Sep. 10th, 2015 08:30 am
ladyofastolat: (sneezing lion)
The time has finally come. My old boots are finally getting thrown out. The bin men will take them away shortly. I clung to them desperately for so long after they started to fall apart. When it became clear that they couldn't go near water without leaking with a sieve, I bought a new pair, after trying on pretty much every pair of boots on the island. I didn't like my new ones. In fact, I HATED my new ones. I did a few short walks with them, grumping all the way, then put them in a cupboard and returned to my old ones. By then, they were leaking even if they as much as glimpsed a drop of dew from 100 yards, but I still clung to them. In my mind, the New Boots were hideous monstrosities that weighed a tonne and had enormous solid heels ten inches thick. I tried repairing the old ones, but they were a lost cause. I scoured the internet for second-hand pairs of the same type, but found none. In the end, I pretty much stopped walking entirely.

Then, after months of impasse, I tried my new boots, and realised that they weren't the hideous, heavy monstrosities I thought they were. I tried ten miles in them, and had no problem. I tried 16, and had sore shins, but it was a walk entirely on hard surfaces, so perhaps that was only to be expected. Grudgingly I had to admit that perhaps I'd misjudged them.

I'd done very little walking this year, but yesterday I did 21 miles in my new boots. No problem at all. No sore shins, and no blisters.* I hate to admit it, but my old boots would have given me blisters on my first walk after a long hiatus. So the time has come: the old boots are going out to the bin men, and will be no more.

It seems a bit harsh, really, after all the good and loyal service they've given me. I feel I ought to be taking them out to my favourite part of the Coastal Path and giving them an honorable burial. Not only would it honour them, it would also baffle future archaeologists.

* Well, actually, I DO have a blister, but can't blame the boots. Not only do I wear boots until they fall apart, I do the same with socks. I ended yesterday's walk with a blister on the sole of my foot. The fact that there turned out to be hole in my sock in exactly that place is, I suspect, significant. Pellinor is now tutting and shaking his head and saying "I told you so," since he doesn't approve of my holey socks, and thinks I should chuck the entire lot out and get a drawer-full of new ones.

The old boots: Rest in Peace )


Feb. 2nd, 2015 01:15 pm
ladyofastolat: (sneezing lion)
I have spent some months completely failing to buy trousers. Every shop I look at is full of boringly samey trousers that are completely wrong for me.

What I am looking for is as follows:

- Casual, comfortable, everyday trousers
- in a colour that goes with most other colours. Beige or brown preferred, but all offers entertained
- available in a choice of lengths, otherwise they will almost certainly be too long for me
- not styled to sit several inches below the waist
- styled in a way that allows flexibility about the fitting at the waist - e.g. a drawstring. I have a small waist in proportion to my hips and thighs, so if I buy trousers or jeans with a zip and a non-flexible waistband, they end up many inches too big at the waist, which is annoying and uncomfortable, and causes me to angrily hoik them up every few minutes. I've tried solving the problem with a belt, but that hasn't worked either.

Why is this proving so difficult this year? It wasn't hard last year or the year before, when I found exactly what I wanted easily. Unfortunately, I proceeded to wear said trousers so incessantly that they're falling apart at the seams and the fabric's wearing through, so I need new ones. However, the powers that rule trousers have clearly decreed that trousers such as this can not exist in 2015.
ladyofastolat: (sneezing lion)
Is it just me, or does food shopping get ever more complicated? I tried to buy tinned sweetcorn a while ago. Presumably we hadn't bought it for a long time, or maybe Pellinor happened to do the shopping the last time sweetcorn was on the list, or maybe the World of Sweetcorn, formerly simple, has recently acquired new complexities. I expected a choice between Brand Name, Another Brand Name and Own Brand. Instead, I found what seemed to my poor overloaded brain to be at least 127 subtly different sweetcorn choices. Which one is normal, old-fashioned sweetcorn? I wailed. Which one is the ordinary, classic, common-or-garden, original, newbie sweetcorn? No help was forthcoming.

It's even worse with toothpaste, where each brand name comes in about 105 different versions, all claiming to do something that sounds like a Good Thing, but none claiming to do all of them. Overwhelmed, I just buy whatever happens to be on special offer. And this week, I ended up bonding with an elderly lady over our shared Olive Oil Angst. Side by side, we surveyed the 20 foot wide display of all manner of olive oils, as we tried to work out which one was normal olive oil for cooking. I used to laugh about old ladies who stood around in shops loudly complaining about the price of carrots nowadays, or the shocking new-fangledness of the quiche. Now I seem to have become one.

What supermarkets need is some sort of walkthrough for confused newbies. ("New to tinned sweetcorn? Here's where to start!") Or maybe a clearly coloured shelf sticker that denotes the normal, regular, non-confusing version of a thing.

And while I'm busy grumping about shopping:

Why do so many clothes shops make it impossible to find clothes? Go into somewhere like Debenhams to look for trousers, and you have to look in 105 different places. At least it makes sense in Debenhams, because of the way the shop works: lots of different brands under the same roof. But M&S does the same thing now, with all their different ranges. I just want to browse trousers! I don't care if they're Per Una trousers, or Indigo Collection trousers, or M&S Classics trousers, or any of the other ranges they now sell. Why are they going out of their way to make things difficult? Well, yeah, I expect they're deliberately forcing customers to walk every inch of the shop in the hope that they get tempted by other items en route, but it's still very annoying.

As is the habit train stations have of only selling crisps in extra-large bags. After an early start and a long journey, I might feel in need of a small snack, but I don't want a large one. If they sold normal sized bags of crisps, they would probably get some money out of me. By only selling large ones, they ensure that I walk straight out again, feeling grumpy, negative thoughts in their general direction, and my money remaining unspent.
ladyofastolat: (sneezing lion)
Yesterday I had to go early into town to do a few things, one of which was emergency shoe-shopping. I find shoes boring, and shoe-shopping even worse, so I tend to have a single pair of everyday, everything shoes. A few days ago, my current everything shoes fell apart in several dramatic and simultaneous ways. Even a prop-wrangler seeking a costume for a tramp would have rejected them as being too tatty. So yesterday, off to the shoe shop I went. I decided to buy two pairs of everything shoes, to reduce the risk of similar future emergencies. Only then did I realise that although the entire point of the shopping trip was buying shoes, and although I'd chosen this particular shop because I could get a 10% discount in it, I'd forgotten to bring the discount voucher with me. "Oh well," thought I. "It's not much of a diversion to pop in on the way home from our walk this afternoon. I've done the hard work of choosing them. I'll just pop in then and buy them." I then went home, where the plan was to have a quick cup of tea, then head out by 10.30 on a long walk. However, Pellinor had to finish off a few things on the computer first, so we ended up leaving 20 minutes later than planned.

During that 20 minutes, in came in email from the shoe shop: a shop that, to my knowledge, has never emailed before, and had no way of knowing that I had visited that morning. It included a voucher code for 30% off all purchases this weekend. Had I remembered the voucher, I would have bought the shoes in the morning with only 10% off. Had we left at the intended time, I would have bought the shoes in the afternoon with only 10% off.

From this I have concluded that forgetfulness, tardiness, laziness and general incompetence are rewarded. That's nice to know. :-D


Nov. 29th, 2014 01:00 pm
ladyofastolat: (sneezing lion)
At least half a dozen times in the last week, I've heard "going Christmas jumper shopping" mentioned as an essential pre-Christmas task, when one buys "this year's Christmas jumper." Is this a thing now? Have I entirely failed to notice, let alone engage in, something that everyone else has been doing for years, or is it new? No-one talking about it implies that it's new.

In other clothes-related news, the skirt I'm wearing today seemed like a very good idea when I saw it half price in M&S a few weeks ago. Today I am regretting that choice. Between work and the cemetery there's a strip of gravel scattered with stumpy dead thistly plants. At least, it was half an hour ago. Now I suspect it's a strip of gravel scattered with nothing at all. I have individually - and painfully - prized off at least 957 very prickly bits of shrivelled leaf and twig, and I'm still wearing half a forest - a vengeful one that stabs my shins when I walk.
ladyofastolat: (Killer Kitten)
Since the weather forecast didn't augur well for a long walk, I decided to take advantage of a few promised rain-free hours by walking to Newport and back. It didn't go entirely to plan, since the river had burst its banks in the high spring tide, drowning my intended path under several feet of water. Even my revised route was only passable with a detour through a pub, and it was clear even that route had been a lake in a recent past. Then I almost got felled by a ferocious gale as I rounded the corner of the quay. But, anyway, I made it, and made it back just before the rain started again.

My route took me right past the vet, so I popped in to pick up a prescription. "Hang on!" thought I. "Aren't I wearing my "Schrodinger's Cat is Dead" t-shirt? Is that a tactful thing to wear in a vet's waiting room?" I had visions of bereaved cat owners bursting into tears at the sight, or the receptionist backing off fearfully, afraid that I was campaigning on behalf of a Mr Schrodinger, who blamed veterinary incompetence for his loss, and was seeking revenge. Then I glanced down and noticed that my t-shirt actually read "Schrodinger's Cat is Not Dead." Yes, I was wearing it backwards, complete with the label standing perkily up, blatantly visible at my throat. This at least seemed like a more hopeful message, but what if said bereaved cat owners saw it as gloating: Schrodinger's cat is not dead?

Although it was boiling hot, I zipped my coat up as I neared the vet, and entered it all wrapped up, with all cat-related messages safely hidden. I then spent the next few miles amusing myself with mentally working through all the various t-shirts we possess, emblazoned with geeky pop culture quotes, and coming up with the worst possible situation to wear them in. An airline pilot wearing "We're all doomed!" A surgeon wearing "Stick them with the pointy end." Pretty much anyone in customer service wearing "Hello! My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die." But I would like to see a weather forecaster wear "Winter is coming."

A handbag?

Sep. 15th, 2014 02:04 pm
ladyofastolat: (sneezing lion)
I was idly flicking through a women's weekly magazine in a library staffroom the other day, because I had nothing else to read. (You see, my current reading book (The Far Pavilions, by M M Kaye) is Too Heavy for me to want to carry it to and from work, and, yes, I was in a library and therefore surrounded by books, but had forgotten to grab something before going on my break, and couldn't be bothered to venture out into the public-infested areas to choose one.) (Said women's weekly magazine seemed to be spectacularly lacking in content - and I don't by this mean "content I'm interested in," but "any sort of content at all. (It did, however, give me one vital piece of advice: if you want to write something neatly, do it in pencil first, and then go over it in ink! Wow! Thank you so much, magazine! I would never have thought of this without you!))

Anyway... the magazine included a page of "fascinating" facts, one of which was that the average British woman owns 111 handbags in their life.

Now, I am fairly sure that I have reached the age of 43 having owned 3 handbags, sequentially. While they are not handbags in the sense of being bags that one carries around in one's hand - I prefer long straps that I can wear diagonally across my body - they definitely count as handbags, in that they're small bags that contain little but keys, a purse, a phone and a surprisingly large number of pens that no longer work. (Women's clothes are annoyingly lacking in Pockets of Useful Size, so things that men can carry in pockets, women usually need to put in bags, especially in the summer.)

I would also be very surprised if any woman reading this is on course to reach their quota of 111 by the end of their life, not without some frenzied buying in their twilight years.

No source was given for this figure. It could be that it's an entirely random figure, designed to make the handbag-poor go, "ooh! I need more!" and rush out and buy... or, alternatively, to make them feel smug at their enlightened freedom from the tyranny of handbag-buying... and, either way, to make them go, "ooh, interesting!" and write LJ posts about it, and decide that perhaps the magazine has content, after all.

But if there is any truth in it, and if it is indeed true that most women of my acquaintance have far fewer than 111 handbags, some women clearly live in houses so packed to the rafters with handbags that they can barely squeeze past them to get to their handbag-strewn beds.


Mar. 30th, 2014 11:39 am
ladyofastolat: (sneezing lion)
There are only so many holes you can accept in a pair of walking boots before you have to face the cold, hard truth: they need to be replaced. I am very fond of my walking boots. They have seen me through well over a thousand miles, and I really don't want to have to replace them. They have seen through so many quagmires that they look utterly vile - so seeped through with old mud that I feel embarrassed wearing them into cafes and museums. Vileness I can live with, but holes are less acceptable.

I had a few hours' lieu time on Friday afternoon, so armed with spare walking socks, I went boot shopping. I must have tried on every women's walking boot in Newport, most of them in both size 38 and size 39, just in case. After much umming and ahing (which I just wrote repeatedly as "aging". I took so long about it that I think the poor shop assistant probably did feel as if she was ageing considerably during the course of my visit.) Anyway... after much umming and ahing, I settled on a pair of Berghaus boots. Nothing makes boots feel more uncomfortable than subjecting them to intense attention, actively thinking, "will these do?" They feel heavy and stiff, but so did my old ones when I put them on yesterday and actively thought about them, only to fade into unawareness once I got going.

"You can return them within a month," the assistant told me, "as long as you haven't worn them outside." But I think the only way to discover if they fit properly is to do an actual walk with them, so I'm about to take the plunge, with a seafront circuit. I'll try the new boots for short walks, but keep the old ones for long walks, at least for now. Then I might need to give them a sad and sorrowful ritual burial, perhaps beneath the still undiminished Eternal Soup Mountain. Explain that, future reptilian archaeologists!
ladyofastolat: (sneezing lion)
According to the internet, the average height of women in the UK is 5 foot 4 and a half. I am therefore exactly dead on average. Why, then, is it that trousers sold in normal High Street shops are always so long on me that their hems trail in the mud? I don't think my legs are unnaturally short, in proportion with the rest of me. Sleeves are usually too long, too.

Entirely unrelated to the above (unless ancient heroes wear too-long trousers), I'm rereading Rosemary Sutcliff's The Hound of Ulster at the moment, and am struggling to think of any "hero" of myth or legend who equals Cuchulainn in sheer obnoxiousness. He's a rude, selfish, bad tempered, self-centred brat. I wish he'd been torn to pieces by a hound at the age of 15.
ladyofastolat: (We do not sew)
I've been sewing non-stop all day, while Pellinor thumped and bumped and bustled, bringing the entire contents of the loft downstairs. The costume I've worn to Summerfest for the last two years was no longer suitable, since I'd grown out of the bodice (or grown away from? It had grown out of me? It had become too big for me, anyway) and thanks to last year's drench, the skirt was solidly encrusted with mud for the entire bottom 12 inches.

This is the result )


Jul. 7th, 2013 02:59 pm
ladyofastolat: (sneezing lion)
The sudden onset of summer has made me feel the lack of a summer dress. I could also do with a couple of lighter, summery skirts. Therefore I spurned the pretty summery countryside with its cooling coastal breeze, and headed into the heat of the town centre to tramp reluctantly through clothes shops. M&S did not contain a single skirt. I found a grand total of three dresses in the entire shop. Over half the entire women's section was taken up with trousers, all of them seemingly well nigh identical, but differing from each other in baffling and arcane ways. (This I have learnt.) All the other shops had very few skirts, but loads of dresses, although I liked barely any of them. Almost half of the female shoppers were wearing summer dresses or skirts, so I wonder why M&S has decided that there's no demand for them.

After over an hour, I had found one dress which I liked very much indeed. I tried it on, and - once I'd extricated myself from somehow getting my head stuck between the lining and the dress itself - found that it fitted very well at the waist and the bust. Unfortunately, it gaped under the armpits so enormously that I could have used it to smuggle guinea pigs. Oh well. It's probably just as well, since it was twice the price of all the dresses I didn't like.

So it's off to the pattern books and the haberdashery I go. Since this means that my acquiring of a summer dress will be delayed by at least a week, summer can now be guaranteed to disappear utterly next weekend, and not be seen again until 2015.


Oct. 7th, 2012 05:41 pm
ladyofastolat: (Default)
I bought some trainers today. Why on earth didn't I do this years ago? They are amazingly comfortable. They're brand new and not worn in, yet when I wore them for half an hour of boinging around this afternoon, I was no more aware of wearing them than I would have been of socks. In fact, I bought two slightly different pairs, one amazingly comfortable pair in an alarming colour for wearing when I'm clearly doing EXERCISE!, when glow-in-the-dark yellow laces are tolerable, and another pair that's very very comfortable but not quite so comfortable as the alarming pair, in nice discreet browns and blacks, for walking round supermarkets and racing for ferries.

This decision came atfter half an hour of serious dithering, long enough for Pellinor to buy his shoes, drive across town to Staples, buy two computer chair mats (our old old ones having perished, and our new old ones being styoopid), and return to find me still dithering. In my defence, I had to point out that at least he only had to try on one size when shoe-shopping, whereas I always have to try on both 5 and 6, being some way in between, in a way that varies from make to make, and style to style.

So now I have comfy shoes again. Yay! Summerfest killed off my soft, squidgy, wear-them-everywhere shoes, and my chosen replacements are proving less soft and less squidgy and are stubbornly refusing to soften with walking. Now that sandal weather is over, I've been left with no shoes at all that I could happily wear for a walk to the shops. But all that has changed now. And when I'm doing EXERCISE! my laces will glow in the dark, so I won't even get lost in the wilderness. Yay!

Far too many "trainers" have rock hard, inflexible soles. Mine don't. My new ones are bendy and boingy and make me feel as if I have springs in my feet. :-)

Wow. I've used a smiley in a post about shoe-shopping. Who'd have thought it?


Aug. 31st, 2012 11:13 am
ladyofastolat: (Default)
I discovered the other day that I have never owned or worn a pair of shoes in my life. Woe is me! Should I start appealing for charity donations?

This knowledge came from a shoe website to which I repaired to after Summerfest, since my casual, non-work shoes (or what I had always thought of as shoes, anyway) had died at the hands of the mud bath and were fit for nothing but the bin. I am an unnatural failure as a woman (at least in the eyes of the media) since I hate shoe-shopping and do it as seldom as I can, so I had no spare comfy shoes to replace them.

I decided to take the risk and buy online, since I wanted something as close as possible to the same make and style as before. However, the website I chose offered me the choice of several main categories: shoes, boots, sandals and flats. I have never owned or worn anything other than "flats" in my life, but it was news to me that they did not in fact count as shoes at all, and that the presence of a high heel was essential if a piece of footwear was to count as a shoe.
ladyofastolat: (Default)
I haven't bought Normal Person trousers for over ten years. In that time, I've only ever bought thin cotton trousers with bright and alarming patterns on them, sold from stalls at folk festivals. The main problem with such trousers are:
- Thin cotton is thin. This is nice in the summer, but not so great when walking through a blizzard, or strolling on a clifftop on a nice Orkney midsummer day, in driving rain, with a wind chill factor of minus 20.
- Trousers bought for £5 from stalls at folk festivals don't generally last for very long before the fabric gives way in places you really don't want the fabric to give way.
- There currently appears to be a national shortage of thin cotton trousers with bright and alarming patterns on them. I've searched the stalls at every festival I've been to in the last few years, and not found a single pair that matches my requirements.

As a result of the last two of these problems, I currently have only one pair of cotton trousers, and, given the cold and point 1, have been mostly living in Pellinor's LARPing trousers. (These are far less interesting than they sound. Chainmail is not involved.) Therefore today, I ventured into town to buy some Normal Person Trousers of my very own.

This was, I think, my first ever visit to The Sales. Normally, I doubt I could think of anything I would less rather do than go shopping over the Christmas holidays, but it had to be done. Pellinor bought his LARP trousers from M&S - (What? You didn't know M&S had a LARP range? "This isn't just a sword of holy smiting; this is an M&S sword of holy smiting.") - so we tried there first. I tried on a few trousers... and they were completely silly. I tried three designs, and they had all been made for women with waists as big as their hips. There was literally 8 inches of extra fabric at the waist, and only a flimsy little fabric belt thing to (utterly fail to) hold them up.

I gave up on M&S and went to the sports shop, where about a hundred thousand items of clothing had been crammed into a room the size of a postage stamp. Half the pairs of trousers I found there had no pockets - No pockets! Why???? - but I ended up with a couple of pairs that looked acceptable, bought them, and beat a hasty retreat from the world of Normal Person Clothes Shopping. With any luck, I won't need to do that again for a few years.

Blue jeans

Dec. 7th, 2010 05:34 pm
ladyofastolat: (Default)
On this week's list of new books, there was a book that claimed in its blurb that at any one moment in time, half the world's population is wearing blue jeans. I am therefore inspired to do a poll.

Blue jeans )
ladyofastolat: (Jayne hat)
A year ago tomorrow, I walked part of the length of our island while wearing a cloak. I chronicled here the bitter fights I waged with the thing: water in the hood, wind resistance, attempted strangulation, and the fact that it turned into a lethal weapon and kept trying to tear out the eyes of anyone near me. Fantasy novels, I said, never recorded this, and proceeded to show heroes waging war against Dark Lords, rather than their own wardrobes.

Tomorrow, I am Walking the Wight again, this time sans cloak. Today, though, I led around forty little pirates (many of them alarmingly pink ones) on a walk around a park, while dressed as a pirate myself. This has led to the following observations about further gaps in the history books and historical novels:

On socks, swords, hats and sleeves )


Jan. 6th, 2008 05:11 pm
ladyofastolat: (shallow fangirl hat)
I've just watched Becoming Jane on DVD. In light of my recent comments on historical inaccuracies, I really ought to be berating the film right now. However, I'm afraid my thought processes while watching it went something like this: "Ooh! Velvet coat! Ah! What a gorgeous jacket. Weskit! Baggy white shirt! Hat!!! Ooh! Greatcoat!" The only main interruption to thoughts of this type came in the dancing scenes, where they went, "Ooh! I know that move! I know that dance!" It's rather hard to watch a film when 90% of your mind is drooling over the costume.

In my opinion, it's very hard to beat that late eighteenth century / early nineteenth century look for men in terms of sheer attractiveness. There's just something about the big shirts and tight breeches, along with weskits, cravats, and gorgeous jackets and coats. About the only thing that rivals it, in my opinion, is that mid-Elizabethan look modelled by soulful looking young men in black.


Oct. 14th, 2007 03:04 pm
ladyofastolat: (Default)
Today, in M&S, Pellinor bought 28 pairs of identical socks. Several shop assistants joined in with expressions of amazement. It was generally concluded that no-one on earth should need to buy 28 pairs of identical socks on the same day. My current theories: He is planning to start a football team consisting of sockless orphans; he is planning to merge his DNA with that of a centipede is some unnatural scientific experiment; or secret sources have brought him news of an imminent world shortage of socks, so he is stocking up in order to make a fortune selling them on ebay.
ladyofastolat: (Default)
When we were in London, I saw the most gorgeous coat I have ever seen, being worn by someone wandering through Covent Garden. It was full length, coming in snugly at the waist, but full and billowy below it. It was made of a rich red velvet, and had a small amount of lacing at the small of the back, and also half way down the sleeve. I didn't get to see the front clearly. I have googled various combos of likely-sounding words, and have found several other nice red velvet coats, but nothing as good as this one. If anyone ever comes across a coat matching this description, I would be very grateful if you direct me towards it. (Though if it turns out that this is a posh designer thing costing £5000, I will grr greatly.)
ladyofastolat: (Evil laugh)
...I just bought this t-shirt. At least everyone I come across ought to understand this one. They might back away from me as some sort of weirdo, but they will at least understand it. My Shirt of Smiting provokes baffled looks, and at least a couple of questions every time I wear it. The Shrodinger's cat t-shirt is especially fun, since everyone who gets it feels duty bound to come up to me and say something wittily relevant to prove that they've got it, and everyone who doesn't get it feels the need to come up and express outrage at the fact that I'm apparently revelling in the death of a kitty. I don't think anyone has dared question Pellinor about this Fragged People t-shirt, though. Presumably the picture makes them fear it's the mark of some dangerous gun-worshipping gang.

And now I should probably add this one to my collection...

A recipe

Apr. 6th, 2006 08:28 pm
ladyofastolat: (Hear me roar)
1 bolt of cloth
2 cats
Some thread

Spread cloth on floor and attempt to smoothe it flat.
Say, "Get off, cat!"
Smoothe cloth flat again. Pick cat fur off cloth.
Lay make-shift pattern piece on fabric.
Say, "Oh, Honey! Leave it alone!"
Retrieve pattern piece from cat's mouth. Dry off slobber and try to get rid tooth marks.
Put pattern piece on fabric again. Reach for pin.
Hear the clatter as Other Cat pounces on pin tin and scatters them all over the place.
Say, "that's it!" and throw cats out of room. Shut door and try to ignore anguished wails and ear-splitting scratching.
Retrieve pins. Fail to find all of them, but know that you'll find them when it suddenly seems a good idea after wine one night to push all the furniture to one side and dance Horse's Bransle, in bare feet.
Worry for a moment about the above, then shrug. Tomorrow is another day, and Pellinor's feet are bigger, so it'll likely be him, anyway.
Pin pattern piece on fabric.
Fail to notice the door open as cats march in again, having opened the door themselves. Instead, notice the reel of thread as it disappears behind the couch, batted there by cat.
Say, "I need a drink!"
Sadly remember that the six gallon vat of peach wine is not quite ready yet.
Give up, and do LJ instead.
ladyofastolat: (Default)
Tonight, I plan to grapple with the challenge of dressmaking.

I used to do quite a bit of dressmaking, when at school and university. I didn't just make easy things, but fiddly things like weskits made of velvet and taffeta, and ball gowns. I'm not quite sure why, though. I always ended up about ready to throw the sewing machine through the window. Dressmaking disasters )

On a similar theme, it's Pellinor's birthday tomorrow, and he was talking about making his own birthday cake. I squirmed guiltilty about this, because, really, I should be doing it myself. Cooking disasters )

I will stop now before I need to move on to mentioning cleaning and dusting. I mean, the spiders are completely happy on the ceiling, and it would be cruel to disturb them...


ladyofastolat: (Default)

September 2017

     1 2


RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 20th, 2017 03:49 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios