Who Gives a Crap?

I suppose you've seen the ads on Facebook and elsewhere for Who Gives a Crap? I am always inclined to cringe a bit each time I see the name. I still remember coming home from 7th grade, feeling very cool and grown up and throwing out that word 'crap' in front of my mom. She promptly marched me to the bathroom and washed my mouth with soap. I was  too astonished at the whole process to resist, but I carefully watched my language around Mom from then on. 

I believe this is an Australian company. The advantages of ordering from them are 1) they donate half their profits to promote water, sanitation and hygiene projects in developing countries; 2) the come with pretty wrapping paper which can be seen in various craft projects; 3) it is delivered to your house via courier; 4) if you were so inclined, you could subscribe and never have to buy TP at the supermarket again. (However, you do have to get a bag to carry the stuff, make several trips upstairs and find a place for 48 rolls; in this case, the more loos you have, the better off you would be). 

I thought I'd give it a go, just out of curiosity. I ordered the regular TP, not the luxury bamboo type, though I might consider trying that later. Making a comparison with other toilet paper currently in the house will have to wait until we get another package down from the loft, as I never remember what qualities I've selected from the last shop. I tend to avoid brand names and definitely avoid anything scented. I sort of miss the pretty colours we used to get, but I gather this wasn't good for the environment. 

What I did do was weigh a regular toilet roll and a WGaC roll. The regular roll (quilted tp) weighed 85g. The WGaC weighed 182g. I noticed they were the same height, but the cardboard tube was much narrower for the WGaC roll. Also, the wrapping around the tube seemed tighter/more dense. I've noticed that the cardboard tube gets wider and wider with the off brands. In one case I saw that the rolls were also shorter. Mind, I don't spend a lot of time worrying about toilet paper, I just hate being ripped off. Also being treated as though I'm too stupid to notice such things.

That said, I did take note about how long each roll lasted. The ordinary one lasted from about mid-day on Wednesday to about mid-day Friday (2 days) The WGaC roll lasted from mid-day Friday to Monday evening (4 and a bit days), so a little over twice as long. This tp isn't quilted, it isn't very thick, but it's not the thinnest tp I've ever seen, but I do tend to use more of it than of the quilted.

Since I paid £36 for 48 rolls of tp, that is 75 pence per roll; the regular tp (according to Sainsbury's website) is about 25 pence per roll, but even if I use 50 pence in worth in the same time period, the WGaC is still slightly more expensive, which I don't mind given their charitable aims. My main concerns are two: 

1. Is the carbon cost of having it delivered to my house higher than having the supermarket deliver ordinary tp with all the rest of my groceries? (My guess is yes, but it is a guess).

2. What am I going to make with the pretty wrapping paper?

Cajun Gumbo?

Morphy drank a bottle of Breux Bridge and I had a soda. Angie sipped a glass of white wine as she cooked. She cut four chicken breasts into about sixteen piece and set them to one side as she set about preparing the roux. Cajun gumbo is made with roux, a glutinous thickener, as a base. Angie poured peanut oil into an iron-based pan over a hot flame, added in an equal amount of flour, and beat it with a whisk continuously so it wouldn't burn, gradually turning the roux form blond to beige and through mahogany until it reached a dark chocolate colour. Then she took it off the heat and allowed it to cool, still stirring. While Morphy looked on, I helped her chop the trinity of onion, green pepper and celery and watched as she sweated them in oil. She added a seasoning of thyme and oregano, paprika and cayenne peppers, onion and garlic salt, then dropped in thick pieces of chorizo sausage. She added the chicken and more spices, until their scent filled the room. After about half an hour, she spooned white rice on to plates and poured the thick rich gumbo over it. After that, we ate in silence, savouring the flavours in our mouths.

From Every Dead Thing by John Connolly

No idea if this is a good recipe for gumbo (I thought there was okra in there somewhere) and I'm not sure about cooking roux until it is dark brown, but this sure made me want to give this a go. May do a bit more research first.

Caveat Emptor

Bill and I went into lockdown the evening of 16 March. I'd intended to nip into the Coop convenience store for milk and cookies for the WI Craft group that evening but when several members sent emails saying they wouldn't be coming because of the PM's announcement telling people to stay home, we cancelled Craft Group. I went to the Coop anyhow to pick up some fresh fruit and veg, not knowing what arrangements for shopping would be in future. Bill came home from his running club that evening and we were AT HOME.

Just that day, we'd been into every shop in North Shields looking to buy hand sanitiser and paracetamol. We found some water soluable paracetamol (horrible tasting stuff, but needs must) but no hand sanitiser in any shop whatsoever.

So I got onto eBay and ordered some. As I recall there wasn't a lot of reasonably priced stuff on offer, but I selected a seller that offered a reasonably large bottle for £11 and I ordered two, which somehow gave me a discount. We never had need of it since we didn't go out except to walk and we never needed to touch anything while walking (well, I never did, Bill forgets occasionally). So I forgot about having ordered the stuff until a few months later when I sat down with a bunch of papers to figure out where my money had gone. When I found the Paypal charge I realised I'd never received the hand sanitiser. It was by then too late to claim back from eBay.

The £17.60 wasn't going to break me, but I was annoyed with myself for not looking more closely at this seller. It was also my own fault for a) not following up promptly and b) being too lazy to read through all the instructions on eBay...all their FAQs are for irrelevancies and I couldn't find an actual person to write to for the protocol. So I figured the seller would likely continue to get away with this, though I see she's not sold anything for the past month, so perhaps there is a limit to fraudulent behaviour that even eBay will tolerate.

Then it occurred to me to contact Paypal. Fortunately their complaints procedure is much simpler. I just got in touch with the Chat line and they transferred me to the complaints department. It took a couple of weeks, but even though the seller never replied to their inquiries, they refunded my £17.60! I'm pleased I didn't give up even if I was very late in following up. Sadly I suspect this is like with bankruptcies, where the costs to the businesses are passed on to other customers. 

I will definitely be more cautious in my eBay purchases from now on.

Not Quite Keeping Up

I chose the book for our WI Book Group for June: Girl, Woman, Other, by Bernadine Evaristo. I chose it based on the fact that it won the Booker Prize for 2019 (or perhaps half - it was the first ever shared prize, along with The Testament, by Margaret Atwood.) Also that it appeared on Barack Obama's list of favourite books he read in 2019. I can't say I'm an Atwood fan, though I recognise she is a powerful writer. It's just that I find her books to be rather depressing and I prefer a bit of escapism in my reading. I'm not sure I'd call what I got as escaping, but Evaristo's book was far from boring.

Every one in the book group said they really enjoyed the book and our discussion was lively. They congratulated me on a timely choice, as though I knew back in May that George Floyd would be murdered and that his death would cause protests world wide. 

Without getting into the story line(s) of the book, it did strike me as being as much about sex as it was about race. I remember telling Bill that the first character, Amma, was not only black, but gay, worked in theatre and lived in London. I commented that I couldn't find a character more opposite to me: white, straight, stuck in my left-brain and definitely a suburban girl. Fortunately the book has many stories and Amma's is only the beginning. I never came to like Amma but I definitely respected her.

While making my way through this book my attention was drawn to the controversy around J. K. Rowling's essay that revealed a sad past of abuse. The essay highlighted her concern that women's private spaces were potentially about to be invaded by men claiming they were women (in spite of no hormone therapy or surgery) and therefore entitled to be in the women's toilets or changing rooms. She saw this as a potential threat to the safety and well-being of women. She also questioned the motivation of young women wishing to become men; was it because the world treats women as less than men?

I'd read about the actors who distanced themselves from Rowlings viewpoint but didn't read her essay until a New York Times opinion piece titled "Harry Potter and the Scales of Justice" claimed that Rowling's essay was full of hate. That seemed so unlikely that I had to go read it for myself; it certainly is not. However, I found that I needed to look up a number of words to understand her meaning, which made me aware that I've just not been keeping up with the goings on in the world. Just in case you haven't either, I shall share some of the things I learned.

I think I've always used the terms 'sex' and 'gender' as interchangeable, but nowadays they are different things (or perhaps they always were). Simply put, 'gender' is what is in the brain and 'sex' is what is in the pants. Also, 'cis' is from the Latin for 'on this side of ' which is the opposite of trans, meaning 'across from'. So a person who is 'cis-gendered' is lucky enough to have been born with the same genitalia as how they feel in their mind.  

Non-binary can be someone who doesn't necessarily identify as either male or female, but apparently non-binary is a term that means different things to different people and it is important to ask an individual who identifies as non-binary what it means to them. They may well wish to be referred to as they-them rather than he/she-him/her. The character Megan / Morgan in Evaristo's book was actually one of the more popular with our book group, simply wanting to be able to be themselves without having to live up to the expectations of either a feminine or masculine stereotype. 

Another thing that was cleared up for me is that the sex that comes after the word 'trans' is what that person has become, not what they used to be or changed from.  Also, that sexual orientation is a completely different issue to sex or gender, referring to whom one is attracted. For example, a person born male who became female can be attracted to either men or women; or a woman who became a man can be attracted to either men or women. 

All these terms and concepts were news to me and though I'm glad I looked them up, I don't feel hugely wiser. How many people aren't happy about being men or women? Have there always been this many and I just didn't know? One thought that I cling to is the idea that I just need to treat people as human beings, I don't necessarily have to understand them; after all there are plenty of cis-gender people I've never really understood. 

I wonder how all this will be looked back on in fifty years. Will the idea of male/female identity be outdated? What will have replaced it? Will people look back on this as a time of great change and confusion out of which good things came? Will women of any ilk have equal pay and equal representation in places of power? Will Black Lives Matter have achieved their aims? And, most importantly in my opinion, will we have saved our planet from ruin? I can't say I'm optimistic about much of this, but I'd be happy to be proven wrong.

How to Get 81 Squash Plants

I started my first batch of seedlings back in February, working my way through all my ancient seed packets which said 'sow indoors February' plus some flower seeds that were Christmas gifts, to grow edible flowers. Some herbs came up nicely, as did chrysanthemums (which I don't remember if they're edible or not, so don't risk it without some research). There were rows of oldish seeds that didn't produce and one day when I was clearing out the fridge, I found a box of squash seeds. 

I'd put the seeds in the fridge after eating the squash thinking I would roast them, but they had gone a bit slimy, so I thought not. On a whim I stuffed the seeds into the vacant rows on the windowsill and put sticky labels over the previous names (stuck on sticks cut from a plastic milk carton or a plastic file folder). I think it was an acorn squash but for some reason I had 'butternut' on the brain and that's what I wrote on the new labels.

I had moved most of the seedlings of flowers or herbs to other pots and nearly ditched the squash plants quietly growing under the soil but being a procrastinator they were saved. All the sudden I had row after row of little plants. When I pulled one out to re-pot it, two more appeared!  I spent an afternoon moving these things to new pots and finding sunny places to put them. 

The next day I asked Bill to move the rickety old book case in the back porch (full of pots, gardening gloves and his muddy shoes from walking and cross-country) to the potting table under the south facing window in the garage. When that was done I continued re-potting and then he found the old plastic stacking bookcase from the 1980s and put parts of it in the west facing bay window and the front porch. 

I kept wondering where to put these in soil in our garden without sacrificing our chance of growing anything but squash; Bill thinks we have room for maybe 10-12. I keep telling myself he lacks imagination. Also asking myself why on earth I rescued every single one of those plants? 

Add caption

I've decided it was because initially they have two leaves sticking up from the soil and those two leaves made me think of baby birds begging to be fed. Sometimes the shell of the seed would stick to one of the leaves for a while and that reminded me of the old cartoons of newly hatched birds with an egg-shell 'hat'. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it. So we have more plants than we can possibly use. How many actual squashes they produce is of course yet to be seen, but any squashes they do will be eaten with pleasure - and the seeds definitely roasted!

Anyone want a squash plant?

Shortage of Toilet Paper

In the early months of 2019, in preparation for the first Brexit date, I stocked up on toilet paper, food staples and wine (which was distributed with each of our three Christmas visits to each of Bill's children). I will likely do so again in the months before December 31st this year when the 'transition' phase ends. Given the way this government has managed personal protective equipment and testing for coronavirus, not the mention the shortage of farm labour to pick crops, I feel this practice is fully vindicated. I would recommend you do the same, even start now with a couple of tins with each store trip / delivery.

My upstairs bathroom has very little storage space, so I've long used an old tote bag (a freebie from my most favourite ever magazine, Eve, alas now out of publication) to contain spare rolls nearby their point of use. I keep one one the window sill next to the toilet.

Because of the width of the tote bag I noticed right away when Aldi's TP shrank. When I sent Bill shopping in the loft for the next batch, I thought it was a convenient way to show you the evidence.

Daddy's Birthday - and Why every girl should have her own tools

Today would have been my Dad's 102nd birthday, not that he ever would have expected to reach that age. He was born in 1918, in the midst of the "Spanish flu" pandemic that killed more young adults than the very young and the very old as most influenza does. I'm lucky his birth mother survived.

I've written elsewhere about his beginnings. Today I want to talk more about my memories of him.

1978...a lifetime ago.

He used to mostly give me money for my birthdays but one year he bought me this Stanley screwdriver. It's a special tool in that it has several changeable heads and they are held on with a magnet. The heads are also magnetised which is handy for keeping a grip on that screw. All the bits are kept in the hollow handle. Bill loves this screwdriver almost as much as I do and I expect my Dad felt much the same way. He always loved gadgets.

This screwdriver lives in the top right kitchen drawer. Now Bill isn't much of a one for putting things back where they came from. He spends a fair proportion of his life looking for mislaid items like his bus pass, his wallet, his keys... I don't judge too harshly as I was once this haphazard myself. I've found, however, that the older I get the less time I'm willing to squander hunting for things. The term 'Life's too short' has ever deeper meaning as time passes, you know?

So, because I'm so fond of this screwdriver, and because I'm not prepared to hunt for it, Bill understands absolutely that I will be very unpleasant to him if it doesn't get unfailingly returned to its proper place. 

A few months ago I bought myself a utility knife from the hardware store in Whitley Bay (F. E. Maughans). I've heard these things called a lot of other names: Stanley knife, box knife, carpet knife, it has all sorts of uses. However, I've yet to hear it called an eyebrow-pencil knife, which is why I purchased it. 

I'm currently using a Rimmel eyebrow pencil but I don't own a Rimmel sharpener; can't even recall ever seeing one. I do however own sharpeners by Cover Girl, Maybelline and The Body Shop, plus one mystery brand. They somehow manage not to work on this Rimmel pencil, though, not that they worked all that well on their own-brand pencils either. When you think about it, it just makes sense to have a sharpener that sacrifices as much product as possible to that the chump consumer returns that much sooner to make another purchase. 

I remembered my Grandpa sharpening a lot of ordinary writing pencils with his pocket knife, but I don't own one of those. So I bought this utility knife instead. I'm sure it will be useful for other things eventually, but I'll not be using it for anything other than make up pencils until I can be sure of finding new blades. So far, it's worked much better and it's safe from being mislaid since it lives in my make up drawer.

So I can recommend having your very own utility knife. And while you're at it, get a nice cheery feminine colour!

Sorting Buttons

I've never got into the popular 'adult colouring books' that came out of nowhere a few years ago. For one, it seems a waste of time - not that I'm against that in principle, I just prefer to have something to show for my wasted time. For two I never could quite get past the 'adult' part. How sad that I think that has undesirable connotations.

Anyhow, instead of filling in a colouring book, I prefer to sort buttons. Doing the colours is the most fun part. After that I might put shanks vs flat buttons together and then two holes vs four holes. By then if I have any matches I can thread them together. But I rarely get that serious, just sorting by colour is usually good enough for me. Very relaxing hobby this!

Action Shot

Walking to my WI meeting on a Monday night I noticed a lovely tuxedo cat sitting on a stone wall amongst some budding trees. I thought to whip out my camera and snap him along with the daffodils but, no. He decided I might pet him and flew off the wall to follow me down the street. How frustrating. Still he was a lovely sight.

Rudolph's Cousin

I was going to tell you about a wire bird I made but then when trying explain why on earth I would bother I realised I never told you about Rupert (apologies to Vivien's brother). The WI Federation offered a class in making a willow reindeer back in November and for some reason I bit. I think because of willow being a natural material I didn't feel so bad about using it to craft something useless. Obviously such noble reasoning went out the window concerning the bird, but that's another post.

I took a series of pictures thinking I would remember how to do all this and maybe make some more. That's not going to happen and I'll tell you why later. 

First you have a heavy board with holes at the corners to pack in a bunch of willow sticks. We had to really pack these in so they wouldn't have room to spring back out. The 'ankles' were then secured with plastic cable ties (so much for natural materials).

We were given the technical names for parts of said sticks (but it wasn't called a stick). I remember the thick end is the 'butt' and the skinny end is the 'tip' and there is a name for the bendy bit in the middle, but it's escaped me. That's what comes of writing four months late. It has a natural bend that you have to work with, I remember that much. Also that it has to be kept damp so that it remains flexible.

Then you pull some strands across to form the beginnings of a body. And then make some circles or rings, wrapping the tip around the circle to secure it. Those circles go inside the frame of the body.

Then you make some smaller circles that are put together in such a way as to make a sphere. That forms the basis of the face.

Then you deal with the back end and the chest, just generally filling them in.

I think it was about here that the woman in front of me declared that her hands were swelling and she was having an allergic reaction to the willow. She'd told me earlier she was a bit concerned whether this might happen, as she is allergic to Christmas trees. I was thinking about all the work during the holidays she was able to avoid, unless of course the family agreed to a fake tree; but then one could simply develop an allergy to that. And on this day the instructor kindly came over and finished her reindeer for her. I was rather tired by then and quite envious of this woman's allergy. I was thinking I must remember to get one of those myself. Now, I'm not saying I don't believe people have allergies to things, only that she didn't seem to display any of the usual symptoms and my hands were equally as red as hers.

I can't tell you which end this is - they look remarkably similar so I've not shared the other photo.

Make some triangular shapes for the ears and tail. The left over bits not used for the face or chest become antlers (of a sort - I think you have to use your imagination there).

The most perverse part, I thought, was that you get all this work done and then you have to clip away the front bit of the face (talk about nervous!) in order to stick in a red pine cone for the nose. And of course add the red bow.

The most interesting part of the class, other than the revelation of the construction techniques, was when the instructor was chatting and telling that they had a farm where they grew their own willow - and sheep. It sounded rather idyllic until the reality of all that work dawned on me.

So, Rupert took about four hours to make. He'll not be getting any siblings because this is terrifically hard on the hands, not to mention you can't do this sitting in a comfortable chair. I felt as though the skin had been stripped off, though I had no real injuries to speak of. I did give myself a few stinging slaps in the face with the tips of willow and that wasn't very pleasant either.

He went on display in the front garden as part of the Christmas decorations. We tried to place him so that he was seen by occupants of the house but not necessarily by every passer-by. I expect I was flattering myself about the risk of theft. I wouldn't so much have grieved the loss of Rupert, poor guy, so much as the hard work (and £60) that went into making him. I must remember to 'paint' him with a mixture of linseed oil and turpentine before he goes outside again. 

So, Rupert will have to be an only child. After all, it hasn't done me any harm.

March Means Daffodils

I've long meant to photograph the long swathes of daffs that appear everywhere in March. I admire them as I drive by, consider whether I have my camera and, if so, whether to pull over...and then I drive on.

Several days this month I managed to go for a walk AND remember my camera, apparently a difficult combination for some reason. 

And so, I give you daffodils:

and my personal favourite, around the corner from us:

You're welcome.

Another Post-Christmas Post

Does anyone else try to save Christmas wrapping paper to re-use? I don't exactly resent buying wrapping paper, the part I hate is that it is a single-use item. Most of us have lived in a time of such abundance that we fail to recognise the environmental cost of manufacture, we only look at the financial cost of the item. 

Toying with the idea of fancy shaped gift tags...

So much of today's Christmas paper incorporates plastic and glitter (which is minute bits of plastic) and this prevents it from being re-cyclable. So on top of the natural materials, like trees and petroleum by-product, the dyes and the energy required to heat, cut and otherwise fuel the mechanisation of production, if the paper isn't able to be re-cycled into more paper or toilet paper or something, it goes to landfill, where the plastics take hundreds of years to decompose. All that for a single, brief, decorative function. It seems a ridiculous waste to me.

So I provide large bags and ask Bill's kids to place any paper or ribbons they don't wish to keep in them. I know at least one of them (I'm not naming names) takes great delight in crushing the paper into as small a ball as possible. This person is a lovely individual, but their lifestyle is an environmental nightmare. One good thing is that if the paper can be crushed and remains crushed, at least it is probably re-cyclable as plastic won't stay crushed.

I've used brown paper wrapping and fancy re-useable bows for years now. Also, bottle and other shaped paper bags seem to circulate a lot around here. I tend to punch a hole in the bags between the handles and pull a ribbon through to tie the top shut. If the item is too big to allow this, I put tissue paper in the top to hide the item. You won't be surprised to find a save any tissue paper that comes my way. 

This is the second year that we've had food hampers as a major gift exchange. If we are lucky, we get a hamper back at some point. Sarah gave Bill her Christmas hamper re-filled with items for his 70th birthday, which I thought was clever. When we buy these things they come with enormous sheets of clear plastic, another silly single use piece of garbage. I managed to rescue one this year for re-use. Our sheer curtains (cream-coloured) in the front room are due for replacement. Fabric exposed to sunlight over time will break down. The old curtain is enormous and I'm hoping to use that to wrap future hampers, perhaps with any rips repaired with Christmas-coloured mending or patches. We'll see how that goes.

This year when I processed my bags of wrapping paper in several stages. The largest pieces were ironed on a low heat and wrapped around a tube. Decent pieces that were too small to be likely useful got cut up into A4 (letter-size) sheets or A5 (half a letter-size) sheets. The former for making into notebooks, the latter for scribbling notes, grocery lists or possibly smaller notebooks. The odd shaped smaller pieces were stapled together in bunches and put into a kitchen drawer for the same. 

The ragged bits of paper went into the paper recycling; the plastic stuff into the trash. I was pleased to see only two small waste baskets full of trash out of four very large bags. 

An idea I've just run across in collecting ideas for our WI craft group, is Swedish hearts. They can be made from many things but I thought Christmas patterned paper might make cute tree decorations. I'll show them to you if I do make some....OK, that sounded a bit lame to me, so I took the time to do this. It's a bit fiddly but completely do-able. I used this lady's instructions but didn't find her template and my hand drawn one wasn't proportionally (at least I think that was the problem).  This free template has four 'tines' instead of three, which was no problem at all, but it is a bit larger than I might want for ornaments; that said, larger is probably easier for learning. Apparently, you can also make Swedish stars, but I will leave that for another day.

Comments!!!!

O.M.G. The last comment I published here was in the Autumn of 2016. For some reason I didn't see any more comments "awaiting moderation" for ages. I figured either no one was reading or that Blogger had changed something that made it impossible for people to comment. I couldn't figure out how to fix it, if so. I felt for a long time that I was pretty much talking to myself here, except for the occasional mention from someone in real life who said they liked something here.

I haven't made this blog a priority for some time, using it more as a journal for myself or to put things on to share with a number of people. So it has slowly cranked to a near halt.

And just now I've found a whole slew of comments dating back for a couple of years! Sorry to have ignored you all this time!

Dress Advice from 1928 via Miss Fisher

Phryne Fisher has taken a job at a ladies' magazine as part of a murder investigation. A Miss Herbert is attempting to write a fashion column and mentions she admires the Fuji print dresses currently all the rage. Phryne thinks the dyes will fade quickly and they are a passing fad anyhow. 

They give themselves an imaginary £10 budget and see what each can come up with for a summer wardrobe.

Miss Herbert, who greatly admires Phryne's style, comes up with

- 2 cotton dresses
- 1 Fiji print dress
- a pair of cheap shoes and
- a cloche
for sixteen shillings and six pence for the dresses; the hat was expensive, but she said there is a shoe sale at Clark's. Last year's handbag will have to do.

Miss Fisher comes up with

- a tailored suit from Craig's - eight and a half guineas - in a lightweight fabric, eg crepe de Chine, in a solid colour such as leaf green, lobelia blue (or oatmeal for the timid); wine would be good for someone with dark hair. It must fit properly.

She will buy the following from  Treadways Colosseum

- a pair of pump shoes for three shillings elevenpence; 

- two tunics in pale or constrasting cotton for three and eleven each

- a straw hat, four and eleven. She will replace any cheap decoration with one of several scarves (eleven pence)

- a straw basket for 2 shillings to carry her purchases

- the remainder of her £10 will go to the poor.


Next summer, all that will be needed is to buy (or make) more blouses, scarves, gloves and stockings. 

Careful thought should be given to the colour of the suit, as it can last up to ten years. Hemlines can be followed with a new hem unless they drop too far, in which case a new skirt is a matching or contrasting colour will be needed. 

My thoughts:
 - Sadly, Phryne was wrong in predicting fashion would never expose our ugliest joint, the knee. Not that I'm fussed about this one way or the other these days.
- The story is much more entertaining in Kerry Greenwood's words.
- I must think about how to translate all this into a uniform for my retirement lifestyle.
- I'm eternally grateful for the decimal system.

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...

10 Years Today!

It just occurred to me to check the date and, sure enough, it was 10 years ago that I started writing this blog. Naturally I am away in Harrogate with only my tablet...

There are so many blogs I have read and commented on (and whose writers have commented here) that are no more.  I am feeling a tiny bit smug at not having given up.

Long ago someone told me the way to stack up experience:  don't quit and don't die.

I shall do my best to follow that sage advice!

Happy Blogiversary to me!

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'.