Gifts That Keep on Giving - Part I

I said some time back that I would tell you about what I got for Christmas, I'm enjoying my gifts so much:

Cashmere socks / bed socks

If you can have but one real luxury, I recommend cashmere socks. They are of course warm, but everytime you wiggle your toes you will be reminded how soft and snuggly they are. They cause me to renew my determination to learn to knit socks, and then to look for less expensive sources of cashmere wools on eBay. I will gladly wash these socks by hand and mend any holes that develop. I shall let you know how many years they last.

It is an important frugal concept to consider Cost Per Wear, something I didn’t really appreciate until I started choosing clothes items that were more classic in style, in colours that went with ‘everything’. Only then did long term ownership become possible. Before, in my younger spendthrift days, I bought whatever was in fashion that I thought looked cute. A year or two later it was so out of fashion I couldn't bear to be seen wearing it.

For example, when I came over to England, it took me no time at all to learn that wool, as opposed to acrylic, was required if one was to stay warm at all; most of the sweaters I brought with me were useless and I doubted many that were in storage, waiting for me to purchase a house, would be much good either.

I bought a black wool cardigan from a charity shop. In addition to the fibre content and the great price, I liked its silver buttons, neat collar and patch pockets. I got such good use of it -- until it developed some holes and the wrists were unraveling -- that I didn’t hesitate to pay more than I would usually for a new black cardigan to replace it.

I found a lovely, simple cashmere, silk and angora cardigan at Agnes B in Paris; I think I paid about £100 for it; not very much by many people's standards but quite a bit by mine. It is getting very hard wear just like its predecessor. Any time I see a small snag, I take a small crochet hook and repair it and it still looks in very good condition after about 5 years. Thus I have learned that a higher price for better quality is not a bad deal at all.

I hope I will be able to say the same of cashmere socks because I’m afraid they may well be spoiling me against any other kind for winter wear.

Terminally Dense, Me

Given how little I watch TV and how rarely I read newspapers, if it weren't for blogland I might not know that J.D. Salinger died recently, aged 91. Through a link from RealDelia I found this article and plowed my way through it.

My favourite phrase was "To spell it out for the terminally dense..." especially since it was followed by a comparison of Salinger with Thomas Pynchon. I am obviously one of those who needed the spelling, as I had to look up Pynchon to see who he was. I've never heard of any of his works, but the salient point seemed to be that that both lived very reclusive lives. This is apparently a difficult concept for folks to grasp, in this world of PR, Tweeting and Get Me Out of Here I'm a (wannabe) Celebrity. The idea of a quiet life being a quality life must perplex some people.

The fact that Salinger last published in 1965, aged 46, reminded me of what I found about Harper Lee, having mentioned To Kill a Mockingbird the other day: that she has only written that one book (besides 3-4 magazine articles) and it was published in 1960, when she was 34. She is, so far as I can tell, alive and well in Alabama. Reading through the whole Wikipaedia entry just now, I see they have also compared her with J.D. in this way, having retired after a single major book, though she is quoted as having been frightened by her overwhelming success. (Who knew she hung out with Truman Capote?) Bill had heard of TKAM, but mainly because of the movie; I remember it being a school assignment to read. Catcher in the Rye I had to seek out for myself some years later.

I was thinking that having a quiet life is lovely, I certainly enjoy mine, though let's be right about it I've never been in the slightest danger of being famous, even locally. It does seem sad to me that they apparently abandoned a gift that moved many people. Perhaps they both found other talents that were just as fulfilling for them. Perhaps it's not like I have always assumed: one is good at what one likes to do and one likes to do what one is good at. Maybe they didn't really like writing much. It does sound as though they didn't like having their work judged more than they didn't like writing; Salinger reported continued to write without the intention of seeking further publication.

I was relieved when the Terminally Dense article referred to the Mitford sisters, I didn't have to look them up! They were from just up the road, in Northumberland, near where I used to work. (Who knew that Mitford Hall was owned by the infamous Freddy Shepherd? Well, that's another post there...).

Perhaps after I've re-read To Kill a Mockingbird and Catcher in the Rye -- and all of Jane Austen's work, of course -- I'll go find some of the Mitford girls' biographies in the local library. They should be good for some laughs.

Charity Bags

There are probably a million small things in the way that business and general life is conducted that differ in the UK from in the US. One of those that came to my attention recently was about donations of unwanted clothing and such to charity.

In the States, at least where and when I lived there, you bagged up your clothes and deposited them at the store or warehouse of your chosen charity. I remember this also included transporting furniture, but perhaps there were alternatives of which I was not aware.

Also, in the States, the Federal Post Office deems it an offense (as in Federal offense) to deposit anything other than official Post Office delivered mail into a mail box. You'll have heard the funny observation that in the US the mail is delivered by the Post Office, but in the UK the post is delivered by Royal Mail? I'm never sure which word to use, so I tend to use them both. Anyhow...

In the UK, hoards of people walk around the neighbourhoods depositing adverts and coupons from restaurants and other businesses, political posters and...plastic bags from any number of charities or the like. All that and junk mail means I keep a wicker waste basket on my front porch into which a good deal of these items go. When it fills up I go through and separate plastic from paper so that at least part of it gets re-cycled. Unfortunately the Avon woman and certain other catalog sales people tend to want their catalogs back, and make a fuss otherwise, so I just sling them back out the front door and if their plastic bag isn't water tight, it's not my problem. I've really come to appreciate the stance taken by the US Post Office.

In recent times I've noticed a number of the plastic bags soliciting clothing and shoes are not actual charities, but sell the clothes on to developing countries. I remember a fascinating chapter in The Fashion Reader about what happens to huge blocks of clothing sold to market traders in Africa. The other day I got a bag that was labelled Action for Children, but in reading the cover, the collection was going to be done by Care2Collect. Some of the information on the cover suggested to me that not all the money raised from the collection would go to Action for Children and so I discarded the bag. In writing this, I've research and found that though Care2Collect's website says "Registered in England No. 641385", that number isn't listed in the UK's Charity Commission website, so I think I was right in believing them to be a business that serves charities. Action for Children is a registered charity.

So, in going through boxes and closets and finally admitting that I need to let go of some things, I've started keeping a bag for those items, ready for the next charity bag that looks OK to me. Only they don't always collect them when they say they will. In which case, the stuff goes into another bag; this is all in one week, you understand, giving you an idea of the volume of solicitations that come through my mail slot. I tried putting a "No Solicitations" sign on the door, but everyone only associates that word with prostitution, so the message didn't work.

I saw the man from St. Oswald's come for the bag and watched him from an upstairs window. For a moment I thought he was going to give the stuff back to me, but he didn't. Rather he left a slip of paper as thanks. In that bag was some boots, taupe suede boots in size U.S. 5/U.K. 2.5 that I've had since the early-to-mid 70s. I loved those boots for most of my youth and still loved looking at them and stroking them. I tried them on yet again before putting them into the giveaway bag.

These were 3 inch heels mind, not very comfortable. Also, I've always had big calves, so the zipper was always getting stuck. In fact, I was expecting the man to come read the gas and electric meters (Something else that is different here: the meter in our house is inside, under the stairs, not out in the back yard or on the side of the house like in the US). I was panicking at not being able to get the zip up or down and feeling yet again like I was in I Love Lucy, imagining me hobbling down to answer the door. That cinched it -- they went. I caught myself crossing the road towards the St. Oswald's shop the next week just to see...but no, I didn't actually go look for them.

My last bag went to Kidney Research UK. I've actually heard of them. I was thinking as I came back from setting the bag out that I actually know someone with kidney disease. Unfortunately it is someone who used to drive me nuts, not that I wish them any actual harm, and I'm really pleased they are no longer in my life.

Whatever charity, I was trying to decide if having those bags disappear made me feel good because of where they went or just because they are out of my life. I have to admit, it's the latter. I wonder if this means I'm finally going to get to grips with serious uncluttering....nah, not likely.

Grownup-in-Training

One of my daily visit blogs is RealDelia. I like her blog because she is a 'real' writer (ie she makes a living from it), because she is an American living in England (Though in London where most people seem to go, not to the 'real' England like me (ha!). You know fine well, the tourist spots are not real America, either.) and because from her blog I find many other things on the internet that educate and amuse me.

In her post today she lists all the reasons she loves blogging and I have to nod my head to each and every one of them: finding a voice, getting more discipline, discovering new friends, learning loads and, best of all, I think, becoming more mindful.

It was also from this post that I found the Neverbloomer quiz and my test result was totally spot on, well, in a metaphorical way and except for the bit about General Hospital, I don't do soaps.

You are a Grownup-in-Training.
You may not yet be a full-fledged grownup, but you sure know how to find one when you need one. Your Yellow Pages are well dog-eared, as you are constantly adding the phone numbers of competent GrownUp professionals to your personal directory.

You are very aware of your inner-child, but aspire to at least become her responsible adult guardian sometime soon. People lean on you for advice, but you're still looking to others to teach you how to bloom.

You watch General Hospital for clues, and have concluded that while Laura may play the part, Luke is the grownup you most want to be like.

So, do you feel like a grown-up or, like me, are you still trying to raise yourself?

Waste Less, Use It Up!

My friend, Vivien, sends me newspaper articles now and then in the post. It apparently amuses her to share some of her findings and I take it as evidence that I'm being thought of, which is lovely. She always seems to hit on things I'm interested in, too.

One of the articles introduced me to the website Love Food Hate Waste. I'm still learning loads from it: tips on serving sizes, how to use up leftovers, how best to store food to make it keep. Mind, there are pictures of some really scary looking chefs on there. Don't let that put you off!

Another article she sent was a recipe for Apple Charlotte, which uses stale bread and breadcrumbs. We have lots of bread crusts because we make our own bread in a machine and it has no preservatives. Sometimes when we get to the end of a loaf it's just a bit tough, so I'll throw it into a plastic bag in the freezer. I use these bits to make Salmon Puff or I'll toast them to make croutons or put the toasted bits into the blender to make bread crumbs for various recipes.

I found the recipe again in Ellen's cookbook when looking for what to do with the multitude of blackberries cluttering up our freezer, only it was called Apple Blackberry Charlotte. I decided it was fate telling me I should make something called a Charlotte (apparently named after poor Queen Charlotte, the wife of mad King George III, the patron of apple-growers). It was sort of a success -- we ate it, anyhow. I'm glad to know about this recipe, as it lends itself to using all sorts of fruits and not having to make pastry. The main thing I gather is to have the filling fairly dry, not runny, and you can accomplish this by adding a couple of tablespoons of breadcrumbs. I didn't have a proper pan with sloping sides, so I used a large Pyrex mixing cup. I read elsewhere that this recipe is mentioned in To Kill a Mockingbird, which reminds me I should read it again sometime.
If you are interested in trying out Apple Charlotte, the recipe can be found here.

We just had a very nice but strange lunch, by the way. Tortillas are excellent for bundling up all sorts of leftovers and making them seem a bit more special, particularly if you sprinkle on a bit of grated cheese. I usually make tortillas as food on the go, and so the cheese goes inside; when eating at home, it's nice to have it on the outside. Our mixture of leftovers would have made Simon proud: beans (cooked with tinned tomatoes and onions), mashed swede, leftover cabbage leaves, boiled potato, mashed potato, turkey and BBQ sauce, and peas. There were only small bits of each, so it all got mixed together and put in tortillas with cheese. It was good, honest!

What do you do with leftovers?

Pattern Drafting

So what do I do when I'm not writing scintillating posts or keeping my house spotlessly clean? Yeah....well, I mentioned earlier that I'm desperate to improve my sewing skills. This being me, I have to make that as complicated as possible by starting at the very beginning with drafting a pattern. I encountered this technique a few years ago when I took an evening sewing class. It was pretty easy to draft a simple skirt with a zipper; then again, there was a knowledgeable teacher standing nearby.

There is some logic in that one of my main motivations is to have clothing that actually fits well, something not always easily attained when one is being frugal. Dressmaking patterns are no better in this direction than ready to wear clothing, and so I figured I needed to make a 'block' or a 'sloper' (and there are several others words that seem to be used to refer to this). Simply put, it is a piece of cloth or cardboard made to your own measurements, used to adjust commercial patterns before using them.


At this writing I've not yet achieved the desired outcome, though I'm on my 3rd try. I started out using this guy's instructions, but it didn't work at all. Not sure it was intended for this purpose, so that's OK.


Then I found this guy's video and after watching about a million times and making notes I thought I had it down, but then when I went to do the draft, there were still a couple of marks about which I was unsure. He only shows the front of a bodice anyhow, and I need a back as well!


Then there was this lady's video, which happened to show the pages of a book she was using. All I will say about this video is that it made me aware of how difficult it would be to make a good one all on your own. I've no doubt she understands what she's doing, but I finally froze the video and copied from the book over her shoulder so to speak. When I read 'centre' instead of 'center', I went to the library and there it was. That's what I'm working from now.

Cross your fingers for me!

Middlewich Walk

The next weekend after returning from Bath, we drove over to Middlewich to see Simon on the Saturday. The reason? Because Bill had forgotten to put Simon's very biggest Christmas present under the tree: a tent. Poor Simon got half way home before I discovered it (again) in the East wing. He'd been quite accepting of having only got a covered hanger and a coffee mug for Christmas, bless him.

Sunday morning we took a lovely, if somewhat damp, walk around the canals near where Simon and Rhiannon live. My camera was dead and I'd not charged more batteries, so Simon kindly lent me his and forward the pictures so I could share them with you.

First off there is this brilliant little canal cottage. As you can see it has no garden, but windows on both sides of each room and a great little balcony on top of their garage. Looks really efficient!


Of course there were loads of people out with their dogs. In addition to this nervous old albino boxer, I remember seeing a lurcher and a rather affectionate Rottweiler, whose owner was clearly fed up with waiting for it to be petted, as he told us it would bite us if we didn't give it treats. Silly old fool.


Then we came upon these huge swans; Simon has shared pictures of them with us before on his Facebook.


We stood and watched the big one in the background groom himself.


It's amazing where they can put their head with that long neck and all.


There are all sorts of houses either on or overlooking the canal. I got really excited


about the back gardens with sitting areas and this willow tree had a perfect setting.


Narrow boats lined the canal, most with wood stores and a bicycle stacked on the roof; a few with a car parked nearby.


The smell of wood smoke made me think they have a very cozy and interesting life. No place for my Grandmother's furniture, though.


Then there are the locks and weirs and sluices and I don't know what all,


required to adjust the water levels for the boats. I was clueless about how they worked -- not that interested to be honest --


but the guys found them pretty fascinating. In the 1700s, canals


were a major means of transport, being far superior to the horrible


roads on which horses drew carts. Instead, the canals were built,


along with tow paths and horses were used to pull goods in boats.

You might recognise this view from the family picture over here (5th pic from the bottom), when Bill took his mom and his kids on a narrow boat holiday years ago, long before Simon ever dreamed he'd live in Middlewich. Spooky, isn't it?


There are of course miles and miles of canals still around Britain, though not near us in the North East. I raised the idea of perhaps taking a cycling holiday sometime along the canal tow paths, something that Bill found intriguing, though we soon realised that it wouldn't all be flat: the locks create sharpish hills


and there are bridges to get under,

but he didn't see these would be a major obstacle. I'll let you know if we ever pull it off!