A still life with lemons

“ When life gives you lemons make lemonade”

We all know the old saying “ When life gives you lemons make lemonade” although I prefer “when life gives you lemons reach for salt and Tequila” either way I seem to be getting more than my fair share of lemons lately, so I decided to get my own back by turning a few lemons into Limoncello.

Still life with lemons

Here’s my still life with lemons, one litre bottle of budget Vodka, 500grams sugar, 6 unwaxed lemons, and a large screw top jar.


First thinly peel the lemons being extra careful not to take any white pith off as this is bitter.


Then squeeze the lemons.

only two weeks to go.

Put the sugar in a pan with 200 ml of boiling water and simmer till dissolved, add the peel, bring to the boil and simmer for 15mins, then add the lemon juice, bring back to the boil and simmer for a further 5 minutes. Allow to cool for 15 minutes so you don’t damage the glass jar when you decant it. Finally pour into the jar, add the Vodka, and screw on the lid. Gently shake the jar every two days for two weeks.
Strain the liqueur into bottles, (a coffee filter in a funnel works best if you have one), add a little peel for decorative effect and label. Serve chilled as an after dinner treat.

Indian Summer

I found old and broken heating grills in the derelict greenhouse which would make interesting quilting designs, and an old rusting metal chair with an anthemion design, simplified but nevertheless a potential quilting design.

Just as the Summer was turning into Autumn, and in search of some Autumn colour we went one Sunday for a country drive to an out of the way little teashop we know. The Apple Store is set in a lovely spot on the edge of the Trough of Bowland, an area of outstanding natural beauty, on a country estate. It’s a great place for walkers, and I love it for its trees and the fact that I can sit in the garden of a grand house to enjoy my tea under a huge Ginko tree which must be over a hundred years old. The business is new and a work in progress, the owners are doing up the facilities incrementally as resources allow.

 

Whilst waiting for my tea to be delivered I was free to wander about with my camera, as further evidence that you can find inspiration for quilting everywhere, I found old and broken heating grills in the derelict greenhouse which would make interesting quilting designs, and an old rusting metal chair with an anthemion design, simplified but nevertheless a potential quilting design.

 

 

After tea and cake we walked up the hill towards open moorland and along a road that was wick with young game birds, marvelling at the damage to the roads that flooding had done this summer, and wondering if we will ever see again summers like the long hot summer of 1976.

A fine day at last

The plan was to drive up to Sandside and stop by the roadside with a view of the Kent Estuary, and the snowy fells beyond to eat our picnic, but it was not to be.

A sunny day to round off my rainy hiatus between jobs, so we took the opportunity afforded by my little convertible not being mothballed for the winter quite yet and went out in it with the top down (and plenty of warm layers on) I’ve known it to be warm and balmy into November but this November isn’t one of those, in fact there’s snow on the Lakeland hills already.

Brrrr, snow already

We drove to Silverdale and then on to Arnside where we stopped to buy a picnic in a local bakery, the plan was to drive up to Sandside and stop by the roadside with a view of the Kent Estuary, and the snowy fells beyond to eat our picnic, but it was not to be, before we got there we met with a couple of women standing in the road flagging down the traffic and turning us back, there had been a road accident ahead, and they were trying to keep the road clear for the ambulance. I have to admit my first thoughts were hardly charitable.

My pride and joy, and my Dearest with pie

We ate our picnic in a less salubrious spot, and a very disappointing picnic it was too, maybe I should pack one myself next time.

Things can only get better?

I received a text from my sister, “Things can only get better?” my Niece’s car was dead on the drive, possibly a dead battery, that’s not fair reward for her kindness now is it?

While writing the last long blog and thinking things couldn’t get any worse, they did!
On the morning of the 2nd Nov I received a text from my sister, “Things can only get better?” my Niece’s car was dead on the drive, possibly a dead battery, that’s not fair reward for her kindness now is it?

Meanwhile I have been struggling to get on line at all, I made the mistake of allowing a teenager access to my laptop, consequently it is now so full of malware and pop-ups that it won’t run, not even Facebook, I’m bereft of contact with the outside world. Another disaster, well perhaps that’s overstating the case somewhat.

Reasons to be cheerful, part three

Surrounded by family is the best way to find yourself broken down, at least we weren’t stranded. We called the garage and waited to be rescued, it wasn’t a long wait but it was a cold one, none of us had dressed for a country walk or a stranding in the dark.

Back round to Dad’s before murder was committed, called garage, car ready, called sister, sister and niece arrive and we all set off in good humour to the garage. We collected the car, and paid up for both bills, just over £500 for the two and said good bye to my sister and niece, whom we left at the garage, discussing her repair dilemmas.

Steve and I were congratulating ourselves on getting away so lightly, with a 16 year old car so much could go wrong, and be expensive to repair, and how we hoped to keep the old girl on the road for another year, or two. Disaster struck again, as we drove along the darkening country roads, the engine began to lose power and the temperature gauge was pointing at red, situation critical. We stopped, we got out, we rang my sister hoping she was still at the garage, but as she picked up her phone she also pulled in to take the call only yards behind us on the same stretch of country road, and my niece who had been driving ahead of her mother, pulled in just in front of our stricken vehicle.

Surrounded by family is the best way to find yourself broken down, at least we weren’t stranded. We called the garage and waited to be rescued, it wasn’t a long wait but it was a cold one, none of us had dressed for a country walk or a stranding in the dark. While we waited, the road became quite busy, people going home from work and taking the scenic route, many passed, only one stopped to ask if we needed help, but that was very kind.

Then a young lad appeared as if from nowhere to ask if we were alright, He’d come from a farm on the hill above the road, seen the lights of the three cars and come down on his quad bike to offer help, running out of fuel at the bottom of the hill he’d needed a lift back himself.
It was pitch dark when the mechanic arrived, lifted the bonnet, diagnosed a faulty water pump, he suggested we return the car to the garage and they’d look at it tomorrow. As we got back into my sister’s car, it began to hail again, and there’s still no heater in her car because the part hasn’t arrived. I will simply have to tax my car and run it till the BMW is fixed. Thank goodness I’m not so super efficient that I had already cancelled my insurance and declared the car off road.
We could sit here declaring what bad luck we have had, and wondering why us or we could look at it another way, thank goodness the water pump hadn’t gone when we were up in the Lakes last week, the tow truck would have cost hundreds. It could have conked out next week on my way to an interview I have planned, now that really would have been a disaster.

Reasons to be cheerful, part two

My sister and I are both in our 50’s but always obedient girls; we did as we were bidden.

On 30th of October the BMW was taken to the garage, we were admittedly cutting it fine, if it didn’t pass, we’d have no car, so no surprises, it didn’t pass. Not much needed doing but it meant we couldn’t pick it up on 31st. Today the 1st November I was going to risk driving my car without tax, only a short trip on country roads, surely I’d be unlucky to get caught. My Dad got wind of it and rang my sister, she couldn’t give us a lift up to the garage either because, co-incidentally her car was at the garage too, waiting for a part to arrive so her heater could be fixed. Dad insisted that my niece would need to take us all up to collect our cars and my Mazda was to be delivered to his garage to be mothballed as planned. My sister and I are both in our 50’s but always obedient girls; we did as we were bidden.

So today we have been a no car family, what a disaster, I had taken a few days off work in the hiatus between jobs, and had hoped to have some rest and peace, unfortunately my neighbour is having her kitchen refitted so BANG, BANG, BANG, DRILL, BANG, DRILL on the party wall for several days till my beloved and I were ready to do murder. This morning I took my car to Dad’s, tucked it up for the winter and walked home.

We went to the pub for lunch just to get out and again about three O’clock to trawl the local charity shops, but really to get away from the constant banging and drilling, we got caught in a brief Hail storm, twice. I bought a book and couple of men’s ties, (of which more another time), and we got chilled to the bone. When we got back the builder’s van had gone so we risked brewing some tea, in the hope of an hour’s respite, but it was not to be, before the tea was drunk the builder had returned, more bang, drill, bang, ARRRGH!

Reasons to be cheerful part one

I have the great good fortune to own a Mazda MX5, she is my pride and joy, I love her, she goes like the wind, corners as if on rails, she is a pleasure to drive and so much fun to own.

Or a catalogue of disaster, it depends upon where you’re standing.

my pride and joy.

I have the great good fortune to own a Mazda MX5, she is my pride and joy, I love her, she goes like the wind, corners as if on rails, she is a pleasure to drive and so much fun to own. She’s getting on in years now and needs a little tender loving care at times. When she had her annual MOT last month I was advised that she needed a bit of body work, water had got into the body (it’s supposed to; it’s the way the hood drains through the body and out of drain holes in the sill) but the drain holes had been bunged up, and water was sloshing around in the body causing rust. So some remedial work was needed.
At the same time I found myself facing a huge pay cut, nearly 20% of my income slashed from my budget without much notice. So with huge regret, since my road tax was due and also because the Mazda really does not like snow, I decided to take my car off the road for the winter, to save six months road tax and insurance. We’d have to manage with one car, Ha!
I got my car fixed first, rust isn’t something you want to ignore, I took it to my cousin’s garage where I always get reliable service , a good job well done, and planned to put it in my Dad’s garage for the winter, but before I did, the 16 year old BMW needed to get through it’s MOT.

Thought Stalking

Have you ever been stalked by a thought, or an image, or a half formed plan?

Have you ever been stalked by a thought, or an image, or a half formed plan? Some months ago I saw a block of a yacht and had a half-cocked idea for a quilt but the block itself didn’t really do it for me, it had no sense of movement and wasn’t very yacht-like, so the idea didn’t progress further than that initial “hmmmm” moment.

However since then I have been stalked by images of yacht’s, not just the real thing at sea or on lakes but wherever I go, in stained glass, in shop windows, in magazines or on fabric, toy pond yachts on window sills in houses I pass (not one but several in a single week), postcards, even in a bag of Haribo sweets, and a shower curtain.

Am I being stalked or are Yacht’s simply ‘on trend’ at the moment, either way I think I need to work out my thoughts in fabric. What is a Yacht without billowing sails, a floating gin palace; a glorified floating caravan? My Yachts must have wind in their sails, and movement in the block, I don’t want the quilt to represent a flat calm, but I’d rather have a brisk breezy day than stormy weather.

Goth, Emo, Mosher?

My Dear Nephew, that sweet boy with the gappy teeth, is now a grown man, he lives in a bedroom painted black and grasshopper green, and yes it really is bright green.

Young people object to labels, as applied to themselves, they will tell you they are independent free thinkers, unique and not following anyone else in their choice of clothes, music etc and yet to the aged observer there are types and styles which are identifiable to those young people more easily than to the uninitiated. They seem within their friendship groups to be wearing uniform. Do you know the difference between a Goth, Emo and a Mosher? No, neither do I, but they all wear gloomy clothes and dye their hair black, choose black over any other colour, and don’t laugh much (well that’s just a personal observation, it’s like a season ticket to depression).
My Dear Nephew, that sweet boy with the gappy teeth, is now a grown man, he lives in a bedroom painted black and grasshopper green, and yes it really is bright green. The lovely Appliqué star quilt I made him when he was 6 no longer meets his colour preferences, so my mother made him a new quilt a couple of years ago inspired initially by Amish quilts,but also by the neon bright colours and black that he was wearing then and the chequered patterns which were popular.

Out of the fabric that was left when this one was completed my mother managed to make a similar smaller one for my Stepdaughter who was going through her ‘dark’ period too, thankfully she has left her inner Emo behind.
As for my Nephew I hope he will shortly leave behind his black period and escape both his bedroom and his computer games, and seek the daylight.

In only half an hour

I now have a mini bin to sit on the corner of my work bench, in which to drop all those snips and threads, and it only took half an hour to complete start to finish.

My Dearest often complains about stray threads on the carpet, and I have to admit that when sewing I tend to put threads in a little heap on the nearest surface meaning to sweep them into the bin later. My threads and fabric trimmings have a tendency to creep and float, catch a lift on clothes and end up anywhere but where I put them. I’ve been meaning to find a suitable bin to put wherever I sit to sew and recently came up with a solution.

This is something I think a saw in a magazine years ago, long before Pinterest , maybe even before I had a PC, I have no idea who to credit with the original idea.

 

 

 

 

I recently emptied this container for in-wash stain remover, but it could just as easily have contained mini flapjack or millionaire’s shortbread. I rubbed the surface over with a wire scouring pad to roughen the surface, and spread the surface with PVA glue, using a finger.

Then I used fabric scraps cut with pinking shears which have been sitting in a drawer for years since mail order fabric buying relied on receiving actual samples through the post to choose from rather than choosing from virtual reality fabric in on line shops. I stuck each scrap on, slightly overlapping the one before, dabbing a little glue on the dry edge of the previous scrap to make sure the overlap stuck.
I now have a mini bin to sit on the corner of my work bench, in which to drop all those snips and threads, and it only took half an hour to complete start to finish, though probably years in the incubation of the thought.