Strawberries and cream...

A bit late for Wimbledon, but still... Imagine stuffing your face with strawberries and extra-thick cream out of this particular, nicely inappropriate, bowl. It's one of four bought by my brother and my sister-in-law as gifts for my lovely friend Duncan and me, when we visited them in Paris sometime in the late 1970s, early 1980s. Not quite antique, but definitely vintage.The other one that I still have reads, la plus caline - which might have been more appropriate! It is 88 degrees (in old money) in the shade here, according to my garden thermometer. Scorchio!

"Andy walking, Andy tired, Andy take a little snooze..."

What a fabulous match... absolutely exhausting tho'...!

The lyrics are from David Bowie's song for Andy Warhol, but they seem appropriate.

A winter's day in July...

A friend had suggested that we should get involved in the local Horticultural Society's summer show - they stormed the wine section last year, taking first, second and third prizes, and are clearly keen to continue this runaway success! As well as all the fruit, flowers and veggie stuff there are craft categories, and this gave me the push to begin a crocheted blanket, which I wanted to finish in time for the arrival of the Gorgeous Girl's new baby sister sometime in the next few weeks. I don't envy the GG's mum in this heat...

I used one of the talented Lucy's patterns, and began by using up the cotton and bamboo yarns that I had left over from other projects, but soon had to top up with new stuff. Unfortunately, the local yarn shops don't stock huge amounts of natural fibres and the colours weren't quite what I wanted. But, make do and mend, and all that - although that did mean that at one point it all went a bit Argos catalogue (at the bottom of pic)! So, there I was on Friday afternoon (deadline was first thing Saturday) blanket on my lap, feverishly crocheting away, with a chocolate and banana cake in the oven (for the 'naughty but nice exhibitor's choice' category), watching the tennis on telly. A perfect way to spend a wintery afternoon, but not ideal on the hottest day of the year so far! Someone had suggested working outside, but I know that I'd have had sweaty fingers, a passing bird would have pooped with fright at the vibrant colours and, in any case, I'd have missed a brilliant match between Djokovic and Del Potro. I only had to unravel a few mistakes...

I do like crocheting. My mum was a hopeless knitter (she told me she was asked not to knit socks for the soldiers as part of the WWII effort, but just to stick to making scarves!) but she could crochet up a storm, and there are a few crocheted blankets still hanging around in the family. There are many more in far flung places - she was a long-serving volunteer for Oxfam and at home she crocheted dozens of blankets to be sent abroad as part of their relief efforts. In her last years I bought her some wool (rather than the acrylic she usually used) and tried to coax her into making a blanket for me, but she couldn't manage it. Before it was too late, I also tried to learn how to crochet, hunkered down by her knee while she showed me the steps....but I never quite grasped it.

After she died, with the inspiration of Jane Brocket's Yarnstorm, and the help of a lovely woman called Edwina at Peter Jones' free classes, I finally got it. Now when I sit, crocheting contentedly, I'm sometimes aware of my hands making exactly the same movements my mum's used to make - the shapes of my fingers, the pause to do a quick check that I haven't gone wrong, the hoiking up of the yarn with my left arm. She would have been tickled by what I've managed to do. I am!

for my niece

one for a little friend and one for the GG's cousin

and for another little friend...