Monthly Round Up (March '09)

Apologies for not having posted for a week, but I have had a small, yet perfectly formed virus with which to contend :-( I've been running a fever, I ache, and I itch all over (how bizarre is that symptom?) and my get up and go got up and went. Without permission. If anyone spots it lurking in the shrubbery, or having a quick ciggie behind some bike sheds, could you please deliver a stern rebuke and send it home immediately? Ta. Until it's back my blog posting, reading and commenting is going to suffer.

Anyway, on with the monthly 'doings'...

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Some of you may remember seeing the button for Jennyflower's Mug Swap sitting in my sidebar for a good few weeks. This was a fun swap to do - send a nice mug to someone, and include some crafty bits, along with a handmade item. Unlike many swaps, we did not have a partner with whom we exchanged - instead we all sent to a different person. I received my parcel last week, and was puzzled as to what it could be - I wasn't expecting anything from the beautiful island of Crete?! It turned out that Jude of Cariad in Crete was the person who was sending a parcel to me, and what a lovely parcel it was:

Jude sent a handmade mug in my most favourite shades of teal, turqoise and aqua. She also sent a hand knitted scarf in a pretty pattern, in the same sea shades. She sent some chocolate, and she sent two of the most beautiful (and big!) buttons you ever saw:

Thank you so much Jude - x - it was a pleasure to receive such a lovely parcel, and to discover your blog. The person to whom I sent my parcel was Terri at Purple & Paisley. I rather overdosed on the colour purple, but that was ok with Terri - she's purple-mad! A very big thank you to Jenny - x - for hosting this swap, it was really good. Through it I have discovered two fabulous new (to me) blogs, and that's always a good thing isn't it?

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A funny thing happened to me the other day. You see these earrings?:

Pretty, aren't they? Just plain abalone dropper earrings, nothing out of the ordinary. However, one of them is clearly an earring with attitude! I was wearing them that day, and happened to be cleaning the loos - not because the loos specifically needed cleaning (if you get my drift) but because ... well, just because. Anyway, there I was bent over the porcelain throne, and I heard a *plop*. What on earth was that? I wondered. When I looked, I saw one of my earrings in the loo :-O It had slipped out of my ear and tried to make a break for it! I'm afraid I was too quick for it: I fished it out, washed it in antibacterial soap, gave it a rinse and a polish and popped it back in my ear. (I should add that the loo had been cleaned before the earring dive).

When I mentioned this episode to a friend, she confided that she'd dropped a pair of sunglasses the same way - they were perched on top of her head, she bent over to clean the loo and *plop*. I bet they made a bigger splash than my earring too. Have you, dear reader, ever lost anything down the loo?

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I'm going to have a mini rant here now: you have been warned. Because of No.1's interest in music, which I applaud and encourage (because I love it too) I listen to quite a lot of chart music. If she weren't the girl she is, there is no doubt I wouldn't listen to a lot of this stuff, but some of it is really ok. Some of it, however, isn't. This last couple of months I have had a major problem every time I hear 'Take Me Back' by Tinchy Stryder featuring Taio Cruz. Why? I hear you ask. Because of the lyrics, that's why - here are some of them:

How you put females on a hot boy stylie

Like I’m the one try me

There’s me thinking I’m moving slyly

Your friend was out there with both eyes on me

Now I feel wrong coz you caught me

I can make it up to you trust me

If ya said no I would deal with that

I’m hoping you’d take me back, please

I’m sorry I misleaded you pretty lady

I’m sorry I mistreated you pretty lady

I’m sorry that I hurt you pretty lady

And all I need to know is

Can you take me back (x8)

(There’s one thing I need to know)

Coz I can’t live without you (oh oh oh oh)

Girl I can’t live without ya (oh oh oh oh oh oh oh)

Did you spot it? It drives me NUTS every time I hear the darned song. Mr Stryder and Mr Cruz - I know you have a song to write, and you want it to scan, but there is no such word as 'misleaded'. The word is 'misled'!

The fact that this bothers me means I'm really getting old, doesn't it? :-(

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Do you remember the Monkey I made for Mrs Trash's wonderful raffle for the Bushfire folks in Oz?:

She was won by Christine of Auntie's Quaint Quilts, who, quite fittingly, lives in Oz herself. Christine ran a giveaway asking for suggestions of names for the monkey, with the end result that Miss Bushfire is now named Miss Matilda May Monkey - a pretty name for a pretty primate. Well done on winning her Christine - I just hope she behaves herself!

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I'll leave you with a bit of dessert, made recently. Would anyone like a bowl of lemon pudding?

EDITED TO ADD THE RECIPE FOR THE LEMON PUDDING!:

• Grease an ovenproof dish
• Grated rind, and the juice of 1 Lemon
• 50g (2oz) Butter/Marg
• 100g (4oz) Caster Sugar
• 2 Eggs, separated
• 50g (2oz) Self Raising Flour
• 300ml (½ pint) fresh milk

1. Add lemon rind to butter and sugar and whisk until pale and fluffy.
2. Add egg yolks and flour and beat well.
3. Stir in milk and 3 tablespoons of lemon juice (I usually whack it all in!)
4. In a separate bowl, whisk egg whites until stiff, then fold into lemon mixture.
5. Pour into the greased, ovenproof dish.
6. Stand in a bain marie (a shallow tin of water) and bake at 200°C (400°F, Gas Mark 6) (Lower temperature for a fan oven) for about 35-45 minutes, or until the top is set and spongey to the touch.

The pudding will have separated into a lemon sponge on top and a lemon custard underneath.

Enjoy!

Help yourself to cream or ice cream - whichever is your preference - to accompany the pud. Or both, if you feel like it ... what the hell, it's only a few more calories. I think I'm going to have to do something about calorie intake soon, as it appears I am a growing girl, and I shouldn't be still growing at my age, should I?

© Author

At Last, I Did It!

No ... not that. I can't imagine I'll ever do that again in my whole life!

No, I finally made a bag that I like. Alas, it's not for me, but I suppose I could make another just like it if I so wished. As many of you will know, it was Mother's Day here in the UK yesterday; I thought I'd make Mum a nice new bag. A bag with the taste of spring (or even summer) about it. A bag in bright colours, which she would enjoy using. And by jove, I think I achieved it.

Do you remember the fabrics I bought at the Jumble Sale the kids and I went to last month? Well that bottom print is in the sorts of colours Mum likes - she loves oranges, peaches, yellows, browns and tans, greens, and creams. I had some plain orange fabric that I thought would make a good contrast to the print, so set about making Mum a simple bag.

I ended up with handles I actually like:

I ended up with an interior I actually like:

Inside one of the pockets, I tucked a matching tissue holder (fully reversible - plain orange inside) - that I like:

Inside the bag I slipped a tray of Ferrero Rocher chocolates. She loves them - I personally think they taste like gritty cardboard with a nut in the middle, and a nasty aftertaste, but there you are. Anyway, after fussy cutting the fabric for the bag outer, I ended up with a whole bag I actually like:

Thankfully I wasn't the only one who liked it ... Mum did too, which was a relief. Do you other crafty types go into a huge panic just before you give something handmade to someone, just in case they really, really hate it? I was watching her face for signs of 'It's hideous but I'll say I like it' ... but no, she really did love it. Phew. We also took her some cakes we'd made:

We made cakes for the the Wrinklets too:

Amongst other things, they gave me flowers ... not your usual bunch of flowers, but these fantastic fabric flowers:

Which are 65cm (well over 2ft) tall and now stood in a glass vase in the sitting room. I loved spending some very enjoyable time with both my children, and my own mother. I hope those of you who are either mothers, or who have your own mothers around in your lives, had an equally enjoyable time.

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Dreaming

I had real trouble waking up the other morning. The dream I was having was so bizarre and weird, I could not fathom what, precisely, it was about. My alarm went off three times before I could force myself away from it and get on with the day. Even now, as I sit and type, it's still in my head. I wish it would go away - it was weird. Basically, I suddenly found myself 6 months pregnant. I know not how or via whom. I was panicking because I don't have any baby paraphernalia anymore, and I didn't know how I would be able to explain the pregnancy to my friends. On top of that, my skin in certain places was afflicted with sore spots - to which I was trying to apply lotions and ointments. The only person I knew in the dream was an old friend whom I haven't seen for ages.

On finally forcing myself to wake up and get up I sought out an old book my brother gave me years ago; it's all about the symbolism of dreams. I'm sure dreams and their interpretation are highly personal, but it would seem there are some general 'rules' which can be applied to symbols and/or themes, and it's always interesting to see what this book has to say whenever I have a particularly vivid dream. In this case it tells me that to dream of pregnancy is generally considered to be a fortunate omen, and strangely, so are sores on the skin as long as it's your own skin. To see sores on the skin of another person indicates a less positive interpretation.

A few weeks ago there was a BBC Horizon documentary on dreams and dreaming - it was really interesting, as researchers are continually finding out more about the mechanisms of dreaming. It seems that we, as human 'animals', are programmed to dream, and that dreaming might actually be an integral part of sleep: If the part of our brain involved in dreaming (the parietal lobe) is injured, our ability to sleep is hampered. This asks a curious question of those who say they "don't dream".

Are you a person who has vivid dreams, dear Reader? Do they recur, or are they isolated incidents? I used to keep a dream diary as I am someone who has always had varied and numerous dreams. I don't find it difficult to recall my dreams, and when we moved I found it really interesting when I found my old dream diary, and read about some of the dreams therein.

My most memorable dream ever was one in which I met my dead grandparents. It was at a time in my life when I desperately wanted to have children, but because of endometriosis, was infertile (the experience of endo and infertility is a whole other blog post - maybe I should write it one day?) Anyway, in this dream I was out shopping with HWNLR; he went off to buy stuff, and I went up to this house. It was a bright, sunny day and I walked up a long path, with well-tended garden either side. I knocked on the door, and was amazed when it was opened by my grandmother. I was surprised to see her since at that time she'd been dead for quite a few years; but what was more surprising was that she looked so well and was walking freely. In life she suffered badly from arthritis - particularly of the hips. I never knew her to walk well (she had a built up shoe when I was very young, because one hip was so worn) and in later years she was in a wheelchair. But in the dream she looked fabulous and was walking normally. She greeted me warmly and invited me through to the kitchen.

Sitting at the kitchen table was a young man - she told me his name was Michael, I said hello and he reciprocated, but then went back to reading the books in front of him on the table. At that point the back door opened and in walked my Grandpa. Like Grandma, he looked younger than I remembered, he was grinning all over his face, and carrying logs for the fire. (In reality they had no open fireplace at their house, but the house in which the dream took place bore no resemblance to their house). He was pleased to see me and said hello, giving me a hug.

An afternoon of cups of tea, cakes to eat, and general chat followed. Michael went off somewhere. When he'd gone, my grandma told me the reason I was there that day was to tell me something important. She told me that even though I didn't think it would happen, that one day - but not yet - I would have a child. She said the child would be a daughter, and told me that at the moment that girl was "in spirit". She told me her "spirit name" (her words) and said that it would be nice if I included that name in the girl's given names after she was born. She said the child was a lovely girl, and that I would love her very, very much. The afternoon drew to a close and I left their house, kissing them both goodbye and telling them it had been wonderful to see them again. I walked back to the shops and met up with HWNLR and told him about all that had happened.

It wasn't until a year later that, after an operation to tackle the endometriosis, I became pregnant. But I remembered that dream vividly, and was certain that my baby was a girl (confirmed by the 20 week scan). No.1 was born 2 days before her due date, and was given the 'spirit name' my grandmother told me as her middle name. It's not a name we'd ever have chosen if the dream hadn't happened, but as it is, I do like it very much.

That dream was so vivid, that I have no trouble recalling it even now, almost 14 years later. I still dream frequently and with enormous detail, so I guess my parietal lobe is ok. Long may it continue as I largely enjoy the experience of dreaming (although there have been some very weird ones: In one I was teaching Cilla Black to swim :-O WTF was that about?! And in another Prince Charles and Princess Diana were visiting ... she was cold, so I made her a little bolero jacket with ... kitchen roll - she seemed delighted. Again .... what the hell? :-O )

My 'dream' grandmother was right - No.1 IS a lovely girl, and I DO love her very, very much. Oh and that young man named Michael? I discovered that my Aunt (my grandmother's daughter) had had a stillborn son; she and her husband named him Michael. He'd have been about 4 years younger than me. There is nobody else by that name in our family, and I guess I'll never know if it was him in my dream or not, but it's an interesting 'coincidence'.

© Author

Mid March Mutterings ('09)

Exciting news early this month came in the form of an announcement by Mrs Locket that she was organising a Bloggery Picnic Party for the Easter Holidays. Bloggers and their offspring (and other sundry friends and relations) are going to be meeting up for a few hours of picnic and chat. If you fancy the proposition, simply click on the button below to go to Mrs Locket's blog and find out all the details.

I'm hoping the Wrinklets and I will be in attendance; we're very much looking forward to meeting some of our real-imaginary (bloggy) friends in person.

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I have been tagged by both Ron and Malach on a meme. It's a 3 wishes meme and goes like this:

“Your ship has sunk. You have, of course, been stranded on a deserted island. You have salvaged a copy of the King James Version of the Bible and a copy of the complete works of Shakespeare. Nothing else. “The very next day you find one of those Arabian Lamps in the sand. Of course, you rub it and, of course, a rather grumpy Genie appears. “‘Let’s get this straight - there is a recession going on. There are restrictions on the three wishes now. I don’t do water or air transport now so no boats, planes or magic carpets. As for electronics, forget it. There isn’t the infrastructure on this island. “‘I can let you have one book and I mean one VOLUME, one essential item and one luxury item. Now hurry up and make your choices, I have to get to those five other islands you are going nominate. ”

Hmmmm, well this took a lot of thinking about; I mean, I'm not a 'travelling light' kind of girl. At all.

• Wish No.1: The book would have to be The Encyclopaedia Britannica, so I can at least keep learning something new every day. The weight of it would be handy for squashing horrible critters, and lifting it every day might keep me in shape on the island? I could use pages about irrelevant things as firelighting aids.
• Wish No.2: One essential item. A water purifier of some sort, so there would be clean, hygienic water for me (and any gorgeous native chappies I might meet ;-)).
• Wish No.3: Luxury item. That grumpy old genie didn't rule out wishing for more wishes, did he? So my third 'luxury wish' would be to have a hundred more wishes, and with those I would be able to make a LOT of people very happy. Wishes for world peace, an end to disease, fires and famine; raised consciousness (particularly regarding how we treat one another) and no more poverty might be a huge cliché, but I am an old hippie at heart, and surely that is what most of us would wish for our world and the people living on it?

Thanks for tagging me guys - x - I like a meme that makes me sit and think about things for a while. As for tagging others, I know lots of people don't like being tagged, however those that might play along are Mal Intent, Troy, Dawn, Mr Dot and Bruce. No worries if you don't want to do it, chaps.

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I'm afraid I have some bad news. You remember Cyril my kitchen spider? Well very soon after publishing the post at the end of February in which I told you all about him, I came in from a school run, only to find this on the floor:

After some comments complaining of more spider pictures, I've made this one small - click on it to see poor Cyril large

Oh dear.

He doesn't look well, does he?

Poor Cyril. I'm afraid Georgie-cat took it upon herself to do a spot of tidying up, and the thing she mostly tidied up was Cyril. She looked incredibly proud of herself as she stood by the side of his poor crumpled self and showed me what she'd brought me. Of course now I feel terribly guilty; perhaps he'd have fared better out in the snow and the cold?

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I now have to say some thank yous. Firstly to Burby for this fantabulous 'This Blog has a Heart' Award. Thank you Burby - x - both for the award and for noticing the bloggy heart tucked away in the corner! I have found most bloggers to have pretty big hearts - the generosity and warmth of the Blogosphere is something to behold, I had no idea when I first started blogging that it would be this way. I'm really honoured to be a part of it.

Burby and I have 'stuff' in common. Lots of stuff. She's an all round good egg, and if you've never read her blog, I heartily recommend it.

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Now I need to thank Sas over at Gemini Miscellany for this 'Best Blog Comment' award. Thank you Sas - x. I've known Sas since 2005 when I first joined Digital Spy; we both used to post in a thread entitled WHATM. (There was a standing joke that newbies would wander in and say 'what does WHATM stand for?' ... It was 'What's Happening At The Moment' and was on the Big Brother forum. Yes, we were the sad gits who watched the live feed of BB and chatted about it on a forum). Anyway, like me she is interested in the rich symbolic language of astrology (Emma Pebble and Dottie Cookie close your ears! You scientific types won't be sympathetic!) and it was that which was our first reason for getting to know one another. Since then, she has proved a very good friend, and I'm sure I don't tell her often enough that I think she's a fab old bird. So there - I've said it.

I'd like to pass on this comment award to everyone who left a comment on my last post. I'm not going to link to you all, because I'd be here until Christmas, but consider yourselves awarded:

Blossom, Dotty Cookie, Clare (Clare's Craftroom), Jackie (Button Tree Crafts), Flossie & Tom, Tintocktap, Cherry Menlove, Mal Intent, Handmade, Silverpebble, Lucy Locket-Pocket, Purple & Paisley, Ramblin Mama, Moogsmum, Elaine (Feel My Felt), Country Bliss, Alex Mason, Tilly Tatas, Janet (no blog!), Elise, Bagladee, Jackie (Dogdaisychains), Thimbleanna, Lazylol, Dubgirl, Malach, The Mother of This Lot, Jane (Sew Create It), Raining Sheep, Indigo Blue, Picciolo, Ron, Chris (Prism Trail!), Angryman, Lily Wren, Burby, and Katie Twinkles.

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Proud Mother Moment (just so I have it on record): No.1 was picked as one of 40 students at her school who (according to the letter she brought home) had shown 'flair and enthusiasm' in a recent English project on the work of the poet and author Carol Ann Duffy. Those 40 students were then given the opportunity of meeting Ms Duffy and working with her for a morning workshop. In keeping with being an adolescent, No.1 didn't appreciate the experience as much as she might have, but said it was an interesting morning ... and it got her out of normal lessons. Tsk.

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I shall leave you with a photograph I took recently. The Wrinklets and I got in the car, picked our direction and drove, parking up in some nice scenery where we had a mini-picnic and took photos. (Actually we were heading for a youth hostel, but on account of my having some geography genes missing, I went the wrong way and we never did get there. Chatting the next day with No.2, he told me his favourite bit of the weekend was "when you got lost". Charming).

This is a stone memorial we found:

It was inscribed as having been constructed for a young man who died in action, in Gaza, Palestine, in April 1917. He was 29 years old. The memorial was erected in 1921, and since there was a wreath of poppies sat on one side, he'd obviously had a fairly recent visitor. I felt so sad as I read the words; I wonder what he'd make of the fact that over 90 years later, there is still fighting and death in exactly the same place?

So much for progress, eh?

© Author

More Monkeys & Some Sealife

I have some more sock monkeys to show you. All 'born' here but have now gone to live with their new families. These have been made over the past couple of months (or more, actually) lest you think I've been supersonically whipping them up this last week. I've just neglected to post them until now.

First up is this chap:

He goes by the name of 'Nev' and was a birthday gift for one of No.2's closest friends. They met on their first day at school when they were both only 4, and have been pals ever since. Of course it is one of those weird quirks of fate which makes firm friends of a Liverpool FC fanatic (No.2) and an Evertonian (his chum). Nev is kitted out in Everton colours and sports a club badge on his hat. Nev's owner's mum told me Nev is cuddled every single day - and that's just how it should be.

Now please meet this little fellow:

He was requested for the younger son of a friend of mine. Her older son already has a monkey:

(That one was named 'King Kadonk'). I managed to find the same brand of socks in a slightly different colourway (a preference for blue was stated) - I think it's clear they are 'brothers'. This new monkey has been named 'Henry' and has apparently settled well into the family. Now the boys' mum would like her own monkey ... the boys dad says he'd rather have some knitted boobies. Tsk

This little tiddler monkey has also left here recently:

He has gone to live with a new baby (so he has no 'bits' a teeny person could chew or pull off. I'm sure he won't mind in the least being dribbled on, or posted through a letterbox, or any of the other things little people tend to do with their toys.

My kids still have a lot of the toys they were given when they were teeny - especially No.1. She remembers all their names and who gave each one to her. She won't hear of getting rid of them, even though she doesn't actually handle/play with/cuddle them any more. Hopefully some of these monkeys will live out a similarly long and happy life with their new families.

I have more monkeys in progress; after a little gap whilst I made Christmas presents and had a brief fling with a bag and some crochet, I'm back in the old routine. I found I'd kind of missed the cheeky little blighters.

In other making, I have been revisiting an old love - appliqué. I forgot what a lovely relaxing way it is to spend a few hours. The daughter of my old friend 'F' is involved in the organisation of an auction for Comic Relief to be held at her school, and asked if I would donate something. Hmmmmm. I decided to send her an appliquéd picture in a very simple wood Ikea frame. I looked out my old designs, and went with the sealife theme. First some small appliqués on felt:

And then stitched the individual pieces on to a backing fabric:

I put the whole thing in a frame, sent it off, and hope it'll raise some dosh for a very good cause.

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Hair Care

Recently, No.2, in his own inimitable way (ie direct and with no sensitivity whatsoever) referred to my “moustache”. He quickly added that he was joking, but it was enough to have me running to a mirror to closely examine my top lip. Hmmm, perhaps I’ve been a bit remiss lately in attending to such things as unwanted cheveux or poils?

There are, of course, people who believe we should all wear our body hair au naturelle. Taken to the ‘n’th degree, it would result in us all sporting long shapeless hair ‘styles’ (bald bits allowing) and men having bushy beards and moustaches. I would like to ask my female readers – do you like a bit of facial whiskery on a chap? I must admit, I’ve always found it rather attractive (my previously admitted youthful crush on Tom Selleck is evidence of that. Although ... No.1 was watching an old episode of 'Friends' recently, with Mr Selleck playing Monica's boyfriend Richard. He's still rather gorgeous you know). Similarly, I much prefer a hairy chest on a man than the smooth, waxed chests which seem to be the vogue nowadays, though hairy backs are a bit questionable. There is perhaps a fine line to be drawn between ‘masculine’ and ‘simian’?

At least men only have to decide what to do with their facial fluff; they experience no social pressures to remove, doctor, or shape other body hair (though I gather Frank Lampard has even had his arm hair waxed off. Why, Frank?) I admit to being terrified as a youngster of my grandmother's next door neighbour, who had eyebrows of gargantuan proportions, with associated wispy bits. The 'monobrow' is also not a good look. But generally blokes can do what they like with their hairy bits, whereas women are deemed less feminine for not attending to sprouting tufts. A bit of online research informed me that in primitive 'tribal cultures' men who are excessively hairy are deemed to have supernatural powers or increased virility. Whereas hairy woman are reviled as freaky or even 'evil'. I know in some countries it's considered normal or even desirable, but according to the BBC's website, women in the UK spend £280m PER YEAR on removal of body hair.

Julia Roberts was once famously photographed in a red sleeveless dress, with something dark lurking in her armpits. It turned out not to be twin small fluffy mammals, but hair! Did it make you warm to her? Did it help publicise whatever it was she was attending or promoting at the time? Personally, my eyes were just horribly drawn to the underarm hair and failed to read the blurb attached. It wasn’t a few wisps, it was a veritable ... thicket ... which means it must have been left unattended for quite some time. Is it only me who would never wear a sleeveless dress or top in public if I wasn’t ‘presentable’ in the armpit department? Perhaps Julia had been fondly nurturing it and was proudly giving her fluffy bits a debut? She doesn’t seem to have done it again since. Please don't misunderstand me, I have no beef with women who choose not to shave their underarm sproutings; horses for courses ... I just couldn't imagine feeling ok with it on me.

Travelling further south we must inevitably examine the question of deforestation down under (and no, we're not talking of horticultural vegetation in the Antipodes). On girlie nights out I’ve attended, this subject has produced chat of much hilarity. There are those who favour simple edge trimming, those who feel more comfortable with more extensive pruning, and the odd one who takes it all off. None of those with whom I conversed on the matter has had a Brazilian (or admitted to it) – have any of you? Doesn’t the mere thought of having waxed papers ripped off in the region make you cross your legs in self-protection? Isn’t it much simpler and less painful to utilise other methods?

Of course, just as with hairstyles on heads, hair management in other (bodily) places is subject to modes and phases. Can you imagine what they’d have said 50 years ago at the thought that people would voluntarily subject themselves to torture in the name of trendy pubes? Mind you, back in 1450, when the merkin was first 'invented', I'm sure they didn't envisage that people would still be wearing them over 550 years later (often with complimentary 'pasties' - apparently).

I was in a shop with the kids last summer. One of those shops that sells everything from dog leads to mascara to birthday cards to footballs to ... well, decorative merkins and pasties as it turned out. No.1 was looking at things being displayed on a wall round the corner from me, she quickly came to get me to show me something. Yep, you've guessed it. She was fascinated, but appalled that people would wear stuff like that. What I want to know - and I didn't dare pick up the packet to look with her stood there - is how do people make them stick on their bodies? And if it's via a method 'adhesive' enough to keep them stuck there - what the hell's it like when you take them off? :-O Ouch!

Should anyone be interested in making their own pasties (and I'm not talking Delia's recipe for a tasty Cornish version) ... click here for a tutorial.

Anyway, I'm pleased to report my top lip is now as smooth as a baby's bottom. A friend of mine (who shall remain nameless, or she wouldn't be a friend anymore) has reported the appearance of wiry chin hairs from time to time. I'm very pleased to say I have yet to find one of those. However, should I inadvertently miss one, I'm sure No.2 would be happy to tell me it's there.

© Author

An 'Unofficial' Swap

One of the loveliest things about blogging is the people you 'meet' whilst you're doing it. I never, in my wildest dreams (and let me tell you, they can get pretty wild ;-) ) dreamt that the process of blogging could introduce me to so many lovely people all over this globe of ours.

One of the 'best' ways of meeting new bloggy friends is to take part in swaps, and I have so far 'done' around 7 or 8 of those, and hope to join in with very many more. However, at the start of this year I took part in an unofficial swap. No button in the blog sidebar. No list of people all sending things to each other. Just two people on opposite sides of the world sending each other something the other would like. I don't know how many of my readers or other bloggers know Sharon. That's a link to her profile rather than her blog. You can't read her blog ... because she doesn't have one. She blinkin' well should have one, but she doesn't; and no matter how much I nag her, she just won't. Tsk, some people are even more stubborn than me. However, she enjoys reading blogs and since first commenting on mine ages ago we have become pals.

She is the proud 'owner' of two strapping sons who, she felt, might each like a sock monkey. I can do those! What I cannot do is knit socks (even though Michaela is sure I can, and has been wonderfully encouraging on the subject - thanks Michaela, I promise I will try one day!) All over the Blogosphere I have seen wondrous hand knitted socks. Beautiful colours, fabulous yarns and pleasing patterns. But truth be told the thought of trying to juggle more than two needles and a ball/skein of yarn scares me senseless. And since there's not a great deal of sense here to start with, perhaps it's as well I haven't tried?

Anyway, Sharon can 'do' socks. She can also 'do' a load more besides. Her socks were completed for me way before my monkeys were completed for her - something about which I still feel bad. Still, they got there in the end. Would you like to see what she sent me? Okie dokie, look at these packages wrapped so beautifully I (almost) didn't want to open them:

Look! Look! Toe-tastic hand-knitted socks, which fit ... well, as if they were made for me. :-D The pair on the left are shades of blue and palest silver grey, the ones on the right are deep blue and have sweet little pockets on one side. There is a handknitted white ted in one of the pockets, and I found a 50 pence piece in the other sock pocket (dated, coincidentally, the year No.1 was born):

A collage showing close-ups of the socks, as well as some lovely ribbons Sharon sent. The bear, a mobile phone holder (which No.1 swiped), a very pretty handmade card, some gloriously loud socks for future monkey-dom, and the loveliest little handmade 'book' with pockets containing even more little cards:

She also sent buttons and beads!

This is a close-up of the cards which were tucked inside the pockets of the little handmade book. Each card has been beautifully embellished and bears a profound quote. I do love quotes. (If you click on the image you'll be able to read them: Hold down Ctrl and click on the picture to open it in a new tab):

My favourite is

"The grand essentials of happiness are something to do, something to love, and something to hope for." ~ Allan K Chalmers

And in return for all that, I only had to make and send two monkeys. Sharon wanted one of them to be a pirate, her son has named him Captain Monkey Hat:

She asked for the other to feature black and silver *bling*; this one has been named Dapper Dan:

Apparently both her sons are pleased with their sock monkeys, so that's a relief (I always worry that the recipient might be disappointed). Thank you so much Sharon - x - it was a fabulous swap. I'm very happy to have 'met' you, and if I'm ever over your side of the planet, I very much hope we can meet for real. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to blog this - this post sat here half-written for yonks.

Right, I'm off to put my beautifully-dressed feet up and have a cup of tea.

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