Why have cotton when you can have silk?

Iseldom speak of the days when I pretended to be Audrey Hepburn and travelled everywhere in a Mercedes Benz 300 Cabriolet. Friends and family considered my pretence as something to be endured, and the mode of transport an unnecessary expense, but they didn’t have my vision, or a chauffeur called Dylan.

Recruiting Dylan was easy, though more luck than judgement. I was returning from the corner shop, where I had bought a large bar of chocolate and because it was such a lovely day, I decided to travel home on a passing vintage bus. I knew the bus would take me 800 miles out of my way, and possibly through Italy, but I was feeling reckless, a little giddy, and I was wearing clean cotton knickers.

Some may think my excursion extravagant, perhaps wasteful; some may frown, purse their lips when reading this; and some may be exasperated by my misuse of the semi-colon, but is how I am: impetuous, even with grammar.

And so I grabbed myself a window seat on the bus, sat back, and considered eating my family sized bar of chocolate. Would it be greedy to eat it all in one sitting? Would my fellow travellers think me rude if I didn’t share? Despite my propensity for being temerarious, I still cared what people thought. Thankfully the bus collided with a donkey and cart and my dithering was brought to a halt. I peered out the window, widened my eyes in an attractive manner, only to see Trevor trying to intercept my journey by throwing fruit and veg all over the road. I sighed. Even my heavily applied CGI couldn’t disguise me from my stalker.

I looked out the window and saw an opportunity to escape. It was Dylan driving the Merc. He looked dashing, and possibly diabetic. We exchanged meaningful glances; coded messages; a mental handshake; a wink and a nod; and I realised my chocolate would be safe with him. So I hopped off the bus, but not before flirting outrageously with the bus driver so that I could steal his cap. I was pretty enough to get away with this sort of behaviour, especially when rendered in glorious Technicolor.

I plonked the stolen cap on Dylan’s bonce, thus anointing him my official chauffeur, and settled myself in the back of the Merc. This was more like it, what had I been thinking by using public transport? I had been a fool, a nincompoop. I took a bite of my family sized bar of chocolate. I relaxed, and decided that from now on all my knickers would be made of silk.

Decades Go by….Rinse, Repeat.

Between us, Jon and I have cobbled together a new meme, it is called ‘A Decade Ago’ or #adecadeago, which is exactly the same as ‘A Decade Ago’, but without spaces, and has a fancy hashtag slapped in front of it. To take part all you have to do is shimmy through your blog to 2009 and see what you were doing 10 years ago. For example, I was doing this: X-Rated. Yes, I was taking part in a meme!! I was collecting letters, talking about my favourite things, and waxing lyrical about udders, or some such. Mr XL’s comment summed it up best when he said: It’s like a bad Scrabble hand that you’ve made a triple score with, or something.

In the spirit of favourite things, I have decided that my 2019 is going to be all about FAVOURITE THINGS, and recycling, I know! Hot topic! And I am going to do my part by recycling old blog comments, and bits of old blog. For example, in response to my comment box HERE, I have made this:-

collage-featuring-calligraphy-and-vintage-paper-uk

Repeating Patterns…

It is called: Repeating Patterns 149, and is made from scraps of paper from my studio; a vintage book; and as previous described, old blog comments. It amuses me that I can take what was originally digital and turn it into something with a vintage aesthetic. And I love making these.
So, from the top….

collage-detail-typewritten-text-on-parcel-paper-uk

collage-detail-vintage-photo-and-vintage-book-page-uk

Little Scarlet….

collage-detail-of-repeating-patterns-uk

Many thanks to Mr Modo, in the guise of Mrs Westicott, for the comments! He is long gone from the blogs, but now he has been immortalised.

It might be your turn next, if you’ve ever left a comment on any of my blogs…

Shards of Glass….

….flew across the room when I flicked on the light switch in my studio. The lightbulb had exploded. I sighed and went to the kitchen for a dustpan and brush. Thankfully no glass had become precariously lodged in the ceiling. Those days were long gone. Or were they? Were these frequent near death experiences related to a bygone era? A long-lost plot? An unfinished paragraph that I had begun in 2006? I gazed into the middle distance and looked thoughtful.

Some hours later, after I had finished thinking and looking pretty at the same time, I ascended the stairs to my purpose-built garret at the bottom of the garden. They were still there where I had left them some years previously – a large cardboard box, and an old thick notebook stuffed with diagrams, maps, menus and all manner of paper ephemera. There was nothing more in the garret other than these items. I lifted the flaps on the box, faded, dry, and dusty, and counted the bottles within, there were two missing, which was no surprise. I pulled out the smallest, the first one I’d made. It contained a wax effigy pierced with pins. I rolled my eyes, how stupid of me to make the effigy using my own hair and clothes.

wax-effigy-in-bottle-on-mantelpiece

On my mantelpiece today….

“I had misguidedly seen fit to use my own hair and clothing to produce the wax effigy, all silly superstitious fears had been pushed aside as I dispassionately pierced the effigy of myself with pins.”

wax-effigy-in-bottle-uk

No wonder I have tinnitus….

It seems I had unwittingly cursed myself with misfortune. Thankfully during my long spell of thinking I had had a couple of interesting thoughts. Perhaps all was not lost. Perhaps I was taking these explosive mishaps a little too literally? Perhaps the mishaps were merely signs? Signs to tell me that I was on the wrong track; signs telling me to return to where it all began.

To be continued. Maybe.

Goodbye 2018!

I have never written a review of my blogging year, and after flitting back to January 2018 I can see why…..

January started in grumpy mode – off to a flying start then – and I was hoping to complete a new, riveting, interactive project called Loopy Letters. That all went tits up.
I also fell off a tree and hurt my knee – IT STILL HURTS!!!!

February – Still grumpy.

March – Mr Devine had a birthday!!! There was snow in the form of The Beast from the East!!! I also had a birthday.

April – A little less grumpy. Charmaine popped in for some gruel, and I regaled my readers with tales about exotic train travel.

May – In a better frame of mind, some would say almost hysterical, as I went into a giggle meltdown due to Mr Devine’s sidebar being sabotaged by Dinah’s extra-large photographs. You had to be there to understand my mirth.
In May I also accepted that I’m a flakey ne’er do well, and the Loopy Letters project was quietly shelved. It will probably fall off the shelf in 2021 and make a loud thud.

June – I made curtains, and walked a lot.

July – It was hot.

August – My eyebrows fell out.

September – Waffled on about calligraphy.

October – Good grief. What was I thinking? On the plus side, there was a nice picture of a big blue sky.

November – Onset of Tinnitus, and Yodel van incident. BUT, I also won the FGES competition!!!!

December – Christmas!

And, after almost nothing happening for a whole year, my blogging chums still turn up to say hello!!!! Remarkable. They all deserve medals. Should I make medals in 2019??? Gilded medals… I could send them out to people???? NO, NO, stop this madness!!!

I have no plans for 2019 other than I resolve to conduct myself in a more orderly fashion. Whatever that means.

Anyhow, best wishes for a HAPPY NEW YEAR to all who wander through my blog posts!!! Even the spam bots.

SXXX

Nice’n’Easy…… [A blast from the past]

Here we see Louise, she’s been feeling a bit dowdy lately having recently been dumped by her boyfriend; for the past week she’s been holed up in her bedroom scoffing chocolate and peanut butter sandwiches. She’s also been devouring self-help books, her two favourites being, ‘How To Get More Than Even’ and ‘Men Are From An Entirely Different Planet Altogether’. To cheer herself up, and to help her face the world again, Louise has decided that she needs a make-over. It only takes five hours, three boxes of Nice’n Easy Natural Baby Blonde, and forty-five ruined towels to turn Louise’s mousy brown locks into a brillo pad of ginger. Louise sobs, wishing she’d done a strand test first as per the instructions on the box, but who ever does? She spends the rest of the evening drinking neat gin and avoiding her reflection in the mirror. In the morning she awakes, still slightly sloshed, but remembers that her Dad keeps a selection of wigs in his dressing-up box. She chooses ‘The Cher’, in natural nylon – it’s bright red, but what the heck it’s better than the ginger brillo. She tops off her new look with a pink crochet beret. Feeling a shade braver she heads out the door to her local salon, hoping against hope that they can fix the damage. On her way she passes a shoe shop and is transfixed by a pair of red stilettos in the window, but there, looming behind the display, is Catty-Mean-Mouth-Bitch-Face-Fanny – the last person you want to see when you’re feeling less than your best. Louise, still fuelled by gin, whips off her beret and tosses her mane of nylon cherry red hair; she struts into the shop and she buys those shoes [you go girl]. We see her striding up the High Street to the salon like a graceful 7ft pillar box on a trolley, towering over all other pedestrians.
At the salon, Terry, who studied ‘Directional Hair Design with Pubic Topiary’ at Southend Tech, transforms her matted bush of ginger into a halo of golden blonde [amazing what can be achieved with industrial bleach, hair straighteners, and a pot of VO5]. Louise smiles at her reflection in the mirror, and it is in this moment she realises that life is never Nice’n Easy; Louise winks at Terry, and resolves that from now on she’s going to be easy’n nice….