Rest in Mayhem, Malcolm Mclaren.

This is a little piece of wonderful from some clever people. God Save The Queen by the Sex Pistols in British Sign Language. Thanks to Matt Hulse for sharing this with me.

Talking to myself.

I've never been very good at keeping a diary. My childhood attempts would begin with great enthusiasm in January and tended to peter out  about March leaving only a few entries for posterity. Poor old Posterity faced  with my listings of what I ate for lunch or my fondness for Starsky and Hutch, written on pages decorated with red felt pen hearts.

These days I'm determined to keep a notebook of ideas and inspirations but the old reticence is still there. I don't like the blank pages and the expectation of what should be put on them.  I talked to Miss Frugality, who knows about this sort of thing and she gave me some sage advice which I can paraphrase as - just get on with it and don't worry too much about a page being rubbish as you can always cover up that bit.

I have been filling the empty spaces with daftness and thought and along with the slowly ( very slowly ) improving drawings, conversations are springing up. Little chats between me and what is happening on the page.  Limbs? I ask myself when drawing a prototype felt cat. Make it less like Hitler is the comment next to a pig who doesn't look like a pig. A page with the design for my headscarf has the note, tadpoles are too weird.

I like talking to myself.

Reverse, Reverse.

I'm honing my sewing skills this week as well as knitting my way through what feels like a vat of orange. One day the orange will be a beautiful cardigan, I just need the patience required by eight million rounds of stocking stitch.

More orange on the scene comes courtesy of Alabama Chanin and two t-shirts from a charity shop. This is the headscarf pattern from the Alabama Stitch book and it was a lovely soothing thing to do. All hand stitched and cut, I even did a rolled hem although the original pattern calls for raw edges. I love the way it looks on the wrong side too.

Observant souls will notice that I am wearing the headscarf sitting outside. It must be truly spring.  Yesterday was glorious, the sunlight shone through our daffodils and it was warm enough to eat dinner on the steps.  We could enjoy the last rays of the sun and at the same time avoid the peculiar scrabbling noise coming from the kitchen walls.

A pair of starlings has decided to nest inside our house. That's spring for you.

Hanah.

When I wrote last week's post about brand new baby Hanah ( who has her own special spelling of her name ), I thought a lot about what I wanted to say about Hannah, her namesake. It turns out that one of the family, Hannah's nephew Ron, had  already described her perfectly. This is what he said.


"When I was a boy it seemed as if Aunt Nan's love could eclipse the sun. Nan cared about her nieces and nephews with a passion. She was a lioness if anyone threatened them or did them harm. She watched over the following two generations - her grand-nephews and nieces, and then her great-nephews and nieces - with the same unqualified devotion."

I can see Hanah inspiring the very same devotion.

New stories to tell.

I became an Aunt this week. I have the strangest feeling that life may never be the same again. Hanah Maria was born on Monday 22nd March and she is named after her Great Great Aunt.

Hanah's namesake lived in a small Scottish town and worked as a weaver in the local mill. She was a woman who knew that the most important things in life can't be valued in material terms. Happiness came in the form of family, friends and a passion for music. I  inherited Hannah's small hands and her love of clutter and shiny jewellery. I hope that her legacy of contentment and happiness passes down another generation to new baby Hanah.

No pictures as yet to show so you will just have to take it from me that Hanah is the most beautiful baby ever born. The black and white image is of Hannah Macdonald and the Queen Mother.

Spring Fever 2.

Cat fever more like. This image of the Mog during his springtime roll around the garden was so lovely I thought it should have a post all to itself.

And here it is.

Spring Fever and Sashiko.

I don't care when the official start date of Spring is meant to be, as far as I am concerned, Spring sprung this week. Two days in a row I was able to sit on the bench in the garden without the aid of a balaclava. At one point I removed my jumper and there were only two layers between me and the elements. Strange time of year, it was warm with a hint of freezing. I supervised the gardener at his pruning and Magnus supervised the pruned branches as they fell.

Monday saw me in Glasgow at the Collins Gallery for a marvelous Sashiko workshop led by Sara Keith. There were many interesting people there including fellow blogger Hazel/The Art Room Plant. The workshop was a lesson in the beauty and complexity of very simple stitching. I was reminded once again that there are times when it pays to slow down and be precise. Thankfully there was a sunny bench this week where I could sit and practice being meticulous.

And if meticulous lets you down, you can always make the failed project into a stunning cat toy which will be sniffed at once and then left hanging on the side of a chair.