Varium et mutabile semper femina*

I stomped off into town this afternoon, carrying a hormonal cloud of rage, unreasoneableness and general 'don't come near me'-ness,  despite the cheery hot and lazily low-slung sun, the delicious warmth accompanied by a gentle cool breeze (just to remind us that it is, after all, Autumn) as I had to get out of the house and pick up a couple of meaningless things, oh and chocolate, which could and should never be seen as pointless.
Anyhoots, whilst angrily skipping the load of crap my iPod in it's wisdom had decided I should listen to, I passed a local bookshop. Now this bookshop has fallen on hard times, which is a real shame because (she whispers so as not to upset her bosses) we need our bookshops, particularly our free-thinking independents. Certain elements were always a bit ramshackle, but that was part of its charm. It was pretty astounding the variety that they managed to shoehorn into such a small space. I never minded hunting for books in that place, but frequently had to bite my tongue when I couldn't find books that I personally deemed as 'classics'. (you would have thought, as a fellow bookseller, I'd have been more patient: Hell no!) Now, however, it is a shop preparing to die and getting its' affairs in order. The last pieces of stock are now alongside out of print/ end of stock items, uncorrected proofs, creased and yellow around the edges and an incredibly eclectic collection of second hand books. Despite this seemingly depressing end, what they have actually created is an amazing haven of the printed word. The sections still remain so its easy to rummage, but it is completely anti-ageist: brand new books sharing the same selling space as old duffers from the turn of the last century. And I found some gems that dispelled my foul mood quicker than you can say 'I really should start taking Evening Primrose again.' Look!

from left to right: Julia Cameron, 'The Right to Write' (publ: , Ronald Searle 'Back to the Slaughterhouse' (1951),  'Roget's Pocket Thesaurus' (1946, US ed)

'The Right to Write' is a book by the author of 'The Artist's Way', Julia Cameron, and according to the blurb, is about 'using writing to bring clarity and passion to the act of living.' Hmmm, sounds good - I like her thinking. I also liked the fact that it's broken up into teeny chapters that may help my easily-distracted brain to focus. I also loved this exercise, where the reader needs to list 50 things that they're proud of, and that in her example, 'My rapport with dogs' came higher than 'My relationship with my mother', although 'My pie crust' was an ever prouder moment! Genius! I may share my 50 things with you once I know you a little better.

Next up is actually the first book that I found today. Some of you may remember  that I've mentioned Ronald Searle before and therefore know that I think he is utterly tremendous. (and it's not just me that thinks as thus: looky!) Perhaps with that knowledge elbamed in your brain, you may have an idea of the joy that was beholden to me when I saw, faced out on the second set of shelves, this:

You can find a selection of the pages here.

Its a wonderful book, containing enough pictures that I hadn't seen before to make it worth me popping in the shop in the first place.

I loved the back too, with a rather wonderful self-portrait:

 

And lo: how fab is it without its dustjacket!

 

Gotta love a gymslip!

I've recently been meaning to find a small thesaurus to pop in my bag, for those times when I just can't find either the right, or at least vaguely more interesting word. The God of the Bookshop heeded my call and sent, all the way from the U.S, and the distant past, a beautiful (beauteous, handsome; pretty: lovely, graceful, elegant, exquisite, delicate, dainty) Roget's Thesaurus (lexicon, glossary, vocabulary, wordbook:  bored yet?! I can keep this up for hours!) As it's from the US, I'll have to keep an eye on the spelling (orthography) but other than that, I think it'll prove to be quite an inspiration (stir up, infuse life into, quicken, sharpen, revive) Besides all that, I think in this instance, it is only right that I should judge a book by its' cover and the perfectly preserved endpapers:

593. BOOK.- N. book, booklet; writing, work, volume, tome, tract, treatise, brochure......

I also found, but didn't buy, a book on living in Hampstead from the 50's, worth it for the line on the cover saying that the book would be suitable in a guest room or coffee table (or was it 'occasional' table? Or bedside table?) I think more books should give suggestions as to where they would best be stored: "Keep in the fridge during breaks between reading", "Must not be read on an infant's swing", "Warning: will explode if exposed to synthetic upholstery" etc.

May you derive as much hormonal-balancing pleasure from your books as I have!

*Varium et mutabile semper femina - according to my new / old thesaurus, it means 'Woman is ever a changeful and capricious thing.' Amen.

A ponder on clothes

That Crafty Fish! said... I demand that you take photos of lots of your most colourful clothing / outfits in a 'teen style' wardrobe ramraid and talk about how great clothes are....

Ok, but let me just start by saying that I would never regard myself as any kind of style guru. My 'look', if you could name it so, is based on an inherent fear of beige, and the need to blend in and disappear that I personally associate with such an insipid hue. It is a shade that screams, or whispers or rather mutters under its breath "Please do not look at me. I do not wish to offend you by seeming to actually be happy with myself."  Beige is often termed as 'neutral'- it sits mawkishly on the fence, comfy in its middle ground, eager to not displease anyone.

My own haphazard sense of 'style' is a look born out of necessity (that is, to stay warm, to not be naked and to not let people know that my underwear doesn't match) (oops) and limited funds. This, coupled with an inane hatred of clothes shopping, means that my 'wardrobe' is pretty interchangeable. I do not have a winter and summer wardrobe: winter is the same as summer, just with more layers. I love Ebay, if only for the scroll down menus that are so less humiliating than wading through a rail of clothes looking for the hallowed size 16. Its got to the point now that if I should ever find myself in Topshop, and I happen upon an outsize (ha!) garment, I will purchase the fecker on principle. Luckily, for my bank account, this doesn't happen often. There's a lot of layering going on, with contrasting colours and patterns. I have learnt to never buy lambswool (I always shrink it) and that you can often wash dry-clean only clothes. I'm all about the comfort, baby, but even I know never to buy anything with an elasticated waist unless you are pregnant. I know that I am safe with Monsoon jeans and that I'm bound to find something wonderful, that fits, in Debenhams (their website has a fab feature where you can search for clothes by size: saves soooo much time and disappointment.) M+S is always a disappointment, but I have faith and so keep checking.

And then, of course, there is Etsy. I currently need this dress (actually, can I have all of Pamela Tang's womenswear range please?), with this top underneath (by some bird I may have mentioned a few times, but seeing as she's a bit stingy with the royalty cheques, I shan't this time :-P ) and this hat (from that Empress of Yarn, dollyknits) if its a bit perky-nips out. Socks would come from Sock Dreams, of course (or one of those sellers on Ebay that sells 15 pairs of stripey socks for £10.)

Life is short and we should have fun with the way we look. Dame Vivienne Westwood is credited as saying 'When in doubt, overdress.' Now, whilst I haven't yet achieved her level of bravada with attire, I aspire to it (clearly in a very beige way.) and I don't keep any items for 'best', preferring to mix different clothes in order to convey the depth of importance of the event. I find it hard to leave something plain: I am a keen proponent of  a well-placed badge or brooch. (particular favourites are summersville fabric badges, paperfish and, without the merest hint of arrogance, my own!) I do think that I dress, to coin Crafty Fish, if not like a 'teenage ramraid', then certainly as '30-something ramraid who'll wear what she damn well pleases', which is quite similar, just with nicer fabrics and better posture. I  certainly dress for comfort to the point that, when I do make 'an effort' (translation: I wear a dress, without trousers underneath, with heels and tights instead of stripey socks.) I am seranaded with a chorus of 'You scrub up well!', a phrase that has me scuttling back to my Birkies / Docs / Crocs (ahhh, bite me!) quicker than you can say 'mahoosive support knickers'.

Now I don't feel original and stylish enough to really dispense sartorial advice to you, but this is one of my favourite divine sources of inspiration.The Black Apple may be the Blessed Mother Mary of Etsy, but this is where it's at! I deeply love this girl's style.
Also worth a look is, of course, The Satorialist, showing time and time again that it's not what you wear, its how you wear it.
If I were braver, I would dress like this, or, braver still, this, although I think the nipple tassels may contravene many health  & safety regulations.

So, in answer to Kirsty's original brief, clothes can be great, wonderful, life-enhancing, mood-altering, warming, enticing, repelling wonders of fabric cacophony. If they're not, mix them up until they are. Like any good cake, the ingredients are often better chucked together than on their own (although let that metaphor end there: I don't want to be held responsible for the agony self-inflicted by you lot, setting your outfit in a 200oc oven for 20 mins)

What are you wearing today?

(by the way, you need to read this book. I know it's about men's fashion, but it is is utterly wonderful, as I have mentioned before. What do you mean you haven't read it yet?!)

Sporadic book adoration

Just wanted to pop in to tell you about some of the books that have grabbed my attention, made it tea and found a comfy chair (with optional snuggly blanket drapage) I think the only similarities between them are that they are printed onto paper and that you need to use your eyes to decipher the meanings therein, such is the erraticism of my tastes.

• Firstly, a collection of  three autobiographies by the late jazzman / raconteur / writer / bon viveur, George Melly, 'Owning Up'.  I adored this trilogy, which features his first three autobiographies in chronological (rather than published) order: Scouse Mouse (pub 1984), Rum, Bum and Concertina (1977) and Owning Up (1965). His honesty (or, at least his skill for spinning a damn fine yarn) is certainly admirable and often breathtaking, and provides a snapshot of his life with a crisp, fresh clarity. Of all the books, I enjoyed 'Owning Up' the least, which is not to suggest that it was necessarily the weaker of the three, just that perhaps someone that appreciates Melly's particular milieu of jazz more than I would enjoy it even more.

He has a delicious turn of phrase that I found delightful:

"It would be absurd not to admit to the obsessive spirit in my remembering so minutely the contents and decoration of an unremarkable terrace house some fifty years ago, but I have always tended to understand people initially through the objects they accumulate and the manner in which they display or conceal them."

What really struck me was the author's absolute lust for life, twinned with the ability to look back without regret, making this book both inspiring and thoroughly entertaining. I'm looking forward to reading the final instalment, 'Slowing Down' to learn just how to milk every last drop from the flagon of life. Have a lil Boogie Woogie on his behalf!

• Next up, a wonderful debut from Jane Elmor, 'My Vintage Summer'. This has two stories running alternately, one from the narrator's descent into teenage awakening and one from the present day, her life full of creature comforts but hollow inside. The two stories have as their central theme the adoration, worship and, ultimately, understanding of an older girl, Vonnie, and how Lizzie (the narrator) reacts to her defiant, magnetic  prescence. Whilst the detail certainly evokes life in the late 70' / early 80's, it isn't a syrupy nostalgia fest, and explores themes of family, friendship, marriage and music with an understanding touch that will be familiar and illuminating at the same time. It made me think of the best bits of 'Flashbacks of a Fool' in its attention to detail that seemed accurate rather than sepia-tinted longing, although I had far more empathy and warmth to the central character Lizzie than I did for Flashbacks' Joe Scott.I loved it and look forward to reading her most recent book. (you might also enjoy this interview.)

• From the Cor Blimey, to the sublime and now onto the, umm, well, something different. Now, buying a book on thrift may seem to be a non-sequitur, but often it can be a case of 'speculating to accumulate'. I'm not entirely convinced by India Knight's concept of 'Thrift', but, if you consider it as a companion to the wonderful, often unashamedly glam 'The Shops', you shouldn't be disappointed. 'The Thrift Book' has a lovely section celebrating the current craft revolution (that is sadly rumbling over my head like a giant wave at the mo, rather than me harnessing its energy and riding a body board whilst laughing like a deranged hyena, but that's a whole other story for a whole other time...), in particular Etsy and the joy therein. This book is less about how to live cheaply, basically and beautifully, and more about 'If you have to spend money, you might as while spend a bit more on something decent', an idea I agree with on principle, but sometimes you just don't have the choice and have to make the most of what you have. I think the section on 'Camping' made me realise, once more, that Ms Knight and I move in very different circles: she recommends a Feather Down Farms holiday, I recommend you bag a tent of ebay (I recommend Outwell tents) or borrow one from a friend: we camped near Land's End, in the middle of August, for £16 a night for a family of four. That, my friend, is thrift. 

• Whilst on said thrifty holiday, I devoured the first in Henning Mankell's 'Wallander' series, 'Faceless Killers'. This is the first crime book and I loved it. Admittedly, I was eased in into them through my adoration of both the english and swedish tv adaptations, and found that the books gave another dimension to an already interestingly complex character. Actually, is Kurt Wallander a complex character, or is he infact torn between duty to job and family, resulting in a man desperate to find a balance but failing miserably? I think he's a fascinating chararcter: you really feel for the poor sod, whilst simultaneously wishing he wasn't quite so his own worst enemy. But then, it wouldn't make such a delicious story. Wallander is called out to a horrific and seemingly motiveless murder whilst his private life is still in turmoil after a recent divorce. As layers are gradually peeled away, racism is revealed and Wallander must find the facts underneath the mask of fear. Its seemingly slowpace is misleading as, before you know it, you'll have read 10 pages without breathing.

I also loved my own juxtaposition, reading this dark, bleak tale set in wintry Sweden whilst sitting on a beautiful warm, sunny Cornish beach in the middle of August. There is a greyness that I find utterly absorbing and I can't wait to read the next book, 'The Dogs of Riga'.

What are you reading?

(ps: apologies for the bizarre layout: it wouldn't let me leave a space between books, thus creating a large bed of words that would have put me off, at least: Grrrr!)

Self-imposed craft exile...

Regular readers (although, that's an oxymoron as I do not provide enough waffle for you to digest on a regular basis: I'm only thinking of those waistlines...) may have noticed that I have been uncharacteristically quiet on all creative fronts: the shop is still there but bereft of anything new, the blog has creaked to an emollient-free stop, and Flickr, once the place for wips, cakes and inspiration is saturated, regrettably, with my face, a self-portrait on a Thursday being my only creative outburst. Unfortunately, life has got in the way and yumptatious has taken second place to, at the moment, more important shenanigans. Last (school) year was an extremely hectic one and I am determined to redress the balance, but I need your help:

I need YOU!!!

(apologies that the crazy world of foreshortening makes it look as if I am brandishing a stump where my forefinger should be: nice.)

I need you to kick my butt, (in a creative, metaphorical sense only please: I've met a number of you and reckon that you could inflict serious damage if the need arose.) I need you to throw your creative briefs at me: tell me what to write about - be my editor (I won't expect payment...yet) Would you like me to write a review (book, music, film, exhibition etc), re-write a recipe, show you how to make something, tell you a story, give my opinion on a chosen topic etc? I will then post the results over on my spanking new blog. I struggled for ages to come up with a suitable name, fearing what pondlife Google would send my way. Therefore, I have decided against:

• Please kick me up the arse

• Give it to me (and make it hard as you like)

• I need YOU to push me

• Activate my creative juices

• and, of course I need your briefs.

I have gone for an 'exactly what it says on the tin' approach: behold yumptatious waffle!
Just leave your suggestions over there and I'll get cracking.


In the meantime, a quickish precis of the last 9 months creativity:
I've learnt to knit, and, in doing so, created probably my most popular picture on Flickr (21 extremely wise people have added it to their favourites)


I bought some of the yarns seen here from Texere Yarns up in Bradford, the place that I, and the other weavers, bought the yarns for their final projects from back in 1993, so I was thrilled that they are still going. (I wonder if present textile students at Nottingham still go there...)
Ooh, speaking of my fellow weavers from back in the day, I recently got back in touch with an old chum of mine via Facebook, Sarah Allen, who happens to also have an Etsy shop! Go and behold her beautiful cloth: she's damn talented and a purchase from her will increase your lifejoy tenfold.

I made a couple of skirts, one from Clothkits and one made from a sneaky template:

The one on the right is made from upholstery fabric I picked up from my local flea market for £2. Check out my sofa's jealous demeanour (and rightly so.)
I heartily recommend Clothkits: the instructions are easy to follow and they provide everything: the lining, the zip, even the thread. The skirt I plumped for is designed by the wondrous Rob Ryan and comes in many tempting colourways.

I have, of course, been baking, thanks to this amazing book. Every recipe is a winner, although I do think using a food processor does help with the lightness of the frosting. (if anyone would like to buy me a KitchenAid, please feel free: I'm not proud.)

Pornography, pure and simple.

Here are a few of my current favourite things:


clockwise from top left:
my current read and I recommend it whole-heartedly! Funny, honest, informative and inspiring in a cheese-free kinda way. I swear I put on weight with her as she ate her way around Italy (something I would love to do!)
I can't stop playing this album! If you're a pedant, you'll be able to pick out all the 80's references, but that doesn't mean that this is yesterday's leftovers served up as retro. One of those album's that proves that decent dance music can have soul too. This brings me great joy!
Whilst I do indeed love this whisky, it's pictured here more in honour of my latest addiction, 'The Wire'. If you haven't seen it, I can only hope that the God of Karma rectifies the situation and brings you the best thing you can set your eyes on (other than kittens, cake, oh and I guess your children) in the form of the dvd boxed set. And if you don't believe me, listen to Charlie Brooker: he has no reason to lie to you (unlike me, who may at some point need you to lend me a fiver, or help lugging some furniture, or to hide a body)
Superhit jossticks: unleash your inner (or outer) hippy and make your world smell sweeter!
I love Lush products: they smell fabulous, they do a bloody good job and they do it all with a glint in their eye. I'd previously tried Liz Earle's facewash (after remortgaging the house in order to do so...) but my skin hated it. It loves Ultra Bland though, which seems to last forever! Hurrah!
Sainsbury's have introduced more coffee's into their Fairtrade range. Currently enjoying their Italian blend: very nice!



Summer has been and gone, but we managed to get away to Cornwall and had a fabulous time. I love it down there, the mix of raw, beautiful coastline and moors steeped in history and the ghosts of myths and people past. We had a surfing lesson which was a real epiphany, though not for the reasons I had hoped. I discovered that my body is every one of it 37 years: I have no physical strength, I have no flexibility and certainly no grace or elegance (but then I never had!) Ok, I've never been a completely fit person, but my body has often surprised me when called for. Not this time: it's gotten older, and is tired and needs help. At least the neoprene was forgiving! Me and the sea didn't get on too well this holiday: she chewed me up and spat me out as I tried to get over her hormonal waves. I took the hint and admired her from a distance.

I did, however, discover the coffee shop with the finest view:

Tate St Ives.

They also do a good line in sandwiches, cakes and delicious coffee, and use Cornish ingredients where possible. We weren't in the mood for the actual gallery, though I urge you to go. Whilst in St Ives, make sure you go to Barbara Hepworth's Museum + Gallery. The garden is an oasis of space and calm, away from the cramped, yet picturesque, streets. I loved her studio: you can't go in, but you can peer through the windows at a tableaux of artistic industry: it looks like she's just popped out to make herself a cuppa.
We did pop into the shop to add to our collection of joyous inspiration:

clockwise from top left:
1) go to the Eden Project
2) pass out at the wonderment
3) after seeing her lil piggies in the Mediteranean Biome, purchase this utterly inspiring book and immerse yourself in her skillz via her website.
4) thank me later

A fabulous treasure hunt book from Alice Melvin

Postcard featuring 'St Ives Harbour (All Round)' by Bryan Pearce

This book makes me want to get the pencils and oil pastels (Sennelier, natch) out STAT! I love her work oh so very very much. Please buy me some.

Postcards featuring 'Restaurant View with Leach Jug'  and 'View from Pednolver Terrace' by Rachel Nicholson



Right, I'm off to lie in a darkened room in preparation for the arrival of my muse.
Let's not leave it so long next time.
x

Meet my monkeys!

Firstly, may I wish you all a very Happy New Year! How was it for you? Were you nestled under a hand-crocheted bedspread, sipping home-made sloe gin whilst tucking into home-made cake, snuggled up to your beautiful man (bedecked of hand-knitted jumper and needle-felted beard) and noticing how beautiful the stars twinkled onto the years first frost, wishing you had a macro lense powerful enough to capture such ephemeral beauty? Or were you dredging the abandoned glasses of a group of people who apparently are interesting, according to your now ex-friend, yet only succeeded in making you feel insignificant, thereby necessitating the need to get as drunk as humanly possible and thereby creating the table-dancing, bra-revealing snog-monster you ultimately morphed into?
I spent it with the in-laws near Penzance, drinking Guinness and arguing the importance of The Ting Tings whilst watching Jools' 'Hootenanny'. Its all good.

Anyhoots, at long last, I've listed the monkeys I made aeons ago, and took to Wemake (then brought home again...) I wanted to share my descriptions with you: I went off on lyrical flights of fancy. Ho hum: marketing is definitely not my strong point...
I still have Alan to list, but I'll post when he's on Etsy.

Meet Bunty!

Bunty has been a teacher of PE for 10 years at a well-respected girls school, just north of West Chesterfordingshire. Her vociferous opinions on subjects such as the wearing of earrings during lessons and dealing with period pain by getting the affected girl to run around a field has endeared her to the weaker-willed members of the staffing body, whilst causing much consternation in her young charges.

Bunty is ready for a new challenge, and, considering her victory at last years 'West Chesterfordingshire Orienteering Jamboree', soundly trouncing favourite Ernie Ernster into an uneventful 3rd place, she's not wrong.
Can you provide Bunty with the thrills and fresh air she so brazenly craves?



Meet Elspeth!

Elspeth was a model back in the 70's. She was a muse to such fashion luminaries as Ossie Clark and, later, Zandra Rhodes. A life of glamour, socialising, ill-advised tanning and string bikinis encapsulated our monkey friend, but that was all to shatter around her, when (in a similar fashion to the tv dropped from the window of the 2rd floor hotel apartment by her good friend, the late Keith Moon) she ruptured her tail during an exuberant round of Canasta.

Years of therapy followed, often punctuated by bouts of drink and drug abuse until, in the spring of 1989, she found herself in the doorway of master baker, Dave Inkles, and a love of creating yeast-engorged produce ensued.
Known for her fine cakes, crisp biscuits and majesterial scarf-wearing, Elspeth has risen to be a national treasure. Indeed, her programme, 'The Sound of Whisk on Egg' was voted 'Most Important Food-Based Programme' at last years Baftas.

Elspeth needs a new kitchen with live-in quarters:
Can you provide her with the bowls, whisks, vanilla, yeast and love she needs as she careers out of middle age? In return, she will regale you with stories of infinite glamour, plus tips on how to stop your custard from curdling.

So: what do you think?

How Bond broke my heart

I went to see the long awaited (and considerably over-hyped) 'Quantum of Solace' last night, a little wary after mixed reviews (in both the media and from trustworthy friends) Admittedly, it had a lot to live up to after the visual feast that is 'Casino Royale', a film that simultaneously reinvented the Bond genre whilst respecting what audiences have always loved about their favourite misogynistic, alcoholic, gadget-wielding, all-action hero.
I'd read that this ('Q o S') film was 'action-packed', but this didn't prepare me for the visual diatribe that followed. It starts off with a car chase, shot so close up, I assume to drag you personally into the action, but what happens is that you lose perspective of what is going on: your brain doesn't have time to register what it's seeing. And this is the films major flaw: so many choppy shots that keeping up with what the hell is going on is futile. All these stunning locations and no time to take it all in.
It is an incredible waste of talent and missed opportunities, tying up loose ends with gaffa tape rather than a neat bow. Daniel Craig is an amazing actor, completely mesmerizing no matter what film he's in (much like Johnny Depp, Michael Caine, Kathy Bates, Judi Dench etc) yet this doesn't allow him to get any further into the Bond psyche. Ok, we know he's heartbroken, we know he wants revenge, but that's it. For the whole film. He famously performed a high quota of the stunts in this film himself and, to be honest, he needn't have bothered: the film is shot in such a way that you can't tell its him anyway.
This film is basically a Bourne film, flimsily repackaged: for what reason, I do not know. And I don't like the Bourne films: 'Oh I wish I could remember who I am but, ooh! I appear to be a weapons expert! And a kung fu master! And I can speak 87 languages fluently! And I can remember how to drive! And I bet I'm shit hot at knitting too!' Oh fuck off, Bourne, you smug git!
When I watch a Bond film, I want to see a film that's loud and proud of itself: cocksure and eager to please. It needs an emotionally-stunted central character, lots of big explosions, scantily clad, beautiful ladies (if Bond is beautiful himself, like Craig, like Brosnan, like Connery, we don't mind), ridiculous gadgets and gizmos hidden in mundane objects, crazed madmen with elaborate plans to rule the world, Aston Martins, (NOT BMW's or Fords), Saville Row tailoring, and a clear sense of its own absudity. I don't want gritty realism ('Q of S' is incredibly violent: loads of bloody punch ups and death) I want escapism, pure, shiny, simple and fun. So come on, Bond People! Sort it out! Give us what we want, plus something we'd never expect!

By the way: they should have used this theme tune:




Rant over: back to my crafting...

Panic and Brownies

I don't know about you, but I reckon that if you are going to break a New Year's resolution, you should do it properly by, metaphorically, slapping its arse whilst laughing at its shoes: 'Blog each week?! *slap* Methinks not! And by the way, your shoes are repugnant! MUHUHAHAHA' or something like that...

I just don't want you to get bored of me...


Any potential stalkers out there? Well allow me to give you a headstart and tell you where I'll be on Saturday 6th December:

Ok, Jesus and his Dad may have something about this rather bold claim, but it is in fact the name for a group of rather fabulous designers and makers, myself included, who will be selling their wares from 11-5pm at The American Church, 79a Tottenham Court Road, W1T 5TD. Read all about it here. I expect to see you there, or else a note from your parent, on my desk the following Monday.


I have been busy since we last met: honest! I've made these:

This lemur one was a commission from a chum at work , and it inspired me to make more. (I have a similar one for a tea drinker with exquisite taste in my shop.)

I haven't listed this one yet...I don't know why (must have been distracted by something shiny) It will therefore escort me to WeMake.

The Union of Craft Tea Cosy
(sold, but I will recreate its' patriotic joy at some point)

lavender hearts (3 available in the shop)

brooches for WeMake (apart from the centre one, which is for this)

I believe in magic! I bought this size 10 linen skirt at my local flea market for one whole pound, for the fabric obviously (unless I was hoping to find another one in order to make trousers, I think that would be obvious) and asked the utterly gorgeous, uber stylish and ridiculously talented Abi Bansal if she could perform fabric alchemy and turn my base metal skirt into a gold tunic.

I love it, oh, everso. It hangs beautifully, the pockets are practical and at just the right height to pop your hands in comfortably for those moments that require sullen ambivalence, and / or lip balm storage. Check out her shop and her beautiful, inspiring blog and be touched by the Blessing of the Bansal: its what your life has been missing, quite frankly.

I've also made some tea towels (long story: all will be revealed soon) for those brand, spanking new group of craft renegades, ukhandmade. (who very kindly did a 'Spotlight' on me!) They're from a recipe by Lotta Jansdotter's 'Simple Sewing' and, whilst I know there is something 'Oh dear! Mum needs to start taking her pills again!' about making your own tea towels, they rock long and they rock hard. Admit it: you'd have them:

...and you'd be right too.

Ok, the 'Panic' in the title of this post refers to me getting ready for WeMake. (expect a minimalist style from the House of yumptatious...) Therefore, it is now time for brownies. (I know that's the real reason you're here.) But I warn you: if you are on a diet, navigate away from the page (unless, of course, you have a moment of clarity, in that you realise that your life will only improve, not when your thighs cease to rub together when you walk, but when you appreciate just how lucky you are to have any form of body at all, and that to waste life trying to conform to some narrow concept of beauty is futile, when you could be enjoying the warmth and joy that life, and a willing partner, are waiting to cloak you in.)

This is based on a recipe by Elisabeth Luard and is from the October edition of my favourite porn mag, Country Living. (I know its wrong, but I can't help myself...)
I have lost count how many times I have made this recipe already, at first, slavishly following the instructions (apart from the 75g chocolate: what is the point of leaving the last 25g?! Thwack it all in!) to what I do now: mixing it all in one pan.
I have used the strongest Green + Blacks chocolate and also Sainsbury's economy dark chocolate and it all works, baby! Just don't ever, EVER use cooking chocolate! As my beautiful, and very to-the-point chum, Vera once said to me, with a look of shock and disgust, 'Why?!?! Use real chocolate!' She is wise, and I haven't looked back since. (well, I did reverse round a corner last week...)
It also works with demerera sugar I discovered last week, after I ran out of caster sugar (when we run out of caster sugar, I have the same look of panic in my eyes when that my Mum used to have when she ran out of garlic: one part confusion mixed with two parts of fear. This shows just how much my Mum used/s garlic in her cooking, rather than reveal a fear of vampires.)
It works equally well with unsalted butter or cheap(ish) sunflower spread. (as long as you don't used reduced fat spreads, because they just don't do the job.)
And don't bother melting your chocolate and butter in a bowl over a pan of boiling water: I just melt it together in the pan: aah, bite me!
Ms Luard's recipe uses hazelnuts, but good old walnuts work well. I wager that pecans would be most edifying too, whatwhat.

Please feel free to print this off and put it on your fridge for ease of use. Personally, I'd be tempted to have it tattooed onto the inside of my eyelids, but I'm just a martyr to the baking cause.

The 'Surely there should be more effort involved?!' Brownies.

100g dark chocolate
125g chopped butter (it melts easier in small pieces) or 125g scooped margarine (you could possibly melt it by breathing on it: why not give it a go...)
250g caster sugar (or whatever sugar you have: its all good)
2 eggs
100g self raising flour
100g walnuts (or any nut that curries your favour)

Heat oven to 190oc / gas mark 5

Melt together the chocolate and butter, maverick style, straight in the pan over a medium heat.

Allow to cool slightly. (just the time it takes to either make a cup of tea, look for and download an obscure song from iTunes, or log onto Etsy, click on 'Community', then click on 'Forums', find the UK chat hidden away in 'Etc' and type in 'I'd have to disagree. I was quite ill for days as a result' and log out instantly.)

Add the sugar to the chocolate melaaaange and beat together.

Add the eggs to the sweet chocolate melaaaange and beat together.

Add the flour to the eggy, sweet, chocolate melaaaange and beat together.

Add the nuts to the flour-enriched, eggy, sweet, chocolate melaaaange and beat together.

Line a 20cm square tin (or the nearest you've got: I'm not a tin fascist) in the style of your choosing (I use reuseable Teflon liners, but thats just how I roll) and pour in the hip-enhancing goop.

Bake for 25 mins.

Cut into squares and allow to cool. I put mine in the fridge after about 20 mins to harden up the chocolate. I store them in there rather than storing them in a tin.

I know this is hard, but try not to eat the lot on your own, especially if you've used a powerful cocoa-charged chocolate, as you may get a little buzzy.

This is my gift to you: use it wisely.