Wool, Metal work and Glitter.

Standard

Dear Reader

Today attended a Craft Fayre in the Parish Hall. (Craft Fayres have to have that spelling, it is the law in crafting circles)

Crafters can be categorised into 2 groups,

1, those who knit leggings, complete with feet,  for babies in garish pink synthetic wool, and think that this is,  ‘alright now because its all coming back in’, therefore its ‘vintage’.

and

2, young Art students who are creative and interesting and make things you cant believe you hadn’t thought of, out of bits of rotten wood and anything from the tip.

Crafters can be as unfriendly and competitive as the Table Top Sellers from last week (see blog).  I discovered this as I brushed past a rail of startlingly bright red hand knitted cardigans (meant for babies  but more suited to  a Nicholas Roeg film), and stall holder glared, with not hint of a follow through smile, as I apologised for touching her man made fibres.

The most interesting stall of the day, I felt, was a table full of wine glasses and bottles that had been glittered all over in pinks and turquoise and black and silver. Some had a glittery zebra print and some had the look of a leopard on drugs in an 80s night club. All looked very rough on the lips.

The centre piece was a huge metal construction complete with heavy duty chains and padlocks, holding 2 bottles of Australian Chardonnay .

‘My husband is in the Forces and his friend made it’ , said the stall holder.

By the look on her face  it was clear the  finished object  bore no similarity to her original vision, but was the outpourings of a solider who had been in Afghanistan rather too long.

Yet here it was in our little village. And her stall drew the most interest from the most unlikely men, who would not usually be drawn to  a pink glitter leopard print wine glass.  ‘I like the chains’ said an elderly man in a farmers coat.

It is a funny old world the Craft Fayre world

Kind regards

Veronica

 

 

.

 

Off our trolleys, nose picking and hot knobs.

Standard

Dear Reader

My dear friend Celia Lady Garden and myself attended a table top sale this afternoon in a hall next to Sainsburys . We arrived with the detritus gathered from our sheds and lofts, and collected our Sainsburys trolley as instructed by ‘Ron from Roundswell’,  (as he introduced himself)

‘they know all about it’,  he assured us

so we formed an orderly queue at ‘the back door’ of the hall and waited.

There was a bit of a hold up because the last group in the hall had over run but not mentioned it to Ron, who was now running around with tables and a pencil in his mouth. He was being shadowed by a silent younger man who I noticed, later on, was stood in the doorway picking his nose. A while after this, he did what I was hoping he would not do, and ran his hands over my self help books.

So here we stood,gathered on the appointed hour, in a  line worthy of formula 1, with our trolleys all piled with towel rails soft toys pictures bags and other miscellany, all chomping at the bit to be released by Ron to our allocated tables.    Some people were regulars and didn’t wait to be allocated. They sniffed and pushed past us newbies and confidently flicked cloths onto their tables. Meanwhile Ron milled around with a faint pencil plan, trying to regain his authority.

‘Number 21. you are on table 21, that’s here’,  he patted a near table.  I waved across to Celia Lady garden to bring the second trolley over and started to unpack…….. I was just unloading a bag full of bags when…..

NO !!!

shouted an aggressive young woman..

No!! No! No!……………………. we are here.!!!!

 

I stopped unpacking

 

Ron looked slightly startled and nervously  referred  to his plan, which had now become almost invisible with anxious folds and crossings outs. He gathered all his strength and indicated that in fact she was now at the end of the hall.

………there was a silence,

Ron gulped

.the woman looked at me

then

looked down the hall and said

Oh.

There was an audible sigh as she headed off with her trolley

As we all settled into position behind our tables the public doors were swung open and 5 people ambled in,

A petite pinched woman offered Celia 50p for her skirt and the announced it would be too big. Celia was not pleased.

Her day soon brightened however when a woman asked if her knob got hot (on her tea pot)

A woman with a man on two crutches came in carrying a shopping bag with cats on , looked menacing

Two old ladies sat opposite us munching on bananas with their backs to each other.

A very large woman in a very large wheelchair but with a very high voice balancing 5 boxes on her knee, and 6 full Sainsburys bags tied to the wheelchair, manoeuvred her way through , and the got stuck in the doors on the way out,

Celia made £14.21 and I made £14.17.

I bought a chair with one arm because the lady had to take the arm off to get it in her car.

Celia bought nothing because she couldn’t get out of the tight space that Ron had squeezed her into.

We declined Ron’s kind offer to attend Octobers next event.

 

Yours grubbily

Veronica

 

Seaman for sale

Standard

Dear Reader

Just perusing the classifieds and I see offered under the items for sale column,

‘a mug of seaman’

Not the sort of thing you usually find between the  office chairs and the pets domestic

however

 On further inspection it is a character mug of the  footballer David Seaman MBE

seaman

The world of the forager can be fraught with misunderstandings .

Good night

Veronica

 

 

Another giant slipper and Lord Kitchener

Standard

Dear Reader

Following my last blogging session, when I mentioned the giant mouse slipper I had found in a nearby Charity shop….Well today I espied in a local Hospice Charity shop, a giant squirrel slipper! Not in the same mint condition as the mouse, but I was struck by the coincidence.

I will leave it at that , albeit to say how pleased I was with my purchase of a milk jug with Lord Kitchener on, £2.50.

Another unusual find and I am again left wondering why.

Why we are over educating our young and gifted art students to design giant slippers, and why at the turn of the last century, it was deemed that Lord Kitchener should decorate a milk jug.

DSCF5650

Suffice to say my dresser is improved by his jaunty moustache but his cracks ensure that no liquids will be forthcoming. My friend Wendy  (now married to married to Dennis) was struck by the this and upon the likeness to her first late husband, Brian.

Yours quizzically

Veronica

 

Giant scones and a giant slipper at the seaside.

Standard

Dear Reader

How remiss of me to have not written for a month! Time just flies by when you are attempting a launch of a global soap business.

Well I’m sat here in front of my flame effect fire,with a nice cup of tea and a Gypsy cream so I thought I would have a little chat.

Today Celia Lady Garden and myself went on a Lady jaunt to the seaside. On  our usual ferret in the Charity shop , I considered but declined, the purchase of a giant mouse slipper.  The slipper was ingenious, and looked very comfy, but, Celia thought, it might be a health and safety risk, on account of it being one giant slipper for both feet.  Apart from being a trip hazard,she pointed out, should I have to answer the phone in a hurry, it would also be too traumatising for my cat, as it was twice his size.

So on these grounds and after considering that my silver slippers could see me through to next winter,  we went to a lovely vintage tea room for a welsh rarebit.

I have posted a photo of a similar slipper as i don’t have a photo of the original. I wouldn’t wear it with my socks like this woman. I don’t

think that a very flattering look

Image

‘One slice or two?’ asked the waitress.  We both decided that two slices of rarebit each would suffice. However when they arrived they were almost the size of the principality itself. We carved and munched our way through two huge pieces of cheese on toast and wondered briefly about our cholesterol. I had to pop out and top up the parking on the car half way through, such was the size of the meal.

I should have realised that one slice would have sufficed when my eyes had alighted on a gentleman sitting near the entrance,who was grappling with two gigantic dinner plate sized scones and a small bucket of cream. ‘what big scones ‘ I remarked. His female companion did not look amused.

I was joined at the table by a three year old girl who was wearing the same dress as me. She had wandered off piste and left her Mothers side. Clearly drawn to me and my fashion sense she sat and chatted to her imaginary friend. it was a little off putting as Celia and I were having a global marketing lunch.

It is a curse being such a style icon, even if it is to a three year old, but I have always told Celia that I have an eye for young fashion, and she could not poo poo it this time.There was the proof sitting next to me in a matching outfit.

Now I was going to update you on Lady Linda’s smelting activity, and also tell you about Wendy, my friend from Wombwell, but that is for another day. I am off to bed now and will update you all in the fullness of time.

Regards

Veronica

Silver slippers, small boys and jigsaws

Standard

Dear Reader.

Unrelated occurrences that have popped into my head this week are

1 Silver Slippers

Im sitting here in my slippers blogging and it occurs to me that I must recommend silver slippers to you

The reason is because you can always see them glinting in the corner of your bedroom, which means  you can easily find them in the dark  therfore saving on electricity . A little money saving tip. This is a photo of mine so you will know what to buy.

Image

2.  Little boys are strange and the Panto.

I don’t have much to do with children. I have several nieces and nephews but they are of the older variety.   I had occasion however, to converse with a 7 year old boy whilst watching Celia Lady Garden’s pantomime on Friday.   Without warning or prompting he confided in me, in the tea queue that , he was, ‘cool at home’. This statement he accompanied with a strange hand movement which he said was ‘gangster’.

I felt uneasy that gangsters had started to make their way to the village and told him he was too young for all that kind of thing.

I said that I think we are all cool at home but the problem arises when we leave the security of our home .  I think he took that little nugget away with him, although I have never managed to be ‘cool’, either at home or otherwise.  Mother always saw to that.

Celia Lady Garden s panto was very enjoyable, I must report.   She is quite’The Director’ when she is in full flow ,and has managed to whip the entire village into shape.

Her make up skills are legendary with The Young Farmers.

She has apologised for butchering my best frock for the Dame costume and will be unpicking it over the course of next week. It was a shock to see it laying on her kitchen table as she photographed it for her blog.

3. Jigsaws

Also at the panto, my friend Karena was sitting next to a woman who clutched her arm tightly in the interval, and on hearing that Karena had recently retired, extolled the vitues of the jigsaw.

‘They can be very addictive’ she said as she grasped Karena in her vice like grip.   ‘I will drop some by when I’m passing’, she threatened.

Karena is dreading a circular one or a 3D one or one of those with the beans on being left on her doorstep.

4. Hogwash soap

Hogwash Soap is coming on at a pace. Mr Perkins has almost finished my web site, and I have been simmering, boiling and stirring all week. It hasn’t stopped me however, and I’m thinking of getting some HRT, as Celia recommends it, although Dr Singh is sceptical

Yours Soapily

Veronica.

Yours

Smelting in the Home Counties

Standard

Dear Reader,

As you will know, if you have been following my adventures, I have just launched myself  into the exciting world of business, selling soap and bath things for lovely ladies as HOGWASH SOAP.     I am thinking about adding  ranges for you gentlemen and for the smaller folk amongst us, (babies, not short people). Updates as I go………

I was reflecting today however, as I was stirring away, how us older ladies are all setting up little homespun businesses all over the world, sweeping the planet like a hot wave of commerce…

..talking of which…………..

…………..take, my very old friend from the home counties, Lady Linda, for example.

when she told me she was starting to make jewellery, I did not envisage that smelting would be involved.

I should have known, Lady Linda never does things by halves (except finishing a sentence)

She has become a a regular figure at  boot fairs and charity shops  ferreting for any kind of metal object .  Like a deranged old magpie, she brings it back to her kitchen, and throws it all into her home made smelter, formally known as  her Aga.

furnace

Her husband, Rupert has lived in the shed with Rollo, the wolf hound,  for years so  is oblivious to the white hot furnace that once slow cooked his bagged rabbits with a little red wine.

Lady Linda has yet to find a market for the misshapen  nuggets of metal that she calls broaches, but she is as ever hopeful.

What a lively bunch us older ladies are!

Yours commercially

Veronica

HOGWASH

Standard

Dear Reader

Well I am sorry to have been neglecting you recently I have been remiss I realise that….

Since I last blogged about my lovely lady day at the spa, I have been busy setting up a little business dear reader….

…yes an opportunity has reared its head and I have grasped it with both hands. Celia Lady Garden and dear Karena have been very hands on helping me out as I’ve bottled and stirred. Karena is a whizz with the accounts and Celia’s knitting needles could have started a boy scouts fire, as she has been knitting, like  woman possessed…. baby hats for my baby gift boxes….photo below

Image

Image

I hope you like my photographs.    This a box (above) has hand made things for Mothers Day.  My mother has been dead for years so its no good for me, but hopefully you will have a mother who could make more use of it , and who would benefit from a Borage cream moisturiser , a bath foam and 2 bath melts with shea butter.  All of which contain rose geranium and patchouli oils, so it all very beneficial for crêpey skin.  None of it has been foraged, it has all been bought.  Celia says you might be relieved  to hear that, but I thought you would be as disappointed as I am about that. Celia disagrees.

So Dear reader, this is my range of HOGWASH SOAP.

A name thought up by my lovely young nephew Kristain, with the  Flemish roots.  I blame his father.

We were walking one day through a field of cows when it came to him. ‘Hogwash’ he shouted. I wasn’t sure what to make of it at first. Its hard to know with these young people whether they are on the phone or talking to you, have tourettes  ADHD, or a nut allergy.  But apparently he had just had his eureka moment and he thought HOGWASH would be a suitable name for  my soap business.

Well its interesting, I grant you that, but Celia and I were thinking of something less challenging, like ‘Veronicas Soap’

…HOGWASH it is then.It very hard to argue with a Flem (if that’s what you call a Flemish person, on his fathers side)

So my little business has been named HOGWASH SOAP.

He thinks its very clever.

Its minimal, he explained.  His tutor at art college, had said he must never be afraid of white space apparently.

Please do not hesitate should you wish for  bit of HOGWASH

Kind regards

Veronica

Director of HOGWASH SOAP

Relaxing in paper pants.

Standard

Dear Reader

I do apologise for my absence  recently,.but I have been otherwise engaged launching myself into the world of business….more of that in a later.posting…..

As I have become a stressed out business executive type recently, I decided to  treated myself to a ladies -who -lunch- type of afternoon at a spa with my good lady friends Celia lady garden, her daughter Morello, and our mutual friend  Karena.

I was anticipating a  detoxifying afternoon,but Karena (who is a bit over fond of the port and a snowball at Christmas,) suggested we smuggle a bottle of champagne into the health farm.   Well, Celia Lady garden found this all very gay, and became a bit giddy with excitement at the thought of it.

Morello looked on as we older ladies got a bit tiddly in the whirlpool, insisting that we all ‘looked amazing’.   Im not sure she meant that in a kind way now I look back.

Morello then had to help Celia out of the pool, not a sight I wish to relive.

I must confess dear reader that I toppled a little on my way out , not assisted by the whirling of the pool that kept sweeping me towards Karena who was clinging onto the side for dear life, trying to hang onto her dignity and her swimsuit (£3.50 from the red cross shop she told us). Karena has never been fussy about a second hand crotch.

I staggered off for my massage whilst Celia went for her facial.

My masseuse whipped out some paper pants and told me how to put them on. ‘like a thong’. she said. ‘You would be surprised at the number of people who put them on the wrong way round’  she said

I laughed.

She left and I put them on the wrong way round.

I didn’t find that out until afterwards.

It hadn’t been a good day for pants altogether. Celia had spotted that I already had my swimming garments on inside out.and announced it. Luckily by then the champagne had numbed any self respect I had left.

We found out afterwards that Morello had to put on paper pants as well which was a bit of a mystery as she had a facial.

When I arrived back at the pool an alarming sight awaited.

It was Celia sat in the shed at the far end of the pool.   The shed  that had a heater in, and doubled up as a sauna.     Sat there reading a magazine in her swimming costume, reading spectacles attached by dangling wool  (Celia will knit anything). Her face like a beetroot moon .  Hair vertical. Sitting there in that confined space,with her back to the heated bars, she looked like a cross between Albert Einstein and The Queen.

After a run up and down the pool with Celia (which she said would burn more fat), we set off for nibbles and more bubbly in the lounge .Sitting in our wet dressing gowns. like extras from One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest, I reflected.    What a very lovely afternoon dear reader. How lucky are we to have such very funny jolly friends.

Now back to the heady world of business.

Feeling relaxed

Kind regards

Veronica

Friday Fracas in the charity shop

Standard

Dear Reader

The weekend did not start well

Whilst having my usual Friday forage in the charity shop, a woman with a clip board asked my opinion on the sighting of a possible new supermarket in the town.

 I said that in my opinion, it was a jolly good thing, to which she took offence. Well this got my goat.

I won’t bore my continental readers with the ins and outs of a Waitrose supermarket,  but the upshot was that the anti supermarket woman ended up backed into a corner (well the changing room), and I stalked off with a bee in my bonnet. I could hear her swearing as I left.  Even more irritating  than this confrontation was the thought of the  many undiscovered bargains I may have been leaving in my wake.

So I went into my second favourite charity shop, (where the manageress has discovered ebay and everything is overpriced), to try and settle myself, but I couldn’t concentrate, although I did notice  a battered old suitcase priced up at £30 and managed a weak ‘tut’.

I was so irritated My feathers were well and truly ruffled.

I just flicked through the old knitting patterns without really looking, skimmed the bric a brac, and left unfulfilled.

I always like to top up my wardrobe with a staple piece from the Red cross shop, but it wasn’t to be this week

Its Sunday now and I still haven’t settled since if I’m honest. I have just searched the television channels for a nice detective or Stephen Fry, and I have come across a film about a family of Mexican cannibals with subtitles,cricket, Intolerable Cruelty, and My Breasts and I.

Its not what I need on a Sunday. I think I will go to bed and call it a day

The whole weekend has been tricky.

Veronica