I have a pash for Christmas crackers and worse than that...
Being a disciple of Mrs T (NO! NOT THAT ONE!) Mrs Thifty of whose blog I'm a 'sort-of' avid follower. I am HUGELY ashamed to admit that this Christmas cracker obsession is gaining an unhealthy hold on me. One year I did go cold turkey and make my own. Saving loo roll innards, shopping for tasteful gifts for the recipients, thinking up crappy jokes, making Admiral hats out of the business section (no funnies here please!),enrobing the crackers in old FT colour supplement pages. An up-market cracker if ever there was one!
Trouble was I knew what was in them, I knew who got what, I knew they were made, mindful of the planet. But hey ho, the smugness of being holier than thou didn't work its magic on me. I felt cheated and by me of all people.
This year folks I've admitted I have problem - that's the hardest.
I've found some half price crackers, pored over the pictures of the contents on the back of the box and alright they are pretty ghastly, but buying at a knockdown price I feel I have taken a very real step towards being able to say "I'm a reformed crackerholic!"
I'm afraid I'm just not strong enough to share the details of my other obsession with you today
All I really want to do is to batten down the hatches and just 'be'.
Today wasn't going to be a 'be' day. Appointments at the dentist and the vets were in the diary, so off I went not before taking these pictures from my blog spot.
Driving through the Kent countryside I almost felt pleased I'd been winkled out. The spectacular hoare frosted trees made my bit of ancient hedge look a bit ordinaire.
I still can't believe I've actually started taking pictures. I blame it on this blogging lark and jolly pleased I am too. Same with writing the blog, who would have thought LL would be bothered to keep a diary. And to be honest I've reached the point I don't care if people read it, cos I'm doing it for me.
I have mentioned before that I'm a self-centred lump and there you have it!
I wasn't even worried when I tried on a luscious velvet Christmas "All in the best possible taste" dress AND in order to get it over my shoulders I had to gently dislocate them one at a time. I gave up as the bosoms hove into view and with the best will in the world there was NO WAY the dress would have accommodated these 'little' beauties.
I'm struggling for words to best describe his wonderful works of mini art.
This is a fabulous brooch I bought made from an old watch, odds and ends. I also chose a superb badge with two swallows swooping over a white watch face. Super cards and an odd assortment of interesting bits were there to buy. I watched enviously from two stalls down as people stopped to admire his wares. All I really wanted to do was to tell them to buzz off, cos I wanted EVERYTHING!
He in my book, was the star of the fair.
This is his logo thingy - pay him a visit - you won't be disappointed.
The fair was a huge success, all the team were super efficient, friendly and helpful. This was their first Christmas fair and looking at their forthcoming programme there is lots more excitement planned.
Pay them a visit if you live in the area, play them a visit even if you don't.
My studio is a testament to my love of books, I'm even having more book shelves built in my 'cosy', cavernous oak room to accommodate the overflow - Kindle eat your heart out.
Every paper/periodical I open, if there's a photo of someone in front of a bookshelf I crane my neck trying to see what's on their shelves.
I plough through the 'Christmas books - FT critics select their favourite fiction of the year' knowing full well only a tiny selection will be within my limited quota of IQ. Alright I know I should be looking at the The Sun's critics choice... problem there is, I'm too blooming brainy not to be hugely irritated by the lightness of the recommended tomes.
Is it me, or does everyone associate biker boots with the sort of hoi polloi that gives old ladies a kicking?
Always a trend-setter me... this old lady has decided to play them at their own game and don a pair of twinkle toed bovvers. You just would'nt believe the things I've bought on ebay; these for instance and much loved they are too.
Alright, alright I know at my age I should be clad in Crimplene, saggy stockings and slippers with bobbles and buttons. The spectre of the BIG pink knickers hovers in the wings waiting, waiting, weighting on my mind (see an earlier blog).
Out in the snow yesterday and today striding, stamping, snowboarding on winged bikers. How smug was I? I didn't once feel the need to kick a pimpled youth in the air.
On a more sedate note this is a Clothkits doll I've made for my granddaughter Hope
(see I can do granny things)
When my son asked me what I wanted to be called ie Granny, Nanny blah, blah, blah. I thought CRIKEY! I'M FAR TOO YOUNG TO BE GRANDMAMA! And anyway, who wants those ageing titles pinned on one, I ask you? I thought for a nano-second and decided I would be called Poppy. And there you have it! Puss-Poppy in biker boots.
Working away in my studio on Tuesday a neighbour called to ask me to make a shamrock badge for her son. He's playing a leprechaun in the school play. On the strength of this I fully expect Julian Fellowes to call any day soon to ask for my help with the costumes for the next series of Downton Abbey.