Never in slippers

Patterns.
One has formed without my realising it.
I begin each post with a photo.
What has that got to do with the slippers that are referenced in this title? ..........Ab-so-lutely diddly squat. Please forgive my random thought processing. I will get to the slippers.

This beginning photo appears because I noticed,today, that there are no snowmen.
In this current snowfall, not one. Not on my patch. Usually this is the time when all manner of creations rise eerily, and wonkily from the ground to lighten dreary, struggling -to -get -around days with humour and cheer. This hypothermic scarecrow, on the allotments, has to suffice. He is cute tho, and reassuringly traditional.
The slippers thing refers to a quote that I read from a veteran, prolific blogger who vowed to never blog in bunny slippers.
This was from a designer with a proper business, but one that she ran from home. The idea being one of standards and of not letting them slip. Of taking herself and her business and by association her clients, I assume, seriously.
An idea I applaud. Truly I do. But my mind wanders and I wonder :- in the days portrayed in Downton Abbey one dressed for dinner, does one now dress to blog?




So this is my shameful confession. With the two Hairy Herberts ( older H.H. in picture) to contend with, my days away from " the skills that pay the bills" are a tight interweave of doggy activity and creative endeavour and often I barely remove my wellies.


But one thing I do indulge in as a kind of scene setting is to light all the tea lights in the evenings. Surrounded by candle glow I can imagine myself wafting in silk and perfume.  I do this not just to blog but to retreat into the refuge of my home. My heart space ,wherein all the things that I love do dwell and where from I send out my ramblings.

Is it crass to invite a reader to say hello.

Ice.... not nice!

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad




Took the Hairy Herberts for their early morning jaunt at 7, which is an heroic hour for me to be up and out on a Sunday. Even more so in the snow. We had a lovely time until I stepped on someone's carefully cleared, lethally icy drive and my feet went out from beneath me in true cartoon style. Found myself flat on my back having whacked my head on the pavement on the way down. I just lay there for a few seconds and assessed the damage. No blood. Everything moved. Head hurt like fury. So I got up and cried all the way home. Shock, I suppose.
I am having a quiet day, feeling rather bruised and stiff.
But, I was busy yesterday.



After using the felted jumpers to upholster the throne last week I was left with lots of snippets and a desire to stitch them up.


So I made these little brooches.


Like the other felted brooches they will be £5 each.



And I made more of these too.£ 4.50

The sun is shining behind the clouds now. I hope that is true where ever you are too.

Time Thief, Targets and Results

 The week started with a sad farewell to an old faithful. Hairy Herbert the Younger ate my wallet and all my bank cards and loyalty cards. Luckily for him, and for me, he doesn't like the taste of money. Consequently the pristine bank notes that came from the cash machine that very morning, survived the brutal attack without a tooth mark or slobber stain. This sorry tale appears here because it is an example of how the time thief works. I spent a morning, that I had put aside for making, phoning around to replace cards and traipsing into town to buy a new wallet.
Bad dog! But hey, nice new purse in Accessorize and eyes drawn to a lovely handbag in the sale which, whoops,  I just had to have.



The next hurdle was facing the clutter of the work bench

 Then a very successful collaboration with my friend Kirsty took my chair from drab to fab on Wednesday. All it took was a bit of silver paint, some felted jumpers and Kirsty's considerable upholstery know how.
We are planning more joint projects and her work will be available, as space permits, in the shop. Very exciting!

 The rest of my making time this week has been focused on trinkets for Valentine's and Mother's Day.  Promise jars are an idea that I am working on. Each jar is filled with 12 scrolls of paper which can be inscribed by the gift giver with promises that will make the recipient feel loved and cherished. I am thinking that giving the gift of one's time is always appreciated and that in these cash strapped days it seems like an appropriately thrifty way to show how much you care. I think the jars will be about £4 - £4.50. And for those who really do have more time than money it is and idea that anyone can adapt to suit.

And then...... having had an enjoyably crafty time myself.... I went off to make a cup of tea and found this....... then just a work in progress, in Ramblin' T's workspace .....

I think this may be another marmite piece.

And to go with Marmite....tea. Or rather little knitted teapots which sit snuggly around one of those chocolates that the ambassador so loves to have.

My old art college tutors would deny all knowledge of me if they could see what I get up to these days but these little teapots make me very happy.

Mostly today.....I have been busy

This is the price I have had to pay today for neglecting the younger of the Hairy Herberts in favour of frantic activity in my studio. When bored he chews. Luckily, because it is not good stuff for dogs to eat, he just disemboweled the bed and spat the stuffing out.....everywhere! Unlucky for me because it made one hell of a mess and unlucky for the older Hairy Herbert because it was in fact his bed that got eaten. Herbert the younger is daft but not that daft.


I am making new things at the moment. Fleshing out ideas. Some successful and some less so. I get so excited and then so despondent.
Happy making.....



......then had a failure. And just as despondency descended my good friend arrived to take me out to lunch and to visit a couple of new craft outlets.
Red is in my head at the moment. Valentines, I guess. But today I was mesmerised by a ceramic bowl,glossy, lip smacking red, slightly dotty white with floral statements in rich, regal,peacock blue and turquoise. I loved it and if I had the £ 200, and was in fact the type who could spend that kind of money on frippery, then I would have bought it and smiled inwardly, possibly outwardly, every day that I clapped eyes on it.



As it was I came home and made more earrings.



And springy centred flower brooches. Rhymes with pooches. Which is the only way I can remember how to spell the word and kind of brings me back to where I started.



Love is all about forgiveness! Does the elder Herbert ( right) look like he forgives?

New Year New Ideas

I love the hibernation of the Christmas holidays. Seeds germinate in the winter darkness. As always I am hatching plans. Part of the planning is a review of what has gone well in the shop in the months since we opened. What ideas to repeat or progress and how to do it. And, of course, what did not work or could have worked better.
Because, no surprises, at Christmas, Christmassy things sold well I am trying to think in seasons and by events and to make well ahead of schedule. I am sure all maker/sellers do the same but this is the first time that I have and I am enjoying the clarity of focus that it brings. 
While the evenings remain dark I am very reluctant to forgo the cheery glow of candles and fairy lights completely. Thinking about this and about the fact that I shamelessly love making bits of kitsch and bling, which can only be justified at Christmas, led to the notion of having a Christmas corner in the shop all year!
 This might be a risky move as there  are those who hate Christmas and who find it starts far too early in the year as it is. But I hope it might charm those who wish it could be Christmas every day.
Yesterday was foul, weather wise,  yet surprisingly busy in terms of people visiting the shop. Not so busy in terms of sales. But those who came in used encouraging words like 'lovely' and 'unusual'. Music to my ears.

 This is the first item to have made it off the sketchbook page but I have had a whirlwind weekend of making.