Something Old Something New

In my last post I said I'd DEFINITELY post more on my blog.
I lied.
Sorry.
Failed miserably.
Best laid plans of mice and men...etc. etc.

Where do people get the time to blog, run a business, design, make things, sell creations, run a home, shop, sleep... It's a juggling act, too many balls in the air I fear.

The shed got too much for me (again) so I've gutted it, put up more shelves and started all over.
I've been nicknamed Gadget Girl by the family and am the proud owner of a  proper tool box with every gadget and tool you could possibly require. The only tool Mr Jujuandbubba bought was an adjustable spanner from Ludlow Market whilst on our honeymoon many years ago.

I don't know if you're like me but I'm always inquisitive (let's be honest - nosey) as to what other designers studios look like.
Anyway for what it's worth here's a tour of mine post re-jig. It hasn't been this tidy for months. I'd be too embarrassed to let you see it messy ...well, not until we get to know each other.

My trusty tool is this Makita drill on my work table.. TWO drills in one box -Heaven for someone like me.



Noddy on a new shelf -he's in charge of the sharp pointy things

I've put up some new shelves using the wood left over from building the shed a few years ago and I told Mr Jujuandbubba that one day it would come in handy and was worth storing in the garage - at the time he was unconvinced but wearily complied. He knows that I'm a hoarderholic so there's no point in putting up a fight.

Set of glass shelves from the attic -kept for when they 'might come in useful' - now installed in the shed.

The vintage alarm clock was a bargain from VINTAGE in Shrewsbury. It's got the loudest tick I've ever heard and I'm afraid it's been banished to the shed. Apparently it could be heard above a Captain Beefheart Album!

New shelves filled with all my knick-knacks - you can never have too many lovely things around you.

I know, I do like a basket or two or three and I'm collecting old mirrors.

The brown anglepoise lamp is an original - also rescued from the attic!

Comfy chairs for the odd visitor or two and for when I need to count to ten after the machine thread has broken for the umpteenth time! And I LOVE my 1950's wicker  basket bought for 50p in a charity shop on the Norfolk coast.

1950's plates at 50p!

And finally a beautiful handthrown jug bought at VINTAGE in Shrewsbury for a fiver!

The  pair of fabulous double-sided curtains at the french window cost a mere £3 from a charity shop in Bishops Castle.

I do love a bargain!



Gossamer Threads

In my ‘About me’ blurb I say how my hands have always been busy making things. Well this has proved it to me.

I had a long awaited visit last week from my gorgeous youngest sister and my wonderful, long suffering parents. I say long suffering, because I was never an easy child and I’m certainly not an easy grown up even now.

They brought with them some precious memorabilia. Things I’d made years ago when I was very, very little and some I’d made in my teens.

It was like being transported back in time and to be quite honest, made me a tad sad.

Not only did I instantly recognise the articles they brought, so carefully wrapped in bubble wrap as if they were precious historical artefacts from a National museum, but I recalled where I was when I made them.

The most significant was the sun yellow, felt pin cushion.



 Oh how I remember sitting in class, struggling with a giant needle to sew crude, overlarge and unevenly spaced stitches to secure the two pieces of its head.

 Everyone in the first infant class made one, even the boys ;( now there’s equality for you) - we must have been all of 5 years of age.  It was a collective secret – we were making a present for Mother’s Day. It was my very first attempt at using a ‘proper’ steel needle as opposed to the red, plastic baby ones we’ d been practising with.

I specifically recall being asked by Miss Krelly, our somewhat prim and proper spinster teacher, (who incidentally wore tan brogues, a tweed skirt and twin set with pearls; quintessentially an  English teacher through and through ) to find the bag of Kapok from the colossal oak cupboard at the back of the classroom that usually only she was allowed to open.

I remember it as if it was yesterday. It was indeed a privilege to have the key which was bestowed only upon those who could be ‘trusted’. Though trusted with what I have no idea.

Turning the key and hearing the soft click of the well oiled lock, I slowly prized open the heavy doors to reveal a treasure trove of school paraphernalia.



Standing momentarily, I soaked everything up with my eyes; the sturdy glass bottles of ocean  blue ink, needle sharp pencils gathered into a bundle  with a thick,  toffee-coloured rubber band, sugar paper covered exercise books , thick, pink blotting paper and wooden rulers stacked neatly on top of each other.

I’d never seen or even heard of Kapok before, but could miraculously read the word on the bag and quickly delivered it safely to the teacher who was sitting at her wooden desk completely surrounded by preoccupied children waiting their turn and all sucking on cotton threads and squinting into the sunlight in an attempt to thread their own needle before reaching the front of the queue.

She gathered us round and opened the bag to reveal the softest, lightest cloud of Kapok which we would use to stuff our pin cushions. She described it as ‘like gossamer threads’ and took time out of the needlework lesson to describe how spiders would float away on a warm breeze on their own gossamer threads.  You could seriously have heard a pin drop.

 We all imagined I have no doubt, that the Kapok was indeed those actual spiders’ threads.

The bag was passed round the class and each child silently sank one stubby little hand deep into the bag and pulled out ‘just enough’ gossamer thread to stuff their pin cushion. No second dips were allowed.

Sadly, at some point long after infant school - I can’t exactly remember when- I used a black indelible ink pen to ‘enhance’ the features of the face. Not content with adding stark, long eyelashes and eyebrows, I obviously wanted to make sure who’d made it and added my initials to the back. Well in a family of four children you have to stake a claim on things.

It is still in use today and my Mum, who is no mean seamstress herself, was keen to take it home with her, complete with its myriad of threaded needles.

It is blatantly obvious, from the crudeness of the pin cushion, that it was fashioned by an inexperienced hand. But it was made with love, like everything I now make for Juju and Bubba in my little shed at the bottom of the garden.

Incidentally, I'm still making pin cushions.

A Day of Rest

After what seems like sewing non-stop for two months, I have seriously neglected my gardens.

I do not profess to be a ‘gardener’ as such; I like to think of myself as a custodian of the green stuff with a few pretty flowers for good measure.

I have more gardening books than I care to mention; all bought on a whim in the hope it would transform me into a Pippa Greenwood or that very pretty one that does the Chelsea Flower Show with Alan Titchmarsh. (Incidentally she has the most  beautiful nails-how?)  I’m embarrassed to say many of them lie unopened and worse still, lost in the attic – but I get by on a wing and a prayer.

So it was this wild, windy, morning I awarded myself a treat – a day in the garden.  The shed (studio) remained firmly locked and Noddy stared at me statue -like through the window.

My shed straddles a tiny pond which my daughter, at the tender  age of 7, insisted on digging, as she wanted to own some fish! Like mother like daughter…

Usually, by June, I’ve managed to wrestle with the garden and get it into some semblance of order.

 April and May passed by and no garden implements were looked at never mind touched and the garden grew and flourished and grew almost to a wildness.

It took an hour or so for me to realise, once again, the many health-related benefits of being at one with nature. Six hours in the garden was as good as an aerobic workout in a stuffy, sweaty, artificially lit gym (not that I go to a gym or have ever been in one, but I’m told that’s what they are like by health conscious friends)

Amazingly, the stress seemed to leave my mind and body like a gossamer thread caught on the  warm breeze and I worked through the day, only stopping for a light lunch and the odd cup of scalding hot tea, taken whilst leaning on the rake and admiring the progress I’d made.

Although every day of the week I walk up and down the garden numerous times to and from my studio, I've  failed to notice the beauty silently developing in the borders.

So out came the camera and in a gale force  wind I managed to take some half-decent photos as a way of apologising  to all the extraordinary plants that have been ignored for too long.

Incidentally – my handmade all-weather bunting I have around the garden has been up for nearly two years! It is as good as new and hasn’t faded or torn despite what the best of the British weather has thrown at it! 

 So if you would  some I’m doing a couple of custom orders and I’d be happy to make you some too.  Just email me your requirements and I’ll give you a quote.  

I made some tri-coloured bunting for my stall at Waddesdon Manor!