kitchenalia dahling

Watching the Delicious Miss Dahl on TV has rekindled my love of mismatched kitchen ware. I already have these,

and this is what the doggy drinks from:

And at the charity shop last weekend, I got these babies for 10p each -

thrillsville huh?

Yesterday I dragged Mum and Oliver off to the local recycling shop-ette and picked up these

and these rather weird mugs, which I took a shine to:

£4 the lot. I love the plates. They are like plates my Gran used to have and they have personality. Mark is 'Alarmed of Exeter' at the sudden influx of strange stuff, and wants to know what's wrong with our old plates. I told him they were boring (true) and chipped (not so true). And they are in the bin. He pointed out that they were perfectly adequate for the kak I dish up. Although not quite the words he used, the implication was definitely there. Pig. Anyway, I made goat's cheese and pesto cannelloni from scratch last night and it was lush. So there.

Think I shall start up my own TV programme based on the 'can't cook won't cook' premise. I shall call it 'can cook, shan't cook if you carry on with that attitude'.

a tale of fifteen tops

I wanted a new top - something casual, something 'cool' as in hey man, a top that said 'she's a cool dudette who looks ten years younger than her 42 years'. I tried on fifteen different tops - short sleeves, long sleeves, shirts and vests and all of the buggers just screamed 'who ate all the pies.' NOT quite what I had in mind. On the last trip out of the fitting room, the lady asked if they were any good, to which I informed her no, and that I was off home to cancel my night out on Saturday.

Sulk.

On a more positive note, I have completed my next art journal layout:

Found this one a bit easier than the first one, but still not exactly what I imagined. A bit like the fifteen tops debacle....

And the kittys:

The house is one giant hairball.

different every day

I can't quite believe the difference in these kittens on a daily basis - the speed at which they are growing & developing is amazing.

For the sake of knowing which we are talking about, we have had to name them (against friend's advice who think that once named will have to live with us forever) so, we have Flash (ginger face), Spot (with a ginger spot on her head) and Pepper (friend's suggestion for the boy tabby).

They are very distracting and think they will become hard work once they are scuttling around everywhere.

happy days and the longest most full of pictures post EVER

Came home today after my mini retreat with the Exeter Scrapaholix girls. What a fabulous hotel - bursting with carved wooden stair cases, tall, tall windows and more nooks and crannies than you can shake a stick at. The gardens were so, so beautiful and tranquil - the sort of beauty that has been hundreds of years in the making - loads of history with this place. Had a brilliant time scrapping - did 5 layouts in all, pretty pleased with them on the whole. The best thing was actually feeling the value in time for me. Just me. I am not a great fan of the whole 'me time' bandwagon, but yesterday, walking alone in the gardens and having the unexpected revelation that I could sit in a deckchair if I wanted to - I did. I took some deep breaths, closed my eyes and also realised I could sit there for as long as I wanted to - and no-one was going to disturb me.

The Hotel main entrance:

The music room:

scrapping with a view:

So whilst I felt the absence of Oliver and home very keenly, I also became fully aware of the true value in time alone, and I will definitely be looking to do this at least annually, and be encouraging Mark to do the same. (not scrapbooking, obviously).

And the food - yumsters. Breakfast is soooo my favourite meal of the day when I stay anywhere. Everyone in front of me was asking for a smidgeon of scrambled egg and a sliver of bacon (wimps) but I was straight in there - 'I want everything, and I also want 2 eggs please' said greedy little me. And I had 4 rounds of toast. So there.

layouts:

Brrrr...

the joys of the British seas. Rachael lent me, well - gave me really (since I have no intention of returning them) three r's to complete my title for this one. Hereafter she shall be known as Rrrrachael. Ha ha.

Harvey

The first of many layouts methinks of the pooch. This one tells his story - found straying in Ireland, blah di blah. There were originally no buttons on this layout, but a sloppy smudge of pen forced my to seek a cover up. Many swear words and gnashing of teeth led me to the button solution.

Time out

Think this is my favourite of the weekend, I like the papers, and the ever present lovely lovely scallops. Also love this recent pic of Oliver. Clearly not one taken by me - it's in focus.

Looking back through history

Taken naughtily inside St Michael's Mount under the noses of the NT armed guard. (aka volunteers). Like to think it's a bit atmospheric - looking back through history - through the historic windows out to sea.... geddit?? There was some heated discussion on whether or not St Michael's Mount looks out over the Atlantic, or the English Channel..... my money was on the Channel, but since I seem to be finding as I get older that things I always believed to be set in stone are in fact absolute bollocks, I plumped for the 'I'll look it up later' option.

I didn't want you because

yes, yes, I know I'm a miserable hateful old cow, but this layout does in fact reflect on my wrongness in not wanting Harvey to start with....

And so to felines:

Think the two awake ones are girly cats, and the one snoring it's head off oblivious to the world is the boy. Hmm.

by the skin of my teeth

No change there then. I refer to the art journal I am committed to on UKS, where the first posting day is today, and I have just finished it to send. So crap at time management. After a few false starts, I have turned out this:

Not quite how I imagined it, but feel semi-pleased with its vague nod to artiness.

Quick kitty update:

oh, meeeOW!! Too sweet. Think we will probably keep ginger-face.

it's all about the animals

Here are some 'better' kitty pics. Quite difficult to photograph without freaking them out with a flash, so have turned the dial to the little moon and star on the camera, and that seemed to help. I really must read the manual and stop being so shit with my (aka Mark's) camera. You can actually see little gingery markings on a couple of them now all the birth goo has gone - one has a ginger face - how cute is that?

Last night on his walk, Harvey, who had been off the lead twice earlier in the day, took it into his head to just fuck off into the ether. Mark and Oliver came back sans pooch with long faces. Mark drove round for about an hour looking for him, I rang the dog warden and Oliver went off to bed miserable. At 10.30 I decided to walk up the road for a random search, and there he was, patiently sitting on the doorstep, not a care in the world. Whilst we think that's pretty clever for a partially blind little doggie who has only been here for two weeks, it didn't stop Mark calling him a little fucker and bemoaning his wasted evening.

raining cats and dogs

Two weeks ago today, we picked up Harvey. He seems to have settled in OK, and we are adjusting to the daily walks (bit of a shocker I can tell you). I have never stopped and spoken to so many strangers and petted so many unfamiliar dogs in my life. It's a whole new world. One which I think will make it a whole lot bigger though, so that's a good thing. Poppy, surprisingly seems to thoroughly dislike Harvey and has taken to lying in wait around corners for him. Truly if looks could kill - instant death to us all. Another of her tricks has been to lie across doorways in her vast pregnant state, like a big furry draught excluder, effectively trapping Harvey in whichever room he happens to be in as he dare not attempt to step over her.

This morning she popped out 3 kittens at the rather obliging hour of 9am. They are tiny, tiny little tabbies by the looks of things - not a ginger in sight, which is a surprise. Apart from the fact it is a true miracle of life that this cat, at less than a year old herself can give birth and suckle her young guided only by instinct, the whole business is a bit smelly and wet looking. I too was guided by instinct at 7am when I had to drag her out of a holdall on top of the wardrobe and hastily empty a cupboard in the dining room to prepare for the birth which I sensed may be quite imminent....

You can't really see much here, as she has conked out with exhaustion.

And here is sweet Harvey, settling in with Oliver. We let him off the lead for the first time yesterday in the park, and he loves tearing up and down. Have to have a pot of mature cheddar cubes at the ready though, for bribery purposes, lest he runneth off.

Will update with more kit pics soon.