Breakfast

On Fridays at our house Bill makes bread in the bread maker. I stocked a small tin of yeast for Brexit last year and had a few part-bags of various bread flours when we went into lock down. Since then we've shopped at Buy-the-Kilo, just down the street at the Metro station, to top up the strong white flour. 'Strong flour' has plenty of gluten, needed for making most breads, and is made from durum wheat. This is what all regular flour in the US is made from, apparently, something I only learned in the past few years. We enjoy toast and home made jam on Saturday and Sunday mornings - in bed, to be completely decadent.

The last of the birthday flowers: lavender alliums and some sort of white filler flowers.

During the week, however, we have breakfast at the dining table. Following advice from a former blog Like Merchant Ships (she stopped writing her blog in 2010, but carried on at Tumblr until October last year) to avoid using commercial labels at the table, we have decanted porridge oats (oatmeal) and Grape Nuts into glass jars. Also my instant coffee. In winter we have hot porridge.

The circular metal tray on a hardboard place mat (a British thing, most place mats in the US are fabric) acts almost as well as a Lazy Susan (I wonder, who was Susan?). In addition to cereals, coffee and sweeteners are containers with Bill's 'medications' recommended un-officially by his consultant after he cracked a knee cap while running a couple of years ago: glucosamine and cod liver oil (he pays me no attention when I mention dioxin concentration in fish oils). His knee no longer bothers him - other than I think he drags that foot a bit and needs physio / exercises - and he's thinking of giving these meds a miss when they run out to see what happens. He buys them by the million on eBay. (I see he has put them in plastic food containers that still have a label - must try harder!)

As well as the circular tray, we have our good china and silver, a teapot (full of tea) for Bill and another pot of hot water for me. Bill likes to chop his fresh fruit each morning. I make a box of a wider variety of fruits - including some tinned peaches or fruit cocktail - on Sunday afternoon in preparation for the week. There is also a small creamer jug filled with the last of a wine bottle of orange syrup, or sometimes rose hip syrup, and a large jug of milk.

We eat, then drink hot beverages until we are sloshing, or out of conversation, and then get on with our day.

Changing Flowers

You may or may not remember that I got some gorgeous flowers for my birthday. I was a bit surprised that it was the carnations that died off first, though the roses looked a bit elderly from the start. At first all I did was to remove the dead carnations, rinse and trim the stems, scrub out the vase and replace it all with fresh water. (I'd forgotten that flowers require a fair amount of attention).

The other thing I did was to remove the lilies and put them in a vase by themselves. The strong smell didn't work very well at the dining table, which I chose as a location because it doesn't get direct sun and we spend a fair amount of time there, morning and evening. I put the vase of lilies in the North Wing (the small room off the hallway leading to the downstairs loo) thinking the smell would be the least obtrusive there. 

Bill opened a wing of the gate leg table in the hall and moved them there, saying the smell would dissipate sufficiently for him. He has an experience of surveying a house in which an elderly woman had died and not been discovered for an unfortunate length of time. Someone had attempted to hide the resulting smell with lilies and this association has remained with him. I don't like strong smells to interfere with the taste of my food, but I could live with a passing waft now and then.

When the next change of water was needed I didn't feel the flowers filled the blue jug well enough anymore, so I broke up the flowers into smaller containers: on the kitchen window sill, on the upstairs landing, in the living room (a bad idea as the damp weather has led me to turn on the fire and flowers don't like heat at all), as well as the dining table. 

They've all pretty much faded now and will need further culling to see if any further blooms are worth re-homing. I'm not sure whether two weeks is a great run for Bill's money, but they were glorious while they lasted.

Our next Women's Institute meeting for July will be a Zoom meeting with a florist and I'm looking forward to picking up some tips from her!

The Lodgers

On one of the really warm nights we had last month I opened both bedroom windows as we were getting ready for bed. The next morning Bill opened the curtains and remarked that we had a wasps' nest in the eve above the north side of the bay window. 

We debated who to call about this and Bill said he would consult a friend in the Long Distance Walkers' Association that he calls The Rat Man, as John works in extermination - and apparently has tons of fascinating stories to tell on long walks. 

I watched them for a while and decided these weren't wasps, they were bees. This complicated the matter. I'm ready to kill wasps but not bees. I'd rather not kill either, frankly, but my home has priority over wasps. I've already had uninvited guests in my roof and it was a real nuisance. 

The Rat Man's reply was that by the time a bee hive is noticed, the activity is at its peak and they'll move along by themselves eventually. So I'm happy to leave it a few months. Come autumn I may need him to come over with his tall ladder and remove them to another location so I can repair the tiny droop in a corner piece of wood that allowed them entry. I'm learning that triangular pieces of wood are vulnerable locations.

In the meantime we co-exist reasonably well. They only seem to buzz around in daylight when it gets warm enough, so opening the windows at night isn't a problem especially since we keep the curtains shut for privacy. Our favourite sitting place is below them, next to the front porch where it is sunny and sheltered, but they don't come visit much. I had one light on my leg once but a casual wave of my hand sent him away. I'm terrified of wasps but bees don't bother me. They kindly share their flowers with me. 

Bill refers to these creatures as The Lodgers; he seems to have a nickname for most things. This reminds me of the film Gosford Park. There is a scene with Jeremy Northam and Maggie Smith that always makes me smile. If you've not seen Gosford Park, I highly recommend it. 

A Proper WI Home

I wrote earlier about wishing for fresh flowers in our house during lockdown. (And regardless of what this government decides about lifting restrictions for the sake of the economy, the fact remains that Bill and I are high risk for a bad outcome if infected and so will continue practising safety measures).

I was amused at reading this month's letter from the "Chairman" (a woman) of our WI Federation in which she wrote:

I recently discovered in a book 69 things that "No English home should be without". I have definitely got 43 of them but in the spirit of being in the WI I thought I would share 6 of them that would possibly be in every WI home: A TEAPOT, STRING, A SET OF PLAYING CARDS, BEST CHINA, SPARE BIRTHDAY CARDS AND FRESH FLOWERS."

We are invited to send suggestions about the other 63 items, which I look forward to reading about next month. I should think it would include a hat of some sort, at least one unfinished craft project, some gardening gloves, a map of the region in which they live, family photos, a pet (or mementos of a previous pet), some wellington type boots. Those are the things that just came to mind now.  I hope she'll also reveal the title of her book, as my searches on Google and Amazon (they make no money off my searches or wishlist) have not revealed it.

We have several tea pots, lots of string (and even more yarn), I have spare birthday cards, but we use our best china most days at breakfast and dinner and my playing cards are almost never used as Bill doesn't care for playing, which is sad; the paper cards are in the motor home but I still have Grandma and Grandpa's Kem cards (plastic, in a nice bakelite box; last time I looked they were worth something like £40).

My peonies have been blooming the past couple of weeks, always a glorious display. On one of our walks I spotted something vaguely like baby's breath that I thought might make a good filler. Turned out there was some on my own street never mind down at the park, so I marched out of my front gate with secateurs. 

The flowers lasted on our dining table for over a week, longer than I expected. And then one morning I came down to breakfast and Bill pointed out that we'd had an 'event', pointing to the floral arrangement. Sure enough one of the peonies had dumped its petals all at once, just like the tree in the Harry Potter film when autumn arrived. 

So I shall have to cast around to figure out something else for the next few days. I know I will get flowers on my birthday this weekend, because I gave Bill a specific list of things I wanted (steak from Nicholson's, a book about a cutting garden and a Lord Peter Wimsey novel we'd overlooked, flowers from a florist who happens to be married to our fruit and veg man and the last bottle of beaujolais wine from the Brexit stash.)

After that, if I can't figure out something from my garden or the wilds around us, I shall be calling on Pansy's in North Shields. 

What do you think are the essential items found in every proper English / Scottish / Irish / Welsh / American / Australian / etc. home?

Garden

I've been busy making a map of the gardens here, front and back. The back was easy, being rectangular. The front isn't a rectangle and the brick walks are irregular, there was the problem of how to measure the arc of the bay window and the semi-circular (more or less) south facing garden space.

I've been reading a book on garden design and I know I like a cottage style, nothing formal or regimented. I've made a list of plants I'd like to grow and the colour scheme I have in mind for the front. I'm certain that we haven't enough space to do all I'd like, but one has to dream big, right?

Then I contacted the local (ish) garden centre I knew were delivering. I ask for a great number of bedding plants (having looked up the definition) and for potting compost and a picture of any trellis they had. She rang back a week later, the time frame I expected. She thought I was asking for too many plants and she asked for some photos of my garden.

So that was another project, to send photos and explain what they were. Waiting to hear from her again. In the meantime, I'm enjoying the thing we already have in place.

Flowers

I'm quite ambivalent about cut flowers. I love the way they cheer up any room. I enjoy arranging and re-arranging them as they die off, finding the right sized vessel and not necessarily flower vases, in fact most often not vases. 

On the other hand, my frugal side sees them as a waste of money. I'm aware that most flowers are shipped stupid distances which makes them environmentally wasteful and some die off ridiculously quick - I find roses are the worst extravagance for this reason never mind the cost. I dream of having a cut flower garden but my softer side knows I'll shy away from cutting (killing) them even though I know they'll die in the garden eventually anyhow. 

Bill and I are both classed as 'vulnerable' to coronavirus, because he's 72 and I have asthma. We don't plan to visit any supermarkets any time soon. We've found local shops that can meet most of our needs and that we like to support. However, when this lock down first began I started thinking about what small things might make staying home more pleasurable and it made me reconsider my stance on cut flowers. They do lift my spirits and they would be unusual enough around our house that I thought they might also lift Bill's. And I was right. Only I've not found flowers on any supermarket delivery list and florists around us are all closed. 

I mentioned being sad about this at a Zoom conference of our WI Committee. A few days later my front door bell rang and there in front of my door was a bouquet of flowers. My fellow committee member, Angela, was standing at my front gate several feet away. 

L-R: Christmas poinsetta from Aldi still surviving sitting on a silicone poppy, a gift
from Vivien; red pointy glass souvenirs from a visit to Mexico in the 1980s;
 green flowers from Angela in a vase that belonged to Bill's mother, Ella; two
glass pots of lettuce stumps growing leaves behind a ruby glass goblet that belonged
 to my Mom; two of three decorative squashes I picked up to display on the front
porch last autumn (I'm amazed they  haven't rotted); more about the third squash later;
a pot containing a spider plant, confused Christmas cactus and a bit of aloe vera
(picked off a gift from one of Simon's old girlfriends), sitting on a glass brick -
one of four bought at a local salvage shop (Huscroft's in North Shields);
a fused glass ornament depicting Souter Light House in South Shields,
 a memento of a race Bill did there last year.
A lot of stuff for one window sill, I know, but we look at it a lot
while washing dishes.

I chastised her that the police might not see this as a reasonable excuse for her, but since she is a nurse and is out and about in the world anyhow, I could see why she'd feel this was permitted. Another lady on the committee said she'd had the same intent and been beaten to it. I felt very loved. I had hoped someone could tell me about a source of flowers, I certainly didn't expect to be gifted some. I won't forget that unexpected kindness soon.

We've enjoyed these flowers on our dining table for a full month now. The orange rose was the first to go. Then the hot pink ?chrysanthemums? When I moved to a smaller vase the tree foliage had to go. I couldn't get all the green whatever-they-are into the next smaller container and when I left one on the kitchen counter Bill picked it up at put it in a vase to add to the kitchen window, which I thought worked nicely. He surprises me like that sometimes. 

We are down to the last of this bouquet, some yellow and some green flowers and they are just beginning to turn brown underneath. I shall have to consult Fiona at Perennial Favourites in Blyth about what these are. She and her husband Adam talked at our WI some time in the past and I've kept in touch since, attending workshops and shopping at their Royal Quays outlet, which has since shut. We've never made it up to their nursery in Blyth but hopefully that will be on the cards one day when we are out of lock down. 

What remains now are yellow and green flowers;
sparse but still attractive. I know the orange and yellow
don't exactly go with the red and pink table cloth,
but do I care?

I see the peonies in my garden are in bud. I'm hoping I'll have the nerve to clip one or two gorgeous blooms to take inside. They'll make a real mess they make when they shed petals but I won't mind. It will remind me of the opening to Downtown Abbey, where a white petal is falling off the roses in the etched glass vase. 

[No further flower gifts required.]

Clara, the Clock and the Candles - Part III

So, what about Clara? Well, let me introduce you to her:

Her name is Clara.

She was right next to the clock that I bought and I knew it was love at first sight for Bill. I was rather taken with her myself, but I probably wouldn't have brought her home just for me. I doubted he would purchase her either, but as his 70th birthday is this March, splashing out for something special seemed a good idea.

I asked the man his best price on her before I purchased the clock. He took a bit off both and I took him up on them, feeling quite pleased with the deal. Also, his tables were in aide of a Veterans' organisation, apparently, so that was good as well.

Dancing certainly has kept her fit, hasn't it?

Last month I was darning my cashmere socks, sewing the elastic back on my underwear, we've been eating down the freezers and cupboards and I had a dry January; but I'm prepared to spend a bit on things I really like that I think will hold their value.

When we unpacked our goodies I asked Bill what was her name. He suggested Ola (my Grandmother who was very flapper-like in her attitudes when young, I'm sure) but I thought Ola sounded more turn-of-the-last-century hillbilly country. We tried Olga (Grandmother's improvement on her original name), but that didn't seem right either. My other grandmother was named Clara, and so Clara she became. Still a bit old fashioned, but it seems to have stuck. 

I tried her in several places, but Bill thought she looked happiest in the corner where Mom's chiming clock used to be. 

Clara, the Clock and the Candles - Part II

We went back to the Fleamarket on Sunday, in large part to observe how it might have changed. When I first moved here Saturday's market was more of a yard sale / car boot sale thing. I bought kitchen stuff - plates, cutlery, pots and pans - to use until my possessions arrived from the States. I found an old crockpot, a standard lamp and any number of useful items on Saturdays. 

Sundays were more about collectables: fancy china sets, very weird WWII memorabilia (Nazi stuff even), tons of costume jewellery sellers. There were still book stalls on a Sunday, so that if I didn't get to the library before noon on Saturday, when it - and every other business I needed - shut, I could buy paperbacks for 25p (they are at least £1 now, but still a bargain).

The market has changed a lot in recent years to something much more upmarket. There are very few tables that sell old household goods and I saw none with any old electrical items. There is a wide array of (incredibly tempting) ethnic fast foods. There are up-cycled goods, such as wood items made from pallets or gorgeous bags and jackets made from re-cycled wool, tweed and leather. There are loads of handmade jewellery stalls, funky crafted items, stalls specialising in 'coastal' home decor. There are still some second hand clothing stalls, but the prices are higher than in thrift shops; then again, the merchandise is carefully curated. Bill likes the stall that sells fancy Failsworth flat caps in a patchwork of several Harris tweeds. I like the garden centre in the back corner. 

In short, it's a fabulous place in which to empty your pockets, one reason we don't visit often. So we went mainly to observe the changes (and to look for candle holders). I would say it was about 70% the same sellers. There was a bit more empty space on Sunday than on Saturday - but still plenty to browse. 

We found some glass candle sticks at the first table we came to, but in the interest of observing, made the entire rounds again. When we returned, we gave the lady £7 for the pair and for a small lidded sugar bowl. None are ideal, but will do for the time being. I think these clear glass candle sticks came from a 'bedroom set'. I never saw such a thing in the States, but they are still easily found at flea markets here. These sets consisted of a tray, a couple of glass bowls (with or without lids) and two candle holders. They were meant to be on a ladies chest of drawers or perhaps a dressing table. I'm not sure when they went out of fashion.

I had an idea when we got home and made this arrangement using two seld0m used flower vases (one I gave Mom, one that was Bill's mother's). The two candle holders on those upturned vases belonged to my Grandma and Grandpa. The shortest one came from some previous trip to the market long ago. I added it to the recent purchase to made an odd number. This is something I've only learned since retiring, that somehow odd numbers make a more pleasing design. 

The candle arrangement looks a bit mental, I know, but that's part of the fun. We smile when we see it and the cut glass looks rather nice when the candles are lit. Pity my camera / photography skills aren't likely up to capturing it. 

I'm not really a candle person, actually, other than at dinner. I used to like all the paraphernalia of pyromania but my asthma is not always amenable to perfume-y smells and I'm paranoid about house fires. We probably have a lifetime supply of tea lights for various kitschy souvenirs from holidays on the front porch. I expect tea lights are relatively safe, but I never think to light them.

On my 'wish list' for new skills, however, is to learn to make candles - dipped candles, even, at home (and soap, too!). I'll be sure to let you know if that ever happens...

Clara, the Clock and the Candles - Part I

This last Saturday Bill suggested we visit the Tynemouth Fleamarket. We used to go quite often but haven't in months. Bill's kids seem to enjoy browsing there, but I don't tend to go unless I'm looking for something specific. [Warning, this post rambles...]

A few months back we fell into the habit of eating breakfast in the dining room (as opposed to in the kitchen or in bed), using the 'good' Noritake china (which we use for dinner every night of late), our wedding silverware and some silver metal tea/coffee pots that belonged to Bill's mom. The cereals are decanted into glass jars, milk served in jugs (we each have our own) and other foods into non-commercial containers. I got this idea years ago from a blog called Like Merchant Ships. This lady stopped blogging abruptly, but posts occasionally on Tumblr. I thought she'd taken down her blog - I grieved it for months - and now I've found it again! The links don't work and some of the photos are gone, but the basic ideas are still there. She calls this decanting idea part of 'living on less'; I call it 'living better'. Beats the heck out of any fast food breakfast experience I know.

Anyhow, because of setting a fancy breakfast table - it looks great on the days when the sun streams in the window - with silver items, Bill decided the brass candle holder we bought years ago in a Whitby thrift shop didn't look right any more.

We went shopping to see if we could find any silver (glass, ceramic?) candle holders. We were also looking for a sugar bowl with a lid to hold coffee granules. Bill drinks tea at breakfast and I drink instant coffee. We both love improvising (a fancy word for 'making do'). He came up with putting my instant coffee in a short cocktail glass I bought at a brocante in Bourdeaux about five years ago. He provided me with an Apostle Spoon to dish out the small amount of coffee required for a proper cup instead of my usual mug. I always think of Mom when using a cup and saucer; mugs weren't something she ever had. I think they must have taken over after she was gone.






Never heard of Apostle Spoons? Me neither. I still forget and call them Pilgrim Spoons for some reason. Apparently the idea of a set in a nice little case has been around for hundreds of years and these sets are very rare. We seem to only have two...  You can read about Apostle Spoons here, if you wish. [I donated to Wikipedia when they last had out their hat, did you?]



Anyhow, the cocktail glass was only amusing for a few uses and with our damp climate coffee left in it absorbed moisture and hardened. The to-ing and fro-in of coffee between coffee jar and cocktail glass became tedious. So a sugar bowl with a lid was on the shopping list; the one we have actually contains sugar...

I was also looking for a small clock to put on the landing, where we watch TV. I don't own a functioning watch anymore, but we are trying to stop watching the telly and start getting ready for bed at 10 pm sharp. I may be slightly more determined than Bill but it was a nuisance to keep asking him the time. So I wanted a clock.

We found no suitable lidded dish or candle sticks on Saturday, but I did find a clock I loved. It is a French 8-day, Art Deco clock that actually requires winding, possibly the only 'real' clock in the station that day. The website below recommended winding it once a week, on the same day of the week. I let my clock wind down and then re-set it on a Sunday. It was odd, winding it up, as there was increasing resistance with each turn of the key. It was a bit scary! One thing I did notice, it is a solid lump of wood, with space for the clock works carved out and the marquetry added to the front. 




It needs a bit of cleaning, the inside looks a bit grubby and the back plate might look better if polished up (or perhaps that's just worn, I'll find out). Not sure what I might do with the wood, but this amazing website recommends beeswax polish, which we likely have (according to Bill).  If this horologist wasn't all the way down by London I'd be calling in with Mom's old clock.

I'm guessing this is brass, no idea if it will polish up... or not; I'm not fussed. Love the shape of the clock!

Writing this led me Google clock repair near Newcastle and I found a couple of possibilities - who says blogging is a waste of time?

Bill wants to put the clock in the living room, as since Mom's clock quit working we have no time piece in there. I follow his logic, but I'm enjoying the clock where it is now, on the book case. I'd rather have Mom's chiming clock repaired and replaced downstairs. I'll let you know if that happens in my lifetime.

Needs a bit of cleaning, but NO BATTERIES in sight! Only something about '2 jewels'.

Update on Narcissus

The bulbs I planted a few weeks ago have come along nicely, though the grey, rainy background doesn't do them justice.  One of the tricks Fiona passed along is to use twigs from tree branches to support the long spindly stems. She suggested white birch, but since I only had copper beech, that is what I used. No ribbon or string required, just let the branches embrace the flower stem and it all seems quite natural. I'm loving what I learn at Greenwolds Plant Centre.

The Great Sewing Room Reveal - Part II

So [drumroll, please] - the grand reveal (look away now if you can't stand clutter). 

There is more in this photo than sewing things. The top shelf holds Mom's stamp collection, Grandpa's bank box, my collection of 'what not/to wear, fashion history books', then shoe boxes of specific fabrics: sheer, velvet, bits to dye, lace and doilies, etc. The second shelf is unfinished projects (I've completed several already). In what used to be hanging space is a chest of drawers (only partially painted so far and, actually, I quite like it that way), boxes of fabrics, stacks of fabrics, and my collection of thread in neutral colours. There is a small set of shelves on which my (most worn) jewellery collection resides. The big boxes on the floor hold yarn, the one on the right belongs to me; the one on the left is Age UK yarn.  It all looks a mess, but I know where things are.

Bless his heart, Bill hadn't expected to have to take down the shelves and paint the wall behind (it was still the dirty white it had been 20+ years ago), but a) I wasn't going to put in new carpet and have it stop at the shelves and b) unless I was able to put up a curtain, which seemed iffy, there would be wall showing between boxes. So, take it all down, paint, and put it all back up he did.

I only kept a very small amount of hanging space at the far left. This made me cull a few more un-worn items, which is a good thing. Without the sliding doors and the overhang from the ceiling, Bill was able to add yet another shelf on the very top. I can only reach this with a ladder.  The one you see there is one of two parts of a wooden ladder that belonged to Bill's dad/grandfather (I forget). It is green with lots of paint splashes. I asked Bill how he would feel about my painting it white. At first he thought it would be OK, but then he had twinges of uncertainty, which I totally understand. I had the idea of wrapping it with fabric, but actually, I like the green and splattered look just fine; it has history.

The fact is that most of what we own has history. I remarked to a friend the other day that I've discovered you don't have to put any effort into 'shabby chic', the shabby part just happens by itself. I'm not personally very fussed about 'chic', I love history. You may not be able to afford 'grandeur' but 'faded grandeur' is in reach of a lot of folks.

I've pulled the second filing cabinet (bought second hand) out of Bill's office/the box room and so now it is all his space. I traded it for the metal frames that we put together for the air mattress set up that is our guest bed. I thought was fair given it's all his family who visit, so he can store the frames for a change. I hope eventually to use the filing cabinet to hang folded lengths of fabric, but I'm not there yet. 

The ironing board stays up all the time, which is one of the luxuries of having a sewing room, but I planned a space behind the filing cabinet to tuck it away when company comes. My work table folds up flat and slides under the guest bed. The desk is closed up, sewing projects put away and I clear whatever happens to be hanging on the hooks on the back of the door. I turn the chairs around to face the room, making a place for suitcases and there is plenty of room to walk around the double bed. Nightstands that are normally underneath the folding table are placed either side of the bed and lamps re-positioned for reading in bed.

I'd envisioned making curtains to hide the clutter on these shelves, but how to hang them is a puzzle. Also, this is a guest room in which a small child occasionally sleeps and I could see her finding long curtains irresistible and so they would have to be very stable and not easily pulled down. Well, that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it. I still hope to make the containers more attractive, but frankly, I can live with this for now. 

In addition to 'vanity' books, I pulled all the dressmaking and crafting books off the bookcases in the landing and put them on the top shelf along the north wall. The two units below I bought from Papercuts in Whitley Bay when they were closing down. I felt bad about her closing and bought as many fabric related things as I could find - and miles of ribbons - along with these shelving units. I never could decide if I was helping a friend clear her shop or taking advantage of her misfortune. 

When I sorted the books into knitting/crochet, general sewing crafts, beading and other crafts, gift making, home decorating and dressmaking, well, I could open a book shop as well as a fabric and haberdashery shop. One shelf holds all the ribbons, another jars full of buttons. There is a shoe box crammed full of zippers and another with just bindings, braids, pom pom edging. I never ran into the word 'haberdashery' in the US much; I think we use the boring term 'notions'. However, if you want to find the dressmaking, knitting and crafting section of large department stores in Britain, look for haberdashery.

More jewellery hangs on the back of the door (and on the second ladder). I could open a jewellery shop, too, I think.

I've been collecting bits of cardboard from Amazon purchases to experiment with making notebooks. They are in the purple shopping bag. Another two wine bags hold other bits for future projects and a small gift bag at the back just holds 'bits'.

I particularly enjoyed sorting the thread I have into colours for the shoe holder Simon gave me for Christmas (off my wish list). I had yarn in it, but that didn't work very well, not nearly as well as for threads. I was working on a rainbow themed bag for a friend and so had the ROYGBIV scheme in front of me. I've not bought much of my thread but am working through collections of my Mom, my mother-in-law, my Aunt Rita and a bunch of thread ladies from various sewing and crafting groups have given me, much like my fabric collection.

Either side of the windows I've placed my sewing machine table and my (Grandpa and Grandma's) desk. That is one piece of furniture that will never be painted.  My folding work table runs adjacent to the window, between the desk and sewing machine. The dark alcove has the second filing cabinet and the hanging space as well as the south end of the wall of shelves.  

When did that computer screen get such a mess? Both my laptop and the printer have died since this picture...so nice new clean ones in place.

There is a long to-do list, of course:

• Sort the fabrics into crafting vs dressmaking
• Make a looseleaf notebook for dressmaking fabrics - swatch and measurements 
• Paint dresser drawers to highlight gorgeous handles
• Re-organise Mom's stamp collection into single album
• Finish or dismantle unfinished projects
• Cover shoe boxes with scrap fabric or make new containers with scraps, ie make a red box for red fabric scraps
• Do scrap buster projects I find on internet (or from many books!)
• New ironing board cover (try using scraps from under carpet foam for padding)
• Paint Papercuts shelving units 
• Hang pictures / needlework
• Alter / mend / refashion clothes in hanging space and drawers
• Find a dressing table style desk to replace cheap sewing table

And I haven't even mentioned my newest challenge - sewing shirts!

The Great Sewing Room Reveal - Part I

Another thing that happened at the end of last year was that in late October, following a lovely visit by Simon & Simone, Bill decided he was ready to tackled re-decorating my sewing room. I was rather nervous about this, but I was determined to have it more how I wanted it than it has been the last 15+ years. As usual, I've captured it in the beginning of disarray - even more than the usual state of this room... 

The main thing I wanted to capture was Bill's version of 'coffee and cream'. It's my fault for not being more specific and for leaving him to choose the colours. Also my fault for just living with it for all these years. I thought it was so nice of Bill to do all this painting and I couldn't bring myself to ask him to change it, though he certainly would have - with very little grumbling even.  Anyhow, I meant to have something like the colour coffee with a lot of milk in it (cafe au lait? taupe?) and a sort of creamy off-white. Instead I got what I would describe as custard yellow with chocolate woodwork. Truly hideous in my opinion. In addition there was some ancient green carpet that had suffered over 20 years of use and abuse. It wasn't expensive to start with so I can only describe it as extremely flat.

So, we had to empty the room enough that Bill could do some painting. You know how you never realise how much stuff you own until you move? Well, my sewing/ crafting/ miscellaneous stuff took over the the dining room (same sized room below this one), the tops of the wardrobes in our bedroom, and most of the upstairs landing as well as the bathroom (some of the drawers ended up being stacked on the rim of the bathtub). 

I knew I wanted a very pale pink - just a warm white, really, and grey (currently one of my favourite colours). This pink-ish colour has worked well in the dining room, but did I go get the colour code off that can in the garage? Heavens, no. The first coat of paint was a truly icy shade of icing white pink (think 1960's lipstick). I don't know how a warm colour can be cold but, trust me, it was. I did what I should have done to start with and we made another trip to the DIY store. 

I had envisioned some other shades of not-quite-white on various parts of the walls (to coordinate with the various shades of linen scraps I was thinking of for curtains) but didn't have a definitive plan so ended up with the single colour pink on the walls, white woodwork and a very dark grey ceiling, all the way down to the picture rail. I know coloured ceilings are weird, but I love to play with my 10' high ceilings and since the walls are light and the floor and ceiling are both dark, it makes the room feel even larger than it is (something around 12 x 15 ft).  My mom showed me that trick when I had my first house that had 12' ceilings. (It also had French doors between the living and formal dining room, 10' high windows, and more than one door in most rooms, all of which were way fun; sadly it was in a really bad neighbourhood, so not a smart buy. I definitely learned a hard lesson there). 

I had never seen the wood floors before this and I did think they were lovely (well, potentially). However, we live in a semi-detached house, meaning it is attached to another house, sort of like a two-story brick duplex in American terms. In spite of the brick walls and double glazed windows, the chimneys help convey sound from one side to the other. I also know from hearing some former neighbours having noisy afternoon sex - but stopping when I called out to Bill - that neither side has much privacy if one takes up the carpet. I lost no time in informing the new neighbours of this when they came to our last Thanksgiving party. I figure if I don't want them to have bare floors I shouldn't either. They haven't heeded this request entirely - we hear every one of that child's temper tantrums and I guess they get to hear me coughing all day.

I kept the large mirror, but put it on the wall next to the sewing machine in hopes of reflecting more light.

The windows face East and while the back of the house is quieter than the front, I like to sleep in on those long summer days when the sun is up at 4.27 AM. I can't remember the last time I sewed much before noon, but I was always looking for ways to string up the curtain completely away from the window to maximise the light on my work. For this reason, and because I'm lazy and this is a low priority for me, I've yet to select or make any curtains, there is only the roller blind and it's never been pulled down, unless by overnight guests. I like the view from the window as well as the light that comes in. 

I'd never seen the tile hearth of the fireplace either. I hadn't realized it was actually set into the wood floor; I'd imagined it had been a marble block like the ones downstairs and that that it had been removed. The upstairs fireplaces were one of the 'original' features that I loved. The black part is painted, but it is actually cast iron so that when the coal fire was lit the whole structure would radiate heat. The tiles are quite Art Nouveau and you know I adore that style.  

The lighting in the pictures of the fireplace demonstrates how dependent the room is for light from the windows. I never much appreciated natural light until coming to Britain. I knew a lady in Oklahoma whose office had no windows and she thought it had the benefit that she always assumed the weather was good (she is ever the optimist, Doris). I don't know much about local authority (sort of a town council) planning rules, but I believe that a room without any window is not considered inhabitable. 

Of course, either side of the chimney breast are alcoves, just over a foot deep. In my first house the fireplace in the living room was flanked by bookshelves with glass doors and small windows above. 

I thought that was fabulous, but the this wall is against the other house so windows aren't possible and I don't like to pin myself down with built in bookshelves. Even I don't need floor to ceiling shelves 4 and 5 feet wide (yet). Especially when I already had a wall of shelving.

When I bought the house, this wall had shelves and hanging space with sliding doors in front, one of which was a full height mirror. The closet was great except that the depth was determined by the door frame and it wasn't deep enough for a grown up's hanger with clothes on. Being petite and narrow shouldered, I find that children's hangers work fine for me and so I gradually took this closet over, pushing Bill into 2 wardrobes in other rooms (but only after we had moved out of this room into the front bedroom).