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27.12.09

 

Turning pennies into cheese

Despite needing an initial defrosting, our little pot tree looked very pretty when he was dressed. He comes in every Christmas Eve and goes back outside on January the 1st. We like to keep our quiet celebrations short and special.
I bought him fourteen years ago, when he was a scruffy 10 inch urchin, and against the odds, he's thrived. Now he has finally burst his pot in a bid for freedom.
Here he is on Christmas morning, being looked after by Oscar, my latest needle felt piece.
This year he is proudly displaying some beautiful gingerbread people, made by an old friend with whom we have recently re-made contact. Each one is delightfully hand painted and the room smells sweetly of spicy goodness.
The three of us trained together to be illustrators way back in the early 1990's. Now she makes
wonderfully decorated cakes and cookies, I make felt toys and Andy wears his fingers to the bone as a supermarket manager supporting us. Which just goes to show how life takes unexpected turns.
Every week before Christmas, I count the pennies in my penny pot. Usually it is spent on nice cheese and this year it was spent on very select cheese indeed. One piece, to be precise. Although we only have two shops in the village, one of them is an excellent deli, which specialises in local cheeses. There were only two of these '
Cerney Pyramids' left - unpasteurised goat's cheeses covered with ash and seasalt, from the village of North Cerney, just over the border in Gloucestershire. Being a premium product, they are not cheap. But the kind shopowner generously gave me a little discount as he knows that I am a hardcore gourmet cheese lover with very shallow pockets. Now it waits, like the rest of the world, for New Year's Eve, when it will be eaten with reverence.

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21.12.09

 

Unholy mackerel

A couple of months ago, Andy came back from work with eight large reduced-in-price fresh mackerel '
because I know you like your mackerel'. So kind. 'It needs eating now though, it won't last much longer'. There is only so much not-entirely-fresh mackerel a girl can eat, so I decided to try cold pickling it, as I believe they do in Scandanavia. (I might be wrong on this).
Bit of a faff, but I had that holy glow one gets from preserving. No waste in this house! A month later, I tried some. I love rollmop herrings, but my fishy pickles were in a class of their own - quite sour and mushy, though I bravely ate the whole dish. The jar went to the back of the fridge, where I found it a few days ago. There was something about it I didn't quite trust - I may even have started a new eco-system. It smelled - very fishy, but I don't think it was off - just funny coloured in parts. Nonetheless, it has been disposed of.

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15.12.09

 

Things which brought smiles

Being properly better at last is enough to make me attempt to click my heels in the air with glee. And thank you to everyone for being so kind in their comments and emails. I hope I am never that wiped out by anything again - too tedious. But terribly touched to be sent gifts for my well being - a care bundle from kind Ann of
Frayed at the Edge - lavender bags, warm wristlets, oh-so-welcome tissues -
- and a double wrapped parcel papered with eclectic bits and bobs, which could only come from my letter-pressing ephemera-loving friend. I was feeling lousy when I opened it, but I smiled as I unwrapped it -

Under interesting and distracting paper diversities, such as this ever-so-slightly crotchety (but very amusing) response to the now ubiquitous 'Keep Calm' band wagon -


- was a beautifully scripted note on letter pressed note paper, alongside an ex-library edition of John Masefield's 'Midnight Folk' which I haven't read since I was a child, decorated with lovely line illustrations by Rowland Hilder. Thank you so much.

Andy, like a well trained truffle hound, is now very good at finding books which he's never heard of, but after eighteen years with me, senses to be collectible or valuable - or both. He out-did himself with this one, picked up for 50p. Pookie the Fairy Rabbit is not my era, nor did I have his books when I was little, but as a collector I know it by reputation (and value), especially a scarce early edition in spiffy condition like this one. Nice one Andy!


Having sold several calendars, I decided to spread the love and treat myself to one (number 44 out of one hundred) of
Jake Parker's brilliant limited edition book, showing his one-a-day ink sketches from 'Inktober' - now, understandably sold out. Isn't the linework gorgeous?

The heroic man even included an original artwork with each and every one, which is a bit above and beyond the call of duty, but lucky for those of us who invested in the book.

However, the best thing to arrive in the post was a photo which I have never seen, of my mum and a small me outside an aunty's house. It was found by her daughter and she thought I'd like it. I have so few childhood photos, most of them taken by other people, and only a handful from my early years. We didn't have a camera; we didn't have much of anything. At the time this was taken, my parents, unmarried and having run off together, were living from hand to mouth on benefits, my elderly alcoholic dad being a chronic invalid, and unable to work. There were two rooms. We had two old single beds in one of them, me sleeping with mum, my dad in the other, in a flat in a slummy converted Victorian house in Exeter. The walls were damp, there was a two bar electric heater, no fridge (which is why I hate Carnation milk - we used that instead of fresh as it wouldn't go off) and the most modern thing we had was an old battery powered radio - even in the late 1960's this was a bit unusual.

There was one lavatory shared between several people, and in the winter when the pipes froze, we had to go across to the public facilities in the local park. Much of this I remember, some of it my mum told me; she often talked to me about things she probably didn't realise I was taking in and which I would never forget.
Under the circumstances, cameras - expensive items in those days - and retaining memories were probably the last things on my parent's minds. But this precious little snapshot reminds me that once, a long time ago, I had a mother who loved me very much, even if I didn't have her for very long.




Before I forget -

The Winter online edition of UK Handmade is now available, including a Q&A between myself and Rima and Tui of the Hermitage (pages 40-45)

and finally

I am the very first featured artist on the Wingham Woolwork website with a selection of my needle felt work - thank you very much to them.


and really and truly finally -

We are out walking again, and there are two beautiful new walks recorded in Chedworth and Eastleach on my Cotswold Peeps blog.

I'll shut up now.

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24.11.09

 

Taking advice from friends

ancient portfolio work - 1993


Lemsip powders, Lemsip cough medicine, lemon Lockets - it's a good job lemon is one of my favourite flavours.

For the first time since starting this blog, four years ago, I am taking what I believe is called a *blog break* - just a small one, so I have one thing less to worry about. Finding myself ill for the second time this month, I am really and truly going to bugger off (
quaint Anglo-Saxon expression for my American readers) and rest - as everyone from Andy to friends to my lovely clients have advised. And as up till now I have tried to ignore. Apart from working on things-I-can't-reveal, coughing and snuffling, there is nothing to write about. I'm just too wiped out to try to do everything as I usually do, not even write a halfway entertaining blogpost; so you aren't missing anything except monstrous amounts of sickly self pity.

Cough.

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16.11.09

 

Tomorrow is another day

And I get stuck in the bellies of my two jobs. Is it bellies? Maybe it should be rumps. Something to do with really getting your teeth into something juicy. I knew that soon the two crests would meet and I'd have to put all my smaller balls down and start juggling the two big medicine balls, while simultaneously trying to wobble the little ones with my toes. If any of that makes any sense; I'm too tired to make a coherent metaphor or whatever they are called. However. Days have been spent finishing off tasks, admin and general communication. Some are months old.


This is Petra. I finished her back at the beginning of February, when we were snowed in and she was commandeered the next day for - something. She went away for months, and returned this week. She was reserved by someone who has been very patient. She needed a bit of TLC and her own label, and now is on her way to her new home.


Finished another little commission which was ordered back in 2008; I'm afraid I am taking no more commissions at all now until (possibly) sometime next year, depending on what happens with things. And I'm not even sure when I will have time to add anything new to my shop. Just can't fit any more hours in the day.


So, in the middle of all this getting-up-to-dateness, it was lovely to win a give-away at Angelsey Allsorts - thank you so much. I used to have a sheet of the first design, when I was about seven, which dates it to the early/mid seventies. It is wonderfully thin, shiny and cheap-looking. I'm sure it probably tore when I was using it, but for something this flimsy and throwaway to survive in mint condition really gives meaning to the word 'ephemera'. I am a bit of a vintage wrapping paper nerd; one of my favourite resource books is 'All Wrapped Up', page upon crowded page of wonderful old designs which are great for colour inspiration and mood boards.

And across from America, this sweet card and heirloom squash seeds from Libby Buttons - thank you too! I aspire to grow a beauty as illustrated on the packet, my challenge for 2010.


Which seamlessy leads me on to my calendars - I've got the final batch in, so there are now limited numbers available in my Etsy shop - thank you ever so much to everyone who has kindly bought one so far.

Today was supposed to be when I started work, but even all the whittling down, the lists took over again - the worst ones are the ones in my head; when I have everything crossed off and something rises to the surface which I had completely forgotten about. But I am almost done (though I am almost asleep on my feet) and tomorrow, tomorrow is another day. And anything not done - will just have to wait. (EDIT - reading this back, I sound like a proper misery guts, moaning away. Actually, things are looking really good, I just need to go and have a bath and get some decent sleep).

UPDATED - Foggy Walk and After Storm Cycle at my other blog, Cotswold Peeps - escaping the lists!

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3.11.09

 

All about mushrooms

On Sunday it rained. And rained. And rained. And in the afternoon, it cleared. The fungi season has come late upon us, due to a prolonged dry spell. We were keen to see if recent wet weather had persuaded any mushrooms or fungi to sprout. There were some, but not as many as we are used to. and mostly of the 'dull' beige-brown variety which blend in with the fallen leaves.
We did discover a new, prolific corner of the woods, which was crammed with goodies. To his delight, Andy found a 'Penny Bun'. If you watch Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall, Valentine Warner and the rest of our lovely hunter-gathering TV chefs, you might believe that all you have to do is walk into a field and Boletus/Chicken of the Woods/Truffles/Morels/Chanterelles will be growing in abundance, conveniently within camera shot and almost leap-frogging into your picturesque basket. Sadly, despite many years of fungi hunting, I have yet to find such happy hunting grounds, and this is the very first we have found, anywhere. See the little knife? It belonged to Andy's grandfather. We always cut the stalks, to avoid pulling up the root system. Remember this knife; it makes another appearance, later on.
This part of the woods proved to be a treasure trove. It was also Someone Else's pet puffball patch; there were white cut stumps, evidencing another fungi gatherer. We found plenty of others.
I was particularly interested in a colony of what looked like Shaggy Parasoles, but were browner than any I had ever seen. I didn't trust my judgement enough to pick any.
Bliss it is to shuffle through autumn leaves, ducking under branches, hunting for mushrooms to photograph or pick. It got dark all too soon, but we were partly compensated by a lovely sunset. We headed home with our foragings.
Supper was rather inevitable, with homemade bread. Earthy tasting goodness.
Today I found myself in the woods again, and being on my own, did a little 'off pisting'. I pretty much know where things grow along the footpaths, and was looking for new spots. I dived into the undergrowth, following deer paths.


At once I found some wood blewits, already feasted on by some woodland creature, but there were enough for me to gather.

Back to the new puffball patch. Sure enough, since our last visit, more had popped up.
Some had gone over; only ever eat the white fruit bodies- if the interior is anything other than pristine white, discard. I learnt this the hard way when I was eleven and gave myself a very nasty upset stomach, eating a slightly yellowing specimen. This one is already at the 'puff' stage, exploding to let loose powdery spores.
I revisited my 'are-they-aren't-they' possible shaggy parasoles. They had grown pretty fast and were looking more familiar. Here they are, on Sunday -
And today -
I picked one close by that I was sure was 'right'.
Looking at this fallen one, it has all the characteristics of a shaggy parasole. But I would need to get home to double check.
Further on I found a wonderful city of fresh Birch Polypores, or 'razor strops'. They are inedible, but look so pretty growing together. My fungi bible, '
Mushrooms' by Roger Phillips, records that Otzi, the 'Iceman' mummy found in the Alps, was carrying some, possibly for antibiotic use.
Now I wanted to see how the large fly agaric that we had found on Sunday was faring. First of all I located its baby brother. The other day it had looked like this;
Today it was missing most of it's white spots, but had survived fairly well.


Cheek by jowl were also growing wood blewits (top left corner) puffballs, (centre right) and there is our rotting agaric friend lying in the leaf mould (bottom right corner). A little more cropping to be done.
Reaching in my pocket for the knife I found - nothing. Well, my gloves, my mobile, assorted bags and various other gubbins, but no knife. Oh, how many times had I nagged poor Andy about looking after his Grandfather's knife, and '
give it to me or you'll lose it'...

With my heart beating faster I followed my route back to the last place I might have left it - the maybe-parasol patch. Did I carelessly put it down while I was taking shots of them?
Yes, I had. Oh happy day! There it was, blending in rather too well with the woodland floor. Can you see it? Look closer...
I felt a huge wave of relief at not losing a precious family heirloom (and not mine either). Back it went to the safety of my pocket.
I retraced my steps again, harvested a few Blewits and puffballs, and found the large Fly Agaric Andy had found on Sunday. Then it looked like this -
Today it is decaying beautifully; the red skin must be particularly delicious to slugs, although the whole thing is, of course, poisonous to humans.
I returned across the fields to my bike, pondering that I was sure I had found parasoles along the edge here before, and sure enough, as if prompted - can you spot them?
The little darlings. And their big brother growing in splendid solitude nearby;
Out came the nearly-lost knife and into my bag they went. A good haul.
Back at the cottage, I checked my bible, and confirmed that I had indeed picked two types of Parasole Mushrooms. The flesh turns pinky red when it is cut or bruised and the not-quite-sure one with the browner cap was already blushing. I cannot emphasise enough that you should check, check and check again when identifying mushrooms to eat. I always do, even though this has been my hobby since I was 10. I will eat nothing if in doubt; use a guide to see early fruiting stages, read about the habitat, whether it is rare, what it can be confused with. Google image search is a very good way of seeing various specimens and finding useful websites.
I am pleased to relate that the blewits, puffballs and parasoles provided an excellent lunch, with no side effects.

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31.10.09

 

Griselda the Witch-Goose

Phew, just in time!

Twenty three hours of work...

I think we both need a beer! Happy - whatever you choose to celebrate tonight.

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27.10.09

 

In the land of the living, almost.

I've been suffering whatever lurgy is going round. I tried to fight it; I don't go down easily, and I have too much work to do to take a sicky, but last week after doing my daily cycle, and stacking this lot -
- I realised I wasn't just tired, but on the point of collapse. So collapse I did, in a shivering heap. I am not a willing invalid: I do not relish huddling in a blanket, hacking and dozing and indulging in whatever one is supposed to do when one is ill; it is too dull for words. Thank goodness for my bolshy immune system - I am starting to feel human again. Almost.


In the name of balance, on the day I succumbed to foul sickness, the posty brought two parcels of delight - firstly, a simply beautiful scarf, chunkily hand knitted in soft, pumpkin orange yarn (possibly my favourite colour, depending on what day of the week it is). It was a generous gift from my friend Janet of The Empty Nest. It is absolutely perfect, and just what I need when I get back to my daily cycle rides. Thank you Janet, I am going to be wearing it for years to come. Janet is a fiendishly quick knitter and has beautiful items and artworks for sale in her Etsy shop - though of course, my scarf is the best of all!
It goes perfectly with my new winter jumper, the other parcel which it arrived with.
I buy one every few years when my old one falls apart. It has to be 100% wool, inexpensive, and not too fussy. This one, made by Black Sheep of Norfolk, fits the bill exactly, a princely £40.00, plus postage, from Sheep Delight.com - great service too. It is amazingly warm; minutes after you put it on you can feel the heat building up, just what I need in my unheated studio.Clever sheep. (And that is the first and probably the last time you will ever read anything approaching a fashion item on this blog).
Despite it being only October, I have been getting enquiries about calendars since September. The 2009 Red Flannel Elephant calendar was so successful I've done it again, but with a different line up of characters;
They are held at last year's price of £8.50 ($14) plus postage. the first four went from Etsy within half an hour of listing, and as I write there is only one left. But I've got more rolling in, so if you'd like to reserve one - or if you don't like Etsy and want to order one privately - do drop me an email or an Etsy convo.

I've been doing so much painting and drawing for my mystery jobs that I've not had much time for needle felting - though I do have someone to introduce who might make an appearance on Hallowe'en, if she can get her little broomstick working...watch this space.

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19.10.09

 

Another trip to the bear shop

Seems to be one of those times of year when things are tidied up, finished off and others started.
The cottage has been autumn cleaned and yet more space cleared. I am anxiously waiting for news of a job that has been in the pipeline for months, and have begun work on a design brief.

Today I popped to town to deliver the rest of my toys to Teddy Bears of Witney. I don't know why it is that every time I visit these lovely people I am in some state of scatterbrained-ness or (as with this morning) completely exhausted. I was actually babbling when I was ushered to a chair. Lovely coffee in a little mug and a buttery teddy bear biscuit were brought to me, which helped.
What I hadn't realised was that I was to be given the honour of drawing the names out of the hat, to decide who would get my creations; some of them had multiple applications, and there are only three of each design, so they like to keep things fair by holding a ballot. In a top hat. They know how to do things properly here.
My name announcements were accompanied by delighted gasps, as the staff know so many of their customers and were happy that they had got what they wanted. Afterwards I happily pottered about looking at new displays and taking snaps. I love these skinny bears, 'Lucy Havahart' and 'Duke Havahart', created by
Deb Beardsley, a Wisconsin bear maker.

I saw this chap and dropped to my knees to admire him; I adore spotty old horses on wheels. It's the kind of shop where they totally understand if you start crawling about the props. Or maybe they are just extra indulgent with me.
Bears, bears everywhere.
Although there are many many unique artist bears, they are also a major supplier of Steiff collectibles.

Oh look - down there on the bottom shelf; it's one of my favourite new models - Dulcie. She has been specially commissioned as a reproduction from an original old bear owned by one of the staff.
And round a corner, in a big, mirrored display cabinet, are some familiar faces. Not teddy bears at all, but looking quite at ease with their furry brothers and sisters.
Soon they will be on their journeys to the corners of the world, to start their new jobs. And I am going to take a day off to rest and try to get myself back together, starting with a long, hot bath.

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13.10.09

 

Squash

Our poor little back garden is looking very end-of-season. Dishevelled and rotting, the lush greens of summer are slowly disintegrating. We had yet another terrible year for tomatos. The wet summer brought blight again, and by the time the weather improved it was too late. But miraculously we have managed to have a small but consistent crop of cherries, and they are still struggling on.

The purple and green string bean wigwam, a late planting, is also still cropping, despite it's raggedy appearance.
Our acorn squash were disappointing; only two so-so fruits from four plants. But we will save the seed and try again next year.

The cucumbers have been slow but magnificent. This last one has been quietly growing without us even noticing. Then, the other week, I glanced at the fence and - wumph!

Despite having many, many butternut squash plants, we only harvested five. What a satisfying crop it is. The heavy baby-heads are so solid and cold, that you really feel as if you have
grown something. To save space, we grew most of them up poles and trussed them up.


At their height, they were voluptuous and triffid like. Now they are crumpled and dying, but still fruiting. I wonder of any of these tinies will get to edible stage before winter sets in?


Five fat butternut squash. One to eat now and four to store, somewhere dark and cool.


Titbits from Cotswold Peeps

We have found a delightful new walk in even more beautiful countryside.
I have been moonlighting as an informal delivery girl.
And there is a new, autumn online edition of UK HANDMADE MAGAZINE which is simply beautiful; full of projects, interviews, recipes and general loveliness. Just click on the front cover to read, and make sure you have a cup of tea and a slice of cake.

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3.10.09

 

Into October



Thank you so much everyone for the lovely congratulations; I truly appreciate it. At certain stages in my life I always feel sad that I can't share them with my mum and dad. I know that they would have been so proud. But next to that, having support from my blog and real-life friends is wonderful.

Life is falling back into a familiar pattern; for the first time in a few years, I have two *proper* jobs on (not to mention 101 little chores on an ever growing list). So I divide my time neatly into work and play. I heave myself out every morning to cycle and return, refreshed, to ensconce myself in the studio. This is what happened when I was lazy and dipped my paint bowl into the water jar.




Slipped out of my fingers and sank to the bottom. Luckily it was easily saved.




On Andy's days off we go out walking. This week we discovered a nice new route nearby, in a village dripping with history, as recorded here on Cotswold Peeps. Today we have a turning - light drizzle gusted in on fresh winds. The cats know and have called a truce. This is the real sign that the weather is on the change;



23.9.09

 

Teddy Bears of Witney


We have had a little holiday from home, going out nearly everyday to find new walks and tread old ones. (For our trek round Hailes Abbey, there is a post here on Cotswold Peeps). And one of my secret 'things' is secret no longer. Back in the spring, I referred mysteriously to a large 'trade order' -




- which was no ordinary trade order; it was a commision from a well establised Teddy Bear shop in our local town. I first ventured into 'Teddy Bears of Witney' back in about 1988, when I moved here as a scruffy, odd-hair-styled art student. I don't remember much about my brief visit, but I do remember loving the Japanese art bears on display, goggling at the prices and thinking how wonderful it would be to do something similar.

When I returned to West Oxfordshire in 1994, I was delighted to see it was still there, but it wasn't until a few years ago that I had the pleasure of owning my first collectible bear. Andy had had a stroke of Christmas genius; he had taken his big 6ft 8'' self into that tiny, toy crowded shop, and bought me 'Spud', the little bear to the bottom left of the shelf below. I think I cried when I opened the bag. Never did I think I would ever own my very own special bear.





Two more joined him Tofty (bottom right) and Quimbly - top right. The traditional bear in the top left is a 1980's Laura Ashley bear from a friend many years ago. The catalogue they produce every year, showing new stock, is a little book in its own right, so lavish and highly produced that it has a cover price of £5.00. And I (or rather, my toys) are in the 2010 edition, celebrating 25 years of the shop's existence. Here they are in the British Artist Bear section, sat in front of one of my precious Moleskines.


Everyone at the shop has been perfectly lovely to me. Since my first meeting with them I have been treated like royalty whenever I have popped in. They make delicious coffee. Ian, the founder and owner, decided that my toys should be made available by ballot only, as he expects demand to be high. He has an extensive list of international customers, so with luck my little people will be going all over the place. And he has raised the bar on my prices, starting from £125/$205 - so if you got one of my early pieces for £50/$80 (or less), then you have done well!

They also stock my cards, which can just be seen in this catalogue photo, in the card rack towards the back, in the middle rails.




Needle felting is still a little known craft in the UK, but maybe this will help spread the word. And hopefully my name with it. In the meantime, I am back to painting - for one of my other jobs - my poor paint bowls were literally covered in dust...



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