I'm a serial...

No, NO, no!
Not that sort...
'Crafting also-ran'
In my jungly garden this morning I got to thinking; 
so deep in thought was I, that along with my tea I swallowed a fly...
'There was an old woman...


How many things over the years have I decided to try?


Here goes


1.  Spinning, knitting and crochet;
in my defence here I will say, that my crafting put food on the table.
In the early eighties I lived a self-sufficient life up on the NW coast of Scotland.
Fleece aplenty, winters of snow and mizzerly rain.
What better way than to sit by the peat fired Rayburn,
making things to sell to the tourists in the summer.


2.  Dress making; trouble was I always felt terribly home-made.
These were the days when home-made wasn't trendy.


3.  Beekeeping; fine 'til I got horribly stung one Saturday night 
when fresh from a bath, fragrant and smelling of perfume,
I decided to check the bees.
In their defence, as I gently prised the lid off, they did give me a warning
buzzzzzz.
No worries LL, you'll be fine!
With no veil, wearing just a floaty kaftan in I went...
And out they came...
Bees boiling out of a hive is not a sight or sound I want to hear ever again.
I ran screaming down the garden, being stung as I went.
Aaron my son has probably been scarred for life at the sight of his daffy mum being pursued.  And, worse than that, the sight of my naked plumpteous bod
revealed, as I oh so carefully tried to remove my floating 'little' number without squashing anymore angry bees.


That night I thought I was going to die.
The doctor said you need committing to a mental asylum
his exact words!
Beekeeping bit the dust.


4.  Felting...
I've been on two different courses,
naturally buying all the tackle.
I did it for a while then found I could buy
wonderful felt without the faff of suds'n'stuff from
Annie The Felt Fairy
(on my sidebar)
Me being me, I didn't buy just a few colours to try, 
I bought the whole blooming colour chart.


5.  Badge making...
Bought all the gear, probably at least two hundred pounds worth.
I did knock out lots of badges and they sold well.
Then my interest waned.


6.  Sewing - Serious
not my 'that'll do' approach!
Debs of pretty goods
got me on the straight and narrow.
Even now as I sit at my machine her words come back.
Trouble is...
Can I remember how to make a cushion with zip?
Can I heck as like!


7.  Customising denim...
this started when a friend asked me to repair her jeans.
As I struggled with getting the patch high up in the crotch area,
I had a brain wave and embroidered...
'muff'
She'll never see it and if anyone else does, 
they'll be too blooming close for comfort.
What was the first thing she saw?
And on the strength of that I got my first commission.
I ought to say now I haven't made a habit of embellishing four letter words.
Wherever I go I get comments about my different customised items of apparel.
No one ever wants to part with spondolicks for my efforts though.


8.  Viv's Haberdashery brooch making workshop...
where yours truly swans in, not content to make a brooch,
just a family history happening on a velvet door curtain.
Viv did have the courage to suggest ever so diplomatically that
the colour was wrong, the size etc.
Pointing me in the direction of a lovely silky Irish linen (I think)
smallish table cloth.
After yesterday's debacle with the Witney blanket, 
am I pleased she did, it's taken me months to get to here.

9.  Woodcarving...
How could I forget that?
Years ago I signed up for classes.
My grandfather who was a bank manager by day,
 had spectacular skills as a wood carver by night

this is an example.

So I naturally assumed that his talent would ooze

out of every pore of my body...

Wrong!  It took me a whole term to

carve a Tudor rose.

Yes you've guessed it, that mad cap scheme bit the dust.


10.  Angel making - that didn't take off!

Time to re-evaluate LL...
watching the Grayson Perry programme on class
(the first one)
GP asked a guy how much he had spent on each tattoo,
to which he replied about a thousand pounds a pop.
'Would you spend that much on a piece of artwork?'
The lad nearly fell off his chair in horror.
Those of you who are still with me,
( and thank you for that)
will probably guess where this convoluted tale is going...
Yes, I'm going to put my hands up to the fact, my 'talent' isn't 
as great as I like to kid myself, flog what flotsam and jetsam
swirl around my studio; spending the money on what other more talented people do.


What do you think?

What was I thinking of...

this scaled up 

onto this?

Who am I kidding?

It's taken yonks to get this far on my first one.

There is no way on God's earth that I will bestir
myself to do a double blanket.


In a fit of activity
I did pin a few things on it this morning, then
held it up and needed sun-shades in order not to 
blind myself with the acres, furlongs even, of fabric still to cover.
You've heard of snow-blindness, bet you've never heard of
blanket-blindness?
Well you have now!


Come back painting by numbers all is forgiven.

All my life I've been an oik...

might that be I wonder, why the chattering middle class

give me a snooty wide berth?

Living in a terribly hoity-toity village

no surprise then I've never been accepted.

Yesterday saw me setting off to Margate.

Yes, you heard it right...

MARGATE.

Well, she would wouldn't she!

'Hold tight snoots!'

I went to the Turner Contemporary Gallery...

Mer, mer, mer, mmer, Mer!

So there!

Why LL?

This is why...

South East Today

our local news station (Beeb)

were asking for photographs to make a

Jubilee picture of the Queen.

Guess who sent one in?

Yes, right in one, me.

Being a self-centred lump,

well you know the rest.

My photo will naturally be part of the crown;

that obviously goes without saying?

Or at the very least sparkly earrings.

Alright...

grey hair, 

wrinkles,

dare I say it...

double chins?

Not a bit of it...

couldn't see my mug shot anywhere.

Well that'll teach me!

I flashed around the Tracey Emin exhibition...

I think I get her?

Not as much as Grayson though.

I then thought I might explore the town...

Words fail me!

From there I set off to Deal, where my lovely dad

lived for a few years. 

In those days it was a sleepy seaside town. 

Years before, as a child we 

would go for family holidays.

Twenty five years ago when visiting dad I used to think it was a 

one horse-town.

Not a bit of it now!

Trendy shops abound, 

interesting folk wander around.

I had lunch in a very bohemian cafe

called the Black Duck (although it might be Duncan?)
can't remember.
Then I found two glorious Witney wool blankets
for...
wait for it...
£3.99 each.


My day was made.


Driving home my mind was full of ideas
as to what to do with my wondrous woollies.
And as I'm going like the clappers on my family history wall hanging.
I thought a autobiographical comfort blanket might be the answer.


Here it is on the line as we speak.

Tracey, Grayson...
think you can sew...
Humph!

Liberty Bodices rule the world...

Okay!


Forget thongs...
think industrial strength winceyette
BIG PINK knicks.


Budding buds encased in 
Isambard Kingdom Brunel
inspired... 
 Liberty bodice.
The whole ensemble topped off
(or rather bottomed off) with rubber buttons 
to which you attached your warm and woolly lisle stockings.

Happy memories of being warm.


Remember?

Cheek by dewlap...

mug of tea in hand,

side by side, we sat up in bed

my husband and I.

Looking for all the world like Eric and Ernie.

Me composing my latest post to the blog what I wrote.

Hubs wincing as he watched the woodpecker

attacking Nigel next door's nuts.

I got to thinking...

No, no, no, not the meaning of life.

How to cook my organic free-range, lived a good life

chicken that came in my Abel & Cole veg box.

The fish pie mix also in the box was turned into

a very tasty...

Yes you've guessed it...

Fish Pie.

I'm slowly working my way through the card.

Cheeses last week together with the tastiest olive bread ever.

I haven't had so much fun since

perusing the Damart catalogue for thermals, 

when living on the North West coast of Scotland.

Top left-hand corner if you're as geographically challenged as me.

This week is my free box week, so I will try 

many and various other delights to tickle me ole 

taste buds. And still only have to pay what I would have, if it

wasn't the free week... Get my drift?

Hubs and B enjoyed the organic case of beer I got them

for the Jubilee weekend.

The speed at which it disappeared would have put 

a strain on the Thames barrier.

After reading in my 'love missive' from the

gorgeous Mr Veg et Abel;

(Alright I know he's a cad and sends them to all his 

foodie followers)

about migraine and wine and how organic wine 

for reasons I won't bore you with now;

allow you to quaff without fear of a thumper.

No guesses for what I will try in this week's box.

Vegetarian, vegan, carnivores are all catered for.

All these folk on about vintage, retro, looking back,

let's apply the same mantra to what we put into our chops.

Eating food in season is what it's all about...

plus protecting the planet.

Toodle-pip

I've got a new love...

a man of a ravishing radish kind...

Mr Veg et Abel

(sorry Keith to pinch your nom de plume)

Alright, alright, ALRIGHT!  I know I'm a hussy and always have

a fave-rave simmering away on my back burner.

This time it's for real.

I ask you who could resist a man who showers you with gifts

and on a weekly basis.

Forget the choccies and garage flowers girls...

a perky pak choi floats my boat.

Let me tell you when the story begins...

For ages my son Aaron has been cracking on about his

Abel & Cole veg box.

Even saying let me recommend you and I will get a free box of veggies 

for the introduction.

I was having none of it; I had memories of my last flirtation with organicals

delivered to the door...

A drearier bunch you couldn't wish to meet.

That is until a couple of weeks ago, when through the letterbox

an offer popped.

'Hello Sunshine'

A good start in my book cos I'm anything but.

Followed by

'Get a FREE cookbook and FREE veg box'

Now many moons ago...

I used to be anybody's for a free carrier bag.

Then all shops jumped on the bandwagon and 

the ole bod couldn't stand the strain.

Added to which the oceans were being polluted with plastic.

Living a self-sufficient life up in the Highlands eons ago, 

I saw for myself the flotsam and jetsam of mans' total disregard of his environment.

Things washed up you just wouldn't believe.

Well to cut a long story short

I decided to give 'em a whirl.

Am I pleased I did.

The range of things on offer, the quality,

the fact you can forgo things you don't like, 

competitive prices, 
meat, fish, dairy, the staff of life (and boy what a life!)
You name it... Beer even, can you believe it?
Shopping in supermarkets just doesn't give me the same buzz.
Yes I know one of my past loves was Waitrose.
I'm nothing if not fickle in love;
why change the habits of a lifetime?


The Abel & Cole beach bum story in the front of the cookery book...
 whet my appetite, plus rang so many bells with my 
tootle through life; not nearly so successful though!


Alan Bennett...
have no fear, 
although I guess you're 'an eat to live sort of a man?'
Which rather loses you Brownie points in my book.

Keith Abel is 'a live to eat', share food with folk, sort of a a feller.
Trouble is he is married...
leaving the way clear for you
to still be in pole position!


***

ee ecky thump rides again...

due to the bodice-ripping success of my first listing... 

I am...

totally changing tack

 and offering the most wonderful chariot...

tell me I'm wrong... 

Is that the most wonderous thing you ever clapped eyes on?

say no more!

film prop, garden feature...

Murder on the Orient Express

Wheels Boudica would be proud of...

and like her I'm taking no prisoners.

The starting price is 

£50

and the auction is open... 

Psst... brace yourselves girls...

Vintage has had its day.

You've heard it here first...

or maybe not?

'What makes you say that?' 

I hear you cry...

Well in my...

'I remember that first time round opinion', 

trudging around a fair

last week I felt decidedly under-whelmed with what was on offer.

Stalls topped up with old tat, chipped enamel, faded this, even more faded that.

Don't get me wrong I ought to say here and now, I'm as guilty as the next person, 

with a home full of jaded artifacts...

Me being the main one!

Why are we all so keen to follow the in-crowd.

Have any of us stopped and thought...

'What the hell are we doing upcycling, recycling, bi-cycling?'

Our lemming tendencies make me smile.

Have you noticed the prices are dropping as well?

Economic climate...

or just folk getting bored...

there's only so much vintage a girl can take.

While we're all looking backwards, we've missed what the mirror is telling us...

We're beginning to look the part...

It's called OLD in my book!

***

If you only do one crafty thing...

this year...

make it a hens teeth workshop

Yesterday found me and a gaggle of girls

all attending one of Viv's 

Haberdashery brooch workshops

We laughed, we sewed, we gossiped,

we giggled, 

 creating many and various mini masterpieces...

always mindful of not incorporating cake crumbs.

Viv is planning a series of similar events this year...

I suggest you get in on the act before 

you have to enter a ballot for tickets.

You heard it first here girls...

Don't delay...

As I sit on the hard shoulder of my life...

approaching yet another milestone birthday...

I get to thinking...

'Should I put quill to vellum and write of the many and various events that have shaped 

and enhanced my life?'

Not for publication you understand...

 just because...

and to flesh out the bones of my family history for future generations.

There is however one small hurdle...

can I be bothered?

This is me...

who can't be arsed to take photographs, because...

'They're boring!'

What do I love doing?

Poring over old photo's - that's what!

This year signing up for Ancestry.com...

Oh, how I wish the bare names and dates had a little more

flesh to give me the feel for the person who unwittingly gave me life.

Here I am with the chance to let future folk know of whence they came,

and you know what, I'm too blooming idle.

Time, is what I have in abundance.

Where is my bullet/waterproof excuse?

You tell me?

  

Wish me luck as you wave me goodbye...

Cheerio, here I go,on my way.

Wish me luck as you wave me goodbye.
With a cheer, not a tear,make it gay.

Give me a smile,I can keep for a while,
In my heart while I'm away.

Till we meet once again you and I,
Wish me luck as you wave me goodbye.

Wish me luck, as you wave me goodbye.
Cheerio, here I go, on my way

Wish me luck, as you wave me goodbye.
With a cheer, not a tear, make it gay

Give me a smile, I can keep for a while,
In my heart while I'm away.
Till we meet once again You and I
wish me luck as you wave me goodbye.

Eco-warrior I ain't...

argon gas filled double glazing is all very well...

sitting shivering in a 300 year old sieve on speed is okay for the young

and well-upholstered.

For the old and well lagged bod, take it from me, 

it isn't much flaming fun.

Shivering under my fur throw

(alright, alright, ALRIGHT nothing has had to die to produce it!)

I got to thinking, and yes those of you who have stuck with me through

thick and 'thin' (read thicker) 

will know of my 'orrible fascination with drawers...

not those of the 'chest of' kind,

but of the BIG pink knicker, bloomer type.

Ghastly thought...

Will tomorrow be the day my derriere gently settles into... 

 some might say...

sexy 'little' number of warm, woolly winceyette?

Old boys of ninety perhaps?

I always used to say having a well padded figure had the advantages of

never feeling the cold.

Plus having lived in the NW Highlands of Scotland for five years 

must have toughened me up a tad?

"Oh yes! Of course you have the benefit of the Gulf Stream there, 

it must have made it positively balmy!"

Yes, yes... plonker, come and try it for your 'flaming' self!!!

I'm that way out today, must be my blood

circulating ever soooo  s l o w ly through my veins.

My creative juices are at an all-time low,

confidence in crafting has cracked.

Digging in the garden has peaked...

all winter work is sorted ready for the Spring planting.

I've even cleaned the greenhouse.

Wouldn't mind but I don't even clean the house...

far too arty-farty for that kind of menials!


I'm tired and grumpy and at a total loss
as to what to do next for the best...
ideas on a postcard.....