Starry Starry Starfish

I found a tiny starfish
In a tide pool by the sand.
I found a tiny starfish
And put him in my hand.

An itty-bitty starfish
No bigger than my thumb,
A wet and golden starfish
Belonging to no one

I thought I would take him
From the tide pool by the sea,
And bring him home to give to you
A loving gift from me.

But as I held my starfish,
His skin began to dry.
Without his special seaside home,
My gift to you would die

I found a tiny starfish
In a tide pool by the sea.
I hope whoever finds him next
Will leave him there like me!

And the gift I've saved for you?
Is the best gift I can give:
I found a tiny starfish,
And for you, I let him live.

Dayle Ann Dodds (1952-)

Am having a bit of a Starfish moment! They'll be making their way to the Pick 'n' Mix Makers' Market at Holt in a few weeks' time. For details see sidebar top right.

Paisley and Patchwork

This is the Indian woodblock which is used for printing onto textiles in India and which I use for imprinting into soft clay. I love Paisley patterns and have recently incorporated them a lot into my patchwork designs. But I didn't know why Paisley is called Paisley - so I looked it up in that wonderful internet site where we find out everything about everything these days and ....

Paisley is a droplet-shaped vegetable motif of Indian or Persian origin. The pattern is sometimes called "Persian pickles" by American traditionalists, especially quiltmakers, and "Welsh pears" in Welsh textiles as far back as 1888.

Imports from the East India Company in the first half of the 17th century made paisley and other Indian patterns popular, and the Company was unable to import enough to meet the demand.

And now for a bit of social history, which I always find interesting ....

In the 19th Century European production of paisley increased, particularly in the Scottish town from which the pattern takes its modern name. Soldiers returning from the colonies brought home cashmere wool shawls from India, and the East India Company imported more. The design was copied from the costly silk and wool Kashmir shawls and adapted for use on handlooms.

From roughly 1800 to 1850, the weavers of the town of Paisley in Renfrewshire, Scotland, became the foremost producers of these shawls, and so this pattern got called after the town they were made.

Obviously, if I'd had loads of Cashmere shawls lying around the place, I might of known all this!

Anyway, I am gonna now call it the 'Persian Pickle Pattern' as that sounds cooler than Paisley!

You learn something new ... or did you guys all know this anyway?

Happy Blogday to Me

So, unbelievably, its a whole year since my first blogpost, in which I wondered aloud whether I was talking to myself (as usual). But I very soon was not, and I can honestly say its one of the best things I've ever done.

Why?

Connection, support, friendship, encouragement, inspiration, knowledge, a laugh, a cry, empathy, ideas, challenges, prizes (I've had a few wins!), generosity, warmth, and much much more.
And I really hope that some of these things are reciprocated when you visit my blog.



Of course, there are some downsides to it all - very irritating technical stuff around the actual process that does my head in!

Not for nothing does 'Blogger' sound like a swearword. I am often to be heard shouting 'Oh Blogger!!' when the photos don't upload in the right order, or at all, or just take three days to get there.

But all in all its a hoot!

I've been making these wall pieces just recently and am really enjoying the process of mounting ceramic tiles/letters/shapes onto wooden boards to be hung on a wall.

My favourite is the second one, the traditional Gaelic Blessing, and so my Blogday wish for you all is :

May the road rise up to meet you.

May the wind be always at your back.

May the sun shine warm upon your face;

the rains fall soft upon your fields and until we meet again,

may God hold you in the palm of His hand.

Parlez Vous Franglais?

I'll just finish up telling you about our short break in France by showing some of the fabulous places we stayed at. For not much more than the price of a Travelodge room in England, we had sumptuous bed and breakfast accommodation here ... in this 16th Century chateau, where the owners just couldn't do enough for us.

And later, here in this little place, where we had the whole end of the building to ourselves.

But of course when you are taking advantage of the French owners' hospitality, it is imperative that you try to speak to them in French.
I can understand quite a lot of French and speak it reasonably well. However, I do take a few moments to gather my thoughts (and vocab!) before just blurting out any old rubbish.

Not so Monsieur Potterjotter. Non! He last spoke French at school back in 1918 (or thereabouts) when he did French 'O' Level, but still insists on having a go.

So the proprietor asks if we speak French. Hubby replies within a nanosecond (in his own specially-invented-French-dialect which no-one else on the planet understands) that he studied French a long time ago at school.
So the French chap replies (in proper French that I understand): Ah, so you haven't spoken French since you were a child ('enfant').

Hubby hears the word 'enfant' and replies in his pigeon French: Yes, we have one girl and two boys.

The French chap looks bewildered and I look for a hole in the ground to open up so that I can jump in and hide!

Hubby had many such 'conversations' with them - bless 'im!

That little dog lived at the fancy mansion above. I got the impression he was deaf, dumb and blind and about 100 years old, and unfortunately he was the same colour as the gravel driveway we drove in on, so that the Hubby, (also 100 years old) did not see the 'petit chien' and nearly ran him down. Not a great start to our stay at that place!

Just love all the shutters in France - they really add something to a place.

Parlez Vous Francais?

France along the back roads

So, we loaded up the fridge and freezer full to bursting, left the young people to it, and me and the hubby hopped on a ferry to Northern France for a short break just after Easter. We kept to the quiet back roads and investigated places we had never been before.

Like Amiens. Badly damaged during the war, it is now a wonderful mix of old and new. The cathedral is absolutely wonderful, with fantastic stained glass windows.

There are lovely walks along the canal-sides of the old town.

We moved on from there, pottering around other medieval towns and villages. I just love all that Gothic architecture you get in France and Germany.

I put in down to all those Fairy Tales I was read as a child. Every time I see a tower with a turret, I think of Rumplestiltskin, or Rapunzel letting down her golden hair so that the prince could climb up and rescue her... Ouch!

I never did get my castle with turrets ....

... or the beautiful long golden hair, for that matter...

But I did get my handsome prince .... kind of.

We had a great time.
Now, though, I am going to visit all of you to see what you've been up to.

Weren't some of those Fairy Tales just plain weird?
No wonder we all grew up slightly bonkers!