My latest project

If you've read my piece 'spontaneous storage'. then you'll realise I'm not always the most organised of people. And so it was, whilst looking for something amongst all my craft goodies, I came across some pretty little butterflies that I'd forgotten I had.

 I think I bought them originally with the intention of using them on greetings cards. As usual with stuff bought on impulse, they got 'filed' in one of my storage boxes and forgotten. However, having found them, I thought they really should be supping nectar from pretty flowers, and thus the 'Butterfly Garden' necklace was born! 

The main body of the necklace is Kumihimo silk braid in pale green, grey and silver. To this are stitched a veritable herbaceous border of brightly coloured polymer clay flowers and green glass leaves. The butterflies, which have jewelled bodies, are cemented to the flowers. The nice thing is, the wings of the butterflies are sprung, so they quiver as you move, giving the illusion of life.

I must admit to being quite proud of this one, which is available in my Etsy shop for £25 plus post and packing.

Time for another poem, I think.

This one is by Welshman, Dylan Thomas - long one of my favourite authors and poets. There is more information about him here on my history blog

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light. 

Dylan Thomas

Spontaneous storage

No, it's not storage that bursts into flames, or storage that just pops out of nowhere.......
It's actually a sign of how my life (and craft room) are organised.

Now, I am generally well-organised. All my tools are held in neat racks. My hundreds (and I'm not joking!) of embroidery threads are neatly wound onto plastic bobbins, labelled with their type and colour, and stored into neat plastic storage drawers. My beads are sorted into containers by size and colour, and this organisation extends to stock control. I am sufficiently well-organised to be able to re-purchase items I am getting low on before I run out of them.

But, I do have a big problem. When I'm out and about, and I come within 100 yards of a craft shop, something strange happens. It's as though a huge magnet drags me off my motorcycle and in through the door of said shop. And the same magnetic force will not permit me to leave until I have bought something.

I'm sorry, but I'm a spontaneous buyer. I see something I like and it's 'Ooooh, must have one of those. I might find a use for it one day'

So, I buy it and when I get home, I have to decide where to put it. My craft room is a mass of boxes and plastic containers, and of course, I don't have one specifically labelled for the item I've just bought. Now, this is where the problems start..........

Let's say I've just bought a red star. I look at my storage, and there's nothing labelled 'red stars'. So I pick a box say in pile A and in goes the star. I then promptly forget I've got it.

So a few weeks pass, and I'm out and about, and the scenario above repeats itself. Except when I get home, I put the new red star in a box in pile D.

A couple of months go by, and I get an idea that calls for a blue butterfly. Now, I vaguely recall having bought a blue butterfly some time ago, and I start to search for it. Whilst searching for the blue butterfly, I find the first red star, and I think 'hang on. Didn't I buy one of these a few weeks ago?'. Now I start searching for the second red star, and in doing so, I find the blue butterfly AND the second red star.

I put the second red star in the same box as the first red star, and carry on making what I wanted to do with the blue butterfly.

A few weeks go by and in a craft shop, somewhere, sometime, I see a pretty red star that I simply MUST have, and so it goes home with me and into an empty box in pile G and the whole process starts over..........

About once a year I empty EVERYTHING out of my craft room, and sort it logically..........but it doesn't last.............

The moral of this story is, you can be either organised or spontaneous, but not both :(

New blog

I've been busy creating a new blog, that will deal with the history of the British Isles.

It's still very sketchy at the moment, but if you're interested in a history that will dovetail with both this blog, and My British Isles, you will find it here

A-Z of Music - N

So, after all the traumas of the last few months, I've decided to make a concerted effort to catch up with my blog, starting with the latest installment of our musical meanderings.
For the letter N, I've chosen two characters with very similar names................
Firstly, on the lighter side, we have Harry Nilsson, who came up with what I think are two of the most beautiful songs of the period - 'Without You' and the ever-popular 'Everybody's Talkin'. 
He was born in 1941 in Brooklyn, New York, of Swedish descent, and died in 1994 of a heart attack.
Now is this curious, or is this curious? Nilsson had a flat in Mayfair for a while, which he would lend out to friends when he wasn't using it.  During one of his absences, ex-Mamas and Papas singer Cass Elliot and a few members of her tour group stayed at the flat while she performed solo at the London Palladium. Following a strenuous performance with encores, Elliot returned to the flat to relax and sleep and was discovered in one of the bedrooms, dead of heart failure at 32, on July 29, 1974.

On September 7, 1978, The Who's drummer Keith Moon returned to the same room in the flat after a night out, and died at 32 from an overdose of Clomethiazole, a prescribed anti-alcohol drug. Nilsson, distraught over another friend's death in his flat, and having little need for the property, sold it to Moon's bandmate Pete Townshend and consolidated his life in Los Angeles.

So, going back to 'Everybody's Talkin', which was used to great effect in the film 'Midnight Cowboy', this was not Nilsson's first choice of song for that film. He also penned 'I Guess The Lord Must Be In New York City', which to me, suited the story line far better. However, it was rejected in favour of the former.

See what you think:

And so onto our classical composer, Carl Nielsen, who was born in 1865, and who grew up in a poor but happy home on Funen, Denmark’s second-largest island. He worked variously as a goose-herder, a cowherd, a wedding musician, and a military bugler before winning a scholarship to the Royal Danish Conservatory, in Copenhagen. His major pieces—which include not only the six symphonies but the operas “Saul and David” and “Maskarade,” a beloved Wind Quintet, and concertos for violin, flute, and clarinet—are grounded in ruddy, earthy, insistently singable melodies; more than a few of his songs have entered Danish folk tradition. (When the composer turned sixty, in 1925, a national holiday was declared, and he woke to find a brass band playing outside his window in Copenhagen.)
Although best known for his symphonies, he wrote many other fine pieces. This is his Helios Overture Op.17:

Art Deco - worth it?

Every now and then, a trend comes along which shocks the world, and makes us rethink our ideas of fashion - for example, the mini skirt in the '60s. Such an idea was Art Deco.
After the fussiness of the Victorian and Art Nouveau periods, and the rusticity of the Arts and Crafts movement, the clean simple lines of Art Deco came as a surprise to an awful lot of people.
The designers of the period used modern materials, such as chromium steel and Bakelite, the first true plastic. Pieces made from Bakelite were often junked later as being tacky and the materials not worth anything - but they didn't look at the wonderful shapes and designs.

Sadly, in the post-war era, people didn't realise what they had, and important buildings were wilfully demolished to make way for concrete structures with no form or style.
The A40 Great West Road in London is a prime example of this. At one time, it was lined with elegant Art Deco factories, now, sadly, all gone, with the exception of the wonderful Hoover Building, now thankfully preserved.

Much the same as Clarice Cliff's striking Bizarre range of pottery. I bet a lot of folk are cursing now that they threw out their grandmother's hideous teapot!

Well, I love Art Deco. Always have done. And I own several pieces of Art Deco jewellery, that I have either inherited or bought. I've also got several pieces of Art Deco jewellery that are damaged beyond repair, and mostly made from relatively cheap materials, which I can never bring myself to throw away. So I've decided to incorporate those items that I can recover into my own range of jewellery (for sale in my Etsy shop)
This is the first - just two glass beads from an otherwise completely destroyed necklace were recoverable, and so they've been turned into classy earrings. Just a little bit of Art Deco preserved in my own way

What right have I?...................

So much has happened.
First, the redundancy.
Then Dick's accident.
Lack of time, lack of sleep, lack of food have combined to make me feel really down. I won't bore you with details, but the past few days have been hellish, and at times I can't see which way to turn.
Then, as I often do when my faith and beliefs are low, I turned to The Hermitage for consolation and inspiration.
And here is one of Rima's magical posts - full of beauty and enrichment, and I think 'what right have I to feel so down, when there is so much beauty and goodness in the world?'

I'll let you read her beautiful words here and take comfort in her thoughtful pictures

And so........................redundancy looms

I was looking forward to picking the time and method by which I chose to give up work, but alas, it has been chosen for me.

After 13 years with this company, I've been made redundant - although I have a few weeks yet, before I actually leave work.

so, what of the future? I must admit that, at the ripe old age of 65, I'm disinclined to look for another job. Indeed, the chances of me landing another decent job at this age is very remote. The increasingly poor state of my wrists precludes me from doing anything too manual, and I really don't think I'd have the patience with other people to do something like part-time shop work.

So, what do I do? I now have the opportunity to try and make something of my little craft business. At the present time, I've been a bit hit and miss with it. I've made stuff when I've had time, sure, but I've not done a lot to promote it, or myself.

Well, now I will have. I will probably split it into 2 separate businesses - one for jewellery, and the other for other hand-crafted items. To me this makes sense, as it will enable me to build more clearly defined brands, instead of it being a mish-mash of ideas all under one 'roof'.

If you've not yet had a look, then please follow the links scattered all over this page to my little Etsy shop. If you have any suggestions or ideas that will help me, please pass them on. I'll be really grateful.

Of course, I'd be even more grateful if you either buy, or commission something!

I will also have more time to pursue my Buddhist studies. Whether this will make me a better person, is open to discussion. I will also not have the finances to travel quite so much as I do at present, so I was really grateful that my last trip to Wales a couple of weeks ago happened in good weather, and was truly memorable. So my other blog, My British Isles, will probably feature more local places from now on.

Actually, this won't be a bad thing, as I've very much neglected the South East so far in the blog, and it has a lot to offer.

Mind, if I'm not working, it will make sense to sell one of the bikes - not purely for financial reasons, but, if I'm not working, I won't actually NEED two bikes. It will make sense at some point to sell the CBF1000 in favour of the Hornet. Although the bigger bike is better in a lot of respects, the Hornet will be cheaper to run, and it is newer, has a lot less miles on it, and has not suffered the indignities of a British Winter so much. And I proved on the Welsh trip, that the little Hornet is more than capable of distance touring - and it's certainly a lot of fun on tight, twisty mountain roads.

So, there you have it. Let's wait and see what 2014 brings

Om Mani Padme Hum

Book Review - The House On The Strand - Daphne du Maurier

My love of du Maurier's books started when I was about 10 or 11. My mother had borrowed a copy of 'Rebecca' from the local library. I have an irritating habit of picking up any book that's left lying around, and reading it. From the first few pages, I was hooked.
Argueably one of the finest novels of the modern era, Rebecca is full of intrigue, twists and turns. And when I saw a photograph of du Maurier's home, Menabilly, I knew instinctively that it was the house upon which she had based Mandalay, the book in the novel.
From there, I went on to read a book of short stories, which included 'The Birds'. Alfred Hitchcock's film of this tale is without doubt, the greatest tension-building film ever made.
Then it was onto 'Frenchman's Creek' and 'Jamaica Inn', both adventure tales of smugglers and high dering-do in the fashion of Robert Louis Stevenson.
Which brings me to this book. We've just come back from a trip on the bikes to Cornwall, and whilst down there, we called in at Jamaica Inn for a cold drink on a very hot day.
I was browsing in their little shop and came across this title, which I hadn't read. Naturally, I bought it, and it's every bit as good as her others.
Although her books seem a little dated nowadays, the stories are still good, and her sense of intrigue and tension still enthralls.
This one is a little different. Rebecca was written in 1938, and The House on the Strand came later in life, in 1967. It's a strange mixture of modern-day drug abuse and historical novel, and as complex as any of du Maurier's tales. As Dick takes more and more of the mind-altering drug, his confusion between the past and the present becomes more and more apparent, but then his attempts to change history bring terror to the present and throw his own life into the balance.
If you love fast-moving, quirky tales, you'll like this one.

For me, any du Maurier deserves a 5/5

A last sprig of Broom (plant-a-genet)

All this fuss about whether Richard III should be buried in York or Leicester! Well, anywhere is better than a car park! Of course he should be buried in Leicester. Just because he was of the House of York, does not give the City of York rights over his remains. After all, the Duke of Norfolk lives at Arundel in Sussex, Devonshire lives at Chatsworth House in Derbyshire - and I don't recall Queen Victoria being expatriated to Hanover!
Burying him in Leicester could also bring benefits to the town; something that York has less need of, having more than enough history and tourist attractions of its' own. York's claims to the body are irrelevant.

However, this article is not about Richard III, but his purported illegitimate son, Richard - known locally as Diccon. Living but a couple of miles from Eastwell Manor and the ruins of its church of St. Mary, I'm well familiar with both the legend and the supposed tomb of Diccon.

Eastwell parish records state that Richard Plantagenet was buried there on 22/12/1550. His tale was laid out in a letter written in 1733 by local clergyman, Dr. Thomas Brett.

The incumbent of Eastwell Manor at the time, the Earl of Winchelsea, stumbled across the fact whilst researching information on his own family, and those facts concurred with a tale handed down through his family.
Prior to Eastwell Manor being built, the site was occupied by Wilmington Manor, which was gifted by the Duke of Norfolk, before he died at Bosworth Field, to the Myle family. Wilmington Manor was pulled down to make way for the new house of Eastwell Manor.

When Eastwell Manor was being constructed in the 16th. century, the owner, Sir Thomas Moyle became curious about the chief bricklayer, who, whenever they took a break, would take himself apart from the others and read books in Latin.
After much questioning, Diccon told Sir Thomas that he had been raised by a Latin schoolamster, and that every quarter, a rich man, who always stressed that he was no relative to the boy, would come and pay for his keep and schooling, and see to his general well-being.

When he was about 15, the rich man took him to a 'fine great house' where he was introduced to a great man wearing a Star and Garter. Diccon's description of both men point to them being the Duke of Norfolk (former owner of Wilmington Manor) and King Richard III. The man spoke to him kindly and gave him some money.

Later, he was taken to Bosworth Field in Leicestershire, where he saw Richard again. Richard told Diccon that he was his father, and that on the morrow he would be fighting for his crown, and that if he lost that, he would lose his life also. The King said that if he won, he would acknowledge Diccon as his son, but that if he lost, Diccon was to tell nobody who he was, or of this meeting.

Richard had good reason to fear for Diccon's life. He had several illegitimate children, of whom he had acknowledged two, John and Katherine. After the Battle of Bosworth Field, Henry VII, the victor, at first treated John well, but then susequently imprisoned him for a long time before finally executing him.

After the death of his father, Diccon apprenticed himself to a bricklayer, but never lost his love of reading and learning. Sir Thomas Moyle was deeply moved and offered him a living and residence in the big house, but Diccon merely asked permission to build himself a one-room house in a field, where he lived quietly until his death in 1550.

Had Diccon been 16 at the date of Bosworth (1485), he would have been 81 at the time of his death. Quite an old man for that time, but far from impossible, given his good upbringing and the fact that Moyle probably took care of him for his life's duration.

There are further records of both a Plantagenet Well and Plantagenet Cottage in the Eastwell area, and in the churchyard of St. Mary's stands a tomb ascribed to Richard Plantagenet.

Much has been made of the fact that this tomb probably pre-dates Diccon's death by 50-60 years, and people pooh-pooh the idea that it is indeed his final resting place, saying that it is almost certainly the tomb of Sir Walter Moyle, who died circa 1480. I don't disagree...........

.........but, consider this. Sir Thomas Moyle firmly believed that Diccon was who he said he was. Therefore, when he died, would have felt a compulsion to honour him in some way. Building an overtly ostentatious tomb for an old bricklayer would have been both inappropriate and risky. There was still a great deal of ill-feeling towards the House of York even 60 years on. So how about a commemmorative slab in the side of the local landowner's tomb?

Maybe Diccon is buried alongside the tomb of Sir Walter; it is not entirely inconceivable that his body was placed inside the same tomb.

I certainly feel that there is more than sufficient local knowledge and belief to warrant further investigation and excavation to be performed.

And now they have the proven bones of Richard III, a DNA connection could easily prove the veracity of this intriguing local tale