Like a nail across glass paper...

silhouetted against the bedroom window

he stood at the window scratching his left cheek.

A taste of a

Cold foggy morn - 
Sunday in the Weald of Kent.

What to do today LL?

I know what I should do...

 Crafting, as opposed to grafting for Kitsch and Stitch

(see side bar)

Customising Denim is what I'm doing...

Try to keep moving on...

that way the blighters never catch you!

Trouble is, they never want to.

Be fresh and innovative,

one step ahead...

Yes, yes, YES...

we've heard it all before.


I must confess I've been bored with this blogging lark
and I don't think I'm alone, nothing much seems to be moving 
in blogland.  In these chilly months you'd think we'd all be at it.
But no!


Have your creative juices taken a nose-dive like mine I wonder?


I did get over in the studio and made a start
 listening to the 70th birthday edition of
Desert Island Discs.
And very good it was too.


I'm in gardening mode at the moment...
Garden?  This weather?
Last year being heavily involved in the organising of
Kitsch and Stitch
my poor plot got horribly neglected.
As I'm now just a stall holder, I have more time to potter in my potager.
Already I have great plans afoot and the warmer days of last week found me 
up to my knees in weeds 'n muck.
Heaven of the compost kind.


Now, 4 pm-ish, I'm off to close the greenhouse door and begin to prep the 
Sunday rib of beef,
served unfortunately without Yorkshire puddings
due to me still battling to get the Christmas pounds oft!
(how do you make yours?  Mine are ALWAYS 2 eggs to 4oz Plain flour)
And I PROMISE I will do the next instalment of my 
Masterchef experiences...
cross my heart and all that jazz!

I'm looking for a man
who can meet my neeps!


Toodle-pip!


***

Am I missing something here...

or is it the ole cynic rides again?

I just don't get it?


Perhaps you can tell me...
why are there so many swops and give aways
in blogland?


Now the 'wickeder' side of me might say...
'It's in order to get more followers and comments!'
The nicer, kinder, gentler bit might say...
'The kindness of folk knows no bounds!'


Where are you in this debate that takes place on a regular basis in my head?


Is the world becoming prey to the supermarket
buy one, get one free, con trick?


Only the other day in my favourite store I went to get some cleaning stuff.
Imagine my absolute horror at being faced with buy two, get one free.
Me buying one is an event to be noted in Old Moore's Almanac...
two would be enough to last me till 2020.
Frigging three, I would be able to bequeath one in my 
last will and testament.


Yes you know the answer...
Mr Muslce now features large in my life.


Then we get onto the altogether more exciting offer of 
my nibble of choice made by a certain Mr Walker (No! Not Johnnie)
{nor even yet Fanny!}


Crisps, my dear boy... CRISPS.
As my gasping hand reached for the
(as I'm getting back on the diet)
one 5 multi packet bag of Wotsits,
my hand-held device belched in the most ungainly way.
Buy two get... de dah... you know the rest.
In order to save money I thought...
'It does make sense!
I'll ration them and only eat one 5 pack this weekend.'
Saving me money on next weeks shop.
All sounds very reasonable, you'll agree?


Blow me down with a feather...
The next Walkers (for Hubs) Salt and Shake
also elicited the same response.
'That's easy thought I, I'll put one packet of wotsits back and get himself one pack of 
S & S.  (I love him, however not two packets worth)
The machine said save 49p buying two.
Ditto the same reasoning applied.


Struggling home under a weight of fat and salt laden potatoes
and far, far worse than that elbow grease by any other name.
Was I delighted by my canny buying?


Blooming hell No!


I felt I'd been conned.


And dear reader (at this rate there will soon be only one)
is how I feel about swops and give aways.


They're a ploy to get comments and followers,
and like the 'nice' Mr Supermarkets... 
their darstardly plan is working.


I'm off to cower under the...
'seemed like a bargain not to be missed...
'Now with wings' mountain!?!

Surely she's far too old?


*** 

Why, Oh Flaming WHY...

am I such a stroppy moo?

Always have been and, ghastly thought always will be!

For fear of losing yet another follower

(now down to 24) 

due in part, methinks to the never to be mentioned...

race, religion or politics.

Yes hands up...

I did KILL Herman and...

Yes I do think the Euro is doomed.

One down 24 to go!

'Remember LL this blog is purely for you'

"Go on indulge yourself!

Use as many exclamation marks as you want...

let's face it...

that's exactly how you talk...

twaddle, overlaid with cliches."


And while we're on the subject...
Is anyone as sick to the back teeth as me with the 
Cath Kidson, Emma Bridgewater, Orla Whatnot,
Sarah Raven, Oka, Boden...
 dah de dah...
You just can't open a magazine without them being featured.
I thought Maggie got shot of the closed shop?


There are so many talented new kids on the block... 
For goodness sake give them a chance.


I love my monthly magazines and at nearly four quid a throw, are they good value for money?   Don't they realise we know that the mock-up features are just a reason for the editorial team to get oddles of freebies to photograph?  To then trundle off home with the goodies. 


Real people in real homes that's all I ask.
Is it too much?


The one magazine that seems to be, like good wine improving with age is...
Homes and Antiques.


It's bright, and as the February issue says
'Chic & cheerful' 
'Stunning Real Homes' 


I love it!

Happy Days!


***

Imagine if you can...

an early candlelit dinner.

It's a rainy first night of the new year.

Sitting on opposite sides of the table,we peer lovingly into each others eyes.

Conversation is very muted, energy is at an all-time low. 

The cold collation 

with the air of Christmas past is before us.

Valiantly we plough on;

we are of the generation of 

'Waste not,want not' after all.

With one mind we decide that, with great relief, 

tomorrow will bring a return to our normally modest

calorie intake. 

A gentle tentative knocking is heard at the door.

My first thought is 

'Oh no!'

As much as I adore surprise visitors, 

now is not the time for me to be able to turn on the charm.

You've heard of metal fatigue?

Well the elastic in my rather dashing lounge wear trews

was suffering elastic fatigue.

Plus my femme fatale persona was seriously struggling under the weight of the extra pounds, plus the liberty bodice warmth of my newly bought two piece.

Hubs went to the door to discover a neighbour clutching a card 

and a plastic sealed container...

the temporary residence of Herman.

Now if you haven't heard of 

Herman The German Friendship Cake

I hope you never do.

As luck would have it Hubs had asked me this morning would I like another paper.

My reply 

'For a change will you get me the 'Mail'

Knowing full well, that all evidence would be disposed of in the early hours of the morning by the paper collection.

'Nobody need know!'

What's this got to do with the price of cheese in Woolworths I hear you cry.

Idly flicking through the paper I came upon an article about 

the dastardly Herman.

Smugly I thought fat lot of chance of it turning up here.

Nobody, but NOBODY finds us tucked up, 

out of the way in our quiet little backwater.

Kleeneze, Avon, hawkers, Jehovah Witnesses, politicians etc. 


Frigging Herman did though!

Looking for all the world like Frau Merkal's stockingless thighs.

Forewarned is forearmed they say.

Thank goodness for the Mail I say!

Never thought I'd hear myself say that.

Otherwise being me, 

I probably would have fed the brute, made the cake 

and carefully divided him up and passed him on.

"You can't put me in the fridge I will die."

"If I stop bubbling, I am dead!!!"

'Well Herman!  I've got news for you...

like the Euro matey...

YOU'RE Dead!'

***