From Disney with love...

Ooohhh, my goodness...I fell in love with this fabric the moment I saw it in a local charity shop, nestling unloved and unappreciated amongst the nylon duvets.

It is a gorgeous,early 1960's Walt Disney Productions fabric,  a soft cotton which was, in a previous life, a curtain.  Obviously well loved and well cared for, the colours nearly as bright today as they were fifty years ago.  
Beautiful, and very nostalgic.

Today I have used a portion of this fabric to make a cushion.  The back is a stripy navy and white polycotton.

https://www.etsy.com/listing/130308667/vintage-cushion-vintage-pillow-made?ref=shop_home_active
http://folksy.com/items/4359962-Vintage-cushion-using-an-early-1960-s-Walt-Disney-Productions-fabric-

Liberating Liberty Lawn.

A trip to London is never complete without a visit to Liberty.  Accompanied by an impulse buy.  Or three.

One of which just has to be a gorgeous, Liberty Lawn print.  

However, I then fall in love with these fabrics and they sit, unused, on shelves as I can't bare to cut them.

But yesterday I broke the habit of a lifetime and liberated my very favourite print, a flamboyant, floral riot of colour, and made Hibiscus, a snoozy owl doorstop.

I love these colours together!  

http://folksy.com/items/4357914-Snoozy-owl-doorstop-Hibiscus-

The curse of the family bunions.

My grandma is 91. 
Sifting through old photos, and my childhood memories, she was beautiful.  Still is beautiful.
She has many, many qualities that I admire,  but the part which I have inherited?
Bunions!  Great big, fat bunions. 
I glare at these lumps on the side of my feet and instantly remember the times when we'd visit my grandma, only to find she'd taken a scissors to a brand new pair of slippers to accommodate the bunions.  I don't own slippers and my shoes are intact, but these bunions are just like my grandma's, and I have visions of Josh tut tutting, as I mangle a pair of shoes with a stanley knife.

Desperately seeking Spring.

Where oh where is Spring?
Saturday morning, I awoke to birdsong and bright sunshine.
 By 7.45 I was crouched outside, in mismatched pyjamas and ski socks, taking photos of primroses. 
 By lunchtime I had ripped my arms to shreds in a battle with the brambles. I had planted the seeds that had been languishing in a cupboard waiting for sun and weeded the strawberry patch.
The afternoon was gorgeous, and, feeling the sun on my face, I was lulled into believing that Spring had finally arrived - it lasted just one day.
So now, two days later, the heating is on, I'm huddled under a blanket and the garden is shrouded in a curtain of grey mist and drizzle.  Oh my, oh my!




















The delicate beauty of the primrose.