today, though, when I had the honour of taking her.

Puppies should be getting the hang of house training by now, said the veterinary nurse, as the Little Stranger made a large deposit in the corner. There was a party game of find the biscuit - each puppy went up in turn. Little Stranger was not interested.

How are you getting on with the Lie Down, said the vet nurse, let's all take turns. Needless to say, the Little Stranger was not getting on with the Lie Down.

She is not herself, said the nurse, as the Little Stranger slid her rear end around the floor, and tried to chew her tail and scratch her behind. Worms or fleas, I thought, or possibly just utterly slack parenting. Perhaps she sat on a wasp, I offered weakly.

We will be invited back to a fancy dress Christmas puppy party. I am not sure that I want to go.

And the joys of the garden are coming to an end, too. The melons, after much careful nurture by the Head Chef, have been deemed a failure (not enough sun).

The tomatoes are slowing down, ripening only reluctantly. The aubergines are distinctly small, and the peppers stay defiantly green (not enough sun).

But the apples are crunchy, and sweet and juicy, straight from the tree; there are pears, too, and beans, and even half a dozen cobs of sweetcorn (not really enough sun for them).

And I have a wonderful book which appeals to the squirrel in me, A Green Guide to Traditional Country Foods, edited by Henrietta Green, divided into such mouthwatering sections as The Dairy, The Bakery, The Sweetshop, The Pantry (I will leave The Butcher's and The Smokehouse to the Head Chef).

It talks about sourcing good food, and finding the best traditional producers; you can go about making bread and cream cheese and butter (potted ham and chorizo for the Head Chef, focaccia and sourdough for me).

There are wonderful photographs and much about the philosophy of sourcing and producing the best things to eat - I think it is a book with which to curl up on the sofa next to the fire and dream of hams smoking in the inglenook, and making chocolate truffles and marshmallows as Christmas presents. In fact, I think this book would make an excellent Christmas present for foodies everywhere.

I am feeling the urge to spread a little happiness around the world, so I am going to give away a copy of this book to one of my lovely followers. This time I am going to pose a little task for you - not a difficult one at all.

Just tell me about a blog that you think I would like to read (preferably one that I don't know about, of course). Open to all, as ever - I will pick a winner in about a week, I think.

And do come back for my second Organic September giveaway on Monday - it might be of interest to those of you who feel in need of a holiday (which I certainly do, and am already pondering the unfamiliar concept).

PS The Little Stranger has shown no sign of indisposition since she has been back at home (possibly emptying the contents of the other end of her digestive system into the boot of the car solved it all).

Toodle pip!

The power of making and creating

2011-09-05T19:21:00.000+01:00

Regular readers will perhaps recall how for me one of the most important things about making and creating is the weaving of experience and memory into the finished product. I love the way that the evanescence of experience, the ephemerality of memory, can be stitched together into something concrete and lasting, an artefact which can encapsulate a particular time and place.

I saw some of this in action today when I was lucky enough to be invited to the hallowed halls of the V&A to a preview of their new exhibition, Power of Making, which opens 6 September. On Radio Four this morning I heard an interview with one of the makers in this exhibition, Captain Casdagli, 'the only male member of the Chelsea Ladies sewing group'. His Tree of Life embroidery, an exuberant and colourful work featuring quotations from Rudyard Kipling, sits alongside his father's more sombre cross stitch produced whilst he was a prisoner of the Germans in World War II.

Father and son needlework

The latter work features motifs of swastika, hammer and sickle, eagle and lion, as well as a duplication of odd shapes something between a pagoda and a rocket, but given an ecclesiastical air by the crosses either end. The colours are dark, and in the barely visible dots and dashes of the enclosed borders Major Casdagli embroidered a subversive message only legible to those who could read Morse code: 'God save the King, F*** Hitler'. Cross stitch might seem a haven for all that is cute and homely, but its potential for anger and subversion is quite evident here. Another combination of memory and making is the Bosnian women's memorial kilim, recording those whom they have loved and lost, an intensely emotional piece which highlights the tragedy of loss, and contains it within something domestic and mundane, quite the opposite of the massive public edifices of stone which we associate with such memorials, yet no less the powerful for being in such a homespun medium.

The Power of Making exhibition, mounted in association with the Crafts Council, features a huge range of media, methods and materials, and transcends the boundaries of art and science, craft and technology. Familiar crafts are used in unfamiliar ways like Shauna Richardson's amazing crocheted 'Crochetdermy Bear', or Peter Butcher's machine embroidered surgical implant - shaped like a snowflake it provides multiple attachment points for surgeons, with beauty and utility combined.

Yes, the knitting really is that big

There a gigantic piece of Aran knitting, by Christien Meindertsma, made using 18 sheep's worth of wool, and a Fendi bag needlepoint kit for the aspirational needlewoman. I was also amused by the lacemakers of Koniakow who went from making ecclesiastical garments to rather funky lace G-strings (there is a lace fence, too).

Upwardly mobile needlepoint

There are frequently several examples of similar artefacts, from different places and using different materials - three wildly differing coffins from willow to truly wild; bicycles in wood, in diamanté; a spray-on dress (strictly for the more youthful figure), one made of recycled cassette tape, and a beautiful but poignant widow dress made from dressmaker's pins by Susie MacMurray.

A newborn baby cake by Michelle Wibowo, and a newborn baby doll by Elaine Colbert - equally spooky and equally clever; this is a show that has something for everyone and would be good way to get your reluctant chaps and techie types through the doors of the V&A. Just tell them about the tools, and the 3D printers (quite mystifying), the 48-cylinder motorbike, and the magic Sugru hacking material which mends anything.

Not your average patchwork quilt

The curator, Daniel Charny, told us that his aim was to set aside preconceptions about categories of art, design, engineering and technology, to bring art back into a stronger relationship with technology, while valuing skill and experience. I was also given a copy of the accompanying book, Power of Making, which is a series of articles linked to the themes of the exhibition, interspersed with images of exhibits and parallel poetic responses by Patricia Rodriguez - you can see pages in the pictures above. The book is an interesting and thought-provoking read, a combination of a some looking back at the origins of the V&A in the nineteenth century as the Museum of Manufactures, a focus on contemporary issues in craft, design and technology, and a looking forward to the future.

The exhibition is free and runs until 2 January - well worth a detour, I would say, and if you go before 25 September, do go upstairs and look at 'Picturing Plants - Masterpieces of Botanical Illustration'. These little exhibitions are so easy to overlook at the V&A, but this one is a gem of an exhibition which deserves wider publicity. There are some lovely botanical drawings as you would expect, but also beautiful examples from florilegia (decorative flower books), both of which have been important as sourcebooks in the history of design (which is why you find them in a design museum). There were wonderful seed packets and old horticultural catalogues in vivid colours with 'impossibly perfect' blooms, and Redouté's Canterbury Bells (c1787) has a luminosity and sense of fragility that catches the eye right across the room. It is labelled as an 'informal study as a gift' for a botanist friend with whom he was staying. What a gift!

Mega pegs and puppy tales

2011-09-02T19:54:00.000+01:00

In my last post I made fleeting reference to the joy and wonder of the phenomenon of the jumbo peg, which elicited a deep-felt and earnest request from dearest Hen to know more about such things, and thus I feel impelled to elucidate.

Once again furry friends are involved and the tale smacks of shaggy dog, but loyal readers, surely you know me by now, and realize that I prefer the convoluted to the brief and succinct.

I am a Scottish terrier, and dour by nature

(I am considering Twittering, but even confining myself to 150 words seems awfully concise, so measuring my outpourings in characters of that order (I can never remember if it is 140 or 160, and I am bound to find myself cut short in full flow) seems almost an impossibility. Some of you may say that I am already twittering quite enough, and quite possibly you are in the right.)

Spot the collateral damage

The jumbo peg is an object of potentially infinite use about the household, and I am sure you will find Mrs A from West Wittering (yes, she is wittering as well as twittering) in the Lakeland catalogue telling you that she uses jumbo pegs to hold her curtains off the floor while she vacuums the carpet, and Mr B from Havering (I do that often in fabric shops) explaining that he is a new man since he discovered jumbo pegs, and that his workshop is incomplete without them.

Interesting

Personally, I have always found that there is an almost magnetic attraction between puppies and children and the mega pegs. In fact, I think that singlehandedly I have supported Lakeland on the peg sales front, so many have I bought over the years, and I was beginning to think, now my big boys no longer make camps with tarpaulins and climbing frames, or dens festooned with camouflage netting, that the mega pegs would cease disappearing out of the peg basket and into the farthest reaches of garden and orchard, never to be seen again.

Would I?

But I was wrong.

Possibly

That is one of the eternal knotty problems of family life. No sooner do you think that you have solved one of life's little nurturing issues, than another pops up in its place.

Not me, guv, no not at all

No sooner has one naughty dog stopped stealing the jumbo pegs from the basket and masticating them to smithereens as soon as your back is turned, then a Little Stranger comes scurrying into your life to snuffle in the basket and snaffle them away behind the greenhouse or under the chest of drawers outside the back door.

Chewed pegs and new pegs

(You may wonder why we have bedroom furniture in the garden - well, so do I. The Head Chef put it there to hold the shoes that were rapidly breeding and multiplying by the back door and constituting a major trip hazard for the clumsy one of the family. All I can say is that those warm dark drawers are conducive to breeding and multiplying as there are still herds and flocks of shoes around the back entrance, and now a family of footwear has set up camp in a big cardboard box next to the chest of drawers.)

So, if you remain unpersuaded of the wonders of the big, chunky peg, just buy some for your children and dogs. I can promise you that they will derive much enjoyment from them, and you could even write to Lakeland and tell them of all the interesting and life enhancing uses they have put them to. As for me, I just use them for pegging out big chunky bath mats and quilts (that is, if I actually can find the pegs when I need them).

The plumpest of them all

2011-09-01T07:00:00.000+01:00

I am glad to report that the Princess Bunchy cushion project which started here has finally been completed, to the satisfaction of all. In between scaling the mountain of sheets which the morning brought, I pieced together the cushion of which you had a tantalizing little glimpse last week.

There was much discussion of buttons and in the late afternoon as I was amongst the peaks of the linen hills, I thought that I had finished, being under the impression that buttons were not required, being cheek denting to reposing royalty, but no, the princess insisted on exploring the farthest reaches of my button boxes and there was much in the way of pondering and setting out and rearranging and I had time to hang out more washing and wonder why small dogs have a penchant for pegs and enjoy picking my best jumbo pegs out of the basket and running off with them just when I want to peg out big chunky bathmats . . . although to find them you just have to follow the trail of chewed wooden dolly pegs to behind the greenhouse and then when you are back indoors ready to stitch on the buttons in the prescribed arrangement you find that said small dog smells, no smells is not the word, the Great Stink is what comes to mind, and then the small dog must be introduced to the concept of bathing by a princess, no less, and then you find small dog rolled up in a towel and smelling of coconut by the Aga having been carefully and royally deposited there with just a little black nose sticking out, unable to move. So then you have to release small dog from captivity being worried about the perils of rheumatism inherent in being left wrapped in a damp towel, at which point rheumaticky old dog settles herself to sleep on damp towel . . .

And then you try to remember what you were doing before the shaggy dog tale began, and oh yes, a dozen buttons to sew on a cushion which will not need many buttons . . .

But all is finished now - another lovely project from Cute and Easy Quilting and Stitching - thank you, Charlotte Liddle, and thank you, Cico Books - you have made a little princess very happy, and kept her mother happily stitching which is much more fun than grubbing around in the foothills of the laundry pile.

So there we see them, all lined up in a row - I am afraid that it is quite impossible for you to admire them in situ in the disarray of Bunchy's bedroom, for you would be quite shocked that a princess could live in such a, shall we say, busy environment, and in fact you would hardly get in through the door such is the agglomeration of artefacts on the floor, and actually it is preferable to avert one's gaze.

Much better to admire the soft furnishings sitting undisturbed in the wilds of the front garden and notice how beautifully they coordinate with each other, and how lovingly stitched they are. The regal opinion is that the John Lewis innards score highest on plumpness, a plumpness which is retained under pressure.

And if you would like to make such plump and cosy cushions for your own little princes and princesses, the one on the left was made using an Accuquilt pattern available here, and the rosette and unicorn cushions on the right were made following instructions in Charlotte Liddle's Cute and Easy Quilting and Stitching.

As for me, it's once more unto the ironing, dear friends, or maybe to the bleach, if the birds have been divebombing the washing line again . . .

Last day of August

2011-08-31T09:16:00.000+01:00

The last day of August here in Old Blighty and the only sunshine to be seen is courtesy of the sunflowers gleaming brightly against the dull and cloudy skies.

But our meteorological woes are as nothing compared to those of our friends across the Big Pond, and to complain of a little greyness about the gills is pure frivolity.

Today I am thinking of Karen in Vermont as she sits and surveys the wasted scene which surrounds her little patch of earth which is so precious to her. Maybe you could go over and offer her a few words of comfort to fortify her soul - a small thing, but perhaps a little good deed to start the day is no bad thing for any of us.

A wiser soul than I once wrote that 'the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts' which make 'things ... not so ill with you and me as they might have been'.

And as a small and possibly cheering postscript, I did try to photograph the sparrows clustered eagerly around the sunflower seed heads, pecking away enthusiastically, but alas my tread is too heavy, my camera too lightweight, and the presence of my Little Stranger (to whom small, fluffy and fluttery means tasty morsel) by my side had a certain hampering effect.

Working and making and creating

2011-08-22T18:23:00.000+01:00

Often, working at home means that it is difficult to draw the line between work and not-work. Notice that I don't say leisure, as I am not sure what leisure means nowadays - is gardening a hobby when you are growing your own food, and food for B&B guests to eat? Does housework count as paid work when you are cleaning the guest wing of the cottage? Are sewing and knitting leisure activities when you aren't making things to sell, but making them to use or to give rather than buy?

The poet Philip Larkin talked about not 'let[ting] the toad work squat on your life', and amongst all the different things I do to earn a crust there are some toady bits, but I prefer D H Lawrence's poem 'Work' which recommends work that 'absorbs you like an absorbing game' - this weekend I was able to take the Lawrence approach, banish any hint of squatting toads, and lose myself in some making and creating.

It is not finished yet but just looking at the happiness colours of the fabric, and the stitches taken so gently, sitting so quietly, listening to Anthony Trollope's The American Senator (I have never read it, but I am ordering it in post haste) on Radio 4, takes me back to a Saturday afternoon out of time and fret and fever.

And even on a Monday, when the toads wake and rear their ugly, swollen heads again, at home the kitchen is filled with the pungent smell of plum chutney (recipe here), the measurable result of work which is making and creating. And it has promise for the future: the pleasure of eating, pleasure deferred, is enhanced by the memory of sowing, and growing and harvesting and chopping, in a continuum from earth to table.

There is jelly in the making, drip, drip, dripping its taste and sweetness into a bowl on the table. Tiny purple-black bush plums from the hedgerow, no work to grow, nature's bounty to harvest and store in rosy and jewel-like jars for the winter.

The tomatoes and peppers fill baskets, prolific and red - more goodness to be savoured when the plants are long gone.

And what to do with the cucumbers - don't tell me to pickle them, please, but delicious while they last.

There is work where the end is concrete and visible, not something repetitious to tick off, but cyclical and seasonal and sustaining, work to look back on and revisit and remember when the toads are long gone, squatting in their stagnant pools, bitter tasting.

I know which work I prefer . . .

Fox and hens in the orchard hexie case; or, I should have been working

2011-08-19T18:53:00.000+01:00

Following last night's unbounded optimism, and superfluity of good things, I was determined that today of all days would be distinctly free of sludge.

So after a morning spent poring over very squinty figures, I decided that this afternoon would be fun, fun, fun, and although a rush proofreading job came in over the wires after lunch (a Good Thing for the bank balance), somehow I found myself drawn towards my sewing machine. Those enticing pieces of fabric that I had cut out whilst burning the candle at both ends were calling me, calling me - and vainly I attempted to resist their siren sound (not such a good thing for the coffers, but good for the soul).

So Slack Alice I became, I abandoned the remunerative work, and headed for the fun stuff. (I fear that I will never be a Captain of Industry at this rate.)

A pesky squirrel in the undergrowth

And so I had a wonderful time a-trimming and a-piecing, and the result is a lovely Hexie Case made from the pattern I bought from my clever friend Amy.

An upside down hexie case

Please do admire how I managed to get the directional fabrics the right way up (thanks to a handy hint in the pattern at the crucial moment) and even managed a zip (thanks to the very clear instructions and helpful photos), all quite unusual for me.

Hens in the orchard

And please do notice how in a bizarre form of transference I have managed to encapsulate my life in the cottage in hexagonal form: the hens and the orchard and the flowers and the doggy footprints and the predatory foxes creeping along the edge and even the pesky squirrels and rabbits lurking amongst the trees in the distance.

Foxes creeping along the edge

Such flights of imagination were facilitated by the lovely Anika organic fabric which I bought from Kate at M is for Make - she does a fat 16th bundle of the range for only £4.50 which I think is a perfect way to buy some coordinating bits for small projects such as this. The orchard print is Nature Walk by Cloud 9, another organic fabric, and also from M is for Make. I originally bought a range of naturalistic prints in small amounts for my Farmer's Wife quilt - as a record of my life, I particularly liked the idea of including some foxes and hens and trees in that, and I have enough left of the fat 16ths after making the Hexie Case to provide plenty of pieces for the quilt. For the lining I used a fat quarter given to me by the lovely Sarah at Red Gingham a little while ago - it coordinates rather well, has a nice gardeny feel, and not being directional was really quite relaxing.

Flowers in the garden

If you would like to make your own Hexie Case, you can find Amy's pattern here, and some really pretty examples made by her here - as she says, I think they would be perfect school pencil cases, as they are generously sized, although I think I might use mine as a sock knitting bag as it will comfortably accommodate some DPNs, yarn, and an orphan sock awaiting a sibling. Perfect presents, too, but this one I am keeping for myself, I am afraid.

Have a good weekend - may it be full of making and creating!

One good thing: a ruched happy bag

2011-08-18T20:42:00.000+01:00

I read somewhere that the key to happiness is to finish off every day by thinking of three good things that have happened to you during the day, and it will make you even happier if you write them down.

Today having turned out to be one of those days which has involved some metaphorical trudging through sludge, I decided that I must attempt the happy route this evening. So I raked through the gloom of the day and couldn't find anything to cheer me, but then I decided to look at my photos in the hope of finding something to smile about.

And lo and behold! I found the Ruched Happy Bag I made a little while ago. The lovely Amy at During Quiet Time asked me to test her pattern (just so that she could be sure it was idiot-proof), and here is the one I made. It was the very first zippy bag that I ever made, and I feel that it turned out rather well, especially as I made it when my dear Rose was away being fettled, so I had to use the clunkiest, crankiest sewing machine I have ever encountered in all my born days (and it didn't even have a zipper foot).

It was a very lovely, easy to follow pattern (and completely Pomona-proof), and I am going to make some more, as I think a Ruched Happy Bag will make a very happy present. And I might even make one for myself, for I am sure you can guess who laid claim to the butterfly one as soon as she spotted it. If you want a pattern for yourself you can get one in Amy's shop, but I warn you, she also sells other rather tempting things (don't ask me how I know . . .).

So that is the first happy thing. And the second thing is when a Little Stranger licks your face rather than trying to chew it.

And the third thing - I have had a lovely blogger and her husband come to stay in our B&B (do go and visit Barbara at Ramblings from an English Garden, she has such a nice blog), although it was sad to see them leave our little cottage.

And I have also bought a copy of Amy's Hexie Case pattern, and the pieces are all cut out and interfaced ready to go - that's four things already, so I am on a roll.

There, I think that I am heaving myself out of the sludge, and though the last lights of the west have gone, I can almost see morning at the brown brink eastward . . .

More fun with cushions

2011-08-17T16:00:00.001+01:00

I speak to you all from between the sheets - unfortunately, though, I am not lying down all snuggled up in bed (more's the pity), but the great tide of bedlinen has abated (I was going to say momentarily, but I now realize it means the opposite across the Pond) for just a moment, and I have been able to sneak back to sit in front of Hermione's sister and say hello, which is very cheering to the soul of a washerwoman extraordinaire.

The moments available for me to sit plying my needle have been far and fleeting, but the project to recushion my world moves on in fits and starts. You may remember the red flowery triangle number I made with my handy dandy little Go! Baby fabric cutter, while the Princess was 'enjoying' (I use the quotation marks advisedly) her sojourn at the Lowood Holiday Camp. Of course, on her return she immediately emitted covetous noises, and hoping to keep this cushion on my kitchen sofa (where it looks very fetching), I promised to make her (another) cushion of her choosing.

And so the unicorn cushion came into being - luckily those jolly nice bods at Cico Books had sent me a book which I had been hankering after for some time - Cute and Easy Quilting and Stitching by Charlotte Liddle - and it turns out to be a jolly nice book (just as I thought) with lots of pretty things to make. Including two cushions which meet the most exacting requirements of one of the princess class, but the sheets constantly entangling me, I have just made the unicorn one to be going on with.

You will be glad to know that the Princess is most pleased with the result - she oversaw my work very carefully, and we picked out some fabrics that we used in the cushion using the Star Delight pattern which came with the Go! Baby cutter die, and added one or two extra. Being a log cabin patchwork cushion, it is a good design for using up leftovers from other projects, although I did buy a fat quarter of a figured white fabric for the background to the unicorn.

Cute and easy unicorn

You will see from the pictures that we did not follow the instructions exactly - Princess Bunchy vetoed the rosette, and I somehow forgot the lacy edging to the embroidered panel, but luckily no one noticed (I was probably thinking about sheets). We used ordinary embroidery floss rather than cotton perlé as suggested, just because of what I already had in my stash, and all the buttons and beads were from stash, too. The tail was made by plaiting embroidery floss and folding the plait in half to make a double plait, which I then couched down with little stitches and beads.

Why is my unicorn facing the other way?

If you make this cushion, I would suggest doing the log cabin in the normal way by cutting long strips to width, and then trimming after sewing. The pattern suggests cutting the log cabin strips to fixed lengths, but I found myself in a bit of a pickle when I got to the outer long sides because my strips were not long enough (which I think could well have been due to my inefficiency, as I was a little, shall we say, distracted at the time). It makes a lovely big 18in/45cm cushion, and we (the royal 'we') are very pleased with it.

Lecien fabrics (I think)

There are several other projects in this book on my to-do list - I have just acquired some fat quarters for the tea cosy pictured on the cover.

Moda Fig Tree & Co Strawberry Fields (and another)

I also love the pincushion idea, which I might make as a little present for myself.

And then there is the rosette cushion for Princess Bunchy - I have the rectangular cushion pad (after much searching, I have found that John Lewis is the best place for a really wide range of cushion pad sizes), and the ceremonial selection of fabrics will be undertaken shortly.

And if you know a baby, there is a wonderful pattern for a pair of the most heavenly pair of baby shoes that I have ever seen in all my born days - enough to bring on those broody feelings.

Very cute baby shoes

The only proviso I would make about this book that it is not a learn-to-sew type of book suitable for an absolute beginner - the projects are not difficult, and the instructions for appliqué and embroidery are very clear, but it does help to have a little experience - and actually this is what makes the book more interesting for me, as it goes beyond the run-of-the-mill projects that I have seen repeated in so many books.

So all in all, I think Cute and Easy Quilting and Stitching is a sewing book worth having - there are plenty of things that I will make, and there are some really lovely ideas for embellishments that could easily be used for other projects. It really is a bit different and thus I have found it quite inspiring.

And now, the sheets are calling . . .

Holiday fun: fabulous brownies on the beach and the wedding dress of the year

2011-08-08T16:00:00.000+01:00

It seems to me that Geoffrey Chaucer was wrong about April being the month that folk go on pilgrimages: hearing of the epic length of the queues on the M25, I find myself thinking that August is the month in which folk undertake their peregrinations. And, quite unusually for me, I have also been doing a bit of peregrinating, too, and yesterday found myself on a girly visit to the Big Smoke, a place I tend to avoid in high summer. But off we went to Buck House to see that dress: for me the high points were the video of Sarah Burton, the designer, explaining how the royal wedding dress was designed and constructed, and the wonderful paintings by Rembrandt, Poussin, Winterhalter et al; the low points were the queues to get in, the queues for security, and the general overcrowding which made it difficult to stop and study things. And at £17.50 for an adult, £10 for a child it is not a cheap day out - being of a Frugal Turn, and the Great Wen being so very full of the most wonderful things which are completely free of charge, I rarely pay to see the decorative arts, and in my rustic innocence have no idea how these prices compare with other attractions, but it is certainly a lot more than I am used to paying.

Unfortunately for me, there were also long queues for the cafe in the garden, so I did not get the chance to sample the tea and cake - my fellow pilgrims regaled me with tales of the magnificence of the royal garden party teas, to which I being insignificant and anonymous, and on one occasion, a married, rather than unmarried, daughter, have never been invited (sob).

But all is not lost: this week I have had the chance to sample copious quantities of the most magnificent cake (and baked by a princess and a fairy goddaughter), so opportunities to expand my waistline have not been wanting.

I received in the post an utter chocfest of a book called Fabulous Brownies, written by Annie Rigg, and published by Ryland Peters and Small, who very kindly sent me a copy to review.

And I have to say that for chocolate and cake lovers, they are pretty fabulous brownies to eat - not only that but the book provided two days of fabulous holiday activity for Princess Bunchy and Fairy Goddaughter.

The recipes are divided into four categories: Simple (everyday variations on the brownie theme), Pretty and Indulgent (which would be good for special tea parties, or dinner party puddings), and Kids.

Not only does the Kids section appeal to children in terms of look and taste, but the instructions are very straightforwardly written and easy to follow, so that two girls of 11 and 12 could be left to themselves in the kitchen to create the cakes and their mothers could sit in the garden undisturbed and have a Good Natter - which to me constitutes the ideal holiday activity for children.

We of course did not neglect our offspring entirely - we were always on hand to taste the results and offer advice and encouragement from a safe distance, whilst we put the world to rights and caught up on many months of news and anecdote.

So if you want to keep your children quiet and amused this holiday time, Fabulous Brownies could be just the answer: just take my advice and put pinnies on them first, because the kitchen did get quite chocolatey (as did their faces, hands and Princess Bunchy's trousers).

We then took the brownies (and the children) to the beach: the sunniest, warmest evening ever spent on Knitstable beach (before the grey skies set in again). I actually had to remove my socks and plimsolls, and found no reason to don my great big granny cardigan, the last word in festival chic (I bought it at the Big Green Gathering, so festival wear it is).

Fish and chips, Brownie Owls and Brownie Wheels, and a bottle of rosé as the sun set over the sea and the gulls wheeled and cried overhead - what more could any of us want?

I have also done a little light sewing. I am unable to cope with anything too demanding in the dog days so I just ran up a trio of cushions for a ballerina who has taken to loft living.

You might notice from the picture that these cushions are not in a loft but reclining on a bench: they were very nearly kidnapped en route, the Amy Butler Love fabric being so enticing, but I am happy to say that they made it up the stairs and are now enjoying the high life.

So there's what we did in the summer holidays: a bit of stitching and a bit of travelling, up to London and down to the beach - don't tell me I don't lead the high life, too . . .