Rainy day

I think today is one of those days when you need to be indoors , with a blanket, a good book and maybe a box of chocolates. It set me remembering the rainy days of childhood. What did we do?
Was there Television? No. Computer games? No. Internet chat, not invented then!
So, what did we do? Well, the favourite was the Dressing up box. Did you have one? It was a wonderfully eclectic collection of clothes, ranging from Grandma's fur tippet, complete with nasty foxy faces, to a bridesmaid's dress of my aunt's. What fun we had, dragging the clothes out, deciding who was going to wear what, draping ourselves in clothing, and even being allowed to borrow a hat or two to go with it. We could spend hours, living in our imagination, making up plays, being inventive. How lucky we were not to have the 'instant' play now available for all children.
Monopoly was something we loved, and we would make the dining room our own, spread the board out and play. Games went on all day, and sometimes we would leave a note, saying 'My turn tomorrow'.
I used to spend hours drawing, writing stories, reading. Oh how I devoured books, real books with hard backs! All the Arthur Ransome stories, Elizabeth Goudge, C S Lewis, and my favourites at the time, Angela Brazil's School stories. (which goes to show my age) How I wanted to be part of the Fourth form fun, the picnics in the dorm, the amateur sleuthing. I wanted to be the one who found the missing whatever it was .('I say, look Matron, Dulcie's done it again! Whoopee!!')
And today, what shall I do? Well, a quilt pattern awaits, a new foundation-piecing pattern. I've just downloaded it and I want to try it out. So, apart from making leek soup for lunch, and just a touch of housework, I shall get out my sewing machine, and enjoy a rainy day.

Plants and memories

I wonder if anyone else is as sentimental as I am about plants. Somehow mine take on the personality and the character of the person who gave them to me, or from whose garden they were taken as cuttings. (It does apply the other way too. Sadly I have a Pieris, and cant love it, as it was given me a person who isnt at all nice!)

My plants travel with me. I cannot bear to leave a cherished plant when I move house, which unfortunately I've done too often.

In the photo is a stem of a plant known as Angel's fishing rod, or Dierama. It came from my mother's garden . When she died I took my favourites from her garden and most have survived several moves. This one must be happy, as it is notoriously difficult to get to flower if it is moved.

I have roses that have gone through four or five houses, taken as cuttings and miraculously and obediently put out new roots every time. My favourite travelling plants are some little clumps of primroses, pale pinks and creams, which lined the path in my mother's garden. I have a huge clump of my mother's Solomon's Seal, which began as just a small root, and has now been divided several times. A friend who sadly died gave me Lily of the Valley plants. They move very well! A mahonia, covered in yellow flowers brings back a dear little French lady who have me a root from her plant.

You may realise by now that my mother was an avid gardener. It was she who taught me to be a gardener, and to love very special and different plants. I treasure the memories of taking her to Marjorie Fish's garden, to National Trust gardens, and finding out- of -the- way private gardens to visit. Even when stricken with Arthritis she scorned a wheelchair, and insisted on walking, very slowly, down the long borders of Trelissick Gardens in Cornwall, enjoying the scents and the sights, and always finding something new.

I could never leave my 'babies ' behind. I take cuttings of roses, ready, just in case. Sentimental? Yes, but such lovely memories stay alive.

Easter flowers

I always think of Easter flowers as brimming with Spring life, burgeoning anew, natural and , well, Eastery. My table has a huge blue and white pot filled with budding birch twigs and daffodils. It looks fresh and lovely,

Flowers in France, whilst obviously being the same as flowers anywhere, are a totally different thing when it comes to arrangements. Or as they call them here, compositions, which always makes me feel they are going to write a little something.

The 'compositions' can take one's breath away with their peculiarity. Tortured twigs support strangely coloured leaves. Huge leathery leaves are bent into shapes. Silk flowers are mixed with real. And the concept of flowing natural bunches isn't popular.

Our local florist had to be shown photos of simple wedding flowers before he felt capable of producing a 'composition tres Anglais' for a young friend's wedding.

We have whole shops dedicated to the floral cemetery art, all produced in silk or plastic, and in the most lurid colours you can imagine. Markets normally have one such stall also. I'm not sure it would occur to me to go market shopping for a small funeral offering, but then, I'm not French.

And to accompany the flowers there are little plaques with names and messages on.

When a beautiful bouquet is produced, it is stunning, and often arrives delivered in a 'bubble' of water, a heavy plastic filled with water so the stems can stand in it, and tied up at the neck. You dont even have to arrange them. But try to find a small bunch of violets or anemones...no. Not here anyway, sadly.

HAPPY EASTER!!

Tagged by Wooly

I've been tagged by Wooly to reveal myself! Well, more accurately, to write 7 things, weird or wonderful, about myself. Not very happy about this, Wooly, but will do my best, without actually telling anyone anything!

I lived in Cornwall for most of my life, and love the south west peninsula. So much so that when we go back for visits it's hard to drag me back home.

I'm a stitcher. I cut up fabric and sew it together again. In other words I do patchwork and quilting. Also cross stitch.

I have seven grandchildren, some of whom live in other countries, and I miss them very much.

I spend so much time in my garden that I never have time for housework, which of course I do regret......that's a lie. I love my new garden and want to make it grow very quickly so it looks established.

I am a Church warden of the Anglican church in Brittany.

I h have a longing to travel, to see parts of the world that I've never been to. Health means that isnt an option, but we still have wonderful trips within Europe, Salzburg, Vienna, Crete. I would love to visit the Amish area of USA.

There, that's it!
I think we may have done this before, some time ago, so maybe people wont want to do it again, but just in case, I'm tagging;
Camilla
Irish Eyes
Sally
Lampworkbeader.

Eats, shoots and niggles about language.

I love language. I love words, just any words will do. Reading is something I could not be without, ever. Cereal packets will do if I haven't got anything else.
But, oh , how I loathe badly written English. They say now that children are writing in 'txt' form after prolonged exposure to their dear little mobiles. It's not text language that worries me too much.
I have a 'thing' about the apostrophe. I have just read that our 'Mum's and Toddlers' group will be meeting next week. They will meet in one of our Church centre's. I saw the sign 'Television's ' on a recent trip to England, and wanted to go in and enquire Television's what? But would they have heard of the possessive apostrophe?
Even Marks and Spencers are guilty, writing Sale of Sandal's in our local store. I did pluck up courage to mention it to a supervisor, who was , rightly, horrified, and removed said sign.
Is it, dare I say (an ex teacher) the fault of our schools? Is it that children are not reading books any more? Or is it just a national laziness?
My other pet loathe, is odd words and expressions. I dont know how else to describe them.
Sentences like, "He'll be well happy now" make me shudder. I thought it was a teenage expression, like 'wicked', but I've heard older people, even on Television, using it.
Americanisms are creeping in to our language. I heard my grandaughter reply to a query as to who had left the bread out of the bin with " That would be me".
Greetings begin with 'Hey' now, not Hello apparently. Things are 'funky' or 'quirky'. Is it a fashion statement, do you think?
We hear of Mr and Mrs Thing who are 'looking to buy a house'. They are not. They are either hoping to buy one, or looking for a house. The same house is often listed as 'the first floor is comprising of 3 bedrooms'........Oh I could go on for hours about estate agentese.
Am I just being old fashioned. Probably. But we have a lovely language. Why diminish it? Or, should I say 'Its' not the languages' 4lt, its' the pple who use it'.


This is a photo of a painting by Justin Simoni, called 'Words are sweet sounds for objects unknown'.

Quilting group

I have a friend in the village with whom I have been meeting , just to sew, to look at quilting patterns, to toss ideas around with. We had ben talking about having a class for beginners, idly, when we were approached by two ladies who had heard that we did patchwork. Another French lady overheard a conversation, as you do, in the English computer shop, and joined us too. Then a fourth came along, as a friend of another.

So just over a year ago we began our little group of six. It didnt have a name, we didnt make a charge (forming any sort of group in France is a minefield if money is involved), and they didnt have, as we have, a stash of fabric. We met in my home or in my friend's, and sadly had to turn down requests to join us, as there isnt enough room for the cutting out tables, the ironing board and all the impedimenta that you need. The charge for using our local Salle (village hall) would have been 50 euros per session!

Our girls began by learning the simple blocks. Most quilts are made using 12"or 9" blocks, and the history behind these is fascinating.Each one has a name...Dresden Plate, Flying Geese, Log Cabin, Sherman's March, all evocative of their beginnings in early America. The first thing we did was to spread a table with our fabric and let them choose. I have enough to make quilts for ever...well not quite so much since I met Pipany! It's quite baffling to look at fabric and know how to put tones and shades together, but somehow, as we told them, the fabric will tell you if it's not right.

Ove the year they have made enough blocks to make up into a Sampler quilt, and two of them are doing just that. Some are making cushions from their blocks. One has just had a new grandchild and wants to make a cot quilt.

Their enthusiasm is great, and this session we asked them to make something not for themselves, but for a Charity called 'Quilts4Leukemia', run by someone in France. The blocks are made, using only red and white material, then sent to the organiser, who makes them into a quilt. The quilts are given to children and teenagers with this sad illness. We feel very proud of our group who have produced the 12 blocks you see above. The next project, they have decided, will be for ProjectLinus, another Charity making quilts for the young.

Someone once said to me 'I cant see the point of cutting up fabric just to sew it up again'. There is more to it than that, and has been ever since the beginning of patchwork and quilting.