Do You Remember That Sewing Class?!

A little video popped up, "Do you remember that seventh grade sewing class where they taught you how to do things that you would never ever need to know how to do?"

Yes, I remember sewing classes in school, and yes, I remember them being desperately unhelpful. However, I was approaching it from the other side. I wanted to learn more, I wanted to do more, and the word 'more' is very important.

My Mam was a needlework teacher, and I arrived in class already knowing quite a lot from the things my Mam and I had made at home. We had taken the time to choose a pattern, fabric, thread and buttons for the skirt I wanted to make. It was a simple design, but it was a style I liked and wanted to wear.

It soon became obvious the teacher was going to make the garment construction last at least a full half term. I wanted to wear my new skirt tomorrow! 

After two weeks of virtually no progress, I took the skirt home and finished it there. For week three, I wore the skirt to class, and took in a new part-finished skirt, and worked on it in class. The teacher did not notice. So, for week four, I wore the skirt from week three, and started a new skirt, but chose a radically different colour and style. In week five, we were told our work would be graded the following week, and we needed to have it finished by then.

Dutifully, in week six, I wore one of the skirts, and brought in the two others I'd made in class. The teacher was not impressed when two skirts were on the table, and was even less impressed when I said there was also the skirt I was wearing. She examined the red skirt and said it was 'Wrong'. I asked for clarification. Apparently the pattern didn't have pockets and my skirt did, therefore it was 'wrong'.

I tried to explain that my Mam was a needlework teacher, and I'd been sewing since I was four. I was used to making the garments I wanted, rather than just following the pattern. One of the girls said, "Is your Mam Mrs Johnston?  She was my teacher last year! She's really nice." Turns out only 2 girls in the class had not been taught by my Mam at some point. 

The teacher decided to increase my grade, which was rather nice, but she killed my love of sewing for a good few years.

Fletcher's Fearless Clothing

One of the things I notice when visiting the UK is the number of ‘ghost signs’ to be seen They are  vintage advertising signs preserved on buildings, often painted straight on to the brickwork. Although there are some excellent examples where the former owner's name has been picked out in mosaic, or in tiles.

'Fletcher's Fearless Clothing' is an interesting one. What makes clothing fearless? And was it actually made by real life fletchers? In my mind's eye, I can see a fletcher decked in Lincoln Green, standing in the middle of Sherwood Forest. Gathered all around are the Merry Men. Right at the centre of the group is the fletcher, and he is declaiming the outstanding features of his clothing. It had been made by his mammy, made with love, and prayers for his safety. This rendered the clothing semi-sentient, and the clothing proclaimed itself to be fearless.

And Done!

The CottonSoft Baby Crush cardigan is done!

Oooh, it feels good to have finished another project, and a huge project for me!

Done, done, done, done, done! And in only two and a half weeks!

Laughter

A study was conducted on laughter. Jennifer Aaker, a behavioral-science professor at Stanford, and Naomi Bagdonas, a leadership coach, examined how often people laugh. They found out the average 4-year-old laughs as many as 300 times a day. This compares with the average 40-year-old will take up to 75 days to reach as many laughs.  There is a sharp decline at around 23. People stop laughing.

In a poll by Gallup in 2014, 1.4 million people self reported how much they laughed in the previous day. This poll showed the same sort of results. When people become adults, the laughter in their life decreases.

This has led the Beloved and I to realised we're laughter weirdos. We are statistical outliers, and we laugh 'too much', or rather we laugh just the right amount, and other people of our age need way more playfulness and laughter in their lives.  

We make each other laugh each day. We don't often deliberately set out to cause laughter, but we revel in those laughs. We love making each other happy. 

Self-sabotage

"Self-sabotage is when we say we want something and then go about making sure it doesn't happen."

Yup, that sounds about right. I was getting really excited about the crocheted jacket I'm making. The two halves have been joined, and I'm now about 85% done. It should be perfectly possible to finish it this bank holiday weekend.

So, why have spent hours watching silly videos on facebook instead of finishing it? Self-sabotage, and perfectionism. If I don't finish it, then I still have the chance to improve on it, and make it perfect. If I finish it, that's it done, and it is what it is (and everyone will be able to see 'how badly' I made it). But if I don't finish, then it's just another partially completed project, another failure.

Perhaps it's time to get on with it, and finish this jacket. This jacket I was so excited to try on this morning. I want this jacket. I've put in hours of work. I want to wear it. Yes! Let's stomp on the perfectionism and self-sabotage. I can do this, and I can do it well!

Treacle Mine Road

Treacle Mines have a certain history in England. One possible origin of the joke is from 1853 when the British Army was encamped on Chobham Common. in Surrey. The story goes the Army was being shipped out to fight in the Crimean War.

When the camp was being dismantled, some of the heavy barrels of goods were buried on site to avoid having to move them. Some of the barrels contained treacle and Chobham villagers who discovered and removed them were called "treacle miners" as a joke.

In 2002, the town of Wincanton twinned with the fictional town of Ankh Morpork. A few years later when a new area of town was being built, the developer asked Pterry to come up with a shortlist of street names that might be used. Pterry provided 14 suggestions, and the people of Wincanton chose 'Treacle Mine Road' and "Peach Pie Street". 

This proved to be very popular, and now there's 'Hen and Chickens Field', 'Moon Pond Lane' and 'Morpork Street'. 

The Glorious 25th

Sir Terry Pratchett wrote interesting and entertaining books; there's no doubt of that. But whilst PTerry was writing about the Discworld, he was also providing social commentary on this Roundworld.

“You'd like Freedom, Truth, and Justice, wouldn't you, Comrade Sergeant?' said Reg encouragingly.

'I'd like a hard-boiled egg,' said Vimes, shaking the match out.

There was some nervous laughter, but Reg looked offended.

'In the circumstances, Sergeant, I think we should set our sights a little higher--'

'Well, yes, we could,' said Vimes, coming down the steps. He glanced at the sheets of papers in front of Reg. The man cared. He really did. And he was serious. He really was. 'But...well, Reg, tomorrow the sun will come up again, and I'm pretty sure that whatever happens we won't have found Freedom, and there won't be a whole lot of Justice, and I'm damn sure we won't have found Truth. But it's just possible that I might get a hard-boiled egg.”

Lofty ideas are things to aim for, but a hard boiled egg can be grasped. 

In the Ankh Morpork, on the Discworld, corruption was rife, and the people were revolting. The government sent in the soldiers. Barricades were erected in Treacle Mine Road to keep the soldiers out. Gradually, more and more of the city was behind the barricades. People started thinking about their demands. Of the demands presented, 'a hard boiled egg' was the most achievable.

In PTerry's world, when the fighting broke out between the government forces & the government controlled sections of the City Watch, and the People's Republic of Treacle Mine Road, there was a need to be able to tell who was on which side. The lilacs were in bloom, and the Treacle Mines adorned their helmets, hats and clothing with a sprig of lilac. (Rather reminiscent of the story that the Welsh wore leeks in their hats/helmets when fighting against the Saxons. The Welsh and Saxons wore very similar armour at the time. And it's always good to know who is your friend on a battlefield.)

The Glorious 25th was the day the people triumphed over the government. The 26th was the day everything was more or less back to normal. There was no addition freedoms, no extra truth, justice was for those who could pay for it. But, there was a hard boiled egg.

Sweet and Sour Sauce

Ingredients

1 tbsp vegetable oil

1 large onion - peeled and chopped into large chunks

2 cloves of garlic - peeled and chopped/crushed

1 tsp minced ginger

150ml tomato ketchup

2 tbsp malt vinegar

6 tbsp dark brown muscovado sugar

canned of pineapple chunks in juice

Method

Add the oil to a large frying pan/skillet, heat it up on a medium-to-high heat and add in the onions. Cook for 3 minutes, stirring every now and then, until the onions start to go translucent.

Add in the garlic and ginger and cook for another minute. 

Add the tomato ketchup, vinegar, dark brown sugar, and the tinned pineapple (including the juice)and stir. Bring to the boil, and then turn down the heat and let it bubble. Stir every so often until the sauce has thickened.

Serve with the chicken or tofu, and boiled rice.

How to Be a Great Aunt

There are a few ways to become a great aunt. They generally involve having a sibling, or a sibling-in-law who is a grandparent. Many, many people become a  'great aunt'. However, very few achieve this lofty status at the age of 23.

Sarah, my great grandmother, was accomplished at many things. She was a great cook, a fantastic baker. Her hands were never idle, and she knitted, crocheted, and sewed. She also had a talent for making babies. Sarah was married at 18, and had her first baby at 19. 

Annie was the eldest of Sarah's children. She followed a similar pattern to Sarah, she was married at 18 and had her first baby, Charlie at 19. 

My Grandpa was the tenth baby born to Sarah, and was delivered by Annie. (Annie delivered the last three of Sarah's children. Each of these children became uncles and aunts at the moment of their birth. When my Grandpa was born he became uncle to  4 year old Charlie.

Charlie grew up. he met and married Isobel. Likewise, Grandpa also grew up and in due course met a lovely woman, my Grandma. On the day of their married, Charlie kissed the blushing bride, and addressed her as 'Auntie Jean'. She was not impressed. Charlie (five years her senior) took every opportunity to call her 'Auntie Jean'.

Six months later, Isobel was delivered of a bouncing baby boy. Charlie took great delight in introducing David to Jean, saying 'Here is your Great Auntie Jean'.

And this is how my Grandma became a Great Aunt at the ripe old age of 23.

Figgy Socks

And done!

I shall admit it, I was a little worried that when I started the crocheted cardigan these socks would become yet another work in progress. 

To prevent this happening, I decided to do at least one round on knitting on each sock each evening. That was the aim, but I got a bit carried away, and then I realised they were had reached the point for shaping for the toe. The knitting was completed last night, and this morning the toes were grafted closed and the ends woven in.

Done.

The Cross Dresser

Nanny Ogg's Influence

Way back in the dim and distant time of being a parent to small children, Terry Pratchett's Discworld films, 'Susan Death' (Soul Music) and 'Witches (Wyrd Sisters) were fairly often viewed.

Nanny Ogg is a witch who lives in Lacre, beside the high Ramtop Mountains in the Discworld. She is the archetypical 'mother' is the Lancre Coven. Nanny is a rare witch, a sociable one, an urban one.  She can witch with the best of them, and does, but she can also party with the best of anyone, and does.

At one part in the story, Nanny whips out a hip flask, not from her hip, but from between her amble breasts. A young, impressionable child saw this and took note.  A few days later, we were walking up the steep hill into town, and a certain young impressionable child was walking slowly, bent over almost double. A concerned mother asked, 'Are you okay, do we need to go back home?' The answer was a muffled, 'No, I'm fine'. After a little more verbal probing, and a request for the child to stand up straight.  As they straightened up, and juice bottle fell out of their clothing. Apparently they have wanted to be 'just like Nanny Ogg', but they didn't have the physical attributes to hold a bottle in place.

Ava, the Ice Cream Lover

Ava, the Ice Cream Lover - an apt title for the beautiful dog. We have a number of stories of Ava's exploits with ice cream. This story is from a walk along the Promenade.

We were walking along the Promenade, and a small child shouted out, "Doggy!" in very excited tones. The child was grinning, the mother smiling, and pushing the child towards us in the pushchair. 

As we got a little closer, I realised the child had engaged in a jubilant celebration of ice cream. No doubt some had been consumed, but there was still copious amounts of the child's face, hands, knees and legs. We stopped walking, and I said, "Only come closer if you want your child cleaned by this ice cream-loving dog.  The mother paused to look at the child, and then took a wipe to clear their face. She nodded in satisfaction.

I would say 'Ava attacked the child', but that would give totally the wrong impression. ... Ava saw the outstretched hands, and licked them clean. The little one squealed with delight. After the hands were to Ava's satisfaction, she turned her tongue to the child's knees and legs. As she licked the child there was hoots of delight and much laughter.

At the end of this interaction there was a delighted child, and a happy dog. Not a bad result for a walk along the Prom.

CottonSoft Crocheted Cardigan

Yarn: King Cole CottonSoft Baby Crush

Composition: 100% Cotton

Colour: Aquas

Pattern: my own design based on the Campfire Cardigan

Hook: 4.5mm

Amount used: 

Started: 12th May 2023

Finished: 29th May 2023

Notes

The cardigan is made by making two Granny hexagons, and then going wild with customisation.

Start the Granny blocks in the usual way. The one difference is Granny Squares start with four clusters of three trebles (or half trebles), and the Granny Hexagons begin with six clusters of three trebles (or half trebles).

I decided to work 20 rounds before adding in any shaping.

Round 21: Continue as before, but make the central 5 clusters on the arm side  to contain 2 half trebles rather than 3.

Round 22: The central 11 clusters should have 2 half trebles, not 3.

Round 23: Cerntal 17 clusters have 2 half trebles.

Round 24: All clusters on the arm side to have 2 half trebles.

That's not an Auntie June Word

My Mam was very particular when we were growing up. We weren't allowed to swear, and this felt pretty reasonable. However, there were other words that were no-nos. This included, arse, willy, bum, and quite a few more. Anything with the merest hint of crude language was disallowed. 

When Mam became a childminder, she was known as 'Auntie June' to all of the children, and even some of the parents. The children had to follow the crude language rule.  If a child made a mistake, my Mam would put on a serious expression and say, "That not an Auntie June word." The child would invariably lower their head and mumble 'Sorry'.

One day Callum said a 'rude' word, and my Mam told him  "That not an Auntie June word."  He apologised and they moved on. Five minutes later, Mam asked  if he had any homework. Callum looked so shocked and exclaimed, "Auntie June! That is NOT a Callum word." He walked away and started playing in the garden.

First One to Five

Who knew that kissing could lead to such consequences?!

Last night the Beloved and I played a game of cards. It was a rather relaxing way to end the evening. This evening, I thought as it had been so lovely playing a game last night, would he be interested in playing again tonight.

The answer was 'No. I'm too tired'. I suggested a quick game instead - the first one to land five kisses on the other. This was agreed to. However, being the short arse in this relationship, he had the height advantage. The horrible man kept trying to kiss me on my forehead. I could barely reach his chin.

To even things up a little, I moved the competition to the bottom of the stairs. I was standing one step up, my hand on the bannister. And that's when he struck me! Lips against hand, before I was ready!

After recovering from this, he kept trying to kiss me (and I him). At one point the dastardly dude raised his hand to block me, and this hand made contact with my orbital bone!

A slow slump onto the stairs, followed by pretty stars, a side salad of wooziness, and a few croutons of confusion were the results. However, I pulled victory out of the jaws of defeat. I used the 'guilt card', and requested his hand to kiss. I won!

I won the game, a mild concussion and a bag of frozen peas.

Going-away Give-away

A lovely friend is moving away from this little island. They have decided to reverse decimation of stuff is required. At the weekend, they had a 'Going-away Give-away' event. The idea to reduce their accumulated goods to a 10th.

Let's just say it was distinctly weird going through their possessions and choosing what to take. However, there was a huge, huge smile on their face, and delight the amount of stuff they will have to take to charity shops, or dispose of has been reduced. It still felt odd, like picking over a corpse.

There's a pair of Moonintroll bookends sitting on my sideboard at home. It feels odd having two Moonintrolls though. I'm going to add a tiny bit of marabou trim to transform one into the Snorkmaiden.

When the lovely friend has flown back over the Atlantic, it's going to be good to have some items that will be a physical reminder, and what better than Moomins. 

Procrastination isn't Rest

Today I read, "Procrastination is not rest." This has been a major revelation. It's so obvious, but I've just started grasping the concept.

Rest is easy. It's pausing from the normal things, and instead engaging in restorative activities. It doesn't have to mean inactivity. It's simply engaging with the things that bring joy, relaxation or envigourment to your life. It could be crafting, going for a walk, playing badminton, swimming, cooking new dishes, playing music, singing, reading... the list is huge, and personal. Each individual will have their own ideas of rest, and this will probably change over time.

Whilst looking for images of 'procrastination', easily 70% were of people kicking back, ignoring the tasks building up and enjoying something else instead. That's not procrastination, that's laziness.

Procrastination often causes me to be highly productive, but it's productivity in the wrong direction. Well, no. Something it's things that need to be done getting done, but I'm avoiding the main task. I'm not doing what it needed. 

For people with ADHD, it's common to procrastinate until the very last. This is because we excel under pressure. We can hyper-focus, and get it all done so quickly. However, what we really suck at is making slow, methodical progress. We need the external deadlines. We need the pressure. And, of course, the pressure means stress. We need the stress surging through our bodies to enable us to perform the superhuman feats.

However, when the task has been completed, we tend to emerge exhausted, full of guilt, disappointment, frustrated, ashamed... The amount of work we put into procrastination is huge.

ADHA

I was looking through some of the stories I have written, and came across a post from the 4th of February, 2018.

"I don't know quite what has happened. I've never really been able to get routines to stick, and I do so need them to stick. It would be wonderful to live in a house where things are normally looking rather presentable. Currently, things start slipping, and when they have really slup, THEN I do something about it."

And now I know why!  ADHD

Routines are one of the big challenges for people with ADHD. For neurotypical people, if they repeat a routine for 30-45 days then it sticks. I could do something for a 100 Days, or even 365, and if I don't consciously choose to do it the next day it doesn't get done. Each day I have to consciously make a decision to do things.

One of the biggest changes in my ability to keep the house clean and tidy is the Beloved and I are working at the same time. We share a list, and choose tasks, ticking them off as we go. We stop when the list has been completed, or after a set amount of time.

In ADHD circles this is called 'body doubling'. It keeps me on track, and it gets double the amount of work done.

----

I should also say I am utterly brilliant in a crisis. My brain pops and whirrs and whizzes, coming up with wonderful solutions, and I am a creative person.  These are some of the positives of ADHD.

Elizabeth Regina

The royal physician reached for the elderly woman's wrist and took her pulse. Quietly, reverently, he replaced her hand, and intoned the words, "The queen is dead. Long live the king."

Charles looked down on the still, silent body of his mother. "Oh Mummy, this isn't what I wanted. I didn't want to be king this way. I wish you were still with us." He sat by her bedside, looking at the husk that had contained his mother's spirit. 

Eventually, he was called away. In this time of grief Charles had to also cope with affairs of state. Thankfully, most of the decisions had already been taken. Everything had been planned, and he just had to hold on tight. Camilla, of course, was a rock. She listened, she hugged, she let Charles cry on her shoulder.

Leaving Balmoral, and seeing the huge number of mourners outside the gates had been an ordeal. These people had lost their monarch, but Charles had lost his mother.

Edinburgh had also been an ordeal. In fact, it seemed every moment had been an ordeal.

Arriving back in London had been a relief. A place to rest for a while and regroup. A place to pause.

Everyone thought the queen's body was in the coffin, laying in state in Westminster Hall. Only Charles, and the closest members of the family knew Mummy had been left behind in Scotland. Being queen had been her whole purpose in life, and she wasn't going to let a little thing like death stop her. 

Sealed in a stone-lined, windowless larder, in the basement at Balmoral, Elizabeth shambled around, "Reign. Must reign."

Tired!

 

I'm tired, oh so tired.

It's just after nine, and I'm ready to go to bed. However, I know that getting ready for bed will force me to waken up a bit, and then I'll lie in bed thinking, "I'm tired, oh so tired. Why can't I sleep?"

There's things to do. There's things I want to do. But I'm tired, oh so tired. 

This post is starting to sound like a children's book. I wonder how it will end.  I do hope it ends with the protagonist fast asleep in bed.  That would be a lovely ending to this story.

Proposed Cardigan

 

I've been seeing the hexagon cardigan around quit e a lot recently. I've decided to give it a go. 

Essentially it's two non-Euclidian hexagons, joined, seamed, and then an extra rectangle crocheted on to the bottom.

This will be a fantastic addition in my me-made 100 Days.

Not Perfect

 

One of the things I really struggle with is perfection. I'll claim that I used to struggle with it in the past, but I've learned to be more forgiving. Whilst that is true, to an extent, it's truth is sometimes limited to intellectual knowledge, and not lived experience.

After completing 20 or so days of this challenge, I fell. I crashed and burned. I stuffed up beyond all hope of picking up the shattered pieces... Yeah, sure. It's amazing that when the Beloved was ill I was quick to reassure him that his challenge wasn't in tatters, and that being ill doesn't mean he has failed; he can just pick up from where he left off. 

And the problems of extending the same grace to myself are huge. I wasn't feeling terribly fantastic, and I totally forgot about my challenge. I missed one day, and in my mind this equated to 'crashing and burning'.

There are definitely times I need to be far kinder to myself. Especially so when it is a self-chosen challenge that doesn't impact anyone in any way.

Be kind. Be kind to yourself. Hold yourself to the same standard as you extend to others.

Poking My Head Out Of The Growlery

Yesterday was the first day of my 100 Days I have missed. There was a VAT return to finalise, and that was a great deal of emotional work. The government system kept coming up with reasons to prevent me from paying. I'd tried six times to pay, the last two with screen shot to prove I was actually trying to pay, but their system was at fault. And behold, on the seventh try I was allowed to pay the VAT!

From there, the day became sorer and sorer. My wrists started screaming out in pain. I was too sore, even with drugs to even think about writing. 

This morning, I learned a new word, 'growlery'. It is a safe place to retreat to when all you want to do is snap and growl at the world. It felt so appropriate as this morning it's not just my wrists, but my ankles as well that are screaming.

My plan for today had been to make gluten-free scones with fresh cream and strawberries. The Offspring was consulted, and they replied they would not want to make scones.

However, the Beloved, oh this beautiful man, stepped up and made scones, whipped cream, and fresh strawberries. He also managed to slide in a pot of Earl Grey with lemon.

Such utter bliss!

I Swear Allegiance to...

Traditionally, when a new monarch is crowned the peers line up to bring their homage and pledge allegiance to the king/queen. 

This time around, it will only be William, the heir apparent who will do this. Instead of the Peers' Homage, there will be the People's Homage. Those in the cathedral, and those watching on television will be asked to pledge their allegiance. "I swear that I will pay true allegiance to Your Majesty, and to your heirs and successors according to law. So help me God."

No, just no. It is time for this shambolic system of monarchy to come to an end. It's time to end the huge imbalance of power in the patriarchy.

Instead, I pledge my allegiance to the poor, to the dispossessed, to the margianalised and 'othered'. I will make my voice heard against injustice, and oppression. I will not keep silent.

Busy Day

Perhaps 10 to 10 at night is not the best time for me to try and write. It's been a long week, and I'm tired. However, the hardest part is switching on the computer, and putting fingertips to the keyboard. And that's already been done, so I might as well carry on.

Today's entry is much more of a blog post. A lovely friend returned to the home after the Easter break. They had returned with a chest infection. However, that infection soon turned out to also be Covid.

I offered to bring round some food and supplies. When asked what they might like the answer was VITAMINS! and also "I have no sense of taste just now." Therefore, I went for some homecooked meals I had in the freezer, some 'shove it in the oven' stuff, fresh veggies, and textural foods. 

It was lovely putting together a hamper of different foods that will sustain and nourish, and also foods that will give a little bit of interest whilst their tastebuds are not cooperating.

Our friend was delighted with the hamper, and felt loved. They so wanted to give a big hug, but Covid hugs aren't really a good idea. We'll save the hugs for when they are well again.

Winning One Million

A young man kept a secret that he had won £99,000 on a quiz show until his family watched it on television. This set my mind thinking about what I would do if I won a decent amount of money, let's say £1,000,000.

After our recent trip to the Chinese restaurant, I would book the restaurant for an evening, and having a banquet prepared, everything gluten-free. At least half of the food would be vegan.

My next spend would be to repay of the business loan, and then clear the mortgage on the house. Neither has much left to pay, but it would be good to have a clean slate.

Quickly, there would be some handmade shoes. My current shoes need replacing, and it would be an utter joy to have shoes made specifically for my weirdly shaped feet.

I'd like to buy a retirement cottage, somewhere by the sea, but at a safe distance from it. We'd move into it whilst renovating our current house. When the current house has been completed, we'd move back home and lease out the retirement cottage. Friends and family would be able to stay for free.

There would also be gifts to family, friends and charities. 

If I were to win £10,000,000, the dreams would be even bigger. 

Parmesan Crusted Chicken

Ingredients

3 chicken breasts
1 cup Parmesan, finely grated
1 cup bread crumbs
1 cup  mayonnaise
1 Tsp garlic powder

Method
Preheat the air fryer to 200C.

Split chicken breasts in half.

Spread mayoonnaise on both sides of each piece of chicken.

Mix together the bread crumbs, Parmesan, and garlic powder. Coat each piece of chicken in the Parmesan mixture.

Cook for 15 minutes, turning once after 10 minutes.

Me-Made Clothes

I'm trying to work out what I need for my next 100 Days Challenge.

So far, I've half way through the pair of socks I started recently. That will bring my sock total to 3. That's going to be quite good during October. The socks can alternate with my many knitted scarves and shawls. This will mean October will be covered.

For August, I've 3 summer skirts already made, and I have been meaning to make a crocheted cardigan, and a waterfall waistcoat. If I add in a white cotton blouse, that will give me quite the selection. Although, I might well make a pair of wide-legged trousers too.

September will be the tricky month. There are times when it is beautiful and summer, and other times when it feels like small-autumn. I think a couple of cardigans would be good, and perhaps a pinafore dress.

Chinese Food!

Oooh! That was good!

It has been a struggle to find a  restaurant on my little island that makes gluten-free Chinese food. At last, we have found such a place. A couple of places say they can, but within 30 minutes of leaving, I know I have ingested gluten.

Before last night, it was over three years since I last had Chinese food. It was a lovely buffet restaurant in Gloucester, the Shanghai Restaurant. It was joy to be able to eat wonderful food, and know that it was safe.

Last night was another moment of loveliness.   When I contacted then restaurant, they explained they do an especially through cleaning of the kitchen, change the frying oil to ensure it gluten-free. Because of this, they said they like to have 24 hours notice to create a good experience.

I so enjoyed my sweet and sour chicken. I was in a happy little bubble. And the best thing, no cross contamination. It was just wonderful. We shall be returning for a birthday celebration.