Local Colour

I love the ordinariness of Saturday mornings - the lazy start to the day, the gentle waking up to the start of the weekend, the chance to wander round in your pjs, the stark contrast to the buzz and frenzy of the week. I love days when a stroll round town, following a familiar path at a leisurely pace with one or two of my family by my side, avoiding the crowds brings me comfort from its very ordinariness. Spring days when its not quite warm enough to pack a picnic and head for the beach, just a little too early in the year to wander round a country house and marvel at the gardens - days when its best to savour the familiar and enjoy the colour on my doorstep.



Our Saturdays have changed slightly recently, Big Sister has just started a Saturday job and so we find ourselves no longer glancing at the clock watching the day disappear as she languishes in bed till noon, these days she's up and ready and out of here and our family party becomes a party of three.



We follow a well trodden path down into town, noting today the many armfuls of flowers being taken home for well deserved mums tomorrow (even my youngest can't help but smile and notice the many dads looking rather harassed in the shops, surrounded by children desperately seeking the perfect gift).



The spring flowers and tables on the streets lighten my step as you can honestly smell the scent of Spring in the air.



So we wander through The Lanes into the local street market, which these days seems home to nearly as many cupcakes as flea market finds,



still I'm not complaining, it all adds to the fun of it.



It's great to know that if you get too hungry looking through the pile of old books there's an Oreo cupcake with your name on waiting for you on the next table!
The vegetable stall becomes more colourful each week as the choice of produce increases,



We buy a bag of mixed salad leaves from the old tin bath and I stop to admire one of my favourite shops.



This really is a good one, full of vintage inspired items, wonderful household goods and gifts.

A quick walk past the shop where Big Sister walks and try not to press our noses up to the window to get a better peep at her ... onwards towards the Pavillion where we are surprise by yet more stalls and discover a food festival taking place. Oh I wish this blog was in smellorama, the wafts and fragrances were really mouthwatering...



huge vats of curries, handmade chutneys and pickles, cheeses, baklava,



olives (we had some of those),




baker's stalls with piles of rustic bread and patisserie (almond croissants and pain au chocolat for Mother's Day breakfast)




and we couldn't resist, and nor would you, buying some of this delicious ginger beer. It's not, I fear, the kind advocated by Enid Blyton, this is of the alcoholic variety and I'm not sure the Famous Five would have solved nearly as many a mystery under the influence... and as I sit here typing, i am trying really hard not to open a bottle now as it is so darned tasty...



To round it off a very unexpected and lovely treat from Mr Roses - lunch in our favourite - Bill's. A riot of colour and a feast for your tummy and your eyes.



So I guess in many ways not quite the ordinary Saturday morning that we envisaged and full of enough local colour (and ginger beer) to last a weekend or two.

Wednesday - Finding my Glee

My kind of Glee - 1940s style...

A lot to embrace...

It's been a very domestic kind of week here. Lots going on, dance shows, concerts, usual homework stuff and all of this unfurling against the tragic backdrop of what is happening in Japan. It is so hard to comprehend the magnitude of this disaster and I sit typing this with one ear constantly listening to the very sad and unnerving updates on the radio.



It has been a week of sunshine and grey skies, mist rolling in from the sea days followed by spring in your step kind of days. The sunny days are of course what I have been waiting for, the chance to go out into the garden, feel that sun on my face and start to unfurl from my winter hibernation. In corners of the garden, hidden under winter foliage, the primroses are starting to appear, their creamy hues adding a much needed boost to the tired, neglected garden. Underneath the apple tree the daffodils are blooming and the old, discarded hyacinths that sat on my fireplace last year have popped up to keep them company.
All of this has brought a much needed smile to my face.



Last week my eldest daughter finally had her braces fitted. After seven years of trips to an orthodontist and a year in which she had to have 8, yes, 8, teeth removed she was finally referred to the local hospital for her treatment. The staff have been lovely, thorough and her treatment has been remarkably quick in coming.



But it hasn't been easy. I had no idea what a painful process it was. Watching your child cry and not being able to do anything is the worst, isn't it? For three days we were counting the hours before the next painkiller could be taken.



Two days after they were fitted, with a mouth full of ulcers and blisters, she had to stand at the front of a stage, grinning inanely with her mouth wide open for a drama piece she is working on at college. I don;t think I could have done that...



In a desperate attempt to get some carbs down her the other day, she grabbed a ball of bread and threw it down her throat which resulted in a very scary moment with me attempting a very poor heimlich manoeuvre on her (she is at least eight inches taller than me, and were it not so scary at the time, it must have been very funny to see).



What has impressed me so much this week is her complete embracing of the brace. She has tried to see the funny side of things at all times. she has not once tried to hide away in self consciousness and I am incredibly proud of her. I know that deep down inside she must be counting away the days till the darned things are removed and hoping that they will be off before University. And I spend my days planning calorie filled meals that are as sloppy as they come and that will keep my beautiful girl smiling.

For Lily

Mr Roses bought me this bottle of Lily of the Valley perfume from Penhaligon's for Christmas. Whenever we are in London and near to the shop we pop in for our fix of heady, floral scents. It is like walking round the most delicious greenhouse or woodland walk in the height of Spring. Each time we visit we daub ourselves in various aromas and spend the rest of the day trying to decide which is our favourite and, more importantly, which scent our favourite actually was...
You might remember that we bought Bluebell for our eldest daughter's 16th birthday and that for my birthday a couple of years ago I was lucky enough to receive Elizabethan Rose so we are well on our way to recreating our favourite cottage garden smells... But on this visit, I stumbled across the little bottle of Lily of the Valley and was immediately transported back to my childhood.



Not only did I fall in love with its deliciously sweet but fresh fragrance but it conjured up so many memories for me. Past Christmases of boxes of Lily of the Valley soaps, talcum powders and bath salts piled up in the bathroom or in my mother's bedroom. At the side of her dressing table were two little cupboards where she kept her perfumes. I remember so vividly the pretty packaging and fragrances that would fill the air each time I opened the cupboard doors... for me as a child, it was the equivalent of having my nose pressed up against the sweet shop window. Dreams of growing up, luxuriating in lily of the valley scented baths before putting on a new dress, applying my make up and spraying myself in some new scent would fill my head.
The scent was very much part of my early years, even my mother's handbags would offer up its beautiful fragrance when they were opened as she always sprayed her hankies with perfume before putting them in amongst her purse and keys (oh how times have changed).




Strangely enough Lily of Valley is purported to strengthen the memory and in the language of flowers signifies the return of happiness. So it seems very apt that today on what would have been my mother's birthday (her name was Lily), I bring out my bottle, take a sniff and remember.

In search of some rays...

A lazy, rainy, grey half-term so far. A trip up to London to see some lovely paintings and a lot of much needed lazing around at home.



The sun's gone AWOL, the clouds have taken over and whilst we're all snuggled up at home watching the rain pouring down the windowpanes, I find myself in desperate need of some colour.



So please indulge me whilst I just post some colourful pics from around the house, nothing special just splashes of much needed colour...





And today I added the most colourful eiderdown I own to our ""princess and the pea" of a bed...





Oh and some lovely images from some goodies in the Emporium right now that again have nothing to do with anything in particular other than they're full of colour and make me smile...

Blue Is The Colour

Weatherwise it wasn't the best of weekends. Back to back grey with drizzle and gale force winds thrown in for good measure. After braving the elements on Saturday morning and returning home drenched and frozen, I decided to throw anchor and stay put for the duration.



The girls had plans aplenty and weren't deterred by the bad weather. Left at home I took stock of the million and one jobs that had been left half done or unstarted around me. Paint pots and brushes in the hallway, sandpaper in the bathroom, the sewing order that needed to be finished and sent off and all the goodies that needed to be photographed for the Emporium...
Well I've always been more than a bit of a procrastinator and will find a thousand odd things to do rather than the one that matters most. Which led me to the cupboard under the stairs. The dreaded cupboard understairs where nobody goes unless it absolutely necessary. It'a an 'enter at your peril' kind of place, the sort of cupboard that explodes each time the door is opened. The kind of cupboard where our cats have been known to disappear without a trace for hours on end...



Like a woman possessed, I grabbed bags, piles of cushions, sleeping bags, camping kettles in search of my prey. And there it was in an old plastic bag, the rather worn, stained old woollen blanket that I had managed to hide from the ruthless Mr Roses. Well this blanket takes the word "pre-loved" to its limits, you would have to be truly smitten to take this blanket to heart, to wrap it round you and enjoy its comfort. But there were bits worth salvaging, I was particularly taken by the blue striped edging and grabbed the sewing machine whilst nobody was looking.
In the time it took Mr Roses to go and buy some tomatoes, a newspaper and lose his umbrella, my cushion was made. A quick encounter with some lavender water to freshen it up and a casual chuck onto the blue armchair in the living room and, hey presto, nobody would ever know...



Well, there were no protests from Mr Roses about the smelly blanket from under the stairs, the cats love it, there is a bit more space in THAT cupboard and whilst I may not have touched the sewing order that should have been number one on my priorities list, it did bring a smile to my face to see it finally sitting there soft, blue and finally re-loved.
And if that wasn't enough, look what's going on here today



Blue sky!

Like a siren calling to me this morning I couldn't sit still until I'd gone out for a walk in all that glorious sunny daylight. As I said to a friend, it was like the world was a huge box of chocolates, urging me to open the door and tuck in. And tuck in I did.

A Spot of Daydreaming - January's Good Things

It took a couple of weeks but I finally managed to turn the cold, grey days of January to my advantage. Instead of sitting and staring at the steamy windowpanes and wishing and wishing for some sunshine and fresh air, I succumbed to a little daydreaming...
We bought this poster from a junk shop last year on the Isle of Wight. An auction poster for the contents of an hotel (incidentally just found via Google that the hotel remains). It's easy to be swallowed up by those words, how I would have loved to have been at the auction. What would I have bought? One of the 17 black and brass bedsteads - maybe. Definitely if the bed came with the bedding - I bet there was some wonderful lace linen and the odd eiderdown or two on offer...
Probably indulged in a marble washstand or two and wouldn't have said no to some of the garden chairs either.



But what I know for certain I wouldn't have been able to resist is "The Bathing Tent". If I'm going to be daydreaming about living in an Edwardian seaside hotel I would just HAVE to have the bathing tent. Visions of Queen Victoria in "Mrs Brown" emerging majestically in her swimming garb from her bathing machine have filled my thoughts this past weekend. I'll have to settle for a bathing tent rather than a bathing machine, but would make sure mine was striped, candy striped or if the Edwardians didn't run to that, then definitely billiard green and clotted cream in colour.



And then this weekend as the temperatures dipped, I gave in to it, Totally gave in to doing nothing. Washing, ironing and cooking either completed or ignored, I took refuge under a pile of blankets and eiderdowns and filled my head with thoughts of 1930s country homes and stately piles, sensible tweed skirts and permanent waves, debutante balls and love's young dream. My eldest daughter, who had miraculously done her homework, gave in to it too and she sat on the opposite sofa her head full of Scott Fitzgerald, glamorous dresses, cocktails and chandeliers... I remembered how my mother use to call me "Dolly Daydream" and for the first time I understood why, but then if you can't indulge in January, when can you?

Lest We Forget...

Turn left down memory lane

I think it was sometime in early September that I heard a feature on Saturday morning Radio 4 about sound sculptures. Listeners recalling sounds from their childhood that are so special, that awaken lots of feelings and emotions in them. Now, if I were to be chosen to take part in Desert Island Discs (Haha), I would find it impossible to come up with my definitive list of songs. I am sn impossible chooser, will dither and dither and never feel fully satisfied that I have included all my favourite choices. I am absolutely hopeless at that kind of thing. But for some reason, as soon as I heard that feature on the radio, I knew immediately what mine would be. It's a sound that takes me back to my early childhood, that offers me a sense of security and snugness. A sound that I can hear in my head as if I just heard it...
The sound of the indicator on my parent's car. Not the sound of car indicators these days, they're far too sleek and purring. No, the slighty clinky clunky, automated tick tocking that I would hear whilst sitting in the back seat on a car journey with my parents. I don't know why it conjures up so many memories but it always does, and it always makes me feel happy. The thought of it makes me remember weekend evening journeys home from visiting aunts and uncles, driving through London dark, late and exciting. The murmur of my parents' chatting in the front and me cosy in the back with the pillows and blankets that they would always pack for the home journey for me. I would snuggle down (before compulsory seat belts!), my head a mix of excitement and woe at the thought of the oncoming school week, watching the streetlights whizz past. lulled into a gentle sleep by the sound of my parents conversation and knowing that whilst feeling this snug, school felt like years away. All of this accompanied by that gentle ticktocking of those indicators...
There could be nothing better - except perhaps the sound of those gentle clicking indicators against a background of rain, gently falling on the windscreen, now that's pure happiness! Of course nowadays, the sound of rain whilst I'm driving does nothing for me except make me slightly nervous, but I have noticed a similar look on my daughters when they were younger, bundled up in the back of the car, excited, contented and cosy.
I'm not sure if this is just a family thing. The other day in Sainsbury's the man at the till was talking to me about the rain and telling me how comforting he finds the sound of it and I told him about my indicators and how the icing on the cake for me and my indicators would be rain and I waited for the baffled look he would give me, but instead he broke into a broad smile and said "yes, I know exactly what you mean - but it has to be at least 30 year old indicators!" ... at least I'm not alone.
Do you have a sound that takes you back? That's there without you even thinki ng about it, that's easier to conjure up than a list of songs to take to that Desert Island?

Sweet peas, honey bees & daisies

If I type this very quietly maybe nobody will notice that I'm not behind my sewing machine, beavering away. I promised myself a sewing day but I Just wanted to say that I hope you are all having some of this beautiful sunshine today. Sun shining from the moment I sprang out of bed (well 'sprang' not really the word, since I seem to have broken yet another toe!), all day long and I even managed to eat my lunch in the garden too.




You could almost be forgiven for thinking it was summer - the summer that never was... There is of course the whiff of Autumn in the air and we have woken up this week to seamists, the whiff of changing seasons in the air and holly trees bedecked in frosty jewelled cobwebs.



So when days like these come along, you have to seize them and enjoy. Almost as much as I am enjoying these lovely posters that we have recently added to our Emporium - let the sunshine in indeed!
Enjoy your week.
PS Holiday photos have been uploaded! And some time between now and Christmas at this rate I'm going to share them with you. Here's a clue - we went on a mission....

Almost tea time...

I sat down this afternoon, put the kettle on, put some cupcakes in the oven to bake, found the magazine I'd been wanting to read all week, planned out what I was going to share with you about our holiday in my next blog post and in true "Would you believe it?" fashion, the phone rang, my youngest daughter was feeling poorly and needed collecting from school.
Apart from being one of the longest sentences I've written, it goes to show you that you just can't have your cake and eat it ... well not until you've driven to school, the tea's gone cold and you've spent an hour or two administering calpol and run out of time to read your magazine.
I WILL, I WILL get those holiday photos uploaded - promise!

September Sunshine

Thank you all so much for the lovely and kind comments on my last post. I am very relieved to say that my father seems to be on the mend, although it is a very slow process. Unlike the hands on the clock which seemed to have whizzed round this summer and we now find ourselves in September...
Whilst it may not have been the best of summers for us here at the Ragged Roses house, there have been many, many reasons to smile. Days of sitting on a sunny beach were few and far between but moments of sheer happiness have been savoured:

Seeing my father last week, up and dressed and being his usual naughty self...

The sound of my eldest daughter's voice when she rang home to tell us her GCSE results - amidst all the doom and gloom, her hard work had been rewarded, her dream results were achieved and the maths calculator banished! I don't think I will ever forget the sound of her voice on the phone that day...

Mr Roses surprising us gals with a very unexpected return trip to see "Wicked". A show made to make your spirits soar if ever there was one. Only to be matched by the size of the beams on my daughters' faces when the curtain rose...

Watching Little Sister trundle off on her first day to Secondary School last week. Completely swamped by the size of her schoolbag and PE kit and returning home relieved and just a little bit older...

Spending the day with her yesterday as she completed her first bit of homework. Rewarding ourselves with a batch of homemade brownies and a much awaited cuddle on the sofa whilst singing along to DVD of Mama Mia...

Emails and phone calls from friends who have been so kind to me this summer and, yes Dottie, what would i have done without you?

The first evening of our holidays when I started to laugh hysterically and realised that I hadn't laughed for a very long time... Oh yes, we even managed a little holiday and i have lots to say about that very soon!