Sunday, Tears & An Unexpected Story

I'm working this Sunday, and missing out on a local Vintage Fair that I've had scrawled in my diary for some months now. This doesn't make me happy. To add insult to injury, work called me out to a fire alarm last night, and I had to drive past all the hand painted signs, advertising said Fair and all it's treasure possibilities. I suppose I should take comfort in the earning rather than the spending. 

Should.

So instead, I've decided to make a trip to the Peterborough Fair next Saturday. I hadn't wanted to go alone, as man was working, but a lovely friend called in yesterday, and it just so happens she loves a good hunt, and as luck would have it, her husband is going to Spain that weekend, leaving her free to join me on an excursion of the utmost importance! Peterborough, here we come! 

She brought me a gift when she stopped by for tea. Apparently, whilst on a minor charity shop hunt, she came across something that spoke my name. The something was wrapped in tissue, tied up in a yellow bow, and presented to me with strict instruction that reciprocation was not necessary. Of course, she knows....it is.

This pinny was made for a goddess with a 22inch waist! This matters not. The apron strings do indeed reach around the whole circumference of my more contemporary figure, and will be donned at my next opportunity to cook a roast dinner. This may be at Christmas. Until then, I think it will do nicely hanging in the kitchen. (Just need a hook)

Let me tell you a little story about this lady, and how our friendship came to be.....

I saw her husband in a band one night when I was 17 (1997)... He played an arrangement of a song called "Livin' On A Prayer".... and I thought it was beautiful. I never forgot, nor heard it done quite the same again. Her husband M, became friends with my Dad on this night, in a dark club called O'Neill's. I recall a late night lock in, and several drunken renditions of "American Pie". I remember that I had a great night, and drank Brandy with my Dad and the band until the morning came. As time went on, M and my Dad  started to play in a band together. By this time, I had had babies, and no longer followed my Dad around on his rock n roll adventures....so the Brandy and the song carried on without me. M and his wife S were good friends of my Dad for many many more years. Many more nights of guitars and spirits were shared, and music was made. 

And then, my Dad was gone. Too quickly. 

Gosh I didn't plan on going this way when I started writing, the bloody tears are falling now! 

Anyway. 

I had never known the world without my Dad in it. He was with me when I came in to the world, and I was with him when he left. We had given each other all that we needed to. More time in his presence, together, with more brandy and more song, would have been a gift, but we had done what we needed. Just not what we wanted. 

His last request, in true rock hero style, was that we all have a bloody good piss up. And that we did. Old band mates came out of the woodwork, and with the help of M, got together and played at the wake for hours, in honour of my beautiful father. 

I shan't get this close to a microphone again.

Me and my brother.

A wonderful man, who I still haven't met, a bass guitarist, emailed me a recording of himself and M and my Dad singing the very same acoustic arrangement of "Livin' On A Prayer" from years before. Can you believe that? 

The recording didn't turn out the way they'd hoped. It had been a long day in the studio apparently, and the three of them had hung on to do this track, not realising that one of the microphones wasn't working properly, which actually meant my Dads voice was much more prominent than they ever intended. It's beautiful. When I need him, I play it, and his voice rings in my ears.

I'm sorry for the melancholy. Or am I? Maybe I should just know that I must have needed to get this out. So no apologies. It's actually a happy story! 

Going back to S. S contacted me after Dad died, to say that I might have something that she was interested in buying. The story goes that one drunken, musical night, she admired the coat tails my Dad was wearing, and he had said she could have them for £20. They had a laugh and a joke, a few Brandy's most probably, and coat tails were given to S for the princely sum of 20 Great British Pounds. Some moons later, my Dad met up with S, and enquired after the tails, saying he'd quite like them back! She graciously agreed, and gave him the coat tails, and he promptly paid the £20 price tag. S said that if I came across these coat tails, she would like to buy them off me.

I did find coat tails. And I did meet S.

The coat had come full circle, and a brand new friendship began. This lady is so incredibly supportive, selfless and thoughtful, and never fails to raise a toast to the man who brought us, the coat,and the £20 together.

The end.

Don't Stop Me Now

Do you sometimes feel like sleeping is a bit of an inconvenience? If I have to give my days up for work and all that grindstone stuff, then surely I should have my nights?! But by the time the dinner is cooked, the lunches are made, the animals are fed, Wendy Washer is loaded, and unloaded, and loaded....well there's not much TIME is there. My rats go up the wooden hill later and later as they get older and older, and of course, despite my denial, I'm getting older and older and more and more tired. I sometimes feel a little bit resentful, because I love the night.....I love the quiet and the dark and the bewitching of the twilight hour. Can't it be for me?

Just one more row of crochet? 

I'll suffer the consequences tomorrow.....

A week ago, my Spanish glass gifting friend, gave me a lesson on the sewing machine that's been taunting me for a long time. She threaded it up, and set me off on straight line practise on a hankerchief. 

My sweet friend was a seamstress for The Royal Shakespeare Society some moons ago, and buys patterns and whips up a new dress! Just like that! A whole dress, in the very fabric she desired, to the very shape that she is. She's skilled in teaching, and very patient, and would put me in my place if I had a tantrum. As well as being a truly treasured friend, of which are very very few and far between, she is an incredibly talented lady. I love her. I've never told her that I love her.....we've only been forging our friendship for a year and a half. I should tell her. She needs to know.

I garbled frantically to her about the ideas I had rattling around my head at too many miles an hour, and she told me that I needed to pick ONE thing. And try it. I've picked my thing. I'd like to make a lining for my revamped newspaper holder.

When I came across this seen better days lovely thing, I knew it needed to come home with me. I didn't exactly know why it had to, I'd yet to have the lightbulb moment, and so I put it in the eaves of the attic, and left it there. I found that it was good for holding my paint samples, because the under sink cupboard was a disaster, the shed was unenterable, the under stairs cupboard full of neglected ironing and spanners and boy stuff..... 

But inspiration came from a culmination of Granny Chic, and Hettie Brown. I started cutting strips of old clothes, which had also been stuffed in the eaves, waiting.

A table cloth got chopped

A garage sale remnant got chopped

I began to weave.....

 

It took much longer than I thought it would, but I was quite pleased once I'd finished. 

But now I'm wondering if I should have left it as a put on the wall rack, with its lid still openable! What do you think? Attached to the wall in its original vertical position, it would be fabulous storage wouldn't it? So do I make a lining, or do I deweave and reweave?? Advise please girls.

During my weaving, the postman knocked, twice. He delivered some Sew In September seeds from Higgledy Garden. I read about these on Ted & Agnes....and for once I had perfect timing, as it is September. So I sent my £12 off for 12 seeds, with assurances from a few that they were a wonderful investment, and would bring flowers in May.

The Higgledy Garden gentleman, Benjamin, included a lovely hand written note, and an extra packet of seeds! A fantabulous touch that I really appreciated. I guess I should get a Higgledy wriggle on, October will be knocking at the door very very soon.....

Sweet Hands

I am having the most wonderful day!! And it's Monday, so THAT doesn't normally happen.

I got home from work at 8am, just as there was a bustle out of the door for school.

On went the kettle, and out went the girls. The Moo is a bit under the weather (vets later I think), but managed her usual howling announcement that the postman had arrived. He didn't disappoint! Firstly, he brought a little deal I did on eBay for some jumbled up old knitting needles......

I love the colours and the bobbly tops, and I think they'll look rather great in the 'keeper of knitting needles'.

The second parcel, has left me in a bit of a magical spell ever since it arrived......

A lady called Carol, had read a book that I had read. 'Tuesdays With Morrie'. It's a very special and touching book, and if you haven't read it, then you really should. It may change your life a little, or a lot, for the better. I commented on Carol's photograph of this special book, and enquired as to whether she had read another tale by the same author. Carol hadn't. But she wanted to....she said that she looked for it regularly at car boot sales. It seemed a bit sad that this book sat on my shelf, collecting dust, when maybe it was in fact the copy that was destined to find its way to its fated next reader. I asked Carol, who I don't know, if she would like me to send her the book. Carol did....and on sending me her address, she asked for mine.....and would I like some plants and seeds. Well yes, I really would! How lovely.....a sweet swap. 

Carol was much more efficient than I, and got her parcel to me in the post straight away. Now take a look at what was inside.

Lots and lots of beautiful cuttings, gently wrapped and labelled with copper tags, which according to Carol, are very good at deterring slimy slugs.

I couldn't believe this parcel. I couldn't believe that a stranger would take such time and care to share these new planty beginnings with me.

 

And seeds......

 

 

I was...I AM, astounded at Carol's thoughtfulness and generosity. I got straight outside (well actually, I got on the net to look up all the fancy pant plant names first), to put these new beginnings into the earth, from Carol's patch of the world, to mine.

 

 

 

In my patch, this climber has started to turn red practically overnight! Three days ago it was entirely lush green. How des it DO that? If I stood still long enough, surely I would see it change slowly into this bright burning red, with my two little human eyes! I'm not going to try.

 

 

Hawethorn

 

I've made a terrible mess, there's soil everywhere, as it was a not very nice, drizzly day here in the Midlands. Oh but I've had such a lovely time. Every wrapping of newspaper my hands unbound, I've imagined the sweet hands that have wrapped and tagged and lovingly packaged these cuttings. I believe my book was supposed to find it's way to Carol. Maybe it will speak to her in a way it didn't to me. Maybe it will mean that the postman takes a minute longer at her door, and thus runs in to an old friend from the past, or maybe a future love.

 

 

I had a good, muddy day.

 

 

The Moo got tired of waiting for me to come inside and put the washing away, so just lay on it instead.

 

 

I had cheese and biscuits for lunch to celebrate my marvellous Monday.

 

 

And I'm soaking some pieces of treasure I found along the way.

 

 

Just to top today off, Monkey Socks brought home some fruity flapjacks the she has made at school, which are completely delicious....Man has started cooking dinner, completely unprompted (unusual)....and I don't have to be in work until 3pm tomorrow!

My soul feels good.

 

Thank you Carol x

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Delicate Nature

There have been some busy days at Chez Josephine since we last conversed. I write this with some lingering side effects of a rare night out last night, and I am most definitely not a fan of these side effects.....ranging from shaky, to weak, to spritely and then back to generally rotten. Of course I shan't learn my lesson, as I love a good tipple with friends and laughter. 

We went to a charity ball and Casino night to raise money for Cystic Fibrosis. I had to wear a dress, and looked very much like a girl!

When you wear a dress, men seem to treat you a little bit differently. They hold doors and are much more chivalrous. My man is chivalrous all the time, and takes pride in the old fashioned way, and so I know I'm a lucky girl indeed, and love him for it. He always carries all of the shopping bags, unless I super insist on taking my equal share, as I take pride in independence! But love the chivalry all the same.

In a bid to hold on to my Jo'ness, and in a huge nod to my red baseball boot wearing Dad (at ANY occasion), I did something that appalled my first born, and "ruined" my outfit with sensible shoes.

How those ladies managed in their skyscrapers is a marvel to me. There was jiving and twisting and all kinds of jigging going on in those huge heels. I can't even walk straight in them, without looking like I've suffered some kind of accident. And my trotters were most comfortable, not at all achy or damaged, and were very happy with my choice of adornment.

I played '21', but didn't really get it.

My perhaps favourite part was the illusionist I encountered, who tricked me good 'nd proper, and is stood next to daper man. Man asked me to knit him a daisy to wear, as the family who organised the event did so in the honour of their beautiful 5 year old little girl called Daisy. I knitted him a poppy last November, and he won't take it off his coat, and proudly wears it every day.

We stayed with some very kind and hospitable friends, and so I woke up in a new place.

After a lovely cooked breakfast, I was pleased to get home, as the effects were kicking in and, well, there's no place like home. Once in and full of hot healing tea, I battled on and spent some time in the garden, taking up the sweetpeas and chopping back some aggressive black bamboo. When I cut the bamboo, I very quickly put all evidence in the garden bin before man sees. He's very precious over this bamboo, but it's taking over and blocking the sun getting to lots of other garden lovelies. He didn't seem to notice. I'm trying to make an effort not to forget the garden exists now that the weather is turning, though today was glorious! I usually lose interest about now, and let things get a bit out if control.

The girls, who stayed with my mum, had called in for The Moo, and precisely 11:09am, as we got home at 12:30....so the afternoon was very quiet, with good pottering.

A lovely friend called in on Friday with two beautiful Spanish glasses she brought me home from a holiday. I love them.

And just after my glasses were delivered, Emily Monkey Socks came home with a gift for me too.

There's lots more to tell, but I figured I should probably sleep and let my body recover from Saturday night antics. 

Oh, but quickly.....and perhaps most importantly, I have loadsa readers!! Thanks to Hettie, there's been positively masses of traffic and lots of fabulous words of encouragement, and I've loved every single one. Tomorrow hopefully will bring some time for replies. Made me happy xXx

Introducing.......

It's 10:40, and I'm sitting at work. This nightshift isn't perhaps what you might think. I'm not beavering away during the twilight hours, keeping the cogs of industry turning while the world sleeps. I work within the sheltered housing sector of our local authority, and tonight I am manning the phones and the emergency pull cord system for the elderly. It could mean a night of emergencies, or it could mean a night of silence and not very much at all. Mostly I work from my car, making equipment installations in private homes, but sometimes I volunteer to man the post I'm in now, because we can all use the extra pennies right?

Today, I've had 3 blog comments, and this has made me happy! I'm easily pleased. I can't recall the reason for my sudden inspiration to write a blog a few months ago....but after a couple of try's, it seemed a wee bit pointless, and so I didn't make too much of an effort. But, with my 3 readers, I thought I'd introduce myself as is polite, and will also keep me occupied!

I'm Jo.

This is me and man. This is about 4 years ago, so we have a few more wrinkles now. Man has a few grey hairs, whereas I will never truly know if I do, as I keep bleaching the life out if my dark locks, and will continue to do so forever. I have gone black, red, and accidentally orange once, but my heart lies with peroxide. 

We met nearly 5 years ago, when both of us were resolute in not wanting any of that couple stuff. Stubborn, independent, and maybe a bit damaged.

We actually love each other. Which, it seems, is becoming rarer and rarer between 2 people.

We have 2 simply wonderful girls. The rats. Georgia is nearly 15.....Emily Monkey Socks is 11. The girls and I were a force of just 3 for many years, and have the most incredible relationship because of that. I'm insanely proud. WE are insanely proud.

This is Georgia Porgie and her cat Marmite. Georgia hates the camera, and is not a fan of my love of the old. She says she feels like she lives in a museum/old people's home, and desperately loathes every object I bring home. She's an old soul and my right hand woman. She is so thoughtful, intelligent, but 15 and quite grumpy of late. I love her. It hurts how much I love her.

The olden days before the begging for Facebook started.

This is Monkey Socks. A carbon copy of me, and destined to be the maker if mischief. She loves the old, and has learnt to crochet with me, loves to 'take tea' with me.....in fact, she's never not hanging in my coat tails. She's spirited and driven. I love her. It hurts how much I love her.

Four years ago in a Yurt in the Lake District. This was before we lost man on the wrong side of Hard Knott Pass, I fell out with a lump of wood and got a black eye, and the police didn't know whether to call Mountain Rescue or a Women's Refuge.

We live in a three storey Victorian terrace, overlooking an old park, right in the middle of Ol' England. 

During the winter, but starting in the Autumn, this is lit from morning till night. I'm drawn to fire. I want fire when it's still warm. It beats as the heart, and draws everyone in. We spend months just nodding off in its glow, and not achieving very much at all.

Last December, we spent days and days and days stripping every scrap of wood in our living room because we love to see things as they were in the beginning. I loathe sanding. With a passion. And I'll never ever ever decorate/renovate that close to Christmas again. Ever.

I'm a festival goer. 

I like gardening since I hit my thirties. I'm 33. Man is 41.

I love eyeliner, but don't often bother. 

Man is a drummer. And a guitarist. And he can sing and songwrite. I grew up following my Dad the lengths and breadths of the Midlands, as he too was a musician. Both Dad and man played since they were children to audiences. Once it's in your bones, it never leaves. My Dad was a rock and roll legend. He died last year at 57. I think about him all of the time.....he was my best friend.

I find grey feathers, and they find me, and I like to believe they are from him. I save them.

My Dad and his brother.

My black hair. 

I'm a lucky girl. And now I have a blog.