tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22350059104237378202024-02-18T17:41:03.456-08:00nickynackynooGifts for a colourful lifenickynackynoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11146543853378201943noreply@blogger.comBlogger34125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2235005910423737820.post-30775162162870540812018-05-16T05:19:00.000-07:002018-05-16T05:19:34.950-07:00Lilac<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4P45wfe50MoeACqROhdM1rB6SizIIqpj40Y0XHq2TtNjzT9dCAHQJxBJBNAmzVrp4R8UpdkliXl9qOu4Ac7WAUasfJLolkN3vSVUT66piyZp_GbMmgKJTfcu0BBa3z1ElBpRLJLwKQ8s/s1600/Lilac1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="818" data-original-width="1600" height="323" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4P45wfe50MoeACqROhdM1rB6SizIIqpj40Y0XHq2TtNjzT9dCAHQJxBJBNAmzVrp4R8UpdkliXl9qOu4Ac7WAUasfJLolkN3vSVUT66piyZp_GbMmgKJTfcu0BBa3z1ElBpRLJLwKQ8s/s640/Lilac1.jpg" title="" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Today I'm playing "Liberty Camouflage" with lilac. One of my favourite Liberty prints teamed with my favourite shrub.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglhfpxedsdX6PExBicafmyYfYbrwx71-n5gftmcvCpGakIqv6TXbq8r372SVNBsoLnq8_k9mvXM-DrP0tNiRmRNH_P4iKWDE11wHQ7tyxhEXTYxcujij-2B-aJqzSAdQHQQBh2VGZGo4Y/s1600/Lilac2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglhfpxedsdX6PExBicafmyYfYbrwx71-n5gftmcvCpGakIqv6TXbq8r372SVNBsoLnq8_k9mvXM-DrP0tNiRmRNH_P4iKWDE11wHQ7tyxhEXTYxcujij-2B-aJqzSAdQHQQBh2VGZGo4Y/s400/Lilac2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The print is “<a href="http://www.libertylondon.com/uk/archive-lilac-tana-lawn-cotton-R033603006.html?dwvar_000510454_color=F&referrer=search&listsrc=Search%20Result#q=lilac&start=1" target="_blank">ArchiveLilac</a>” by Liberty of London: “<i>Taken from a tiny paper sample in the Liberty London Archive, this Liberty London Fabric takes inspiration from Alice’s journey through the Garden of Live Flowers, where flowers talk and chatter and help her on her way.</i>” It’s interesting that the design survived originally as a paper sample as I can absolutely imagine it as wallpaper. The first time I saw this fabric in this colour, I was reminded of a print my sister had in her kitchen, of Van Gogh’s Almond Blossom, and I still think about the painting every time I wear this top.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I bought the fabric on a fun day out with Rebecca from <a href="http://www.poshyarns.co.uk/">Poshyarns</a> and we got lost in the rain because we were chatting too much (not the first nor the last time!) and spent hours browsing the amazing selection of Liberty fabrics in <a href="http://www.shaukat.co.uk/">Shaukat</a>. I am so lucky to have a friend with a similar love of Liberty fabrics!<br /><br />I have made many tops with Liberty tana lawn, but I tend to use different prints to those I use in my <a href="https://www.nickynackynoo.com/collections/accessories">work</a>. I prefer bolder, often more geometric Liberty prints, whereas the colourful gifts I make for my <a href="https://www.nickynackynoo.com/">shop</a> tend to use the smaller, ditsy floral prints. That being said, I still only work with fabrics that sing to me and make me happy.<br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtGNbyHuqdlOgmEickB21e5Wz96mFSQhdd7BVmmXtKZmvgDYxQZdQrG5RJSrWr7Ll6YolF12TGU5Jbqh5Jf3LQhX9VS_k4AfvCIuIrBejvnVnnN4hp0G66uOH8S5ieKGWpcJhXFUu3UyY/s1600/Lilac3.jpg"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtGNbyHuqdlOgmEickB21e5Wz96mFSQhdd7BVmmXtKZmvgDYxQZdQrG5RJSrWr7Ll6YolF12TGU5Jbqh5Jf3LQhX9VS_k4AfvCIuIrBejvnVnnN4hp0G66uOH8S5ieKGWpcJhXFUu3UyY/s400/Lilac3.jpg" /></a></span></div>
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<br />I love this time of year when the big blousy shrubs bloom – the bouquets of rhododendron flowers, brilliantly-coloured azaleas and, best of all, the heady scented lilac. Today is, I think, “peak lilac”: the flowers are all out, perfectly white and scented with fresh green leaves. <br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">
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<br />It is so transient – I know that by next week, individual flowers will be browning, leaving each bract looking singed and past its best, so I am spending time breathing in the sight and smell of them. I’ve cut some lilac to bring indoors, although it never lasts quite as long as I hope. The wonderful Jane from <a href="https://www.snapdragononline.co.uk/">Snapdragon</a> wrote some tips on her blog on <a href="https://www.snapdragononline.co.uk/news/blog/how-to-make-spring-flowers-last-longer/">makingspring flowers last longer</a> and she kindly gave me some advice for lilac longevity.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsUvTILEZJEtMCOKCvDBZ0Dfvhsz-cBSftL4r31Ps4HzGnTwxiGH_Db8XdCCjUIBzVJ5Ac2d78fIsiwFcr-nmpdgG4iStrNO1AQhNcSvZtstfXDcVQ5tr0D-5EAbBFj1DeRnif9kQaI-I/s1600/Lilac5.jpg"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsUvTILEZJEtMCOKCvDBZ0Dfvhsz-cBSftL4r31Ps4HzGnTwxiGH_Db8XdCCjUIBzVJ5Ac2d78fIsiwFcr-nmpdgG4iStrNO1AQhNcSvZtstfXDcVQ5tr0D-5EAbBFj1DeRnif9kQaI-I/s320/Lilac5.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />I certainly don't have green fingers, particularly indoors, so I need to make sure to make the most of these gorgeous blooms outside for the few days they have left.</span>nickynackynoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11146543853378201943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2235005910423737820.post-64192962311896570702012-04-19T13:39:00.000-07:002012-04-19T13:39:18.807-07:00Simple pleasuresSometimes I build things up to be really more complicated than they should be. I need to concentrate on the simple things and learn from the small people:<br />
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getting completely absorbed in a Scooby Doo magazine,<br />
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the joy of skeleton pyjamas,<br />
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the hours of fun to be had from a cardboard tube.<br />
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A lot to learn.nickynackynoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11146543853378201943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2235005910423737820.post-67834683999558296232010-06-22T06:37:00.000-07:002010-06-22T06:37:16.257-07:00MorningThis is the view I currently get as I go downstairs in the morning.<br />
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It brings light to my heart.<br />
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I love peonies and their endless tissue-papery layers.<br />
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</div>nickynackynoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11146543853378201943noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2235005910423737820.post-18681431518309355952010-06-05T08:04:00.001-07:002010-06-05T08:27:29.885-07:00Precocious eatingSome days I despair of my sons' eating habits. The older two are like Jack Sprat and his wife and enjoy completely different bits of each meal. And then the youngest manages to like all the things that neither of the others would dream of eating. I have days where I long for them all to eat pizza; never going to happen:<br />
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Son 1: "Too much cheese!"<br />
Son 2 "Too much tomato!"<br />
Son 3 "Is yucky!"<br />
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but then when we go to Carluccio's they will hoover up a plate of antipasti with enormous relish. How can they love marinated anchovies and yet retch at the mere mention of tuna? What have they got against peas? How is it that one of them loves only the insides of baked potatoes and yet won't touch mash - IT'S THE SAME THING!!!<br />
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So lunch today brought a happy surprise. Here is Guy (3) learning to love taramaslata. I'll just have to accept that they are precocious eaters.<br />
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<li>It is approximately 200 paces between the Critical Care Unit at Wansbeck Hospital and the Orthopaedic ward, Ward 6.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have walked that corridor many, many times this week.</li>
<li>I never again want to hear the phrase “Given the velocity of impact…..” Too frightening to think about.</li>
<li>I am more of an optimist than my two sisters, although I think there were moments last week that it seemed more like denial than optimism. I am hoping, however, that my optimism was justified as my parents are both making an amazing recovery.</li>
<li>Laughter really is the best medicine, at least when your ailments aren’t physical. The three of us sisters have laughed a LOT in a last week, and I think it has kept us sane.</li>
<li>My mother’s life doesn’t stop being busy just because she is lying in a hospital bed. She has been terribly worried about missing appointments or letting people down. She has scoured the pages of her diary hundreds of times this week in an effort to make sense of her current circumstances. There were times early on when in her head she was out shopping or on her way to pick up her grandchildren and however many times we told her not to worry, that everything had been sorted out, she still couldn’t let go. While many people would relish the idea of sitting quietly with nothing to do, my mother is certainly not one of them.</li>
<li>My parents don’t travel light. The charge nurse in A&E who dealt with my parents when they were brought in by ambulance said he had never met anyone with so many things in their pockets as my father. Not only did he have a lot of pockets, there were objects in every single one of them which all had to be inventoried. When my sister went to clear out their car, it was the same story: every eventuality had been planned for – sun hats and warm hats, smart shoes and walking boots, fleeces and formal jackets, snacks and drinks, maps, guidebooks, reading books and newspapers. I suppose that after decades of travelling together they know exactly what they need, and what’s the point of being without it if you have room in the car?</li>
<li>Having a rather expensive goose down pillow at home is lovely, but it pretty much guarantees a cricked neck when using hotel pillows instead.</li>
<li>I rather like supermarket clothes. Having thrown a few things in a bag, it was a relief to have a 24-hour Asda near the hospital. Somehow it was easier to buy new clothes than work out how to find a launderette.</li>
<li>I have full confidence in the NHS. I’ve always had good experiences with the NHS anyway (and we’re lucky to have an excellent GP in the village) but the care my parents – particularly my mother – have received this week has been outstanding. We were asked so many times by my father’s nurses about my mother’s progress and vice versa and we would also hear that their doctors had been liaising – it all felt like a very holistic process. Knowing they were receiving such good care certainly made a terrible week slightly easier. </li>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18.0pt;">I’m sure I’ll learn new things this week too. I just hope they’re really mundane and boring and don’t involve those horrible adrenaline-fuelled lurches of dread and fear that we had so many times last week.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18.0pt;"><br />
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For so many years a bunch of primroses would remind me of Mothering Sunday: lining up with all the other Brownies in church to have our bunch of primroses blessed before giving them to our mothers. Now, when I see the first tiny palest yellow buds in the garden, they always bring to mind this most precious of moments:<br />
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the minute my parents brought our older two boys back home to meet their new brother three years ago today. The boys gave me two lovingly gathered posies - more precious by far than all the bouquets of exotic flowers we received in the following days.<br />
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Happy Birthday, lovely Space Ranger. 3 today!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6QXzHkahKZFvjcBgFDO_b_zRULXIl5NGxTn7WrKvcLDEf_8umRHQTrmlfx8IFKVnWNtI77fXunB063TyRrWZaNBX4utP4_uvzvZsYHVqporMYLu18bM-yKsA7OziRWnEBdaKJ3M_T-q4/s1600-h/space+ranger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6QXzHkahKZFvjcBgFDO_b_zRULXIl5NGxTn7WrKvcLDEf_8umRHQTrmlfx8IFKVnWNtI77fXunB063TyRrWZaNBX4utP4_uvzvZsYHVqporMYLu18bM-yKsA7OziRWnEBdaKJ3M_T-q4/s640/space+ranger.jpg" width="427" /></a></div>nickynackynoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11146543853378201943noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2235005910423737820.post-63958998553374221262010-03-18T06:31:00.000-07:002010-03-18T06:33:45.335-07:00Bibs<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnfnD-Fztp023EF9gD9bpUlUO-uZT-dnnkSHsPCiwhKaynNEC_j9-rapwrOpssZAhicF5HGGfSYb9dPu2qPIEMNbGvAQgg5zEoj2c49mq5eUSwTGVXvScb9cg5ZkBSsziJ0kWqoeUwJow/s1600-h/cutlery.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnfnD-Fztp023EF9gD9bpUlUO-uZT-dnnkSHsPCiwhKaynNEC_j9-rapwrOpssZAhicF5HGGfSYb9dPu2qPIEMNbGvAQgg5zEoj2c49mq5eUSwTGVXvScb9cg5ZkBSsziJ0kWqoeUwJow/s400/cutlery.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>I've been really pleased with my new range of bibs (note, it's heavy on the boy bibs. Wonder why?!). I found the beautiful dark navy polka dot fabric in the remnant bin at a fabric shop and can't stop using it. Thankfully I've now found a new supply as it is my current fabric of choice and seems pretty popular with customers.<br />
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I do have plans for some bibs without spots, but, I don't know, the spots are just such fun to sew with. I'm also updating my range of t-shirts, which sold really well over Christmas. Sewing them's not a problem, but photographing them on wriggly children is a whole different story!<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXTEVh83oSeRnBOc9Yfwe6oK4qJcxOgKzeBqldVkDbTM1kLSL42ZR2NHUMCOvrFLjUVx68L4Kaxb_ZHqGgsAcFZ_0Uv5oZlsZ6fNf0j0ilOlJslgQQ7tZ3sTnR3XfCIPOxkZhSm-2hVZM/s1600-h/shark.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXTEVh83oSeRnBOc9Yfwe6oK4qJcxOgKzeBqldVkDbTM1kLSL42ZR2NHUMCOvrFLjUVx68L4Kaxb_ZHqGgsAcFZ_0Uv5oZlsZ6fNf0j0ilOlJslgQQ7tZ3sTnR3XfCIPOxkZhSm-2hVZM/s320/shark.jpg" /></a></div>nickynackynoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11146543853378201943noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2235005910423737820.post-46549308069556109812010-01-08T08:17:00.000-08:002010-01-08T08:28:56.684-08:00Winter visitorsWe thought we were done with the round of seasonal visitors, with Christmas and New Year all wrapped up and packed away for another year. And then today, sitting on the window-seat in the kitchen after lunch, we had a visitor we had never seen here before. A redwing.<br />
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Hanging over the fence from our neighbour's garden is this truly amazing tree (I'd love to know what it is, by the way). It's one of those marvellous plants that excels in every season. It is still covered in red berries - so beautiful in the snow - some of which I "borrowed" to decorate the berry-less holly tucked behind the picture frames this Christmas. There are so many berries on there, we were convinced that the birds didn't like them, but from the numbers of redwings we've seen today (and also thrushes and blackbirds) it seems that one family of birds at least are partial.<br />
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I wondered if these birds had a collective noun, as many species do, my favourite being a <i>charm</i> of goldfinches (with which we are indeed charmed in our garden thanks to a large clump of teasels), a <i>parliament</i> of owls (such pomposity and wisdom!) and an <i>exultation</i> of larks. Unfortunately I could find no collective noun <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_collective_nouns_for_birds">here</a> for redwings, but maybe to myself I will know them as a <i>surprise</i> of redwings.<br />
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<i>Apologies for the rather less than sharp photos; the light was going and I didn't want to startle them with a flash.</i>nickynackynoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11146543853378201943noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2235005910423737820.post-80651076287864246132010-01-06T13:00:00.000-08:002010-01-06T13:13:51.202-08:00On the bright side<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Today has been one of those days that you can deal with in two ways: ranting-and-raving-isn’t- life-unfair-why-me, or becoming like Pollyanna. I read <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pollyanna">Pollyanna</a></i> when I was about eight and like to think that some of her “I’m so glad, glad, glad” attitude has stayed with me. I know it drives some of the people around me mad but really, there are times when there is nothing you <i>can</i> do to improve a situation; getting cross just makes it worse, so why <i>not</i> just try to look on the bright side?<br />
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1. I suppose it all started with the Little Helper’s chicken pox. It was inevitable that he’d get it some time now he’s at nursery, although I expected it would be during term time and not right now, given that he hasn’t seen any other children for weeks. Still, at least he incubated it until Christmas and all celebrations were well and truly over. It made the school run a little tricky on Tuesday, though. In the end, I dumped the older two at the lollipop lady’s crossing and didn’t even need to get him out of the car, then at pick-up time I bundled him up and headed for a deserted patch of playground, in between all the groups of chatting mothers (ahem, actually this is what I normally do anyway, call me anti-social…). Perversely, or so I thought, he’s decided that this would be the week that he would finally get to grips with potty training. Nutter, I thought, you don’t feel well, you’ve got chicken pox, this will never work. But, in fact, it’s perfect, we’re not going anywhere anyway, so no embarrassing accidents, and besides now we’re onto number…..<br />
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2. The snow. So we’re not going anywhere because of the chicken pox and the potty training, and even if we wanted to we can’t actually get out of the drive because of the snow, so it’s all good. Except that we were expecting the lovely Ocado man to deliver our shopping today and he rang to say he’s stuck in Newhaven and can’t bring us our food. Bother. Except…<br />
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3. Not to worry, nowhere to put it anyway, the fridge has decided that today is the perfect day to break down. We’ve got plenty to tide us over and it gives me the impetus to clean out the fridge and use up all those little end bits of everything around the place. Might as well do the cupboards too. Bulgar wheat with a sell by date of 2006 anyone? No-one? Just as well, because I’m cooking it all up for….<br />
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4. The pigs. When I fed them this afternoon I used up all the pig-nuts in the bin where we keep their food. Looked around the shed for the next bag. None there. Stomped back up the garden to look in the garage. Nothing. Rang H at work. “Please tell me there’s another bag of pig-nuts somewhere”. “There is, it’s in the boot of my car”. Oh, yes, that would be the car abandoned at the station 5 miles away, up snowy hill and down icy valley to which I don’t have a key? Err, yes. Not to worry, we’ve got bulgar wheat, we’ve got wholegrain-risotto-rice- that-takes- 1 ½-hours-to-cook-that-was-on-special-offer-3-years-ago, we’ve got half a packet of pearl barley we only use once a year in turkey soup, we’ve got the cereal no-one actually likes…..<br />
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</div><div>….those pigs are going to have a feast tomorrow. Not actually sure what <i>we’re</i> going to eat, but no doubt tomorrow will throw all sorts of other little surprises our way. Will I be able to deal with another day with such equanimity and Pollyanna-like poise? Hmmm.<br />
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</div></div>nickynackynoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11146543853378201943noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2235005910423737820.post-68794236222303551432010-01-05T06:35:00.000-08:002010-01-05T06:35:55.285-08:00Just for pleasureA comment I read earlier today made me realise how little time I have spent in the past year sewing for pleasure. It's not that I dislike sewing for my business - of course not, otherwise I wouldn't do it, it's just that sewing for pleasure has become something of a luxury. Bizarrely I managed to find time just before Christmas to do just that - I sewed for pleasure and made a few things that made me happy this Christmas (incidentally the only Christmas for a long, long time that I made absolutely <b>no</b> handmade presents for anyone - I just bought them from other people instead).<br />
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For our first Christmas together, H and I bought what I thought of as a "Starburst" for the top of our Christmas tree from the Conran shop (ah, those were the days, lie-ins, weekend shopping, espressos along the way). It was a lovely pointy shiny star made of different coloured foils. I've since discovered that it's called a <a href="http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=37124174&ref=sr_list_3&&ga_search_query=polish_porcupine&ga_search_type=all&ga_page=&includes[]=tags">Polish Porcupine</a> and there are instructions for making one <a href="http://www.thriftyfun.com/tf54541769.tip.html">here</a>. We've used it every year since but sadly bits have been breaking off it and we decided that this year we needed something different. Thanks to a button and felt stash that needs some serious re-organising, I spent the weekend before Christmas putting this together:<br />
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it also featured on our Christmas Eve party invitation, although that was before I mounted it on the red and white background which it needed for it to be noticed way up there at the top of the tree:<br />
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Then, on Boxing Day, with the party and the Day under our belts, I got itchy fingers and knocked out a couple of these for the younger two boys. I know they're not going to want to wear Christmas t-shirts for much longer, so I'm making the most of it while I can (they drew the line at the mistletoe t-shirt I made last year. Kissing? Uggggh!):<br />
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This little helper now has chicken pox, cleverly mirroring the spotty pudding, don't you think?<br />
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So, a New Year's Resolution? Well, apart from the one I've made for the past 30-odd years (yeah, yeah, yeah, be tidier, more organised, hmmmm) maybe I need to do a little bit more sewing, just because I want to.nickynackynoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11146543853378201943noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2235005910423737820.post-73051974592610820612009-11-18T05:02:00.000-08:002009-11-18T09:27:45.096-08:00Opinions pleaseI have to confess to loving my <a href="http://nickynackynoodesigns.blogspot.com/2009/02/bunting-bunting-bunting.html">Traffic Jam bunting</a>. It was one of those designs that worked just as I'd imagined and I enjoy making it. I don't, however, particularly enjoy batch cutting and sewing, and the vehicles are pretty fiddly given the number of windows. So, I've been trying to rejig the pattern to reduce the amount of cutting and sewing involved but I wonder if the quality or design is suffering because of this. Could you give me your opinions please?<br />
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This is the bus as I currently make it:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja1i6vJIB1CZsQXjoEMDOlRWwmkw8oQaTrx5Eayz1HjQRIVqpWaewyvUeIvH7tBnOb_o8p1tN8CJ2qkt7RcCsOozluVWFGAAKTCxvqlUZYbDhW6fDw28QUAcxD8vLkMipzDB6ihYruxbE/s1600/bus1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja1i6vJIB1CZsQXjoEMDOlRWwmkw8oQaTrx5Eayz1HjQRIVqpWaewyvUeIvH7tBnOb_o8p1tN8CJ2qkt7RcCsOozluVWFGAAKTCxvqlUZYbDhW6fDw28QUAcxD8vLkMipzDB6ihYruxbE/s320/bus1.jpg" /></a><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">and these is my proposed new design. Please bear in mind that I did this in about two minutes flat, so the zigzagging would be more even:<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: left;">Thanks for your help!<br />
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Edit:<br />
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OK, following all your really helpful comments, here's my compromise which I think might do the job. I've taken on Martina's suggestion of the strip of felt under the zigzag and next time I cut some bus shapes, I will take on board the comments from my big sister about making the bus "chubbier":<br />
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</div>nickynackynoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11146543853378201943noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2235005910423737820.post-18444551833767195332009-11-09T04:24:00.000-08:002009-11-09T04:25:11.636-08:00The genius that is KitschycooThey say sibling rivalry or envy is a bad thing, but I'd like to disagree on this occasion.<br />
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It's all down to my niece, who celebrated her first birthday this weekend with three (yes THREE!) parties. So this time a year ago I had a lovely time cruising round <a href="http://www.folksy.com/">Folksy</a> looking for presents for the first girl to be born in our family for 13 years. And after eight years of only buying clothes for boys, it was such a treat to look through <a href="http://www.kitschycoo.folksy.com/">Kitschycoo's shop</a>, selecting just the right tunic and booties for a girl.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://d200fahol9mbkt.cloudfront.net/item/13441/30_Aug_2008_042_thumb.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://d200fahol9mbkt.cloudfront.net/item/13441/30_Aug_2008_042_thumb.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="http://d200fahol9mbkt.cloudfront.net/item/25671/mushroomshoe_thumb.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://d200fahol9mbkt.cloudfront.net/item/25671/mushroomshoe_thumb.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
</div>Obviously they were a hit with my sister as she has now bought a coat pattern from Amanda at Kitschycoo so that her mother-in-law can make a funky orange bird-patterned coat for my lovely niece.<br />
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Which is all lovely for my niece and my sister, but frankly I was feeling a bit left out. After all, Amanda is <b>my</b> friend (albeit only in an on-line-y, twittery kind of way) and it was unfair that my family didn't have any of that amazing Kitschycoo style in our house.<br />
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<a href="http://www.kitschycoo.co.uk/userimages/procart13.htm"></a><a href="http://www.kitschycoo.co.uk/USERIMAGES/16%20MAY%202008%20040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://www.kitschycoo.co.uk/USERIMAGES/16%20MAY%202008%20040.JPG" width="150" /></a><br />
The best thing about Amanda is her great talent for rooting out the most amazing fabrics. I'd seen this one (left) on a t-shirt in her shop, but I wanted MORE.<br />
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My Littlest Helper has huge blue eyes, and I knew that this was the fabric for him. So for only the second time in my life I commissioned a piece of clothing (the only other item was my wedding dress) and it is truly gorgeous. Really I don't have words for it, so just look at the pictures. All I need to say is that it arrived on Friday lunchtime, and although it hasn't been worn in the bath or in bed, it has been worn at all other times and with great pride:<br />
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So please, if you have boys or girls, go to <a href="http://www.kitschycoo.co.uk/">Kitschycoo's website</a>. This lady has a huge designing future ahead of her, I'm sure (I hear that ladies' coats are in the pipeline) and I can't wait to see (and maybe buy!) more of her designs.nickynackynoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11146543853378201943noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2235005910423737820.post-28683528976830286242009-08-30T08:34:00.001-07:002009-08-30T09:32:09.481-07:00GrandmothersI have just returned from delivering Charlie to my mother-in-law. She lives 160 miles away in Bath, so we arranged to meet half-way in Hampshire. Charlie's excitement grew as we got closer to the rendez-vous point, as did his worries about how he might change cars in the middle of the motorway. It was lovely having him to myself for a couple of hours and we chatted about how I had been to stay alone with my grandmother at about the same age. My children are at the age now that events such as this will remain with them, as similar experiences have stayed with me.<br /><br />I imagine that my parents dropped me off at Grandma's house in Hertford, although I know that when my older sister went to stay there she travelled by Grandma's favourite mode of transport: the Green Line Bus. We didn't see Grandma very often; this was in the days before the M25, so circumnavigating London to get from Sussex to Hertfordshire was quite a trek, although I imagine the trips <em>might</em> have been more frequent if my grandmother and mother had got on better. Whichever grandparents we were visiting, we were always wearing our best clothes and would always stop in a layby just before we got there to have our hair combed and our faces cleaned with lick and Kleenex.<br /><br />I do remember feeling rather nervous about staying there on my own. After all, this was not someone I knew particularly well; I did know that Grandma was quite bossy and I certainly wasn't sure about keeping up my good behaviour for several days. But the memories of that visit are happy. I remember that we walked into the town centre to buy my birthday present from Woolworths. I chose a red, blue and yellow plastic saxophone. How Grandma must have loved me serenading her for the rest of my time at her house!<br /><br />I stayed in what had been my father's bedroom and remember lying there looking at the wallpaper covered in trains (or were they planes, perhaps?) trying to imagine <em>Daddy</em> as a boy. It seemed such an impossible and funny idea.<br /><br />I clearly remember Grandma asking me if I liked custard and I must have pulled a face, thinking of the thick-skinned yellow slime of school. But the tinned Bird's custard she extracted from the larder was a revelation: smooth, creamy, sweet and delicious. Grandma's larder was a wartime hoarder's dream. In those days which predated "best before" dates, it was anyone's guess how long those tins had been there.<br /><br />When I think of Grandma, she is a tiny, old, rather querulous lady. And yet she had the patience to have small girls to stay with her. She let me choose my own present, even though she must have <em>hated</em> it. She always made us tangerine jelly with segments in because we loved it. And most of all, she sent me letters like this:<br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375794988075352850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 246px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqQPR2gzcbSyG8-Br_9aO_EXpSt4dGCXejYLj1vB1iFzSGBp3_vDsRUTwzpgetU_koKQyQCjGbpTvXcojxywpfIg7LjTIW7sE3YywVRf2tLJFq3V9S3NPjeblmQkagsNWxJ6fMeR-5wTY/s320/Grandma's+letter.jpg" border="0" /><br />In this one she hasn't signed off with her usual XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX (dozens of kisses and hugs) but I love the way she has stuck all those shapes on, licking and sticking each one individually, in those days before sticky stickers.</p><p>I hope that my children will have dozens of memories of all their grandparents. The way they interract with them is so different to the formal, best-dress, best-behaviour relationship I had with my grandparents. I am sure that it helps them to feel an integral part of a huge family of all ages and better equipped, therefore, to communicate with all generations.</p>nickynackynoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11146543853378201943noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2235005910423737820.post-8295009237529559672009-07-03T15:14:00.001-07:002009-07-03T15:44:03.075-07:00Phew!I am gradually coming back down to earth after the last week of June. It's the same every year. My middle son turned 6 on 23rd:<br /><br /><div><div><div><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 500px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 455px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3548/3656222611_d46cbe0161.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><div><div><div>and my oldest turned 9 on 29th:</div><br /><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 556px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 225px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2503/3684985679_13b77548fb.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br />(do you think they were excited about their presents?!)<br /><br /><div></div><div>and of course they're still at the age when presents and cake are paramount, so a huge amount of energy has to go into thinking about presents for us and wider family to give them and then buying them and wrapping them and then baking cakes for school and cakes for home, and organising parties........</div><br /><div>so you can see why I've needed a bit of a break. And oh, did I mention we had the school fete in the middle there somewhere? And I had a stall? Which went pleasingly well, incidentally, particularly as I was selling bags and bunting rather than my normal cushions and hot water bottles.</div><br /><div></div><div>Just in case you haven't seen enough of my children's tonsils, here's the youngest, not wanting to be left out:</div><br /><div></div><div></div><div></div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354364347225214178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 397px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKYpkWknoz6tbUoiZdBcbuXjj6oPjxIFoAcnRoqSIvijd_yzqOkLiAZp3tM-FZZ0vz3131eGDlleVMooGuEg8XuQ25xjggvD0NTK3rHcTsbM2f8kYmeeJHM8bQCOFnrY4DvRYWf-tHDuM/s400/guy+cake.jpg" border="0" /></div></div></div></div></div></div><br /><p>And finally, a useless piece of personal information following on from these revealing photos: my favourite word in Spanish is Otorrinolaringólogo. Sounds great, actually it means Ear, nose & throat doctor. So now you know who to ask for when your child inserts a peanut up their nose on holiday (no, that's <strong>not</strong> how I know!).</p><br /><br /><p></p></div>nickynackynoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11146543853378201943noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2235005910423737820.post-36062445953650157062009-06-06T09:38:00.000-07:002009-06-06T10:45:40.072-07:00Elderflower<a href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3347/3601139700_f83a527862.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 500px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 326px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3347/3601139700_f83a527862.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><div><div><div>There is a divine smell in my kitchen - we are making elderflower cordial. My helper today is Charlie, and so far we've picked about 150 heads of flowers, enough to make litres and litres of cordial. Slightly worrying is the 10kg of sugar we've used, but it all gets diluted and the smell and taste of the elderflowers is so pungent that we never need use much of the concentrated cordial in each glass to release the heady memories of late spring.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 500px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 473px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3319/3600328271_96a8be7661.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div>We'll leave the elderflowers and citrus fruits to steep overnight and then strain and decant the syrup into the many plastic bottles I've been hoarding over the past weeks. It's lovely to know that we'll be enjoying this delicious essence of spring for months to come.</div><br /><div></div><div></div><div><br /><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 500px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 479px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3601/3601139162_6da55f6cd1.jpg" border="0" /><br /><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 500px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 487px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3344/3601140406_67de055fe0.jpg" border="0" /></div></div></div></div><br /><br /><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 500px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 494px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2441/3601190142_cd84984ac9.jpg" border="0" />nickynackynoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11146543853378201943noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2235005910423737820.post-85086169342861301602009-05-22T06:19:00.001-07:002009-05-22T10:21:04.804-07:00TaggedI've been "tagged" by Amanda from <a href="http://kitschycoo.blogspot.com/">KitschyCoo</a> (just the coolest kids' clothes around) and so I have to fill in these lists of eight things and then tag another eight bloggers. I'll happily do the list, but I don't really read that many blogs, so I'm afraid I won't be passing it on. Here goes:<br /><div></div><br /><p><strong>Eight things I am looking forward to.....</strong></p><br /><p>1. Having the children at home for half-term next week.</p><p>2. The children going back to school after half-term (see – I’m thinking ahead).</p><p>3. Thai take-away from the van for supper tonight.</p><p>4. The philadelphus (mock orange) on the drive coming into bloom. The most divine smell on earth. First bud spotted today.</p><p>5. Going to the <a href="http://www.heathfieldshow.org/">Heathfield show </a>tomorrow. Pigs and tractors. Yay! (such a country girl).</p><p>6. A dry summer (ha!)</p><p>7. My lovely friend Penelope coming to stay in July. I miss her and her beautiful family.</p><p>8. Going to see Joseph with my family next Saturday. Reminds me of driving to family holidays in the 70s – no car stereo, just three girls singing the entire musical from the back seat…..how our parents must have loved it…. </p><p><strong>Eight things I did yesterday...</strong></p><p>1. Made a pitiful attempt to clear up my sewing stuff. </p><p>2. Started making a mobile version of my <a href="http://www.folksy.com/items/33832-Traffic-jam-bunting?shop=yes">traffic jam bunting</a>.</p><p>3. Pretended that using a foot pump to pump up car tyres and bike tyres was as good as a work-out. Yeah, right.</p><p>4. Ordered 40 bags of horse manure for the garden.</p><p>5. Queued with the children for delicious ice-cream at our village’s new sweet shop. Proper strawberry ice-cream that tasted of strawberries. Yum!</p><p>6. Spent two hours trying to find a babysitter.</p><p>7. Went to the <a href="http://www.charleston.org.uk/charlestonfestival/">Charlston Festival </a>to see David Lodge speak. Felt very young compared to most of the audience. I’m not a great fan, to be honest, but it was good to do something cultural.</p><p>8. Got lost on the way to and the way back from Charlston, but it was such a beautiful evening – East Sussex lanes and the Downs at their best – that it didn’t matter. Must get a new map that WORKS! (or practice map reading).</p><p><strong>Eight things I wish I could do....</strong></p><p>1. Be tidy (or at least tidier). What I wouldn’t give to have Mary Poppins’ finger-clicking skills.</p><p>2. Control my hair. I think my sisters & I keep Frizz-Ease in business in this country. Any other recommendations?</p><p>3. Raise one eyebrow. My younger sister can do this brilliantly. She is a barrister and uses her eyebrow lifting to very good effect, I am told. I am very jealous and have spent years practicing, but it’s no good. I just can’t do it.</p><p>4. Recognise different birdsong. I think I’m a bit dyslexic about this. Currently cuckoo, owl and pheasant are about my limit.</p><p>5. Somehow clone each of my children so that they can continue to grow, but I could also have them stay just as they are right now, aged 2, 5 and 8.</p><p>6. Learn to live by the maxim “Never put off until tomorrow what you can do today.” I am a terrible prevaricator.</p><p>7. Successfully persuade my children that not EVERYONE needs a Nintendo Wii, Playstation, PSP or whatever the current favourite is. This is a losing battle, I know.</p><p>8. Have lunch like this every day – eggs Benedict made with bantams eggs.</p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 500px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 435px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3101/3553449311_e41d1848fe.jpg" border="0" /><br /><p><br /><strong>Eight shows I watch....</strong></p><p>1. Seinfeld. Probably the best sitcom EVER made.</p><p>2. Eastenders. What a terrible admission. Sorry.</p><p>3. Location, location, location. Middle class property porn.</p><p>4. ER</p><p>5. Desperate Housewives.</p><p>Er… that’s it. Does radio count?</p><p>6. The Archers</p><p>7. Woman’s Hour</p><p>8. Open Book</p>nickynackynoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11146543853378201943noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2235005910423737820.post-76945789243971806312009-05-17T14:12:00.000-07:002009-05-17T14:58:47.405-07:00BadgesI've never really been one for hand sewing: too fiddly, too many knots to tie, never sure if I can see better close up with or without my specs. However, I had an idea in my head last week - you know, the sort of idea which makes your fingers itch to get started in case the idea floats away before you've captured it. And you know what? I think I love hand stitching.<br /><br /><br />This week I went to visit three of my friends' new babies and deliver the mobiles I've been making (see <a href="http://nickynackynoodesigns.blogspot.com/2009/03/batches.html">here</a>) so I thought I'd like to make a little something for the older siblings to make them feel special too and so it wasn't all about the babies (even though it was really!).<br /><br /><br />It started off with a little friend of mine who had her 4th birthday last week. I wanted to give her something she would love, I knew it <strong>had</strong> to be pink and shoes are a bit of a theme with me at the moment (more on that later). I'm pleased now that I've been hoarding all those tiny offcuts of fabric and felt:<br /><br /><br /><p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 500px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 471px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2070/3533452668_f0241654a1.jpg" border="0" /></p><p>I'm really pleased with how this has turned out. I love how the tiny seed beads mimic the cut-out pattern of Startrite shoes. I made another of these (but with turquoise shoes) for the sister of one of the babies but knew I needed something for the boys too. And show me a three-year-old boy who doesn't like tractors:</p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 500px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 470px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3547/3540473442_dc95227786.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 497px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 500px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2016/3540465580_35335dff2f.jpg" border="0" /><br />I'll be making more of these soon (definitely a space rocket one) but first I need to invest in a thimble. Ouch.nickynackynoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11146543853378201943noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2235005910423737820.post-40391087529465244892009-05-07T11:28:00.000-07:002009-05-07T11:34:41.380-07:00The traffic these days....<a href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3343/3511091562_b2db34926a.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 500px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 420px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3343/3511091562_b2db34926a.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Look at all the vehicles I've been cutting out today, queueing up to be made into <a href="http://nickynackynoodesigns.blogspot.com/2009/02/bunting-bunting-bunting.html">bunting</a> and mobiles. Now think about all the button wheels I have to sew on...... toot, toot!</div>nickynackynoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11146543853378201943noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2235005910423737820.post-35763082140838953492009-05-02T07:37:00.000-07:002009-05-02T08:23:23.247-07:00Boy meets bluebells<a href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3170/3097145163_6dffc458e8_b.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 510px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 322px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3170/3097145163_6dffc458e8_b.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>I grew up in an area renowned for its bluebell woods so for me this is a special time of year. That nature can produce such intensity of colour and scent takes me by surprise every bluebell season. We love to walk in bluebell woods in the late afternoon when the flowers seem to glow in the dimming light. </div><br /><div>This year our Little Helper noticed them for the first time. He's already showing some of his Daddy's love of wildflowers (lots of daisies and dandelions proffered in his grubby chubby fists) but witnessing his first awareness of bluebells was a special moment.</div><div></div><div><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 333px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 500px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3542/3494381292_d6a6a8eb53.jpg" border="0" /><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 333px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 500px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3540/3494368718_c67e362cd8.jpg" border="0" /><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 333px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 500px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3647/3494377238_13ef5247df.jpg" border="0" /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 333px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 500px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3410/3493554557_4cb19823da.jpg" border="0" />nickynackynoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11146543853378201943noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2235005910423737820.post-86158204772058645972009-04-12T02:44:00.001-07:002009-04-12T02:57:16.314-07:00OddI've been sorting out the children's clothes drawers and tackling the Mount Everest of laundry that lurks in our house in preparation for going on holiday tomorrow. Now, I'm confident that I've washed and sorted everything that needed washing and sorting and yet there are still these...<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323741016065082418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 335px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh61mzhZ_GhceEem1eLQRJoNOQvSQOt3mhSprkM3LHnoWNKjW9wOTzbcUYFOmuDHTEJsrUoRFG0jij59y1rFzKAIiWI2FJWFaKuN_FsRY61V3ZWYC11Dna9d_1M9h1xVqIH6X6TDckRT0Q/s400/socks.jpg" border="0" /><br />...the Little Helper's odd socks. 15 of them! How did this happen? Where are all the others? I suppose it doesn't help that clothes in our family have been handed down and down and down the children (my nephew is now 16 and I'm fairly confident some of these were his) so the Little Helper is the sixth child to own these socks. Nor does it help that I am congenitally incapable of throwing anything away, but.....15! My husband confidently tells me that he's sure some of them are in the garden. Hmm. I wonder what it will take for me to finally accept that I am never going to find the other half of these pairs and actually throw them away.<br /><p>We're going to Cape Cod tomorrow, so off to find some actual pairs of socks to pack.</p>nickynackynoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11146543853378201943noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2235005910423737820.post-29818264408466920232009-04-04T12:06:00.001-07:002009-04-04T12:43:39.031-07:00The cutest thing on my ipodThis is a story about a tractor making hay in the snow as told by my middle son just before his 3rd birthday. He is now 5 and this reminds me that I should record them more often. They grow up too quickly.<br /><br /><OBJECT class=BLOG_video_class id=BLOG_video-e8b55351a611f2ae height=266 width=320 contentId="e8b55351a611f2ae"></OBJECT>nickynackynoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11146543853378201943noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2235005910423737820.post-52110492185057546602009-04-03T09:33:00.000-07:002009-04-03T10:27:55.590-07:00Bags<a href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3337/3409908664_a34ba034af_b.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 448px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 151px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3337/3409908664_a34ba034af_b.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><div>Following my post earlier this week, this is what I have been doing with my lovely fabric haul.</div><br /><div></div><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 385px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 500px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3656/3409908714_baee75eecc.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div>I've been working on my "perfect tote" pattern for a while now. When I say "perfect", I mean perfect for me, i.e. that it is big enough for my stuff and a nappy change for the little helper, the handles are long enough to go over my shoulder even when I'm wearing a coat, that I can open it wide enough to actually see what's in it. I find with a lot of bags that I have to scrabble about blindly without being able to see the bottom. So I knew I needed something with a gusset (I have a friend who would stop reading this blog this second just because of that word!) but that wasn't too tricky for me to sew. Also, I now know from experience that bizarrely I find it easier to make a lined bag: I am not one of life's neat sewers, and the lining lets me hide lots of mess (can I somehow employ this technique in my kitchen, I wonder?)</div><br /><br /><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 338px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 500px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3409/3409908710_00b95faf58.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><div>The most enjoyable part has been choosing which fabrics and linings to use together. I love this bird print with the red polka dot lining:</div><br /><br /><div><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 369px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 500px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3301/3409908676_154cf17122.jpg" border="0" /></div></div><br /><p>I've been really careful about cutting the gorgeous shoe fabric as it's just too good to waste, so I've made these little bags for girls - maybe not quite big enough for everything I haul about with me, but certainly big enough for a purse and some lip gloss.</p><p><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 500px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 480px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3553/3409908728_63ae6f641b.jpg" border="0" /></p>nickynackynoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11146543853378201943noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2235005910423737820.post-60794090660516182442009-04-01T05:36:00.000-07:002009-04-01T05:38:11.454-07:00Satisfaction<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiciyIBjqYME8zTEL1LyhSt-isUeT1lvuX96crr9Rg00negRryK-L_FQj_wbph2WTXlTAFqDOui1AhyphenhyphenBSGwgZpD9yHCbgNYjbBSTMpsedt5An0TPaWee4bnNO_6c4zt1UNjK7xOoW0FkKg/s1600-h/basket.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319701023066260130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 357px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiciyIBjqYME8zTEL1LyhSt-isUeT1lvuX96crr9Rg00negRryK-L_FQj_wbph2WTXlTAFqDOui1AhyphenhyphenBSGwgZpD9yHCbgNYjbBSTMpsedt5An0TPaWee4bnNO_6c4zt1UNjK7xOoW0FkKg/s400/basket.jpg" border="0" /></a> This is the bottom of my ironing basket. I hadn't seen it for months.nickynackynoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11146543853378201943noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2235005910423737820.post-34774575811488896432009-03-31T04:58:00.000-07:002009-03-31T14:54:18.063-07:00Fabric<a href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3473/3400804255_f058c7ae08.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 381px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3473/3400804255_f058c7ae08.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />I had such a lovely time in the fabric shop today. We popped in to look for curtain material for the middle cheeky boy's room and came out with a bag full of totally inappropriate (for him) fabric instead. We also bumped into two friends, so the Little Helper was happy hiding behind some curtains with his little girlfriend. I had to pretend not to see the Bob the Builder fabric he was so interested in.<br /><br />So, tea, shoes, polka dots, pink.....I reckon if I throw a few buttons into the mix I could make most of the female population happy with this haul!nickynackynoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11146543853378201943noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2235005910423737820.post-9136270020642919142009-03-28T09:03:00.001-07:002009-03-28T09:58:10.151-07:00Lunch<div align="left"></div><div align="left">It was always going to be a difficult meal.</p> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">Our lovely pigs went off on Monday: a journey we always knew they were destined for but tough to deal with nonetheless. They looked rather bewildered in the trailer but not upset and they left together, unparted since birth.</div><div align="left"><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318280117128259378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 355px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUVkvvhlhB-iwPlmn_vINtcFIrtT-AUd1E3bITPceqmmrtSMKGhke86tboatmvT2u9DbIndrfiB1pOolL1bCQuBccZQJwcZ3kq9yIIbnfhzyJEDyW8n66TZhRVa3e4KfmQew_FiZ51TBs/s400/pigs1.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">The pigs when they first arrived</span><br /></p>These pigs had the best life we could give them: a varied seasonal diet - apples, acorns, garden cuttings, grass and vegetable stalks and roots supplemented with pig nuts; ample room - their enclosure is about 60 square metres with a lovely sty, plenty of straw, logs to rub against and lots of tree roots to snuffle around; and company - it was the boys' job to feed them after school in the afternoon and they would hang around with them, scratching their backs and chatting to them (the pigs probably found out more about their school day than I did). The only thing the pigs didn't like was the electric fence, but they learned to respect it, particularly after the Great Escape when we put it on a higher setting.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318280125266633426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 374px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiSRXlDUCISWToZlQFDY_T2kjt78VB3iznMyhKYDM2lmimrWZ01QnZhzeBUu7ONSveER4db1sXootd1VX0NLZ0ykWt_CTiphCt5VnvyWlKx6f2E1dfQv0Q9jp1pagoZBPsw29pPiBTQq4/s400/pigs+2.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">Look how tiny they were!<br /></span></p>It was only once they had gone that I realised how often during the day I watched them from the window: opening my curtains in the morning, getting the boys' breakfast, while talking on the phone or sewing. And I really miss them. It's only been a week, but they had become an important part of our lives. I grew up with pets (a donkey, hens, cats and goldfish) but we've never wanted pets here. I don't have time for a dog and we have too much lovely birdlife to risk a cat. And now, given the choice of any pet, I'd choose the pigs.<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318280129759974146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 323px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijeAMCIROpiUzAO8vkqe15hW-EI_rq43oab4E8wlT9dG8OCFD4fMnChns7-IHm9UEqcnFCtAPFqt4RXi_daOhrNLo9ce0SMRU-JNgl5A81kMeAi8meNZysqu20ZpDi_PR6_ALtlB6Volw/s400/pigs+3.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">The Piggies three weeks ago</span><br /></p><br />We never lost sight of the reason for keeping them. From the start we decided not to name them. They were simply known as "Piggies". We explained to the boys early on what would happen to the pigs and they have been fine about it. It's been interesting exploring our feelings about animals and food and the ethics of meat-eating while keeping the pigs. The other aspect we're really proud of is the food miles of these pigs: they were born 3 miles away, went to an abbatoir 5 miles away and then to the butcher 1/2 a mile up the road from us. So in total they have travelled less than 10 miles.<br /><br />This morning at 7am my husband spent two hours in the role of butcher's boy and arrived home with boxes and boxes of pork. Half is now in our fridge and freezer and the other half is currently being delivered to friends and family. We have been staggered by the demand for our pork. It just shows that, given the opportunity, people do want to buy fresh, local meat from animals that have led a happy life.<br /><br />So, back to lunch. Sausages. While my husband and I were still gearing ourselves up to eating a bit of "our piggies" our 8 year old just tucked in. He loved the pigs. He looked after them. He was sad when they went. But they were the best sausages he has ever eaten.nickynackynoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11146543853378201943noreply@blogger.com4