Yesterday's craft fair in our village church.
Debs from Pretty Goods can be seen setting up her stall (she'll probably kill me for this!)
I'm only pleased you can't see her stall, because it would so ably demonstrate her skills. And how much further I've got to go to attain her exalted heights. My angels made from sweet wrappers and bubble wrap don't somehow seem to capture the great and the goods' imagination. Can't think why?
My stall as you can see lacks a little finesse...
at least everything, with the exception of the paper ribbon and string was made by me. I get upset when you go to craft fairs and see bought-in wares.
Sunday morning... a note left by the kettle from Hubs who is out for the day... Aaaah!
Trouble is... I have to get dressed and go up for the papers. I'm out and about so I thought I'd take a few photo's to show you the village. This is the church, scene of our yesterday's skirmish with commerce.
The duck pond... self explanatory really...
The view as I turn into the track (to call it a drive would be far too grand) up to our cottage.
I love living on the top of a hill...
the reason being I can look down on people!
When I first said this to Simon, my partner who died in 2000, he replied in his cut-crystal(I've been to public school) voice...
"Spoken like a true socialist Linda!"
There you have it.
Treasures bought by me at the fair... I love the cover of this book, doesn't he look sweet? And the illustrations and colours are just so evocative of the sixties
A quince which will be part of our Sunday supper.
This beautiful embroidered picture for 50p from the WI stall. I just adore it. If I were to try to make a primitive picture like this it would look ridiculous. How do I know? Because being a frustrated artist who can't draw, I once mistakenly thought that primitive paintings were done by people like me. I couldn't have been MORE wrong.
£1 for this duck!
These Christmas trees made from wood salvaged out of a skip.
What a beauty... this flag was waiting for me when I got home... Yes, another ebay buy.
The man that made the ducks was telling a little boy in front of me in the queue that they were 60 million years old.
Suddenly I don't feel too bad for my age...