Mabel has a companion who goes by the name of Dorothea. Think she's a bit more of a tease.
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| http://folksy.com/shops/beadsat88 |
Saturday, 16 March 2013
Evocative Provocative
Evocative Provocative - not sure that even means anything but I like the onomatopoeic vibe it gives me.
Mabel has a companion who goes by the name of Dorothea. Think she's a bit more of a tease.
Mabel has a companion who goes by the name of Dorothea. Think she's a bit more of a tease.
Friday, 15 March 2013
Q is for butcher
Made my 6 weekly pilgrimage to 20 Gill Lane, Yeadon last Monday. Snow was threatened and a very chill wind was blowing but I still made my way over the M62, over the hills to Yorkshire in spite of the ominous forecast. This was a selfless journey as I took the hopes but no fears of my in-laws and my brother with me. I had prepared my way, making a phone call the previous week to let them know I was coming. Afterall it gave them chance to dust down the red carpet and put the bubbly on ice....sorry I'm getting carried away. I was making my bi-monthly trip to the best butchers in the land, J B Meays and Sons (Stuart). Best enough for me to make a 100 mile round trip with orders from me and my relatives.
Brian (the B in JB) and my parents go back quite a few decades when he used to help out at Ghyll Fold ( my parent's farm) during silage time and hay making and then when Brian went into the butchery trade, my mum visited his shop ever after. Sadly my mum (88) is no longer living at the farm so I can't just pop into Brian's when visiting her.
I like it at Brian and Stuart's because there is a history between us; because I can ask them for any cut of meat and I know they will provide and give me advice; because their product is par excellence. And also just like with my milkman I can have a nice chat and put the world to rights. Of course Brian, a proud Yorkshireman, is very rude to me about living over the border in Lancashire, with much banter back and forth about passport control at Junction 21 on the M62 (the rough border between the two counties) and how life must be grim over Pennines but I can hold my own.
So with boot weighted down with beef, pork, lamb and very excellent burgers (guaranteed no horses neighing in the background here) I said my goodbyes til the next time.
PS I tell Brian it's only him I come to see but then I pop off to see my best friend up the road for coffee and cake - don't tell him.
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| Members of the Q Guild of Butchers - top of the trade |
I like it at Brian and Stuart's because there is a history between us; because I can ask them for any cut of meat and I know they will provide and give me advice; because their product is par excellence. And also just like with my milkman I can have a nice chat and put the world to rights. Of course Brian, a proud Yorkshireman, is very rude to me about living over the border in Lancashire, with much banter back and forth about passport control at Junction 21 on the M62 (the rough border between the two counties) and how life must be grim over Pennines but I can hold my own.
So with boot weighted down with beef, pork, lamb and very excellent burgers (guaranteed no horses neighing in the background here) I said my goodbyes til the next time.
PS I tell Brian it's only him I come to see but then I pop off to see my best friend up the road for coffee and cake - don't tell him.
Wednesday, 13 March 2013
Angels at our table
We have quite a few angels at 88. I am not referring to our two children....rarely does angelic seem to fully sum them up.....perhaps when they are asleep. And don't worry I don't see auras around people. No I refer to the little angel above my son's bed and the little angel above my daughter's. They are there to watch over them. How they are supposed to do that I don't quite know but they comfort me. Little glass representations of what we think little angels look like. Two good luck charms for my children. I guess they are the physical equivalent of 'touching wood' for me and believe me I touch wood a lot....usually my head.
I like angels. I like the look of them. Perhaps it stems from appearing in my primary school's nativity play. It was every girl's ambition in my school to be an angel. You had to stand on chairs at the back and wear beautiful white silky dresses and tinsel in your hair. As I recall I was a little disappointed with the dresses close-up. From afar they looked absolutely gorgeous but up close were just cheap silky sacks tied in at the waist with tinsel. Anyway you got to open your arms and lord it over Mary and Joseph...plus you got to see your mum in the audience really clearly.
The little miniature angels hanging in the house thing all started one Christmas when I bought my mum a little red angel as a decoration. She put it up in the kitchen and never took it down. I came to think of it watching over her and her home. Every time I visited I would just clock this pinky talisman in the corner of my eye. It became my own version of the ravens and Tower of London legend. You remember something about when the ravens leave, the kingdom will fall. Well, the angel is now in my own house....touch wood.
I like angels. I like the look of them. Perhaps it stems from appearing in my primary school's nativity play. It was every girl's ambition in my school to be an angel. You had to stand on chairs at the back and wear beautiful white silky dresses and tinsel in your hair. As I recall I was a little disappointed with the dresses close-up. From afar they looked absolutely gorgeous but up close were just cheap silky sacks tied in at the waist with tinsel. Anyway you got to open your arms and lord it over Mary and Joseph...plus you got to see your mum in the audience really clearly.
The little miniature angels hanging in the house thing all started one Christmas when I bought my mum a little red angel as a decoration. She put it up in the kitchen and never took it down. I came to think of it watching over her and her home. Every time I visited I would just clock this pinky talisman in the corner of my eye. It became my own version of the ravens and Tower of London legend. You remember something about when the ravens leave, the kingdom will fall. Well, the angel is now in my own house....touch wood.Sunday, 10 March 2013
Handmade Histories 4 : crocheted bag
Crocheted Bag (Fruitique: Joy)
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| Crocheted bag at 88 before its long trip to China |
My husband was going back to Beijing to finish his work there and I wanted to send something back with him for Mrs W as a thank you. Kind of one woman to another woman kind of thing.
I didn't have a long time to find the perfect gift. I went to a very famous British store to have a look round. I thought perhaps there may be something that sang out 'This is a perfect British gift from a quintessential British store for someone abroad whom you have never met'. Of course I didn't find anything. It wasn't until I started looking in more detail at the wares in the store that I realised they all had the same thing written underneath or sewn in the label: 'Made in China'. A laugh out moment for me. I believe the Chinese equivalent of sending coals to Newcastle.
I then had my Eureka moment. You probably could have told me this two paragraphs ago - send a Fruitique craft - hand made in Britain, a quality object and beautiful. Also travels well in a suitcase. A crocheted bag was ordered. Job done.
https://www.facebook.com/thefruitiques
Thursday, 7 March 2013
Close encounters of the broken kind
I love public sculpture. I love it when it's quirky. I love it when it's beautiful. I just love it. Give me Angel of the North, Dream near St Helens, Singing Ringing Tree near Burnley, I'm really happy. After our very successful visit to the Temperance Bar on Saturday we decided to hunt down Halo near Haslingden. It's part of a series of sculptures called The Pantopticons round and about Lancashire. I had read about the flying saucer-like sculpture, called The Halo, on top of a hill which lights up at night and makes the skies above Rossendale blue.
In fact, I had looked out for the blue halo a number of times when we had been travelling along roads in the area and never ever seen anything resembling a violet ambiance above the local hills. Perhaps I'd just been looking in the wrong direction.
Off we explored and found a finger post saying The Halo. We parked and climbed up a hill (one of the older members of our merry troop was not happy about a walk...especially when we found a little parking space very near said sculpture). Halo is very impressive. It's very like an elevated outline of a UFO which may well take off at any moment. There are views all round that light up the heart. If we'd only known that the views were the only thing that would light up we may have gone back home to 88 there and then.
We are the adventurous type and decided to stick around in the area til dark. A very nice cafe was found and we dined out on sandwiches. Something as we say in Yorkshire 'to put us on'. Then we found our way back to our Halo in the dark, confident that we'd all soon be basking in an indigo hue radiating into the night sky. Good job we weren't relying on that little light cue. We drove right up to said sculpture and no glow was to be seen. A few blue bulbs were lit but clearly most were dead. There were no concentric rings of blue loveliness to gasp at. There was no collective sucking in of breath as we wondered at this sight above the Lancashire mill towns. Oh dear... five very disappointed folks. We tucked into our cakes bought locally to cheer us up.
We conjectured that the launch of the sculpture must have been a wonder to behold but that clearly no one had given any thought to maintenance. A shadow literally of its former self. Were we surprised that the local council had let it come to this? Alas we were not.
Perhaps one day the Council will notice and send a man up there to delve about. He will conclude that it's just too expensive to remedy and it will become yet another monument to the days of yore. A press release will be written and sent out to people who complain: " The Council regrets that the lights do not light up above Haslingden any more but we hope you will agee that when they did it was splendid. We think you will also agree that Rossendale never has had to rely on any Halo to 'light it up'." Oh dear....perhaps next time we venture up there we can take lots of friends. We'll all take torches and point them skywards at dusk and shine our own little light up over the hills. A halo illuminating the sky once again.
In fact, I had looked out for the blue halo a number of times when we had been travelling along roads in the area and never ever seen anything resembling a violet ambiance above the local hills. Perhaps I'd just been looking in the wrong direction.
Off we explored and found a finger post saying The Halo. We parked and climbed up a hill (one of the older members of our merry troop was not happy about a walk...especially when we found a little parking space very near said sculpture). Halo is very impressive. It's very like an elevated outline of a UFO which may well take off at any moment. There are views all round that light up the heart. If we'd only known that the views were the only thing that would light up we may have gone back home to 88 there and then.
We are the adventurous type and decided to stick around in the area til dark. A very nice cafe was found and we dined out on sandwiches. Something as we say in Yorkshire 'to put us on'. Then we found our way back to our Halo in the dark, confident that we'd all soon be basking in an indigo hue radiating into the night sky. Good job we weren't relying on that little light cue. We drove right up to said sculpture and no glow was to be seen. A few blue bulbs were lit but clearly most were dead. There were no concentric rings of blue loveliness to gasp at. There was no collective sucking in of breath as we wondered at this sight above the Lancashire mill towns. Oh dear... five very disappointed folks. We tucked into our cakes bought locally to cheer us up.
We conjectured that the launch of the sculpture must have been a wonder to behold but that clearly no one had given any thought to maintenance. A shadow literally of its former self. Were we surprised that the local council had let it come to this? Alas we were not.
Perhaps one day the Council will notice and send a man up there to delve about. He will conclude that it's just too expensive to remedy and it will become yet another monument to the days of yore. A press release will be written and sent out to people who complain: " The Council regrets that the lights do not light up above Haslingden any more but we hope you will agee that when they did it was splendid. We think you will also agree that Rossendale never has had to rely on any Halo to 'light it up'." Oh dear....perhaps next time we venture up there we can take lots of friends. We'll all take torches and point them skywards at dusk and shine our own little light up over the hills. A halo illuminating the sky once again.
Wednesday, 6 March 2013
Let Down Your Hair
As mentioned in Towering Infatuation I am rather partial to a tower so I thought I would start a new mini series to share my tower stories with you. I've called this series The Rapunzel Diaries. As a little girl I loved Ladybird books (much sought after vintage classics now) and was quite partial to a reading of Rapunzel (Series 606D if anyone is a Ladybird aficionado).
As all you fairy tale lovers know Rapunzel was imprisoned in a tower. Remember 'Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair'. Perhaps this story has something to do with my love of towers - who knows? I do remember always wondering how Rapunzel could stand to throw her long long plait out of the tower window and let a full grown prince climb up it. Didn't it hurt her like mad? In my day proper hair bobbles seemed to be in short demand and my Mum would sometimes use a rubber band to tie up my hair and as all long haired girls of my generation know it hurts like crazy getting a rubber band out of your hair at the end of the day. I equated a poncey prince ( he did look that way in the illustrations) climbing up Punzel's golden tresses as the equivalent of extracting a rubber band from my hair. I'd prefer to stay in the tower.
Anyway watch out for Rapunzel Diaries 1: Lindley Clock Tower coming to a blog near you soon.
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| Always thought Rapunzel looked a little middle-aged. As for the Prince - that hair style and hat just isn't a good look. |
As all you fairy tale lovers know Rapunzel was imprisoned in a tower. Remember 'Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair'. Perhaps this story has something to do with my love of towers - who knows? I do remember always wondering how Rapunzel could stand to throw her long long plait out of the tower window and let a full grown prince climb up it. Didn't it hurt her like mad? In my day proper hair bobbles seemed to be in short demand and my Mum would sometimes use a rubber band to tie up my hair and as all long haired girls of my generation know it hurts like crazy getting a rubber band out of your hair at the end of the day. I equated a poncey prince ( he did look that way in the illustrations) climbing up Punzel's golden tresses as the equivalent of extracting a rubber band from my hair. I'd prefer to stay in the tower.
Anyway watch out for Rapunzel Diaries 1: Lindley Clock Tower coming to a blog near you soon.
Tuesday, 5 March 2013
All that litter is definitely not gold
Rubber band ball No 2 continues to grow - not so teeny tiny now. I walked to the supermarket yesterday from 88 (about 15 mins walk) and found 9 rubber bands. Trouble is when out hunting rubber bands you have to walk with your head held low and then you start to notice all the other crap and litter about.
On leaving the supermarket I decided to play the Walk the Litter Line game. The rules: from the door of the shop I had to walk from piece of litter to piece of litter and see if I could get all the way home. I did....get home....quickly....sadly. Walking the Litter Line was really very easy until the latter stages when the line did dry up a wee bit until that is I got outside my own house. An empty CD case and a crisp packet made entry into my own home very quick indeed - whether that was because it fulfilled the rules of the game or through shame I leave you to decide.
No fingers and thumbs were harmed in the pursuit of rubber band collecting. All hands used in this blog post have been thoroughly washed before writing this (just in case my husband is reading)!
P.S. I did tidy cd case and crisp packet up.
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| Mama and baby |
On leaving the supermarket I decided to play the Walk the Litter Line game. The rules: from the door of the shop I had to walk from piece of litter to piece of litter and see if I could get all the way home. I did....get home....quickly....sadly. Walking the Litter Line was really very easy until the latter stages when the line did dry up a wee bit until that is I got outside my own house. An empty CD case and a crisp packet made entry into my own home very quick indeed - whether that was because it fulfilled the rules of the game or through shame I leave you to decide.
No fingers and thumbs were harmed in the pursuit of rubber band collecting. All hands used in this blog post have been thoroughly washed before writing this (just in case my husband is reading)!
P.S. I did tidy cd case and crisp packet up.
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