Let them eat fresh vegetables!

I know what you're thinking. Anyone with rainbow fingernails must lead a VERY glamorous life.

And you'd be right. Mais oui. I wouldn't lie to you, would I?

A pair of Pinnochios lurking in the undergrowth. There's a clue there.

So, instead of thinking that these little jobs I do are menial, I prefer to daydream, a la Marie Antoinette. She frolicked at Le Petit Hameau, I plant seeds in the greenhouse.

This is the top of the garden, the working part where we have the shed, the compost heap, the greenhouse and the vegetable beds.

Of course, I don't want her fate. I read her biography years ago and it seems she was dealt rather a sorry hand. From being sent by an ambitious mother to a foreign court with no friends, to marrying a husband who wasn't interested in her for a long time, to being the victim of fraud and eventually a hate figure for an entire nation before finally losing her head. Forget the fancy frocks, that's no dream existence.

Qu'ils mangent de la brioche! Let them eat cake! Although widely attributed to her, she didn't actually say it.

Purple sprouting broccoli, our first crop. It melts in the mouth

Looks like we're going to be eating sweetcorn and courgettes

No fancy frocks for me today, it's a pair of vintage overalls and a wool cardi, 50p each at the jumble on Saturday. I'm no Madame Deficit!

What is life, if full of care, we have no time to stand and stare?

The first quarter of the year has had a new, slower pace, with a more domestic feel to it. I really like it, just being at home, doing the small things.

I made another dress. A 70s sheet, and a modified 70s pattern (McCalls 4535), yet somehow I've ended up with a 50s style dress. I felt a dirndl style skirt would suit the fabric better. Plus it hides my tummy. I have no core muscles, and am allergic to any exercises which would give me some, so after a nice meal I have a tummy like a teddy bear.

These two patterns represent 66% of my success at the charity shops this year.  I've been doing the stats for the annual report at work. Everything is percentages at the moment.

The bedroom is coming together, but still no doors for the wardrobe. I don't mind because I actually love to see all my colourful clothes on display.  

You see that neon pink mirror? I pimped that op! Op to the max. I got it at a flea market when I very first came to Nottingham in 1989. It was gilt with plasterwork, albeit somewhat damaged. 25 years in the same outfit? It was well overdue a facelift.

I spray painted it pink, added some pompom braid from Walsall market and then, for good measure a couple of plastic roses.

Good taste and subtlety? Sorry, I don't understand. Please afford me an interpreter, my good man.

I seem to have been inundated with book loans recently. I need to take to my bed with some salty snacks and a glass of wine and get reading. I have almost the entire back catalogue of Montalbano to get through!
That bedside table is a little dolly washer I bought at the same flea market and the covering is a beautifully hand stiched embroidery which I got for £1 at Newark Antique's Fair donkey's years ago.

We've been going to the park lots, watching the earth come awake. We've seen the waves of snowdrops, crocus, daffodils, and, slowly unfurling now, hyacinths.

For us, there's going to be dahlias this year. Big, blowsy, look-at-me ones.

Tonight it's homemade carrot and coriander soup with cheddar cheese and jalapeno bread. And plenty of wine. Tomorrow I have to be up at the crack of dawn (OK, 8am) to go and run a mile for Sports Relief. Wish me luck!

In case you were wondering, this little Romanian jug constitutes the remaining 33% of my success at chazzas in the first quarter of 2014. Bet you'd love to read the reports I do for work, wouldn't you?

Psychedelic patchwork and other nesting nonsense

I've checked in the diary and it is as I suspected, I haven't been away for the weekend at all this year yet. Yes, I've been out and about, and I've had visitors to stay, but the luxury of being in my own home, and not having to travel in the utterly dismal weather has been fantastic. I did seven years of travelling up and down the motorways very, very regularly and I now feel almost phobic about driving long distances.

So, what have I spent all this home time doing? Well, we've made progress on that bedroom! It's only been a year. It's not entirely finished, but we have varnished floors, freshly painted gloss work, undercoated wardrobes, and new curtains. Ta dah!

1940s barkcloth showing Spanish scenes, Senors and Senoritas! I had to have it. I lined the curtains with some recycled bright pink heavy duty cotton, which cuts out all the light. The only problem is, I don't seem to want to get up in the mornings.

I've also turned my hand to patchwork for the first time in over 30 years. I did it old school, you know, squares of paper, tacked in then sewn by hand. You probably think I'm mad, but I did it watching the box and found it rather addictive.

There's a couple of jumpsuits in there, one entirely handmade, the other altered, a dress which was handmade and one which I never finished. I haven't decided what to do with it yet.

Talking of patchwork, here's the next thing on the sewing pile. A pair of the most fantastic 1970s psychedelic trousers which need a little bit of reining in. There's too much fabric in the legs, which I keep tripping over in a most indelicate fashion. If I keep them like that, my obituary could read 'Death by voluminous loons' and there's just no call for that kind of trouser tragedy, is there?

I had a rather lovely week off work during which I finally started putting some pictures up on the walls. This little black and white photo with the boy and the donkey has found its resting place above our bed.

Pocahontas is in the spare bedroom. That frame needs painting, but the picture is just so romantic, with the moon reflecting on the water. I wanted hair like that when I was a kid. Whenever my mum cut our hair, I would try to stick it back on with sellotape. It never ended well.

They say we all turn into our mothers in the end. Well, this weekend I hacked my own hair off. The cycle is complete.

January, February, I don't understand

Well hello there!

I've been away a while, during which time a massive organisation has skilfully relieved me of my domain name. Sort of like a cyber Artful Dodger. Of course I could always buy it back, there is an auction. Highest bidder wins. But that way possible bankruptcy lies, so instead I formulated a cunning plan, sort of like a cyber Baldrick, which involves a slight change of name for the blog. It is now a co.uk, instead of a com. That suits me just fine.

So, what have I been up to? I had a birthday, which prompted some lovely parcels of joy from Curtise...

A gorgeous folksy apron, orange gloves and a little treen deer letter rack. All just perfect. I have a twin for that deer rack, so now I can have them in more than one room.

...and Vix

I had been admiring Vix's Madeira handbag for ages, so she sent me the baby twin, a wonderful hand embroidered Madeira apron, a notebood from India and a hat that makes me smile every time I put it on. It matches my vintage Astraka fake fur jacket exactly!

Talking of which, at Christmas, my sister and I had a get together involving an impromptu photo shoot when she came in wearing said jacket and hat. What do you think? Hot stuff, isn't she? She looks like she's just walked out of the pages of a 1960s magazine.

Into the new year, I've been really enjoying nesting, cooking, and doing a bit of sewing. Here's a shift dress I made from a tablecloth Vix gave me when we met up in November. It has been a bit of a wardrobe staple ever since.

Somebody else who has been enjoying nesting has been my friend Serena. Here she is gracing the pages of Ideal Home magazine! If you want to see her wonderful little house, here is the tour I did a while ago.

They COULD organise a p*ss up in a brewery

Another weekend, another wedding. This time the venue was a brewery in rural Lincolnshire. We get around with a little help from our friends. 

Although it's right next door and although I've ventured in and around the county, I've never really felt like I had a feel for it, so I enjoyed the journey, just looking out of the car window and taking it all in. 

Lincolnshire is big on farming. The land is flat and open, while the sky is big. And practically every village ends with the suffix -by: Candlesby, Salmonby, Grimsby, Spilsby, the list goes on. What does that tell you? It tells you that this is VIKING country: -by originally meant a farmstead, but the places grew into villages and towns, taking the suffix with them.

The villages and towns are very pretty, mainly Georgian with lovely little period high streets. Everywhere there are little red brick cottages with jaunty paintwork.

We stayed in Skegness, also known as SkegVegas because of the amount of entertainment arcades, or just plain Skeg, which I think is used as a descriptor.

It's considered a joke in bad taste by many. The coastal town that they forgot to close down. But lights like that always get me a bit excited. I guess I just got in the wrong queue when they were handing out good taste. 

The town strapline is 'it's bracing' and this is the figure which demonstrates that fact. 

That's what I look like on the dance floor when they play 'Dancing Queen'. 

The last time we went to a wedding, dear Helga said in her inimitable fashion, 'What the buggery did you WEAR darling?!' so this is for you! We went as twins. His 'n hers matching Hawaiian jumpsuit and shirt. 

I made that little handbag out of some spare fabric when I made alterations to another Hawaiian jumpsuit.

Rock a hula everyone!

Poser turned clothes detective: it's all about the labels

This old dog has learned a new trick! I've figured out how to pose, use a tripod and do a self timer, all at the same time. My life is complete.

To answer your question, yes, I did buy the dress! I love it! It is so glamorous and after a week of calorie counting, I managed to get my belly enough under control that it isn't all I see when I wear it. The fabric is beautifully soft. It is woven into a sort of padded effect brocade with a soft yellow silk and a gold thread. I particularly love the bow feature on the front.

When I saw the label, it looked familiar, but I couldn't quite figure out why. 'Global, styled in Paris, made in the British Crown colony of Hong Kong.'

But then when I got home, all was revealed. It was the same label as another great favourite of mine, this green and gold beauty.

Unstyled, unaccessorised. Just me and the dress. I was in a rush, needed to get my act together to go and see my mum and go to the supermarket. Poser, clothes detective, carer, housewife. Then there's tennis later and making tea. Athlete and cook. Wow, these labels are making me sound good.

I was a bit puzzled, because when I held them both up together, the yellow dress, which is a size 14 looked to be the same size as the green, which is a size 12. 

A bit of detective work and I have discovered that the yellow one has been taken up and taken in. Mystery solved. I have spent rather a happy half an hour being a vintage clothing detective! That degree in Fashion Textiles has come in useful after all.

Anyway I did a bit more digging and it turns out that the heyday for garments bearing this type of label was the late 1950s and early 1960s. Labour and fabrics were very cheap, Hong Kong was keen to manufacture and so a clothing industry boomed, which focused on Western styles that could be exported. These Asian exports were well finished and had that famous beadwork which was so loved in the 50s and 60s. Apparently a lot of unknown designers went there to work and gain experience. 

How about you, what labels describe the roles you have played today? Have you got any dresses made in the British Crown Colony of Hong Kong? Give us a twirl!

We took Nottingham by storm or was it the other way round?

Oh, we had the best time, Vix, Curtise, Annie, Serena and I. 

The calm before the storm. A nice cuppa at Hopkinson's whilst waiting for the Birmingham contingent to arrive. Serena was a first timer at one of our bloggy get-togethers, but she fitted in just perfectly.

Vix looked a gazillion dollars in this dress. She is probably the only person who could have got into it, since she is the size of a pixie. We had a bit of fun with the changing room which is just a hoop with a bit of fabric dangling. Getting changed in there was an adventure. 

Present giving. We were as giddy as a gang of drunk women. Oh OK, by that time we WERE a gang of drunk women.

There were so many presents it was like Christmas morning. 

Dutch clog salt and pepper shakers, groovy fabric and amazing Dortmund scene with OBDs, from Vix.

Lovely home made soap and card from Serena.

Fabulously soft vintage house coat and cuckoo clock brooch from Curtise.

Gorgeous notebook and necklace from Annie.

It was cold and wet outside, but the reception at the wonderful BAKLASH couldn't have been warmer. Meg looked after us beautifully.

With a special offer of a bag of clothes for £10, it was like supermarket sweep in there. Meg told us she had managed to get 8 items in a bag before, but I'm sure Vix blew that record away. We kept going round and round the rails, until we had practically assembled all the stock.

There was just time for one last drink by the station before we said our farewells. In Curtise's case we said it a few times, because she kept popping up as she did a crazy circuit looking for her train. She made it with seconds to spare. There was a wholesale gasp of relief from the rest of us as we saw her jump on.


What a day!