Jennifer only realized she had a problem with her hoarding . . .

. . . when she could no longer reach the kettle!

This is the kitchen (the hall is in a similar state) as we have a HUGE clear out in the Junk Room of Doom.  Much of this is the detritis of living here for 25 years and not really chucking anything away. . . 

We have now got a charity shop pile, another auction pile and a keep-and-hope-to-sell pile starting to form in the hall.

Ancient Hoover vacuum anyone?  It was my late ma-in-law's and is just one item of the "stuff" we inherited after her death.  It is still capable of sucking the carpet off the floor! 

Anyway, duty calls.  I had better get back to the Pit Face . . .

Today's Car Boot Sale

Photo taken inlast Sunday in Ledbury.  I shall return (having had a soft spot for cider all my life!)

This morning we went down to the car boot sale, as usual.  As it was dry and the sun even came out at times, there were more folk outside than usual.  Quite a few mums trying to sell what they'd bought their kids in previous Christmases to pay for this year's gifts.  Other people - even more desperate - with pure junk . . .

Anyway, we wandered round, and my husband got a carved wooden candlestick for the grand sum of 50p.  The minute he spotted it I knew it would be coming home with us as he has a soft spot for such things - he used to do a lot of turning himself, so he knows the work that goes into it.

I bought a small Welsh waffle blanket with a couple of small holes, which I am going to wash and hopefully turn into something useful - if I can't mend it, then perhaps cushion covers? 

I also found an embroidery book I read about years and years ago and would have liked, but never got it - The Subversive Stitch.  A bit of a Feminist book (and I am Earth Mother rather than Feminist) but very interesting to read about how women who sewed were treated in the past - well, exploited is probably the closer term, in many circumstances.  I'll share it on here, as I know quite a few of my followers sew in one form or another, or appreciate sewn items.

Then I had a battle with myself over a pair of used vintage Laura Ashley curtains, which should fit the kitchen window (right colourway too, having a lot of yellow).  They had slightly faded edges on one side though, so once again, I would need to work on them . . .  Anyway, bartering brought them my way, so we shall see . . .

Then one of the stallholders we often chat with asked my husband if he would be interested in the written side of Military history (yes).  From him we bought 3 postcard-photos (the same) of Pte. John Ross, of the 9th Battalion, the Royal Scots, who died in 1917 and is buried near Arras.  There is a letter written from him to his mother, and Army Form B. 104-121 informing his mother (presumably) of the last resting place of John Ross near Rocliecourt, Arras, dated September 1917.  I will do a seperate post for him when I have found out more of his history, but will have to wait until Tuesday, when the Records Office will be open next and I can go in and use one of their computers to look up the details .  Poor boy - he looked about 16 in the photo.  All the more poignantly, his writing style had similarity to my dad's, especially the "f" and the "&".  I wonder how these items came so far from Edinburgh to end up in our part of Wales?

My research shows that he died on the same day and in the same battle as poet Edward Thomas . . . 9th April 1917.

Will the real Jamie Fraser please stand up . . .

 

I don't know how many of you reading this are fans of the Diana Gabaldon novels featuring Jamie Fraser and Claire Randall, but I have to say, if I was stuck on the famous Desert island, this complete series would have to be with me (along with the complete works of Thomas Hardy, just to keep me grounded about love!)

Anyway, the first of her novels "Outlander" in the States, but it was published in the UK as "Cross Stitch", is currently being filmed and if you want to know what young Jamie looks like, follow this link.  If you think it will be a spoiler, look away . . .   HERE   I think he'll do . . .

If you want some more smidgens from Youtube, this is your lucky day.  Lock yourself somewhere quiet with your laptop and imagine yourself as Claire . . .  HERE

There are LOTS more links there - I think there were lots of contenders for Jamie and Claire, but I really DO NOT think that Rachel Weiss was EVER right for Claire - I would be expecting scarab beetles hiding behind every rock!!!  

If you have never read the books, then you could be in for a treat.  This is copied from DianaGabaldon.com:

In 1946, after WWII, a young Englishwoman named Claire Beauchamp Randall goes to the Scottish Highlands with her husband, Frank. She’s an ex-combat nurse, he’s been in the army as well, they’ve been separated for the last six years, and this is a second honeymoon; they’re getting re-acquainted with each other, thinking of starting a family. But one day Claire goes out walking by herself, and comes across a circle of standing stones—such circles are in fact common all over northern Britain.  She walks through a cleft stone in the circle….and disappears. Back into 1743, where the first person she meets is a gentleman in an 18th-century army officer’s uniform. This gentleman, Jack Randall, looks just like her husband Frank—and proves to be Frank’s six-times-great-grandfather. Unfortunately, he also proves to be a sadistic bisexual pervert, and while trying to escape from him, Claire falls into the hands of a gang of Highland Scots, who are also trying to get away from Black Jack Randall—though for other reasons.

In order to avoid being handed over to Captain Randall, Claire is obliged to marry one of the young clansmen. So she finds herself trying to escape from Castle Leoch and her Scottish captors, trying to get back to her husband Frank, trying to avoid being recaptured by Captain Randall—and falling in love with Jamie Fraser, the young man she’s been forced to marry. The story rolls on from there…

Many millions of fans think it is the greatest (love) story ever written and wish they had a Jamie all of their own! . . .



Photograph copied from Images of Perthshire, on the wonderful VisitScotland website

Cat in a Box

This is Banshee's winter quarters.  It was a box of discarded paper strips, with some finished puzzle pages on top, and she has decided it is very snug thank you . . .  better than her being on top of the fridge-freezer all last winter anyway . . .

Not to be outdone, Fluff decided Boxes Are Good . . .

Alfie is a little put out that HE doesn't get a look-in . . .

My lovely sewing table has a temporary home as a telephone table - the cupboard below the little lift-up lid is useful for the phone book and address books.

I spent yesterday morning making a big Fish Pie for the freezer.  It makes SUCH a change to actually follow a new recipe.

The recipe was one of Hugh's and fairly straightforward.

This ox yoke was one of the things we bought from Malvern  In hindsight, I dare say it is imported and last used on a Water Buffalo, but it has a certain rustic charm.

The dealer had this one wrongly descraibed as an old Thatcher's tool on the ticket.  I saved him having to alter it by buying it myself, cheaply.  It is in fact a horse gag for giving boluses of medicine, back in Victorian times.  The ring in the centre was where you put your hand, holding the medicine, so you could push it down the horse's throat.  Worming cures and "physics" were given thus.

Above and below, I couldn't resist this partly sewn colourful Crinoline Ladies cushion cover.  More work!

It was only two pounds.

This is a lovely large Torquay jug to enjoy for a bit . . .

You are probably now thinking, what on earth does she need THAT for - now she no longer has horses?  Well, a friend suggested using it to get a bad stain out of a valuable old Welsh blanket I have.  Apparently the Borax in the poultice draws out the stain.  Well, we shall see.  Nothing to be lost, that's for sure. Apart from the £5.99 I had to pay for this.  Things have gone up a lot even in the 5 years since I had horses.

Another day out at Malvern Fleamarket

If you thought Golliwogs were non-PC, just look at what he's wearing round his neck . . .  To overseas visitors, it's a Jim'll Fix It badge, given by the late and now despised proven paedophile Jimmy Saville, who was so good at collecting money for charity that a blind eye was turned to his "dark side" during his life. . .

We went to Malvern Fleamarket again yesterday.  On the way we stopped at the Brecon Militaria Fair, to meet up with a friend and have a wander round.  There's always plenty to learn.

This post will contain more examples of taxidermy, good and bad, so if you don't care for it, don't read on . . .

There are all sorts of different stalls.  Lots of house clearance, and some displays look more reminiscent of a car boot sale - though they can still yield gems on occasion.

I have a soft spot for these cream and green-edged enamel saucepans.  They remind me of my childhood.

There is always a lot of taxidermy about - quite often bad taxidermy, which I find drawn to photograph.  This (and his friends) had been a Spanish bullfighting bull.  Obviously a very brave one, to be preserved like this.  Unfortunately his stitch marks were a bit obvious.

You had a choice of colours . . .

There is always a vast selection of china - some desirable, some . . .  not!

If I'd had the money, this watercolour of a cracking cob called "Nobby" would have come home with me.  Ticket price was £100, but I'd have haggled . . .

I was a little perplexed as to what this might be - a sort of glorified wool winder, which combined different colours of yarn?  Dunno.  Suggestions on a postcard please . . .

 

A civet cat.

There are always lots of foxes.  This is not a 3 legged one, I think the fourth leg must be behind his brush.

This leery fox has the oddest expression, and reminds me of someone but I can't quite think who.  A politician probably . . .  Forgive me if I have photographed him before, as this stallholder does all the big Fleamarkets for miles around.

This poor little chap was obviously one of life's early casualties.

Some didn't even make it to an upright position.

Not for me - a whole new take on a three-legged stool . . .

A pretty little hexagon cushion snuggled in a nice copper pan.

There is always lots of costume jewellery.  Here is a lovely display for my daughters to delight in.

Finally it was time to leave Malvern.

Taking photos of scenery from a moving car is always difficult

Typically, a car came round the corner as I pressed the button!

Anyway, we had a lovely day, although driving home in the approaching dark was tiring, especially in that period between very dimpsey and actual darkness.  I bought a couple of things, which I will share with you later.

Winter projects

This is the weather for home-made soup, although this turned into more of a stew by the time I added the pasta spirals, which sucked up all the soup-juice.  A real rib-sticker and just what you need to warm from the inside out.  This one was made with some beef mince, 2 onions, a tin of chopped tomatoes and some tomato puree, and a pint of beef Oxo stock, plus some of a big portion of Ratatouille I had made back in the summer, and pasta.  Scrummy.

This morning is VERY much warmer, I am glad to say.  Of course, that also means we have grey skies, but it's dry, and I can cope with that.  Frosty mornings are nice to look at, but as I get older, warm, grey and dry suit me better!

I have put today aside to write the annual Christmas letter, and get the overseas cards written ready to post tomorrow.  I managed to get some Christmas shopping done yesterday, so have broken the back of it.  It was a welcome break in the marathon car-sitting-whilst-OH-is-at-the-auction.  We had gone in first thing to view it, and he had noted a couple of things of interest.  Of course, they were a couple of hundred lots apart, which is Sod's Law.  There was no point in going home (and a waste of fuel), so we decided to wait it out.

I have to say, viewing an auction which is full of really lovely antique furniture from a Big House, always feels like a privilege.  I love to see Elizabethan four poster beds, and old oak Court Cupboards, and Tridarns, and Wainscott Chairs, and little side-tables hundreds of years old and polished like glass.  I run my hands over them, sensing their history, and what a tale some of this stuff could tell.  The love stories, the heartbreak, the son who made good, the Black Sheep who brought the estate to ruination, the births, the deaths.  At one auction I went to (more down-market than this), under the table was a box of bed-linen, and the detritis of a linen cupboard.  Whoever it had belonged to had not resolved herself to death being final, for she was very much present and absolutely FURIOUS that her stuff had ended up there.  I made a mental note NOT to bid on that box.  Some of you are probably thinking I am a fruit-loop, but there are certain things I pick up on - atmospheres, emotions particularly, associated with places and - "things" - belongings that is, and it is not just a figment of my imagination. Most of you could pick up the atmosphere in a room where there has just been a furious argument, even more so if the people who had argued were still in that room.  Well, my ability is like that, only stronger.  I call it being empathic.

Anyway, I whiled away my time in the car by sewing the Christmas wall-hanging.  Here is a reminder of it:

This is it, straight from the shop.

I did the first panel on Monday evening.  Then the other two yesterday afternoon.  Several hours of quilting there.

As you can see, I made good progress.

I am quite meticulous, quilting round bits other people
would probably leave, but I enjoy doing it, and let's
face it, I had nothing else to do.

Finally it got a bit chilly, and the light was fading, so
I had a walk around The Range to warm up before
my husband finally appeared, with the two items he
had been successful in buying.

On Monday we went down to Swansea to meet
up with our middle daughter, G, who took us out
to lunch, bless her.

I finally got her inside a fabric shop, and she chose
and bought the material for an old rocking chair my
husband had rescued from a car  boot sale for the
princely sum of £1.  I've painted the woodwork and
just had to wait for G to decide on the fabric.  A job
for a dreary January day I think.

We also bought material for cushions, and for reupholstering the drop-in seats on 6 Victorian Balloon Back dining chairs which have been languishing about the house for several years now (and bought when the market was still buoyant, so we have a goodly amount tied up in them).  Another January job.

In the meantime, I am waiting for the Patchwork shop to take possession of the white fabrics I need so that I can carry on with the quilt making.  We drove along to the Mumbles on Monday, in the hope of getting the white fabrics from the Patchwork shop there, but it was not open.  Sigh.  They will definitely NOT be finished in time, but I hope to have both tops completely pieced.  As long as life doesn't get in the way that is, which it has a habit of doing.

We did get some sea air, hhowever, and a walk along by the waterfront, which I have to say, is not very inspiring once the tide is dropping.  No sand to speak of, but lots of mud, and dirty rocks and a few sewage outlets . . .

The plumes of smoke from the steelworks at Port Talbot are across on the far side of Swansea Bay.

Finally, my daytime reading is Mary Webb's Seven for a Secret, which has been on my bookshelf for several years now, along with several other of Mary Webb's books.  My friend Ann suggested I read it, and I am thoroughly enjoying it.  She had such a beautiful style of writing, wonderful expressions, and a real empathy with the backward-looking people of Shropshire in the early 1900s.  Before the days of radio, everyone was still tied to the beliefs of the generations that had gone before them.  What fascinating social history and folklore has been lost . . .

November walk

We had some sunshine yesterday and so I set out for a walk along the valley bottom.  The trees are finally changing colour and losing their leaves.  Here, the little Larch plantation across the valley has turned to the colour of Lucozade.

The river has gone back to fairly normal levels again for this time of year.

Autumn colour on the beech trees on the riverbank.

Past the mill . . .

And down the lane after the junction.

Sunlight on a riverbank tree.

Looking across our neighbour's riverside fields.

The view up the pretty lane heading homewords.

The view through the trees.

Our beautiful river valley.

I even made it up our steep hill with just one stop, so fingers crossed.  Keep taking the tablets and all that!

Off to view an auction today, and a quick visit to the patchwork shop to see if the fabric I need is back in stock.