Surviving Christmas

Thank you to everyone for the kind Andy-come-home wishes! He did return that night, to much rejoicing but had to work right up until the weekend. He had a miserly two days off at Christmas, then returned to the fray, because retail workers get little respite at this time of year. So we're glad it's all over and he won't be so tired. We are both thankful to see the back of 2010 which was quite tough in parts. Never festive at the best of times, I wasn't going to put decorations up, but weakened last thing on Christmas Eve and strung a line of cherry fairy lights up, hung with a few non-glass things. On Christmas Day we allowed ourselves to enjoy the snow and had a marvellous walk round the fields. This is the front of our cottage, a basic one-up-one-down matchbox, glittering with icicles.

Poor Andy was so tired that he forgot to buy his Christmas beer - but luckily his brother had made an inspired choice of present with a gift box of real ale. I admit to being a teeny bit jealous.

But my beer envy was short lived, because the same Andy's brother had managed to find me a whole box of vintage toymaking books and magazines! Some real gems in here and I've had a happy time browsing them.

Pumpkin had brown paper.

My cheese penny pot was a bit disappointing this year and I was going to forgo the Cerney Cheese we love. But thanks to the generosity of kind Janet, I arrived at the village deli to find a gift order of one Cerney Pyramid and a gammon ham, which I prepared with honey and mustard - this is a rare treat and we have been thanking her through mouthfuls of ham sandwiches.

Other blog friends had surprised me with gifts too - I admit to being hopeless at Christmas; if it were a school subject I would get a 'D' and 'could do better!' So I am humbled and a bit awed that anyone could find enough time to take the trouble to send me nice things like this beautiful lavender heart and needle book from Anne of 'Frayed at the Edge'.

Sooz, of 'Confessions of a Laundry Fairy' sent me this, by one of my favourite modern illustrators, Simon Bartram, who also happens to work for 'my' publishers, Templar as well, and who I briefly met a few years ago.

My dear *old* (in the nicest sense of the word) friend Tara, of 'Silver Apples' sent me one of her delightful treasuries of nice things -

And my even *older* friend (since college days, which was scarily almost two decades ago) Natasha, Queen of Cakes, sent us these little lovelies which I am not sure if we can bear to eat;

One mystery present was a copy of 'Daring Dos, by Mary Trasko, a book which has been lingering on my Amazon wishlist for a few years - full of amazing (and frankly bonkers) historical wigs, hair styles and fascinating info about how they were contructed and the history of bizarre hair fashion. I can see all kinds of new ideas sprouting from this kind of thing;

It came without a gift card, so I have no idea who was kind enough to buy this for me - but if they are reading this, then thank you ever so much, I have wanted this for a long time.

Now that my arm is just at the stiff and awkward stage, I decided to launch the New Year with a little pootle on Marjorie. It was a bit cold and we were both out of puff by the time we trundled home, but yet again I had forgotten how happy cycling makes me feel and how much I love January and the promise of an unwritten twelve months ahead.

A sad cat & a wonky bird

Pumpkin doesn't understand where Andy is. He is more dog-natured than cat- natured and he follows Andy about like a little ginger hound. He looks at me with large, questioning owl-eyes, as if I could magic our beloved from my pocket. He has taken to sitting in the bay window, watching the lane, which is something he never does. (The other cats just sleep...and sleep...and sleep).



The weather hasn't improved and at first it looked as if we wouldn't be seeing him until Christmas Eve, but he rang earlier to let me know he is going to try to make it back this afternoon, Wednesday. So all fingers and paws are crossed.

The temperatures have been so low that there is ice inside the windows - which is quite pretty here with the bottles, if a trifle frigid. And the heavy snowfall has felled our lovely polytunnel. Hopefully the poles have just tilted at the joints and no real damage will be done. My herbs and geraniums are in there - I am hoping that at least some the roots will survive.

To take my mind off things, I have been putting my clumsy sewing skills to making a little bird - at last. It took me a whole afternoon and much cursing. I made a lot of initial mistakes, as I am completely out of my comfort zone and despite all the reading I've done, all the mental planning, I am still hopeless at making patterns.

It's been a humbling experience. I had tried making a bird a couple of months ago, but was too ashamed to 'show and tell'. The curved seams were wonky, the bottom gusset was so fat it turned into a hen and my *primitive sewing* just looked plain bad. But it made a handy pin cushion.

This time I thought I'd try assembling one by hand, patchwork style and be 'proper' by making a plain cotton dummy which I would tack onto paper and stitch together.

It didn't work. It really, really didn't work. Frustrated, I got the machine out and cut into some nice print fabric. The first way of putting in a beak was a disaster and had to be unpicked.

Once I finally had a bird ready for stuffing, I tried using woodwool which I'd thought would give a firmer finish but the body was too small and it came out a bit lumpy and mishapen. Or maybe that was down to me.


The tail design needs flattening out; it's too small to cut darts (?) into, but puckers on the too-sharp inside bend.

I made these legs when I made the 'hen' and it seemed a shame to waste them. This was my biggest mistake - of course, because they are separate, they wobble and slide away from each other. Why I didn't realise this when I always put one single strong strand of wire through my needle felted geese's legs and feet is anyone's guess.



However I was determined to finish the darned thing and hopefully learn from my mistakes. The belly gusset is too wide again and I still don't like the beak. It's a poor effort, lurching drunkenly and precariously on unequal legs; one wobble and it falls down. But, dammit, I made one! Let's hope the next one will be an improvement.



So today is a mad whizz of tidying the cottage, baking a big fruitcake, counting up this year's cheese pennies and cashing in my dividend vouchers at the village Co-op, if there is anything left. Thankfully I've got a local farm chicken reserved at our great little deli, or it would be cheese and crackers for Christmas dinner. We aren't having decorations this year, the only bauble I want is Andy safely snoozing on the sofa with Pumpkin sprawled on his lap. And besides, our poor little pot tree has been encased in an ice palace -




Without my online friends and contacts, real - and virtual - the last few days would have been even more lonely; you have no idea how your kind words and support have helped. Thank you.

Deep snow & Christmas party cats

A gentle warning from Christmas past...for those who have office parties to attend.

Back in the 21st century Cotswolds, we have had large amounts of the white stuff dumped on us overnight. Poor Andy somehow managed to get the motorbike to work, forty miles away, but has rung to say he will be staying there overnight and might be lucky to get home tomorrow. The view from the bedroom, looking down our little lane.



Once I knew I'd be on my own for at least one night, I ventured out to the village shop for a few treats. Thankfully the store cupboards are full, so it was just sausage rolls and wine on the shopping list. Here I am looking back up our little lane, where the snow came well over my ankles. Our tiny hovel is near the back, the second porch up behind the parked car - just one bay window and two small windows above it.

Out on the main High Street, a farmer was taking fodder up to his stock - probably sheep, as cattle tend to be undercover in winter.

Further past the big village Green - normally we can see the fields beyond, looking towards Oxford, but not today.

Shopping accomplished, me and the cats are settled for the next 24 hours. There is food, wood, wine and magazines. Three cats have the sofa and Samson, to the left, has prime spot by the storage heater. I have the internet and we all share the woodburner. The snow continues to fall - it is now fifteen inches deep - and all we do is hope that Andy can get home safely tomorrow. Or sometime.

Sukey & fame

Another toy rolls off the production line - Sukey was ordered back in Spring. She is a near-copy of another blue cat, Selina, I made a while back. But a bit different.

Her nose is a little heart and her tail rises ever so gently in the air as if it is in mid-twitch. Or simply saying 'hello'.

And the fame? Well, the UK magazine 'Let's Get Crafting' did an introduction to needle felting this month - here is someone who's work I've known since my early felting days, Melanie of Felt Me Up Designs and her jolly little birds.

Oh, and me with a few of my thingys, answering a few questions about the craft. I think this magazine is available at the usual places such as WHSmith, but I've popped the questions in below as well. Not sure about the fame, but it's very nice to be picked out.

How did you start needle felting?

Two and a half years ago I received an anonymous needle felting kit in the post. I had been getting several comments on my blog that I should try needle felting actual models of the 'Imaginary Toys' artworks that I paint, (I am also a professional artist and illustrator) but I didn't know what it was then. Had I not been sent the kit, I might never have tried it! As soon as I picked up a needle and realised that I could sculpt the merino wool into anything I liked, I was hooked and haven't stopped since. Little did I know then that my collectible toys would be such an instant hit or that I would end up making them as my main career. That single mysterious gift changed my whole life.

What do you enjoy about it?

It is one of the simplest crafts I have ever tried; a few needles, a cushioned block and some wool and you are away! The only limit is your imagination and hand skills - it really is a form of sculpting and the better your visual spatial awareness, the better you will be at it. It is also cheap - small amounts of wool will only cost a few pounds and it is a portable craft which can be done tidily on your lap - no mess! I find it totally absorbing and therapeutic and so satisfying to create a real model from your imagination.

How long does it take you to make your larger toys?

A very long time - several days. I've never really timed myself, but a small, simple thing like my Camellia dog design will take at least twenty hours of solid work. I am often asked how I get the fine, smooth finish on my toys; there is no magic, instant technique, just hours of patient fine tuning; stabbing gently away with one fine needle, tucking the wispy hairs in, until I get the firm, smooth surface I prefer.

What's your favourite creation?

Oooh, difficult! My animals are tiny pieces of my soul and they seem to transform themselves into such funny little personalities. I love my goose birds and my elephants - but If I really had to pick just one it would be Oscar, as he was a real character, and such a happy chap.

Mr Jingles invited me..

Mr Jingles invited me to the Christmas open day at Teddy Bears of Witney last Sunday - but sadly, with my usual transport problems (not having any) and Andy working all day, I couldn't get to town. Which is a shame, as I would have liked to have met some of the regulars who were at the 25th anniversary party earlier this year, where I did my first needle felting demonstration. Also a shame as the pencil sketch of Mr Jingles is courtesy of me.



I very rarely do any *proper* sketching from life - even though it was just from a photo. Not because I don't enjoy it, but because I have filled out sheets and sheets and even more sheets of sketches for work this year and there is only so much sketching one can do. To fit him in the left hand corner of the card I flipped the original image from the catalogue photo -

And moved his position slightly with a bit of artistic license. I am very fond of certain types of teddy bears, but strangely I have no desire to make them.



Today my lovely Christmas card from the shop arrived, featuring of course, the real Mr Jingles.

And this afternoon my wood order arrived - I have changed supplier for the first time in eight years and for about the same price we got more - and cut to smaller size too. With Andy at work and with the logs blocking access for our neighbours cars (and we wouldn't want that, or World War Three would break out) - there was only one thing to do...


...stack the blessed things. I can confirm that piling up what must have been about half a ton of wood to more than six feet high is excellent physiotherapy. Even better, this should see us through to the New Year if we are careful.

Rambling Rose

Ramblin’ rose, ramblin’ rose

Why you ramble, no one knows,

Wild and wind-blown, that’s how you’ve grown,

Who can cling to a ramblin’ rose?

(Nat King Cole)

I am back to work and not before time - my piggy bank is decidedly convex after so many weeks of not earning. Rose was commissioned almost a year ago and what with one thing and another, she has taken some time to finish. She is not just a pink elephant, she is half a load of wood for the wood burner and a big grocery shop for my depleted store cupboards; appearances can be deceptive.

Now she is on her way to America, to join her new owner and I am almost finished with another back-order. I have a list of people who want to know when I will have new stock for sale, but I must get the last couple of things made before starting new designs. I'm thinking moles and hedgehogs, maybe a squirrel. Red of course.

The client asked for a photo of myself with Rose, before she was shipped off. I am 100% camera allergic, but after many, many tries and deletes, we managed to come up with something passable and as I don't think I've ever posted a picture of me here, this is my dubious gift to you in the season of giving.

I have also finally begun selling postcards of favourite toys, the first set is of chaps, printed on glossy card, six to a pack without envelopes and going for the princely sum of $6/£4 from my Etsy shop. I'm really impressed with the new changes Etsy have been rolling out, and for all those in the UK who get flummoxed by dollars, you can now chose to see prices in Sterling as well. If they take off I'll be getting more sets printed. If not, I'll never be short of stationary, ever.

Arm update - (yawn) - I had my first physiotherapy session today and been properly examined by someone who really knows about these things. Seems I've been using my shoulder blade to compensate for what would normally be movements from my socket, so I've got a set of 'tough love' exercises to stretch and unstiffen the bits which have become recalcitrant. No pain, no gain. Oooh. Ouch. Argh.

Some kind of normality

Last Friday saw us begin a marathon of cross country travelling 'up North' for the funeral of Andy's Nan. Normally we'd have gone by motorbike and it would have taken about two or three hours, but with the UK suffering sub-zero temperatures and my arm being how it is, we booked train tickets from Oxford. So began a hodgepodge journey starting with us setting off the dark, icy early morning, layered up like Michelin men on the bike, leaving the bike with Debs-of-the-bees who lives nearer to the city, catching a bus to Oxford, then a train to Manchester, picked up by car, fed and watered by Andy's nice parents and another car journey to Yorkshire for an overnight stay at a motel. It snowed overnight and Selby Abbey, where the simple service was held, was looking stunning. The sun came out; a nice way to say goodbye to a long life which was finally at rest.

Later that day we did the same journey in reverse, but slower. Driving through the vibrant city of Manchester to the station was a surreal experience for both of us. We felt a little like visitors from a secluded community, goggling at the new space-age office blocks, the hordes of shoppers clutching bulging shopping bags (how much *stuff* does a person need???) the crowded eateries, the groups of rowdy night-outers...it was like descending into some kind of urban hell, not improved by the various football fans being police-escorted and later on the train, the distinctly un-charming presence of racist thugs getting tanked up on cheap lager. We decided to stay standing up in the corridor well away from them, until they disembarked.

It took over 6 hours to return, ending with a slow, wind chilled half hour ride near midnight, along treacherous roads covered in black ice, both of us frozen by the time we arrived back to a cottage full of sleepy cats. Rarely have I felt so thankful to be home. But this sad, necessary journey was a marker for us; we had decided that Monday was going to be 'N-Day' - a return to Normality. And so it has been. I am finally back in bed, bolstered up and last night had the best night's sleep I've had since my accident, comfy under a proper quilt and able to stretch my legs out. My arm is much better, thanks to my homemade physiotherapy of housework, sweeping with a dust-pan and brush proving painful but effective.

While we were at Andy's old home, I took the opportunity to re-visit the very first needle felted toy I made, way back in 2008. He was a birthday present for Andy's mother; he is tiny compared to the size I work at today! He was a bit fuzzy after two years and I took the opportunity to give him a bit of a makeover - so although you may think that I have double posted the same picture, look more closely. Same but different. Rather like country folks and city folks.

Notes from the sofa

I am still sleeping on the sofa, propped up with various cushions and pillows; thank you to the kind people who've enquired about my silly arm - the fracture is healing nicely, but the muscles and wot-nots around it still hurt like billy-o and each day is a new battle to unstiffen everything and try to raise my arm a little more. Bed is still a no-go area, after one very bad night.

So here we are last night at precisely 11.30, tucked up cosy in a goose down sleeping bag, my little Roberts radio tuned in for the start of the first Ashes match - for my American friends, this is as important to cricket loving Brits and Aussies as the World Series is to you lot, only more so. I speak jokingly of course. I have my 'miners torch' strapped to my head as I finish a glass of wine and read my bedtime book (the latest Alan Banks crime thriller, 'Bad Boy' - nothing too highbrow).

Mousie sleeps on her raggedy cushion, on the sofa top and when I change ends in a few hours she will start purring loudly in my ear. The cricket commentators say hello to all the Brits staying up late to listen in, in time honoured tradition and it's all rather lovely.

On the big, low coffee table to my right, Pumpkin is slobbed out. We have a bedtime routine in which I put his cushion out for him and he leaps up to settle down for a good sleep. Further up, glowering down like a skinny, malevolent demon, is Samson. His sleeping place is a particular stair, though given half the chance he will take over the sofa. We are one cat short, fat Clover. Despite the freezing temperature outside, she has hied off for the evening. She's done this all her life and is quite self sufficient. For now, it is just me, three sleepy cats, the faint crackle of a cricket match tuning in from the other side of the world and the fuzzy snoring of my beloved Andy, almost directly above my head in the real bedroom.