Rummage

There will be a quilted skirt and waistcoat in this Aunty Cookie fabric in the immediate future. I swear on my pile of vintage World of Interiors magazines. And I will not take offence at being called a nutbag by the maker of the aforementioned as we all know, it takes one to know one. 

PS It doesn't seem to be in the shop yet so if you want it you'll have to be patient or assertive and bossy depending on your persuasion. x 

 

We made free-range friendship bracelets all weekend, played with the dollies and emptied our house of furniture in preparation for the back of the house to be ripped off. Also, the Frenchman put a colour in my hair and I tried to take a picture of myself to show you but I looked like such a dork I decided not to post it. Best left to the imagination that one. 

PS Thanks for leaving a comment about your weekend last week. I loved reading the lists of goodness. x

Was anyone out there a wild young thing in the 1990's? I ask because I was, for a short period in the late 90's, living in Glasgow and sharing a house with a student completing his PhD in modern scottish literature. It was an amazing time to be living in that city because there was a really strong renaissance in the arts, particularly young writers with a contemporary scottish voice. I remember reading Irvine Welsh's Trainspotting, James Kelman's The Bus Conductor Hines and Iain Banks, The Crow Road among others, under my flatmate's tutelage...Anyway, I was re-reading The Crow Road the other night and laughing out loud and revelling in all the 90's musical and fashion references. Do you remember the long lace-up docs? Banks describes his main character's attempt to take his shoes off after a big night out and goodlord I was right back there. I remember having to deconstruct a doc martin boot at the end of a boozy evening, my fingers fumbling hopelessly at the laces before passing out boots and all. I also remember not remembering doing this and wondering in the morning why I was still kitted up. Sometimes I managed to get part way through a boot before sleep descended. Sometimes I had the tasteful sleepware of one doc on, one doc off. Please tell me I'm not alone here..

 She's showing you her origami beating heart. You can make one too!

  

I love this old yashica almost as much as I want to hurl it at something hard from a great height. There were only a small handful of images in this roll that worked out but even so the delayed gratification of flicking through the piccies makes it all worthwhile. I'll post a few over the next few days so stick around if you're interested. x

I am not linking to this recipe as that would be too easy and in some cases potentially harmful or even fatal if you are like me and have no off-switch in the chocolate department. But, if you were of a tenacious and resourceful bent with no fear of outgrowing your undergarments you would google 'Bill Granger chocolate self-saucing pudding'. 

You would make it with the very best cocoa you could get your hands on and you would throw caution to the winds and serve it with an unctuous double cream. You would have a serving or seven, restrain yourself from licking the plate in front of the children and be replete if not quite ready for the Milan catwalks. 

When I was at Kirst's house I made these little reversible quilted skirts for her lovely hipsters with muchos help from the big K. I didn't want to show you these until I made a little animated gif but alas the Frenchman's elderly version of photoshop won't do it for me. Does anyone know how to make a wee gif minus photoshop?  

And yes, I'm putting it out there that I'll attempt a tutorial for the skirt and the quilted vest before the end of the next decade if you're keen. xx

The Frenchman made his bi-monthly dash to the emergency department last night. Health being a subject that is near and dear to his gallic heart. He threw in the towel around 4am after a three-hour vigil with a few other die-hards. His return to the marital bed was preceded by a visitation from the three-year old, triumphantly announcing that there was an article in her underpants  that needed to be removed forthwith. 

We're talking 5am now and the seven year old, having had a splendid 10 hour sleep, is practising scales on her recorder with gusto. I flirt with the idea of barricading myself in the bathroom with a packet of biscuits and a thermos of tea before I realise that I can't wedge my pillow and my slumbering person between the ladder, assorted pieces of lego and the toilet. Neeedless to say I have no craftyness to show you here although the seven year old wants to demonstrate a little origami bling she's been making. Here's hoping this evening is slightly less eventful. x 

Origami, Charlie Chaplin films and mandarins are what we've been about here this weekend. What about you? x