A few of my favourite things

Here's a recipe for a happy yump:

Clockwise from bottom right:

• I'm drawn to this shade of yellow like a magnet to the fridge. I just find it comforting, not joyous: it's warm and gentle, wise perhaps. It does, however, make me talk bollocks - ho hum. The yarn I'm using is specifically designed for felting (I'll let you know if it works) and the beautiful pattern book is from the bargain bucket at C&H Fabrics. It's a beautiful book, even if I don't use any of the other patterns. Eye candy is underestimated and should be devoured as often as possible.
• After losing my first ever knitted hat, and feeling despondent from knitting never-ending fingerless gloves with 4-ply, I resolved to knit a new hat with chunky-as-you-like Big Softie yarn. I started whilst beginning the week cheerfully with a new english 'Wallander' with the wonderful Kenneth Branagh (but do try and catch the original Swedish version, often on BBC4, which I think is marginally better, though both reduce the current crop of televisular dirge to mere cataracts) and finished the following afternoon: this instant yarn gratification was just what I needed. However, I over-estimated the girth of my head, or at least the length of it, but luckily my finishing was neat enough to allow for a turned brim. And it was just in time for all the snow. I am still ploughing on with the mittens and may have them finished by Xmas, when I will probably burn them in a ritual sacrifice to the Goddess of Craft, asking Her for patience and fatter yarns in future. The pattern is from 'Stitch and Bitch' by the way, should you wish to while away the hours whilst watching Swedish drama of the greyist, weightiest yet atmospherically sumptuous variety.
• The land of my dreams is Paris at the mo, and if anyone would like to buy me this apartment, I would be most grateful and would even send you cake. I am feeding this daydream with a daily munch from the delicious visual buffet of 'Paris: Made by Hand' by Pia Jane Bijkerk (who has a rather beautiful blog too.), a delicious collection of 'the city's artisans, createurs, and craft boutiques'. If you are going to Paris, physically or in your mind, I whole heartedly recommend it: it's small enough not to be cumbersome and should lead you into dark spaces of illuminated joy that you wouldn't have bothered with before. If you are going, could you bring me back anything from this amazing shop please? Merci!
• I am currently addicted to the BBC digital station, 6music. Facebook chums will already be aware of my regular spamming of their status update pages with yet another gem they must listen to that I've just heard via 6music. The DJ's are irreverant, intelligent and clearly love the music they play. Here they are allowed to be as geeky as they want, encouraging their listeners to do the same, creative a music nerd safe-haven. They also tap into the stunning BBC archives to play long forgotten Peel sessions and a variety of music royalty live sets. Particular favourite DJ's are Adam & Joe (of coursee, Tom Robinson's eclectic ear, new boy Jarvis Cocker (a perfect mix of music and literature, tied together with a ribbon of Cocker wit), Huey Morgan (who, along with JC, turns Sunday into a joyous day full of interest rather than the grey day before the week starts again) and Lauren Laverne, keeping me company during the morning. To me, it's bliss.
  
• I have a new guru and her name is Lynne Truss. If you haven't read any of her funny and informative books, may I urge you too. They won't take you long as the typeface is huge. Make sure you are sitting properly as you may develop a neck twinge with all the nodding in agreement as you read. She just speaks common sense and if more people read 'Talk to the Hand', perhaps we can all remember to be a tad more civil to each other, as a little consideration towards others really oils the wheels of our day to day world. However, do not do as I did and read 'Eats Shoots and Leaves' at the same time as John Updike: it took all my strength not to start adding commas, apostrophes and colons of every flavour to his book.
• Finally, baking. These biccies remind me of the ones my old school cooks' would occasionally treat us to, instead of the uninspiring jelly whip or tedious selection of starchy yogurts for most days Dpuddings. These biccies are both crunchy and chewy, with a delicious gingery, toffee flavour (courtesy of the Golden Syrup) Here, size matters: you won't achieve the same amount of comfort nostalgia with a small packet-sized biscuit. The recipe comes courtesy of Jeanette Orrey, the woman who inspired Jamie Oliver to help overhaul school lunch nutrition. I've omitted the chocolate from her recipe, but feel free to add 60g of chopped choc if you wish. The measurements are slightly different as I received a rather gorgeous set of scales for my birthday that measure in increments of 20g, making weighing 55g an impossibility. From my limited experience, I've found that baking is down to ratios: alter all weights in the same way and you should be ok.
  

School biccies.
(makes 8)

180g plain flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
60g oats
120g butter (or marg)
120g demerera sugar (or caster, light brown or a mix)
1 heaped tablespoon golden syrup
drop or two of milk

• preheat the oven to 180oC / 350oF / Gas Mark 4
• line two large baking trays with baking paper or the non-stick parchment-equivalent of your choice
  
• mix together the flour, baking powder and oats in a big bowl
• rub in the butter to create a breadcrumby melange
• add the sugar (and choc if using) and golden syrup and stir to create a stiff dough. You may need to add a drop or two (or three) of milk to bind it all together.
• divide the dough into eight equal portions. Roll each portion into a ball, place on baking sheet and flatten sensitively with your hand, allowing room for the biccie to grow.
• bake for 20-25 mins until pale brown and cracked of surface (they should look like mahoosive gingernuts)
• allow to cool on the sheets before transferring to cooling racks
• enjoy with tea and the knowledge that your school days are long behind you.

What are your favourite things at the mo?

PS: I'm having a clearance sale!!! Please come by and pick up a bargain before I hire a flame thrower and destroy the lot in a hormonal frenzy.

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?

Stuff and nonsense

First things first: this Sunday, the 22nd June, a group of fabulously talented makers are getting together near Convent Garden to unleash their creative produce to the world. Its called WeMake, and you need to be there, armed with money and hungry for gorgeousness. You can find out about it on their blog here.
I'm going up to support rather than have a stall. If you see me, do come and say hello and drag me for coffee and cake, not that I'll need much persuading if there are refreshments involved.

Speaking of cake, I've been a bit of a Domestic Goddess recently, if I do say so myself, thanks largely to this fantabulous cookbook. Here's an example of the joy that book can bring:

the ones with purple splodges are cherry (use frozen cherries for ease and welcoming moistness), yogurt and oat and the others are spiced apple and walnut.

The book is wondrous: the recipes are easy to follow, the combinations of flavours are tasty and not outlandish and the results are consistent. Its the kind of book people buy firstly for themselves, and then come back and buy many for friends and family. Its so good, my best mate KT had it sent over from Hastings to her new home in New Zealand as she missed it so.

On the crafting front, sometimes it pays to rethink and re-do a project. I had made some fabric hearts, stuffed with polyfil, as general decorative fripperies. They sat, unloved in my shop, until I suddenly saw the obvious need and re-stuffed them with some calming lavender. I very quickly sold two! Hurrah! I have some more: you need them, your socks need them, let alone your pants. They're in the shop now! (I keep them in a tupperware-style box, determined to keep the freshness in) They're kinda cute, just this side of Cath Kidston, and quite normal for me!



I was recently commissioned by a chum at work to make something for his girlfriend's birthday. She loves lemurs and he wanted to give her a pouch (zip up purse / make-up / oddment bag) that lovingly empathised with her love of this Madagascan inhabitant.
So, after some preliminary sketches


I came up with this:


He loved it but more importantly, so did she. Even more importantly, it started a chain reaction which linked in with some ideas I'd had in my sketchbook:


and these lead to the creation of these beauties:

top left (sold): "aint nowt wrong with my girlie crap", top right: "aint nowt wrong with loving cake", bottom left: "tea, coffee, wine and beer - its all good" and bottom right: "aint nowt wrong with loving a chicken"

All this creativity needs replenishing, and at times like this, despite her teeth-itching (cheers Maose for that phrase!) tv performances, Nigella shines through. I adapted her recipe for 'Old Fashioned Chocolate Cake', found in the 'Chocolate Hall of Fame' to be found in the beautiful 'Feast'. She suggests '175g best quality dark chocolate', I suggest Lidl's milk chocolate, 29p for 100g.

Its all good.

Quick round up of my recent reads:

Alice Hoffman 'The Third Angel'. I thoroughly enjoyed this story. We start off with one character, then layers are peeled back to reveal a complex story of intertwining characters, linked in ways that none of them are aware of. The characters on the periphery are far more absorbing than the perceived central character, but discovering the warp and weft (eeh! That textile degree wasn't a waste, Mum!) of their stories is ultimately very satisfying. The settings, both physical and in time, are beautifully evocative, but then I'm a sucker for anything set in the 50's and 60's: if its well written, I see it in black and white, in a cloud of innocence and cigarette smoke. I'd love to know what you think.

Nora Ephron 'I Feel Bad About My Neck'. I would recommend this for any woman over 30, and certainly for women over 50. As a 36 year old woman, I want to know that there is life, and it is fun, and it is positive, as I get older. Would-be role models fall prey to plastic surgery and the ridiculous concept that a youthful face is wrinkle free and immobile. As the mother of a rather beautiful teenager, let me remind you that a youthful face is incredibly animated and full of wonder, however much they try and mask it with an air of boredom and cynicism- wrinkles make not a jot of difference. Any hoots, this is a smart, sassy perceptive and honest read, as you'd expect from the writer of 'When Harry met Sally'. It oozes positivity, not in a hippy drippy Louise L Hay kind-of-a-way, but in a beautiful, down-to-earth way. If you've ever had ovaries, or you've ever met someone who has, read it.

Meg Wolitzer 'The Ten Year Nap'. I loved this book deeply. Certain lines in this book were written just for me and me alone I am sure. The woman has opened up my brain, assessed how I feel about being a woman, wife, mother, human, and peppered her story with nuggets of wisdom to remind me that I'm doing ok and that I should stop beating myself up all the time for not being all that I should be. If you're a mother, read this. If you think that one day, you'll have children, read this, because anyone who tells you your life won't change when you have children is lying! The story centres around one character, Amy, then pans out to encompass all her friends. Each has a different take on the notion of motherhood and how it has affected them. I love the idea of 'The Ten-Year Nap': women all over the world are suddenly woken up by the growing independence of their offspring, revealing the woman that was there before ante-natal checks, urine samples and more internal examinations than are strictly necessary: 'Oh shit! I'm still here: a whole lot wider, a little wiser, but I still have my sense of humour and, despite an appalling recall for names, my brain still seems to be working...So what now?!'

On a completely different tangent, I'm currently reading George Melly's autobiographical trilogy and also this anthology of Dave Allen, and am thoroughly enjoying them both. (you can 'hear' them narrate: it is impossible to read without hearing their particular vocal inflections.) I'll let you know how me and the boys get on!


PS: thanks, hugs and the promise of cake to Bee and Maose for their nagging: I'll try and blog more, but, if you enjoy the read, feel free to nag more! :-)

Welcome to my Jam Hostel!

Jam Hostel?! Yes: either that, or Mr Yumptatious has sneakily been writing on my forehead 'Please give me homemade jam' whilst I am at one with my slumbers. Again. How else can I explain the current (currant? ouch!) trend of friends giving me homemade jam? I'm not complaining, although I expect to be surfing a wave of sugar for the next few months, so should we meet, don't let the sugar-fuelled tremors scare you. You may want to keep me away from kettles, small children and the elderly (not because I might damage them, just I never know what to say to old people and I may accidently bore them to death with my lack of sparkling repartee. Unless they're into the 'Mighty Boosh' and the early films of Woody Allen, in which case we'll be fine n dandy!)

For those you with short attention spans, here's the first bunch of jam orphans put up for adoption by the wonderful, yet ruthless Helen:

I love their gingham hats! Hamish ate all the quince
jelly: the ONLY jam he likes. I haven't tried the
redcurrant yet.

delicious breakfast of fresh coffee, multigrain bagel with butter and loganberry jam

A decent jam demands a decent jam spoon: this was given to me (and all the other pupils) at primary school to commemorate the wedding of Charles and Di in 1981.
First person to tell me they weren't born then buys me a car.

I then felt suitably jammed up to actually make something!

A Valentine wip (not literally...but its an idea....)

After going through my blog list (not on here but on a now deleted list in my 'Bookmarks') I came across a recipe for some sweet evil, which, of course, I had to make myself. I would post a link, but to be honest, I can't remember where I saw it, but google 'pretzel rolo' and you'll discover it features in many blogs. Fearful as I am of original thought, here is my effort:

do you think I overdid the photo with the Cath Kidston plate and crushed velvet? I tried to get a couple of songbirds to sit near the plate but they were preoccupied with a forgotten glitterball hanging forlornly from a dusty old anglepoise lamp.

Here's how to make them:

1. preheat oven to 180oc (I have no idea what gas mark that is)
2. put pretzels onto a lined baking sheet
3. realise that the reason the pretzels are in the 'be good to yourself' range is because they are half the size of normal pretzels. Put 2 pretzels side by side.
4. break up a bar of Sainsburys (or any other own brand) chocolate caramel. (there was a Rolo drought in Tonbridge earlier on this week. I guess.) Put one square on a pretzel twin set. Marvel at just how small the pretzels really are.
5. thwack the goods in the oven. Leave them for about 5 mins but keep checking every 5 seconds for signs of extreme meltdown.
6. remove from oven just after extreme meltdown has occured: if you haven't said 'ahhh, bollocks!' when you've opened the oven door, you're too early. Great cooking must have an air of failure about it (besides, the burnt caramel tastes delicious when cooled and peeled from the tray)
7. get your pecans (ooops! forgot to say that you need pecans. Grab anything to hand: Smarties, walnuts, aspirin etc) and squidge one into each chocolate evil, but not too hard else there will be projectile caramelling.
8. put in the fridge and leave to cool.
9. pace the kitchen for an hour. Every 10 seconds, open the fridge door and poke the nearest evil with your finger to see if its set. You may want to ask your evils questions for the last 10 minutes such as 'Are you ready yet?!', 'How do I know when you're ready?' and 'Feeling lucky today, punk?!'
10. eat straight off baking sheet, preferably before the kids / husband /dietician comes home.

Yesterday, the beautiful and marvellous KT came over with a hamper of homemade wonders and shop-bought trinkets-'o'-joy:

she had filled it with tissue so it looked all profesh and snuggly but I heartlessly put it in the recycling.
The big jar has Sunset Chai mix in it from the Happy Campers book (see my book list) and the jams are cranberry, apple + blackberry, plum+ apple, and pumpkin + ginger.

We then spent the afternoon doing what we have always done best: eat, drink tea and talk: bliss!

delicious fresh Scotch eggs with KT's spiced plum chutney, my evil brownies



KT's white chocolate and cranberry cookies: you cannot have just one. Or just five. I think she's put drugs in them: something addictive like crack or Calpol.

So who's coming round for tea next?

13th July 2007 A.G. (After Gazastock)

Its now Friday and I finally feel sufficiently back to normal to tell you all about the wonderful time I had at Gazastock.
(and if you've found your way here after meeting me in the stall, Welcome!)

It was the first time that I had set up a stall and was interested in seeing
a) what people, other than friends and family, thought of my stuff
b) if anyone would buy anything and
c) if there was a pattern in what was selling; what did people prefer.

Despite knowing that Gazastock was imminent, I still had stuff to finish that I kept putting off: I'm not the most organised of people as the effort required is quite frankly exhausting. For example, the monkeys that I had finished troubled me (not literally: they weren't putting mousetraps in my bed or laughing at my shoes or anything).


So I unpicked their crotches, and like a sensitive gynaecologist, entered with care and re-sewed the seams from the inside (that last bit doesn't refer to my own gynaecological experience...).


I didn't like seeing all the knots that I hadn't known how to hide and the button eyes were just wrong; the monkeys looked lobotomized when they were supposed to look cheeky, like they'd nick your car keys and go for a jolly at the coast.
I think it was worth the effort:

check out their velvet tails!

monkey family photo

And, me being me, (that is: someone who has no concept of time and space and my place within) uttered the immortal words that spell the imminence of panic and lateness -

I'll just do this.

So when I should have been finishing and tweaking, I was making:

small pieces of hair clip joy, to bring a touch of life to even the most dowdy hair.

I also started to make some button bracelets, but stopped as they needed not to be rushed:

in descending order of finishedness: finished at the top, still on sellotape at the bottom

I also made these simple necklaces using beads I've treasured for years and some rather luscious velvet ribbon:



When I laid out all I had, I thought it was enough and it was good:

So on a rainy Thursday evening, kids in tow, we descended to a beautiful boggy field to set up Laura's gazebo and turn it into our own little groovy parlour. (Laura was selling hats: an inspired piece of buying as the sun came out and people wanted the funky, portable shade that her hats brought). We put up our tents and set off home, satisfied that there wouldn't be much to do the next day...
But life is not like that, so that instead of getting to the site by midday on the Friday, I got there at 3pm, laughing at the instruction that 'all traders should be ready for trading by 3pm'. Only the burger vans were ready for trading as heavy winds overnight had caused chaos: people, including Laura, had arrived to find that the wind had been practicing juggling in the field. Tents had been blown into the trees, our gazebo (fortunately stock-less) had enjoyed a ride across the field and apparently one of the marquees, devoid of its canvas casing, had been turned into a metal sculpture. By the time I strolled in, buzzing my face off thanks to enthusiastic quaffing of Rescue Remedy, I was greeted with tired relieved faces, still slightly shell-shocked and a festival held together with gaffa tape (Gaffastock?)
We set up shop and within minutes I had made my first sale: a small monkey, named 'Sock' went to live with a lovely young girl whose name escapes me. She carried Sock everywhere, keeping him warm in a white sock sleeping bag. That was lush: seeing the look of joy and love that kiddy had for something I had made.
In the words of Spandau Ballet, 'to cut a long story short' the monkeys sold out by early Saturday evening. The grey one went home with Stuart and the red one went with this guy.
Unfortunately, I missed the purchase and subsequent Chafford baptism of one of the big monkeys that they named Monomo. If that was you, get in touch!
The purses went well: I sold 5 of those! The remaining 3 are back on Etsy. And then a smattering of sales throughout, but almost more importantly, I had a great deal of positive feedback. People don't go to Gazastock for the shopping: they go to listen to some great music, chill out, have a damn good laugh and party hard. The fact I sold anything was a bonus!
So what have I learned: people love monkeys (and if you were one of those who expressed the wish for a monkey at a later date, please get in touch), people like to have a browse and people like options. They like choice, they like tangibility, they like to have a chat and a laugh. And we did!

I've had a week off and shall get back to business next week: 2 aprons for Nicky, a brooch for Kate, the hunt for tartan socks for Helen, a new skirt for me, some long, single-strapped bags etc.

PS Please visit the Gazastock website here and here, where you can listen to some choice tunes from the bands at whose feet we worshipped (Origami Dinosaur, The Mighty Peas: 2 faves of mine).