Best of times and worst of times

I've been trying to compose this post for quite a while now as you can see by how long it is since I last posted. Usually I keep this blog for good things happening in my life but alas I need it now for something bad that's been happening now for a few months. If you would rather not read my bad news then stop right here.
I think I can summarise by telling you about my birthday yesterday. Friday, the 21st. Ricardo has been in hospital for 3 weeks now with the mystery illness that I spoke about in my last post where we visited the Royal School of Needlework. So my birthday had to be spent away from him, my favourite buddy. Still it was a lovely day. It started with my usual walk with my friend Caryll in the woods near here with her two doggies.

Calm, peaceful and magical.
The weather was absolutely gorgeous. It felt strange somehow to be warm first thing in the morning.
Next came breakfast with my darlings Clarissa and Zebedee and Yusuf the 'King-of-eggs-Benedict'. Here we are sitting in the sun next to the veggie patch. Another calm, warm special moment.
Then it was off to Banham zoo which is just down the road from us but I've never been before. My friend Lisa and I wandered about in the sunshine with Zebbie, the perfect accompaniment for zoo visiting. Although isn't it always the way that animals are always asleep in a distant and camouflaged state when you're trying to point them out to a small child. There was one very, very sweet moment however when we came across a family of black gibbons all asleep and spooned together in the sun right up close to the viewing window. The tiny baby woke up and climbed up as close as it could get to Zebbie and they touched hands with only glass between. Clarrissa had given me the MOST beautiful dress and accessories for my birthday and Lisa and I looked quite glamorous in comparison to the usual run of the mill zoo visitors in fat shorts and beetle back packs.
Zebbie wore his 'Easy Tiger' T-shirt and the man driving the tiger train really wanted one.
Then it was time to visit my darling in hospital. Here he is looking suave in his PJ's.
That was when the bad news came, the worst of times so far. The consultant came to talk to us, pulled the curtain round us and sat trying to pull himself together to give us the bad news. He closed his eyes as he told us so as not to cry. Richard has cancer in his liver and has up to 2 years left, depending on how healthy we can keep him. There is no cure nor chance of transplant nor use of chemo to halt it's march. One of the gorgeous nurses came after the consultant and got us cups of tea in china cups & saucers. I can't speak highly enough of how we were both treated during this nightmare of not knowing. The nurses all gave more than we expected including hugs whenever things got bad and were the most caring and wonderful bunch you could ever wish for.
On our way home from the hospital we spied a couple of balloons about to take off. Something about them (along with fireworks and brass bands) always makes me cry and so finally they did the trick and I sobbed and sobbed as I watched them sail off.
I've brought him home now and the awful business of telling everyone begins as we try and console all our friends and family scattered across the globe.
The only thing that smooths out my terror and anxiety at the moment is reading and re-reading Gerald Durrell's book 'My family and other animals'. Here's an excerpt for you to calm and sooth you after my awful news.
"The sea lifted smooth blue muscles of wave as it stirred in the dawn light, and the foam of our wake spread gently behind us like a white peacock's tail, glinting with bubbles. The sky was pale and stained with yellow on the Eastern horizon.
Ahead lay a chocolate-brown smudge of land, huddled in mist, with a frill of foam at its base. This was Corfu and we strained our eyes to make out the exact shapes of the mountains, to discover valleys, peaks, ravines, and beaches, but it remained a silhouette. Then suddenly the sun shifted over the horizon, and the sky turned the smooth enamelled blue of a jay's eye. The endless, meticulous curves of the sea flamed for an instant and then changed to deep royal purple flecked with green. The mist lifted in quick, lithe ribbons, and before us lay the island, the mountains as though sleeping beneath a crumpled blanket of brown, the folds stained with the green of olive-groves. Along the shore curved beaches as white as tusks among tottering cities of brilliant gold, red,and white rocks. Rounding the cape, we left the mountains, and the island sloped gently down, blurred with the silver and green iridescence of olives, with here and there an admonishing finger of black cypress against the sky. The shallow sea in the bays was butterfly blue, and even above the sound of the ship's engine we could hear, faintly ringing from the shore like a chorus of tiny voices, the shrill, triumphant cries of the cicadas."

Pinning ones hopes to needlework

At our house lately, it's been all work, sleep and no play.
Ricardo the Magnificent has been poorly with a mystery illness that seems to be resisting diagnosis. It has us both quietly and inwardly worried and outwardly falsely cheerful. Yesterday, there was no falseness to our cheerfulness. My friend Louise had arrived from Australia via Paris and was making a tour of the Royal College of needlework at Hampton Court Palace. We didn't need any excuse to join her there for the tour.
It was THE most glorious day. Old Blighty had turned on a rare gem and all the blossom and flowers had come out to meet us.
We had a picnic in the "Wilderness garden" (in inverted commas because there is no such thing as wilderness at Hampton Court).
We had just missed the daffodils but the tulips were incredible and the smell of Wallflowers was just like Chanel no 5 .
Louise and Ricardo bonded as I knew they would.
Louise is a fabulous textile artist and you must see her work here and here she also has a wicked sense of humour. Which meant that I couldn't look at her as we stood in the main room of the Royal School of Needlework (RSN) and listened to the volunteer talk about the history of the RSN. Endlessly talk about the history of the RSN. It seemed like we stood there for hours while she dutifully followed her notes about who had been the patron when. At one stage I asked Ricardo in hushed tones if he was alright and did he need to sit down. He said 'I'm fine I'm just fighting the hugest yawn attack'. She rambled on and on and my mind sped out the window as it used to do at school, but instead of gum trees and kookaburras this is what I saw.
".....and in 1887 the RSN moved to blah. blah, blah....... who had one daughter, oh no I think it was actually two.....blah blah" It seems like the RSN is desperate for money and if I had some I would give it to them if only to give their volunteers some training in 'Creating interest in your monologues'. Still we had a wonderful time afterwards rolling on the immaculate lawn and doing impressions of our poor unwitting volunteer.

Get thee hence to Doctor Karl

The bestest part of my job is being able to listen to the radio ALL DAY. Now that we have a wifi connection, I can scan the whole worlds radio stations and listen to all my favourite Australian shows in the workroom. My absolute all time favourite is Dr Karl on Triple J broadcasting from Sydney. Yesterday, I was like an alcoholic in a bar listening to just one more, just one more. The show had me laughing out loud with it's incredible range of questions, from.... " How do ants know when it's going to rain?" and "How many times can a mosquito bite you?" to "Can you break your penis?". Here's the link, go there now if you can. See you later I'm off upstairs to stitch & laugh.

Cushion giveaway

Hello all my dear blog buddies and I hope you had a happy Easter.
I know I haven't been here for ages but I've been busy setting up a cushion fan sight over at that succubus of time.... Facebook. There is a cushion giveaway there that finishes on Thursday the 8th of April at 2pm. So come on down. It's been my complete obsesson and every time a new fan arrives I do a little dance.

P.S. these cushions are my newbies made from the orange Obi that you see below in the previous post

A Spring bunch

Here's a spring bouquet for you. Primroses from our tiny garden.
Ricardo swears primroses have a scent but I don't seem to be able to smell anything from them. What say you fellow blog readers?

I've had a great week this past week with my second corset class on Monday (I promise I'll put up some photos really soon) then an exciting whirlwind trip to London to meet up with Ms Earwig sandwich herself Lulu Labonne.(Sorry about the blurr factor)
Here's Lulu's great shot that she took in the mirror at the V&A.
If you've never read her exciting exploits, get thee hence but get a cup of tea and a bikkie first, you'll be transfixed by her adventures. We met at the V & A and even though it's one of my most favourite places in the world, I was reluctant to explore as Lulu and I had a lifetimes worth of catching up to do. We did manage to see the Great Bed of Ware though.I also had a cushion sale at a private house in Norwich which went rather well and has inspired me to hop to it and MAKE MORE CUSHIONS. This fabulous Obi came last week and has been calling to me to make it up into new treasure.

Walsingham III

Today at the last minute, we had an outing to Walsingham with our friends David, Kate and Cuthbert (seen here with ladybird) and our Godson Humphrey.
It was bloody freezing but we soldiered on with our picnic.Every year they have a spectacular display of snowdrops in amongst the ruins of the Priory. We had the place almost to ourselves as the carpet of flowers usually only goes til the end of February but because it's been such a cold winter they are a couple of weeks late and are hanging on. Here's your first sight of them. Imagine trying to recreate this scene? Even if you had millions of pounds to spend, you could not replicate it.
I wonder can you use the inside of a crocus to colour risotto like saffron? It's SO yellow.
The ruins of the Abbey are like some fabulous folly. Someone had left a little 'Our Lady' in a niche.
This bridge called the Pack horse bridge was originally on the main road to Norwich. The stream underneath was crystal clear.

As far as you can see are snowdrops and the odd yellow Aconite. Occasionally you may get to see that rare bird, Ricardo (not feeling his usual self today though still as handsome as ever)


The perfect spot for a wood nymph.
Walsingham has a rare and strange air. This neglected windowsill sums it up really. It's one of the reasons I love going. It's like a tourist destination that time forgot.
After tea and toilets it was time for a quick look at the third "T" at Walsingham. TAT. There are a couple of shops which sell second hand ecclesiastical stuff and well worth a look, especially if you're with the Rev.

Look at this absolute beauty. Dark pink silk satin with padded gold embroidery.
Only £600. A bloody bargain if you ask me.

Kerry's stole

These are pictures of a stole I've just finished for our dear friend Kerry who lives in sunny Coogee in Sydney, Australia. Kerry has become an interfaith minister, so she can now hatch, match or dispatch anyone of any faith. Pretty cool huh. We ummed and ahhed about the design on the stole for ages, would we try to incorporate a whole lot of different symbols or would we try and find just one that covered everything. A hard task indeed. Then we hit upon the phoenix. Of course, it all suddenly made sense. Kerry sent me the gold kid leather and the beautiful silk satin in this fabulous red.
It took ages and a very sharp scalpel to cut out not one but two exactly matching birds.
I couldn't find a good fringe anywhere so decided to make my own. Then it needed some sparkle.
Here is the fringe taking shape with small clear crystal beads with gold interiors for that essential sparkle.
Here's the fringe on the windowsill, on what seemed like the first sunny day this decade, with my pincushion collection. (Does 2 count as a collection?) and some gorgeous pom poms that I bought last summer in France and can't decide what the hell to do with yet.
Carefully attaching the tassel strip to the stole

All done and dusted and now winging its way to Australia. Bon voyage my precious.