Mollie Makes Giveaway

Just got my copies of the new 'Mollie Makes Feathered Friends' book. It's hard to put myself back to the time I created the 'Chicken Family' this time last year. Yet here it is. As usual, the style shots are gorgeous - I am full of admiration as I am not very good at this kind of beautiful set up. My things look so much nicer somehow.

The chicks are the tiniest things I have ever made.  Apart from my own trumpet blowing, (Jane Toft the editor writes that I am one of 'Mollie Makes' favourite designers - golly!) there are many more sweet projects, including ones from fellow crafters I know and like.  Laura Howard (aka 'Lupin') Kirsty Elson, and Jooles ('Sew Sweet Violet').

Anyway, the nice team at Anova publishing are giving away two copies via my good self. To enter, just leave a comment at the end of this post and I'll do the names out of a hat thing. If you're a lucky winner, I'll contact you directly and pass your email and/or details on to the book fairies at Anova. And - yes, it is a worldwide offer. CLOSING DATE - JUNE 30th

 

And  in other related news, I have just four places left on another all day needle felting course, on July 8th. This one is held at my favourite pub, The legendary Queen's Head in Eynsham, twenty minutes from Oxford. We will have the entire snug bar to ourselves and the price of £55 covers materials, use of tools, morning coffee and biscuits, buffet lunch and a proper tea mid-afternoon, all made by the landlady and my dear friend, Jackie. We'll be making little houses to begin with and then going on to your own designs. More details on my website.  It'd be lovely to see you.

Mystery Guest

She drove down to see me a couple of weeks ago. It was a rare, sunny day and wonderfully hot. We went for a little walk, with the Wrekin watching us from afar. I took her to my favourite spot, a ruined red brick building with clumpy trees. I had thought it was some kind of old feed barn, but she revealed that it was a disused World War Two firing range.

We sat and drank ginger beer. She noticed a buzzard being mobbed by crows, and taught me the song of the chiff-chaff. We wandered home.

 She gave me a gift - exquisite vintage decoupage clowns, which made me squeal with joy.

I made gluten free Lemon Cake, from a recipe I begged from Jenny Tidman, after seeing hers on Twitter - and  with her permission, here is the recipe as she gave it to me. For the record, I mixed mine by hand. 

Gluten Free Lemon Cake

Oven @ 180°. Grease a 1lb loaf tin.
Mix with an elec whisk 200g soft butter, 200g caster sugar, 4 eggs, 150g gluten free self raising white flour blend, 2tsp gluten free baking powder, 50g polenta and the finely grated zest and juice of 1 lemon. Spoon into the tin & bake for 45 mins. Meanwhile make a lemon syrup by whisking the finely grated zest and juice of 3 lemons with 75g of icing sugar. Make holes all over the top of the cake as soon as out of the oven. Spoon the syrup over the cake allowing it to seep in between spoonfuls. Leave to cool completely before turning out...then scoff!

She brought along her Grandmother's patchwork quilt, which she is renovating. We sat examining and admiring it for the best part of an hour, as fabric lovers do. So many beautiful materials, even though faded and so much work in the stitching.

We decided that this sweet yellow print was one of the loveliest patterns. My  photos don't do the fabrics justice, but there are lots of fabulous samples of them on her Flickr set here.

She accidentally left behind her walking boots, so I am hoping she will come back for another visit.

Who was my mystery guest? She was the lovely Sue, from Mouse Notebook, of course. Thank you for a wonderful day, Sue.

To be a Pilgrim

Unusual as it may seem, I would like to share the service for Andy's Celebration Day with my friends and blog readers. Andy was a big part of this blog, though I never in my wildest dreams imagined that one day I would be blogging his memorial service. It was held on April 27th, a week after what would have been his 42nd birthday. The site was the South Shropshire Remembrance Park, a natural woodland burial site and the perfect place to lay Andy's ashes to rest. That, and organising the event has been very gruelling, so I have been fairly quiet online. I had so much help from many dear friends and Andy's company, Asda. If there is anything blessing in all this, it is that I have such strong support from so many sources. Frank, Andy's beloved friend, built the beautiful wooden casket from which he poured Andy's ashes into the hole with the tree roots. True friends and family came from all corners of the country to say farewell to Andy and prop me up as I grieved all over again. The Asda colleagues from both his old and new store,  came in droves to weep from their loved and valued colleague. The young cricketers from our old village, who also wept for a lost friend and hero. Two of them poured beer in with the ashes, and a chunk of the last cake I will ever bake for my darling, along with a fossil shell that Andy found on one of our many Cotswolds walks. 

Andy's younger brother filled in the earth around the young birch sapling, chosen because it was Andy's favourite tree. His ashes (not to mention the beer and cake) will nourish the young birch and will become part of the tree itself in time, something he would have totally approved of.

The perfect non-religious service was composed and written by our stalwart friend Debs (the host for my recent workshop) and read by her. Such love as was shown at that peaceful glade in the Shropshire Hills, I will never forget. 

The service

Welcome 
Finding the Still Centre.

From love we came; In love we live and move and have our being; To love we shall return. Source of all love, the oneness of all things, You are the silence at the heart of all that is. You are the stillness when the rains have gone. You are the ebb and flow of calm waters, you are the crashing waves of storm. You are the long dark night and you are the first light of dawn. You are the mystery at our beginning before breath is drawn. You are the quiet at our endings when all is said and done. You are the sacredness of letting be when nothing more can come. You are the solitude after the cling of love’s embrace. You are the risk of love that we take, for all that we might lose. And though the loss of Andy was unchosen and we have no strength of our own, Give us grace when the time is right, To leave him in the fold of your care And let go into your peace Where all is one And only love remains.
Short silence

Be alive to us as our hearts are opened with sadness, For a man so full of love and life has been taken. In our sorrow, contain us; In our shock and grief, comfort us. Meet us in our anger, Hear the questions that have no answers, And in our dark and lonely times, bring hope. May we have the courage To leave Andy’s ashes here, wrapped in the earth, And when we are ready, the grace to move on into new life.

                                   'He Who Would Valiant Be'

He who would valiant be ’gainst all disaster, Let him in constancy follow the Master. There’s no discouragement shall make him once relent His first avowed intent to be a pilgrim.

Who so beset him round with dismal stories

Do but themselves confound - his strength the more is. No foes shall stay his might; though he with giants fight, He will make good his right to be a pilgrim.

Since, Lord, Thou dost defend us with Thy Spirit, We know we at the end, shall life inherit. Then fancies flee away! I’ll fear not what men say, I’ll labour night and day to be a pilgrim.

Reading by Gretel, quoting the art critic Max Wykes-Joyce, an art critic writing in a catalogue of the artist Dora Carrington and her  love for Lytton Strachey. 

'True love, and how fortunate are those few who experience it, is all embracing, all encompassing. It allows of every aberration and eccentricity, of every folly and all manner of wisdom and remains immovable and inviolable, the perfect still centre of the two who love.'

At the Planting of the Tree As we let go of Andy, held in a box made by the hands of a man he loved and called friend, we return his body to the goodness of the earth, to grow again, to become an element of the birch itself: earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

Andy’s ashes are poured out into the earth, along with a bottle of his favourite beer and some of Gretel’s homemade cake, which he loved.

There will be a time of silence to follow when those who wish to may pass by the tree, place some earth in the hole – or not, as preferred  – pause a moment, and then go back to their place in the glade.  The tree will then be planted. 

Andy, we have laid you down now in the warm, dark ground Where life and death and new life are woven deep. May you rise in light, and rest in bright peace, This day and always. (Amen)

Cold blows the wind, now your love is in the earth, But though Andy is taken from your eyes, may you find him in the heaven all about you. May you see him in the light-streaked skies and the company of trees. May you hear him in birdsong and down by the sea. May you feel him in dreams and places you have been, And know him with you always now his spirit dances free. 

‘And did those feet’

And did those feet in ancient time. Walk upon England’s mountains green: And was the holy Lamb of God, On England’s pleasant pastures seen!
And did the Countenance Divine, Shine forth upon our clouded hills? And was Jerusalem builded here, Among these dark Satanic Mills?

Bring me my Bow of burning gold; Bring me my Arrows of desire: Bring me my Spear: O clouds unfold! Bring me my Chariot of fire!
I will not cease from Mental Fight, Nor shall my Sword sleep in my hand: Till we have built Jerusalem, In England’s green and pleasant Land

Irish Blessing: May the road rise up to meet you. May the wind be always at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face. May the rains fall soft upon your fields And until we meet again, May God hold you in the hollow of his hand. Amen.

At the end, when tears mingled with hugs, introductions and hellos to new and old friends, a mass picnic was held. So many happy blog posts have I written of walks we enjoyed, with little picnics being the high point, that it was the only thing to do and everyone entered into the spirit of it. 

 

And so after the sadness, came friendship, chat and food, eaten in the bosom of Shropshire, with a young birch sapling finding it's roots in a site of ancient woodland. Afterwards, many came to the Bottle and Glass, Andy's favourite pub and where we had our last really happy day together at the folk singing day. Beer (and more food) was consumed in quantity.

 

Now the beer is drunk, the talk is silent and I face up to the rest of my life without Andy, though he is in my heart forever. I will try to make it a good life.

Peeling back the layers

It's taken over a hundred years for the bedroom walls to acquire their many layers.

And now, when I am not working, I am stripping it all back. The effect is subtle and beautiful, as if they were large, abstract artworks.

Most of the more recent wallpaper is quite hideous, but this faded white Chrysanthemum sample - one of the older ones -  is rather tasteful.  

Alone in a little church

A couple of weeks ago, on a Sunday, I decided to be brave and do one of the favourite things Andy and I used to enjoy - but without him, of course. There is a little church, just over a mile or so away, which I had previously ear-marked for an expedition. 

 It has the most beautiful cropped yews.

And an interesting patch of herringbone brickwork.

 I arrived just after service.

 

The well worn handle, doubling as a sanctuary knocker.

 

I wandered about as normal, taking photos and reading the little pamphlet provided. Circa 13th century font with later cover.

Jacobean pulpit.

Retaining the old boxed in pews - nice to see, so many have succumbed to woodworm, damp and modernisation.

One of a few alabaster memorials, 16th century, if I remember rightly.

Medieval floor tiles.

A wooden effigy of a crusader, carved in oak - one of only three in the country. He was said to be seven foot, an enormous height for the time. His still, noble face and great length reminded me so much of Andy. 

I stroked his cold face, sat in a nearby pew and cried, quietly for a very long time, feeling completely alone, in a strange county where I know barely anyone. I imagined that perhaps Andy was simply waiting outside for me, as he had done so many times before. We would potter home, talk about what to have for lunch and would we eat in the garden, as it was such a  nice day?

But life is different now. I mopped myself up and pulled myself together. I left the solitary church, passed through the old lime tree lined drive and walked home,  to apply myself to sanding down the bedroom floorboards.

Cinderhill Farm workshop

My first workshop of the year, held at  Cinderhill Farm at the beginning of March. Fully booked and raring to go. We started off by making chickens.

Outside, the farm chickens clucked indignantly. No punk hairstyles on these ladies.

 

The morning session was sustained with copious tea, homemade shortbread and flapjacks.

  

After lunch (home farmed pork casserole with herby rice) people worked on their own designs - or in this case, followed my 'bunny brooch' pattern from  issue 24 of  'Mollie Makes'.  

 

Then another break for a special farmhouse high tea - all freshly baked in the farmhouse kitchen by Debs, our hostess. Two types of cake, jam tarts, rich scones with butter, cream and jam.

 

 

  It is always so rewarding to see finished designs as the day draws to a close.

 The traditional Grand Parade  - the lovely results of a very creative day - didn't they do well?

 I believe the next workshop (scheduled for early summer) is already fully booked, but if you would like to be informed of spare places or book in advance for a late summer workshop, please contact Debs via the Cinderhill Farm website or message her through the official Facebook page.

Surfacing

Dear friends - I have not felt able to return to this blog for a long time, despite the many, many good wishes and messages. The first month without Andy was an agonising madness, through which I was propped up by dear friends. I tried to sort out as many practical matters as I could, though each one took hours to work up to and recover from. There are still ongoing things, because death, especially an unexpected one, is a complicated business. So I wanted to come back and say hello when my head was in a slightly better place.  

My life was centred around two things; work and my darling Andy and the greater of these was Andy. Without him, creativity has little interest for me. Art, my life long friend, has deserted me for the first time. And yet I must work and so I do. Gradually, more and more each day.

I have been overwhelmed by the kindness and generosity of you all. Without the support you gave me of your thoughts, good wishes and prayers, heart felt letters and loving gifts,  I do not think I would be here now to write this. I have had some very dark moments indeed and desperate thoughts which I would not normally have. I held that goodwill close to me, lonely as I have been and that, combined with the wonderful love of my friends, brought me through it. Little did I know when I started this blog - over seven years ago - that one day it would literally be my life line. So thank you, everyone, for being there.

All photos taken from a train, Cambridgeshire