Look at these lovely and unusual roses, given to me at work for a job well done, it’s nice to be appreciated.
Not to blow my own trumpet…
It’s nice to be appreciated.
Category: life
A new use for something old and tatty
The fabric covering the stool was torn and rotten, the padding had disintegrated.
This began as a project when I was studying paint effects; I took two pairs of beech legs which had originally been bought to make a foot stool, and transformed them into “mahogany” ones using paint and glaze. The finished article needed to be completed for my end of term assessment, and I didn’t have the necessary materials to complete the footstool. However I had just redecorated my bedroom and had some fabric spare which matched the Toile De Jouy wallpaper and in Dad’s Garage stood unused and unwanted this Lloyd loom bedroom stool in that awful Germoline pink which had been popular in the 1930’s ( I suspect it may have belonged to my Grandmother) The fabric covering the stool was torn and rotten, the padding had disintegrated but the box itself was in good order, Dad sawed the original legs off close to the body so that the new legs could be screwed on in their place. I painted it cream inside and out, even though I knew little of it would be seen, I didn’t want any Germoline pink showing through.
The body of the box was covered in a thin polyester wadding, to give it a padded effect, this was glued in place. I then cut a piece of fabric so that the main pattern image was centred on the front of the box, and pieced the back to make it fit round the box. I stapled the join in place as a temporary fix till I could find a curved needle to stitch up the join, ( I’ve just discovered recently that I never did stitch the back properly, tut, tut.)
The top needed a new padding, one and a half inch upholstery foam cut to fit, ( I made a template by upending the box on a sheet of newspaper and drawing round it to make a pattern). This was glued onto the box lid, and because it is blue and would show through the ivory fabric, I covered it first in a piece of old linen sheet. A staple gun was needed for this bit. I had then covered the lid with another piece of fabric bearing the main pattern image and staple gunned it in place, the plan was to buy some upholstery trimming to finish it, it would be glued in place using a glue gun.
The snag was that we don’t have a local supplier of said trimming, and the box was made long before I was in the habit of shopping on line so it languished incomplete for years. During that time it was rather ill used, and the top became grubby and the raw edges ragged, so by the time I found the trimming I wanted the top needed a wash. On a positive note I realised it needed a tassel of some kind to raise the lid without touching the fabric, so now that I have deconstructed the top to wash the fabric I can incorporate a tassel in the finished article. Realising the tassel will probably get grubby too, I can attach it on the inside of the lid rather than the outside so I can make it detachable.
GRRRRR!! problem….now I have washed the top its a different colour to the bottom, now what? Do I take off and wash the bottom, or find some different fabric for the top? all suggestions gratefully received.
Pink sheep
Pink Sheep! Yes I thought my eyes deceived me too, I insisted my Dearest pulled over, I had to get a photograph of this, no-one was going to believe it without.
We drove over Kirkstone Pass, the route known as The Struggle into the Ullswater Valley, I can easily understand why it was called The Struggle, so steep and for miles; at times a gradient of 1 in 4, a fully laden pack horse, or person for that matter would really struggle to take that route, and it’s no wonder there is an Inn at the top, you’d need to stop and rest. The Kirkstone Pass Inn stands close to the summit of the pass. Formerly an important coaching inn, It is the third highest public house in England.
The BMW took it in her stride, although my Dearest, being a nervous passenger did not, I get the feeling it was a bit of a white knuckle ride for him, particularly when I was driving close to the edge of sheer drops. We drove through Patterdale while my Dearest recounted his usual tales of mis-spent youth, toga parties in the snow, on New Year’s camping trips, swimming in the lake so early in the morning that the mist had yet to lift from the Lake. It may sound romantic to the young; I can’t help but to shiver. A hotel room for me please, hot shower, all the necessary facilities.
Spring must have come very late to Ullswater, I found a Rose Bay Willow Herb in its first flush and picture perfect, elsewhere in the world it is already setting seed and looking ragged, it was more May than the last days of July. We walked by the Lake in the sunshine, considered whether we could run a bed and breakfast here in Glenridding, and decided we could not, it might be a very precarious business, no matter how beautiful it is when the sun shines or the snow falls, it also rains…a lot.
Glenridding has a special place in my heart, it was the place my Dearest and I went to on our second date, to Aire Force, a famous waterfall just north of Glenridding, then to the St Patrick’s boat landing for a celebrated bacon sandwich, as we left the sun was low and the trees were bare, it was a snowy January. My favourite piece of Beethoven (Piano Concerto no.5 in E-flat major Op73, Adagio Un Poco Mosso) was playing on the CD player, bliss.
This time, no Beethoven but Pink Sheep! Yes I thought my eyes deceived me too, I insisted my Dearest pulled over, I had to get a photograph of this, no-one was going to believe it without.
A whole flock of pink sheep. As we pulled in another couple of walkers were stopping to photograph them on iphone, I carry a Canon 350 DSLR when out walking. I do sometimes wonder if I’d find it easier just to have an iphone, but I digress, Pink Sheep! Have you ever seen anything as sweet as these pink sheep?
Burn him off Steve!
My Beloved, being a stupid 14 year old boy, attempted to outrun a Norton Commando 850cc, on a Placcy 50cc.
Whilst on holiday this month a trip to the Lakeland Motor Museum caused my Dearest to relive an unfortunate event in his misspent youth.
This is a Norton Commando 850cc, used by Lancashire Police in the 1970’s. My Dearest told me a tale in which he “rescued” a 50cc Honda moped from a stream near his home. He and his friend neither more than 14 at the time got it working, it had no kick start so they had to push it along the road, running till the engine fired,and they managed to fit a working head light taken from an old car. One night they set off on an adventure, riding through the streets of Preston on this death trap motorcycle, My Dearest in control, his friend riding pillion.
Inevitably they were spotted by a Motorcycle Cop and flagged down, but in a panic to escape their fate the friend shouted “Burn him off Steve, burn him off!” and My Beloved, being a stupid 14 year old boy, attempted to outrun a Norton Commando 850cc, on a Placcy 50cc. Needless to say they were stopped and arrested; the Cop must have been bursting to laugh.
He was left to cool his heels in clink all night; his Mum thought the experience would teach him a lesson, his first time in a Police cell. But the greater lesson was that the bike was confiscated and there ended his passport to the freedom of the open road, for the time being at least. It was about this time that he was teaching himself to drive in his father’s Allegro 1750 Supersport, not that his father was aware of it at the time, but that’s another story.
Kendal Mint Cake
The 17 year old, who doesn’t do the “healthy” version of anything, wanted chocolate coated.
Whilst we were on Holiday in The Lake District the 17 year old, who did not come along, asked us to buy her a gift of Kendal Mint Cake.
For the uninitiated Kendal Mint Cake isn’t a cake so much as a block of sugar with added peppermint oil, a lot of peppermint oil. The 17 year old tells me it is “sick”, this apparently is a good thing, indicating that she very much enjoys it.
Kendal Mint Cake comes in White, made with refined sugar, brown, made with unrefined sugar, and chocolate coated for the real hedonists amongst us. The 17 year old, who doesn’t do the “healthy” version of anything, wanted chocolate coated. Not that any of it could be seen as anything but a recipe for tooth rot.
Its real purpose is as a preservable food ration for climbers and explorers on extreme expeditions being a large sugar hit in a pocket sized block. 32 calories a gram, which is why she, skinny Minnie, eats it, and I don’t.
Bargain hunting in the Lake District
She’s rather rubbed and past her prime but I think she’s lovely in a faded kind of way and well worth £3 for such a venerable old lady.
We have lately enjoyed a little Holiday in The Lake District; myself, my Dearest and the 13 year old took a self catering break at Fallbarrow on the bank of Lake Windermere at Bowness.
After the recent heat wave I was trepidatious, the last 4 summers we have holidayed in the Lake District in August and the last 4 summers it has rained… and rained… and rained. Naturally I had very low expectations of this Holiday, so when the forecast was for rain, was I surprised? Not at all! Thankfully, it rained mostly through the night, we enjoyed our holiday in sunshine and warmth. Except for Wednesday; that day it rained … and rained… We made the mistake of walking into Bowness during a short lull in the weather, by the time we returned we were soaked to the undergarments, rain ran through my hair off my head and down my neck, my new showerproof jacket proved showerproof does not cut it. In the Lakes you need serious wet weather gear, even in August.
One thing I did manage to do was a little retail therapy, you wouldn’t expect bargains in the Lake District, it can be a very expensive tourist trap if you don’t know where to shop, thankfully I do.
You do get a better class of Charity shop in the Lakes, clothing is often a good buy, many good labels not seen in your average charity shop, but being rather chubby at the moment, well a lot chubby actually, I’m trying to avoid admitting what size I am by not buying clothes. The new jacket was a “girl can’t help it “ moment. You should see the lining! A watermelon pink jacket with royal blue and watermelon satin lining, I just had to. (and it was in the sale)
So Thanks to the British Heart Foundation in Bowness I bought two lovely wine glasses, not very old, not crystal but only £2.50 for a pair, bargain. I like to have nice things, but I have a problem with Glassware, My Dearest is the dishwasher in our household, and is pathologically incapable of being careful with glassware, consequently glasses don’t last long in our house. I don’t think I have any without chips in the rims. I could just buy cheap and cheerful and not worry about it, but life’s too short to put up with cheap and ugly when you don’t have to. I’m always on the lookout for nice glasses and don’t mind buying odd ones, after all a set of 6 can very easily become a solitary one with my Beloved at the sink.
In Keswick the following Day Oxfam rendered two unused, hand embroidered pillowcases, with raised Stumpwork, too good to be used for sleeping on; I think I may cut them up to make something else out of, not sure what yet, but they are fine quality cotton, £2 each, you can’t buy polycotton supermarket basics for that price. I also bought two lovely handkerchiefs, yuk you may be thinking, but these are not for blowing one’s nose on, these are for ladies to delicately dab moist eyes with, one is of fine cotton with hand made Tatting applied to the edge, it is fairly basic tatted lace edging but pretty and cost me a £1. The other is even finer Victorian linen, with Whitework embroidery. It wasn’t priced, I happily paid 49p.
Next I bought two fat quarters of blue quilting fabric with snowflakes and sparkly bits for a £1 each, two cotton reels for 50p each and a beautiful Victorian doily with the most exquisite fine crochet lace for £2, It needs starch and a good press but it is really pretty. All were found at a Vintage fair we stumbled upon in Coniston, and then round the corner in the Post Office I found a bag of cotton reels being sold at 40p each; mostly Orange. As we have already established I don’t DO orange I bought the only green, and one orange still in it’s wrapper, and then regretted not buying them all, I’d run out of cash and the ATM was out too.
And finally from Age UK in Windermere, a plate, I’m not sure what kind of plate it is, probably from a mid Victorian fruit set; it is about 9” wide and hand painted, the little sprigs of flowers are transfer printed, but then hand coloured, the cobalt blue and the gilding is hand painted, there’s no maker’s mark. She’s rather rubbed and past her prime but I think she’s lovely in a faded kind of way and well worth £3 for such a venerable old lady. She will look lovely on the table piled with summer fruits.
Elderflower wine
a can of Sancerre grape concentrate and a packet of dried Elder flowers doesn’t really leave me feeling the joy of the hunter gatherer filling her store cupboards with God’s Bounty plucked from the hedgerow.
My Dearest has recently become a wine maker, needs must when the money runs out. I thought I’d join him, so we have set up a micro brewery in the kitchen. My first effort was to use a kit for Elderflower Wine, but I could not help feeling I was cheating; a can of Sancerre grape concentrate and a packet of dried Elder flowers doesn’t really leave me feeling the joy of the hunter gatherer filling her store cupboards with God’s Bounty plucked from the hedgerow.
I dug out an old book I had on country wine making, and found a recipe for elderflower wine that called for the gathering of real Elderflowers in the byways and field margins. We walked along a local cycle path well away from any road, and cut only two heads from each Elder tree (Sambucus Nigra) leaving plenty of flowers to produce berries for the birds (or maybe elderberry wine). There were so many Elder trees we only had to walk a few hundred yards to collect enough.
Back at the ranch, a pint of fresh Elderflowers, sugar, water, vinegar, lemons and yeast were put in a bucket to macerate for a few days before I strained the flowers off and putting the liquid in a demijohn.
Normally wine will take 10-14 days to brew depending on the ambient temperature and then stop. My wine has been has been bubbling away for more than 4 weeks and still going. I suspect it will be rocket fuel and will need to be served in thimbles.
I’ve been offered the flowers from an ornamental Elder, but I’m not sure it’s a good idea, flavour wise, we’ll see how this batch turns out. I’ve dried the excess flowers, in case I want to make some more before next summer.
In the meantime we have a very satisfactory “cellar” developing which hopefully will be ready to drink by Christmas, Happy Days!
We’re having a heatwave…. Tropical heatwave.
Even my Dad, has been seen sitting outside in the sun, well OK in the shade, but nevertheless outside.
Who’d a thought it, a hot summer in England? After 6 disappointing summers in a row we are all raiding the forgotten depths of our wardrobes for summer clothes and throwing the windows open to let in whatever breeze we can catch, at last. No matter how hot it gets I will not complain, this has been a long time coming, and very welcome. Even my Dad, who has become a bit of a hot house flower, has been seen sitting outside in the sun, well OK in the shade, but nevertheless outside.
Last Father’s Day my sister and I had the perennial problem…. what do you buy a Dad who wants for nothing and says not to get him anything at all? Fortuitously I noticed the week before that his garden bench had seen better days, and was rotten at one end, threatening to pitch him onto the floor should he sit on it. THINKS… new bench required.
After a quick consultation, I agreed to go halves with my sister, picked one out and on Father’s day my Dearest and I went round to Mum and Dad’s armed with a flat packed bench and the requisite tools to put it together just in time for the sunny weather.
PROBLEM…. The bench cushion they had was bought to fit a larger bench.
Dad’s 82nd birthday was last Sunday, a month after Father’s Day. In this month’s Country Living Magazine to which I subscribe there was a craft article which included a padded bench cushion which set me thinking….
I made a trip to Lancaster on Saturday, on the street market I managed to buy some upholstery foam and this jolly striped fabric, £12 the lot and there’s enough to make something else from the remnants. I folded the fabric over the foam and cut the fabric to fit the seat pad with a good inch and a half excess on three sides to allow for hems. I stitched the short sides first, and then stitched again 1 quarter inch in to make it fit better. You want it fairly close fitting to prevent creasing but not so tight it bursts the stitching when you sit on it.
I hand stitched the long side closed, so that if it needs to be washed at any time it can be removed washed and put back on, it wasn’t as difficult or fiddly as it might seem; I just folded one raw edge in and pinned it down by sticking pins into the foam the whole length of the pin, then folded in the other raw edge, tacked it into place to stop it rolling out as I pinned it again; and then slip stitched it into place. I even made a carrying handle.
My only regret is that I left it to the last minute and so I had to spend my Saturday Evening finishing it off, and missed out on an invitation to join friends for a drink to celebrate their wedding that day. Friend’s Weddings don’t happen very often, particularly at my age, but then neither do 82nd birthdays; or sultry summer evenings for that matter.
It’s no surprise to me that the heat wave broke this week, we’ve had thunder storms and rain, but only in blessedly short bursts, interspersed with more sunshine. Last night it rained after I got home, I stood at the open back door and watched all the foliage in my garden dance and tremble as the great raindrops hit them, the smell of flowers , wet earth and salty sea was wonderful.
Cecily’s Challenge: I fell at the last hurdle.
I hung the bunting in my garden, and sat on the front step in the late afternoon sunshine, chatting to my neighbour and enjoying a glass of Pimms with ice and cucumber. Sometimes the simple pleasures in life are what counts.
It’s Challenge Month again and this year’s challenge was to take a greetings card, and create something using the card as inspiration. We had to bring the card and finished item to the quilt group meeting tonight.
For months I have searched high and low for a greetings card which sparked my imagination, I even found an interesting sympathy card which might have worked but the card was bought for the purpose for which it was made, and went to a bereft friend, I could not find it again.
So last week I set myself a harder challenge, I would use a card I had, whether a card I had in my stash of “just in case” cards or one which had been received and kept for sentimental reasons, it was crunch time, I did not have time to look any further and would have to make do with what I had.
I found a rather tatty card I’d bought in a sale, (pictured) a hand finished decoupage card with wrapped presents and bunting. It was the bunting which caught my eye. Last year I made red, white and blue bunting to decorate the garden to celebrate the Queen’s Jubilee year and the London Olympics, I made it from off cuts of furnishing fabric, cut with pinking shears and due to the wet and windy weather it didn’t survive too well, this year I had planned to make some more, in prettier colours. This card with its Sweet Pea colours chimed with what I had wanted to make, so that was decision made.
I have a triangular cutting ruler which is pennant shaped and ideal for the job of cutting all the pieces….could I find it…… not! It took me a week to search the house, The thing is, when I have lost something I know my subconscious knows where it is so I often go and stand where I think it might be and wait for my subconscious to direct me, in this case it kept directing me to where a chair stood but I kept moving the chair to search beyond it. Doh! I found it at last, on the desk chair under a pile of other things which I had shoved out of the way several times to search the area in which it was sitting. I must have moved it 5 or 6 times in the week I was searching. Note to self, tidy up for goodness sake!
Next step, what fabric? I didn’t really want to use my precious quilt fabric stash, at £12 a metre it’s way too expensive for bunting just to decorate the garden this summer, so back to the charity shops I went, this time as well as looking for checked shirts to cut up I looked for cotton or poly /cotton sheeting or duvet cover sets in the right colours and patterns, I found a lovely pair of fine cotton curtains in blue and yellow, I think they may be home made as the cotton is dress weight not furnishing, they are now in my stash;I think they will make good quilt backs for lap quilts, not bunting. High and low have I searched but no suitable fabric did I find. Desperation set in on Sunday night, bearing in mind the bunting had to be ready to hang by Tuesday night.
Sometime after midnight I went into my studio (the spare bedroom) and opened the drawers, I had decided to pull out any fabric I knew I would never use for quilting, so what did I find? A flowery pink, poly cotton I’d had for more than 20 years, it was too thin and poly for quilting and would never have graced a quilt of mine, a pale blue bought at Abakhan which was coarser in weave than I was used to and not quite what I had in mind when I bought it, and another green fabric which is at least 30 years old, looks as if it may be a Laura Ashley but I suspect is a fake, printed by another company to take advantage of the popularity of the ditsy prints Laura Ashley made so fashionable on the 70’s. There should have been a fourth colour; a lavender shade, but I had none I was prepared to part with,three colours would have to do.
On Monday evening, after work and shopping, I cut out the pennants and stitched them on the two long sides, turned them out and put a row of tacking along the edge to hold the seams in place till I could topstitch them. I really did burn the midnight oil for this one.
On Tuesday evening after work and a walk to pick the last of the Elder flowers for drying (of which more another time), and a long chat with my neighbour in the front garden, I top stitched the pennants and stitched them to a 5m length of cotton tape, eh Voila, my Sweet Pea bunting was ready to go by midnight.
Tonight I came home hot and bothered from work, and was just about to jump in the shower when Mum called, she wasn’t feeling well, and would not be going to the quilting group tonight. I took a shower anyway and while I stood in the shower pondered, should I still go, should I not? I decided not, much as I wanted to take my bunting and have it displayed as Cecily would have enjoyed a good display of work, did I really want to drive in this heat and sit indoors on such a lovely evening? No, I decided not, instead I hung the bunting in my garden, and sat on the front step in the late afternoon sunshine, chatting to my neighbour and enjoying a glass of Pimms with ice and cucumber. Sometimes the simple pleasures in life are what counts.
The Button Jar
as a button jar mine was hardly a thing of beauty
So, having cut up all my charity shop shirts I have a satisfactory pile of checked fabrics which make the beginnings of a potential new plaid quilt. I think I need some more greens and also some more deep saturated colours. I’m going to keep collecting till I have a mix I like, and then start cutting.
One secondary benefit of all those shirts is a healthy supply of shirt buttons to add to my button jar. Pictured are my shirt buttons and a selection of buttons which were orphaned and hanging about the house in drawers and on surfaces waiting to be re-homed.
Being a practical person, when I come home from a shopping trip with a new garment I always cut off the little plastic bag with the spare buttons in and put them carefully aside in case I ever lose a button… but I’m also a great believer of that old adage “a stitch in time saves nine” or in this case “a stitch in time saves having to replace a button” so if I see a loose button I re-stitch it, consequently I rarely lose my buttons. Those many little plastic bags containing buttons remain long after the garment they came with has long since departed my wardrobe.
These buttons in bags have mostly gravitated to my button jar, but they do not have much to recommend aesthetically, in fact as a button jar mine was hardly a thing of beauty. Plastic has its place and I would not be without it, but it is not pleasing to the eye.
Taking as my guide William Morris, who said “Have nothing in your house which you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful” I want my button jar to be both useful and beautiful. I have ejected all the plastic and added the shirt buttons. It is only a small jar, and not very full but time will take care of that, grandma’s always have the most well stocked button collections and I have a few years to go yet before I will qualify, age wise. I wonder how many plaid shirt quilts I would have to make to fill the jar? But then if I use the buttons to tie the quilt I might end up buying buttons.
