Bum in the air I've spent the hottest...

day of the year clambering about in the garage loft.

Don't want to appear snooty, perish the thought!  However, how many folk can claim a Persian carpeted attic? 

Not many I suspect.
Where else could I put the moth eaten old specimen?  

Trouble with this blooming Kitsch and Stitch event is it has made me realise just how kitsch I am.  It has been brought horribly home to me by all the camp treasures I have collected over the years.  And I thought I had such top drawer, cut glass taste (even that's old hat now, nobody would be seen dead serving drinks in crystal, I ask you!)

The old tutt was preying on my mind - I just had to sort it.  Along the way I might even find my much loved Ted (I've written about him before, he was my first love) alright he had a squashed face and a broken button eye but I loved him most in the www.

What about the gravy granules jar of antique buttons that also make me lose sleep.  I was hard-up after Simon died and did a antique fair where I think I probably sold them for a quid or so.  Little knowing that I would become a sewing diva and blooming NEED them.

Anyway today dawned bright and after a fishwife encounter over the fence with my horrible neighbour; who for the last three days has been burning wood in one of those dustbin things with a chimney. I felt I could tackle anything.  I wouldn't mind but I'd sent the diplomatic corps (Hubs) round yesterday.  

Diplomacy 0 - Neighbour 1
*

A few well chosen words 

Her indoors 1 - Neighbour 0

I've had a superb day sorting out stuff ready for the fair.  Old family photo's and memorabilia carefully boxed and more importantly contents marked on the outside of the boxes. I've 'glowed' buckets and really did feel in need of a large glass of something cold and sparkling.  Which of course I got - red grape juice topped up with sparkling water.