I felt a bit creative...

Some of you may know that I'm a feltmaker. Well...even though I make felt and sell a few of my scarves every now and then I always hate to label myself as something. I'm better than some and not as good as others...so lets just say I occasionally make felt stuff.

Anyway, today as the sun started to show itself, after I'd wondered what the light actually was, my thoughts turned to feltmaking..and sure enough the postie brought me my International Feltmakers Association journal and this month's Making magazine which just happens to have a little bit of felt in it. Well not actually in it, but you know what I mean.

Sooo. I feel that within the next few weeks I'll be getting busy again...but I need some inspiration first. I have the hankering to do something different. Ok, you can blame the Alexander McQueen documentary "McQueen and I" for that. I loved the way he made something ordinary into something exquisite, and Isabella Blow just "got" it.

So...I thought, why not put up a few pictures here of some little oddities of mine. Two needle felt happenings and a wet felted alien flower thing.

They're a glimpse into what sometimes happens when you're not paying attention and just let the material speak (or could they just be a glimpse into a disturbed mind?)

First up.....is it pin-cushion, a tiny sculpture or just a blob?

It's made from a course wool...Corriedale I think and needle felted. I love letting those little ropes of bright colour wind around their target. Size wise it's roughly around the size of a small cupcake and is currently gathering dust on my mantelpiece (with a needle in it)

Next we have our strange alien flower thing...



I started off wet felting a little layered square with a centre layered over a resist of scrunched up aluminium foil and cling-film...the little pocket that results allowed the "petals" to be formed. I have no idea how I ended up with this...it just happened. It's hollow if you look at the back and is about the size of my fist. I did contemplate wearing it as a fascinator in the fashion of dear old Isabella Blow, however I didn't think that the Far North was quite ready for high fashion just yet!

Finally...meet Fred....

He's tiny and needlefelted out of some local fleece.

So there you have it...a peek at what I sometimes get up to..which reminds me..I should be at a crafters meeting....ooops!

A Valentine Wedding

(c) MRRD, 2011

This time last week we had all indulged in a fantastic meal at the wedding reception for my little brother and his lovely bride and were seeing them off on their honeymoon. Doesn’t time fly…it hardly seems that long ago, certainly not a week!

After months of preparation and hard work by my Mother, and a few mishaps, the big day arrived. We were sitting in the restaurant the night before, watching the rain bounce heavily off the little island in the lake where happy couples can tie the knot, wondering if the rain was ever going to stop. OK, so the weather people on the telly box had told us that all would be well, but honestly…when all you can see is torrential rain you do tend to think they’d got it wrong again.

But no...they were right (thank GOODNESS). The morning of the wedding arrived to a mild and sunshiny Valentine’s Day.

There had been a few strained moments dear reader, not least when the wedding cake, lovingly prepared by Mother and expertly decorated by little Sister, decided it wanted to learn how to fly. Yes, every wedding preparer’s nightmare came true when the cake went flying on its way to the venue. It definitely was NOT funny at the time, but as it was saved, tasted delicious and was appreciated by all the guests, we can look back now and laugh (admittedly through somewhat gritted teeth).

My task for the day was to video the wedding. Easy peasy you may say…but borrowing darling daughter’s brand new handy-cam never having taken footage of anything before, apart from on my bog standard camera, I have to admit to a few sleepless nights. Would I remember to take off the lens cap? Would I cut off the bride’s head? Would the memory be big enough? (I knew the battery would...I’d bought a super duper whopper for the occasion) Would it tape at all???  There I sat with a perfect view of my brother and his wife-to-be, none of us crying (now there’s a miracle in itself!) trying desperately not to shake the camera. I even managed to get shots of the readers, darling daughter included (who looked very grown up in her beautiful dress). You have NO IDEA how relieved I was when I found out that it had taped. I hadn’t ruined their big day after all!

(c) MRRD, 2011

The meal was wonderful, the wine flowed and there were some rather posh looking cupcakes for the children. Yes….lovingly created by Mother and decorated and packaged by Sister and I. What a team!

Really, the day was just about perfect. The best man’s speech (Father fulfilling the task and looking quite proud) made us laugh, the Bride looked radiant, the food was amazing and everyone had a great time. I also met some new family members and made some new friends (hopefully). The photos here are by darling daughter, who enjoyed herself thoroughly with her cousins, while photographing everything and everyone.

It’s one Valentine’s Day we’re all going to remember…just don’t mention the cake!

Home is where??

They say that Home is where the Heart is…the great collective “they”, the people you speak to in the street, or would have done 100 yrs ago when “they” were the collective consciousness of society that everyone spoke to and about. Not the “they” that people ignore these days. In many places it seems that speaking to a stranger is a no go area where you are in danger of being nabbed by the rozzers for being suspicious and / or taken away for being a little bit mad – talk to strangers…oh how very early last century! (unless of course you are speaking to strangers and stalkers on Facebook, Twitter ….or in a blog)

(c) SJD, 2010

So where is home then?

Where I’m sitting right now is home. It’s where I live and where I’ve made a little nest for my family. It’s a highly untidy, messy, cluttered, full of animals and occasional people nest, but still its home. For now. I love my house, but I can’t see myself living here on the edge of the world forever. It’s my home, but it isn’t Home.

I spent a great deal of my life in Aberdeen on the North East coast of Scotland, but that’s not Home. I remember it with fondness as a place I spent my teenage years, where I went to college and where I had some of the best times ever. I also met some of the best people a girl could wish to meet (including the ever suffering hubby). It was home, for a very long time. But it has fallen into the rose tinted past as a former home.

And then there’s the multitude of homes I had as a child. We moved around an awful lot, always in the same geographical area, but no one house from that time is Home. Although I have to admit that the area is home, if home can be 50 square miles of countryside. When I “go home” I know I’m getting near as soon as I pass the Angel of the North, then when I see the Cleveland Hills I know I’m Home. The area stretching from the Hills, over the moors to the sea. That’s Home.

But for me, as I mentioned in my first post, Whitby will always be Home. I wasn’t born there, in fact I lived there for a very small amount of time. My family is there and I suppose that is what matters.

The countryside around Whitby is Home, even though it extends miles around and branches towards the towns I grew up in before the move north.

(c) SJD, 2010

So perhaps Home is a set of conditions and a mind-set. I say I’m going home when I’m out…but when I head off down to Yorkshire I say I’m going Home. When I see Heartbeat on the telly box I get home-sick but when I’m in Yorkshire and about to start the long drive north…I’m going home.

Things must have been so much clearer in the dim and distant past when people stayed in the same village all their life.

Where is your Home?

A new home...

Ok, so this is me (can you see I'm waving?)

See the background? Do you like it?

Well it's a photograph of my favourite place in the whole world. Whitby, in North Yorkshire. Well this is actually Whitby pier, taken last year when I went home for a week.

One glorious week.

That's all I tend to get these days, a week here and there.



Watching the world go by

See...they say home is where the heart is, and although I live in a beautiful part of the world, North Yorkshire will always be home. Besides..they make the BEST fish & chips...how can you not love Yorkshire? ;)

You'll probably see more of my photos around this place...in fact I tried to link this one of mine with its home at RedBubble...but whether it worked or not who knows (well..I suppose you will if you try to click on the photo!). If not, I'm ElviraTSquirrel over there...be brave and go see that I can do!

So what's this all about? Well if you know me you'll know what to expect...anything and everything. I can't promise it'll all be wine and roses, although wine may appear frequently. And I can't promise that it'll all make sense...but who knows. It *may* be an interesting ride.

Anyway..I'm here in a new home. My previous blog http://donaldsonsdiary.wordpress.com/ is hanging in cyberspace...my computer doesn't like the set-up so it looks like I'm here to stay.

I'm off now to drink wine. Now isn't THAT more interesting than reading a blog??