Loitering on a street corner.

Crofty Industrial; quirky, mildly eccentric and quintessentially Gower.
Home to various independent businesses and fiercely guarded by the cockle lady, resplendent in welsh costume and laddered tights, loitering with intent at the entrance.
It has a unique charm all of its own, with sheep sharing roads with delivery trucks and abandoned buildings rubbing shoulders with surf shacks.

I may crave urban, but you'd never find a Crofty in London!

Dear diary....Sunday, 21st July 1991. Musing on hitching.

...and after the usual hiccups with arrangements I'm finally sprawled on my bed at the King George Hostel, Jerusalem.
I still get goosebumps on the approach to Jerusalem, even after all this time.
It's the cream stone, the green amongst the scrub - the chaos and bustle after an empty road - it's special.
But never, ever straightforward!
First, I only discovered yesterday that today is supposed to be a public holiday, but no-one seemed to know anything about it!
What if everything was closed?  No buses, no shops...no Underground!
Oh my goodness - but even a closed Jerusalem would be better than desert isolation.

Luckily, everything ran as normal, but it wasn't till I saw my first Egged bus that I could relax.
Not that I had the slightest intention of catching a bus, but it was a reassuring normality.

Trine, being very organised, got a straight lift from the kibbutz, organised the night before.
I was not so organised.
Having made plans to hitch with Emma's boyfriend, who was visiting family up north, I was surprised to find myself hitching solo at 7am.
He'd pulled out over the phantom holiday confusion.

A long wait for a car, but when it did arrive it was a moshav car going straight to BeerSheva.
Great - till it dropped me off at a desserted desert junction in the middle of nowhere, the driver pointing to the Jerusalem road along the Dead Sea.
I could feel my heart drop like a stone - there are two roads heading north from the desert - the new road and the old road, with the old road renouned for being dangerous for hitching.
I was being dropped at the old road.
Very apprehensive I left the safety of the moshav car and joined the two soldiers already there, prepared for a long wait and alot of hassle if they got a lift before me as there was nothing around for miles!

There aren't many rules for hitching, but the one I do remember is the avoidance of cars with blue number plates.  But - if I was stuck in a desert with no traffic and very little water I'm not sure about that rule anymore.
Incredibly, a car appeared within minutes, complete with shiny yellow numberplate and heading straight to Jerusalem!

He took all three of us, a crazy, crazy driver - thank goodness for an empty road - and I was at the Central Bus Station by 9.40am!
Who needs buses anyway???
That's the thing about hitching - it's addictive.
It may be dodgy and unpredictable, but the adrenalin rush you get from a good lift is amazing - plus, it makes my money go further!

Trine appeared at 11 and we spent the afternoon walking our feet off, battling a cold (Trine) and an eye infection (me).
Still no space at SdotYam, but looking hopeful for next week.

And tonight...The Underground.
That'll be beers and straws then.

The Underground.

Dear Diary...Wednesday 17th July 1991. 150km from civilisation.

Mid morning, after a trip to the Super, a missed postal van (I'll have to wait another day now to phone Trine) and a chocolate binge!
I feel much better now - back to normal - despite being the lone gooseberry in a desert full of couples!
But this whole desert thing - it's not for me, I can't believe I ever thought it would be - Eilat is 150km away - and hitching is all a bit dodgy as the road is so isolated.
Beersheva is nearer, but what is there to do in Beersheva?

The Shack.

150km from civilisation.

I'm getting increasingly bored and frustrated with the whole thing - if you miss the postal van there is no way to phone anyone - there's one shop and a pool, but that's about it. How do people cope with the isolation?
And last night I was sharing Emma's abandoned, rickety shack with cockroaches.
I can't face cockroaches again tonight. They were scuttling round the sink!
Please, please, PLEASE let someone leave SdotYam soon so I can jump in their bed!!!



Helped Emma polish mangos in the morning, drawing in the afternoon and a party supper in the evening.
But - what has happened to Emma???
I've never seen her like this before.
Ever.
Where's the girl who was always last to leave a party - larger than life and twice as loud, with an overnight bag slung over her shoulder ''just incase'' whenever we went clubbing!
She seems to have lost some of that confidence, and her mood swings are all over the place - one minute she's hyper, manic and bouncing, the next she's in tears.
And she's started taking lithium.
I'm worried about Emma.

Emma.

I blame the marzipan. Absolutely.

Today has been one of those days.
Having woken up with birdsong and sunshine it was supposed to involve a camera, a boat or three and a vintage trawl.
Instead, I ended up unpicking the same seam not once, not twice but FOUR times!!! 
From vintage lace.
Time consuming, fiddly and incredibly frustrating.
I swore more than once and missed the bus.
Twice.
So - no boats, no vintage treasures and a distinctly uninspiring fridge.
Hence the marzipan.

I have a particularly dysfunctional relationship with marzipan.
By nature I'm more savoury than sweet, but where marzipan is concerned - oh my goodness!!!
I'm not buying it anymore...
And it completely zapped my energy.

However, seam finally finished I did finish the offending article, which was a snoozy groovy dachshund sleeve for an ipad.

https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/184033822/a-linen-and-lace-ipad-sleeve-snoozy?ref=shop_home_active_1

I love this riot of paisleys, which is pure 1970s vintage from Brick Lane.
As was the gorgeous crochet lace.
Brick Lane never fails to disappoint, and this particular shop is like stepping back in time.
Lace and haberdashery is housed in an antique cabinet with lots of tiny drawers and glass panels that wouldn't have looked out of place in a shop from the 1920s.
And the best bit?
You are encouraged to rummage!

Liberty Lawn - and a distinct lack of rugby paraphernalia.

It's been a very long time since I've childminded, and looking around I'm not sure a nine year old boy is going to be impressed either by my current obsession with Liberty Lawn or - more importantly - by my distinct lack of rugby paraphernalia.
But he may like the cats.
Who may or may not be impressed by a 6.30am alarm call.

I have a love/hate relationship with working from home.
On a cold and blustery morning I am grateful for my commute stopping at the sofa and my desk being my lap.
However, I struggle with a (lack of) routine and often find the whole front room workspace/rural village claustrophic, particularly in winter. 
And I continue to crave urban on the doorstep.
Preferably Brick Lane.
And with my last two orders being pure 1960s Brick Lane vintage I reckon I can justify a trip...

I recently inherited a big box of vintage lace from a relative.
So beautiful - and so different to the mass produced lace available on the High Street.
I love the contrast of vintage lace against linen in this ipad mini sleeve.
Vintage lace protecting modern technology.

http://folksy.com/items/5789901-A-linen-and-lace-ipad-mini-sleeve-Mixing-old-and-new-Ipad-mini-accessories-

There is something timelessly classic about Liberty Lawn.
The fine threadcount, the lightness - the delicate florals and vibrant paisley prints.
And I can never bring myself to use the very last bits, which remain on my overflowing shelves.
As an ode to Spring I have added lavender to Liberty Lawn with these snoozy owls, along with tactile velvet.

https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/183773055/a-lavender-filled-snoozy-owl-to-hang?ref=shop_home_active_1

https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=753484954675395&set=pb.255290191161543.-2207520000.1395665445.&type=3&theater

And staying on the Liberty theme with these mice pincushions....and ipad mini sleeve below, made from linen and vintage lace.

And with Spring comes carboot trawls for vintage gems - which this week unearthed these two gorgeous glass jelly moulds- and how perfect are they for holding soap!

Although peering through the window at icy grey drizzle and the ominous threat of frost it's beginning to feel more like mid winter.
And SdotYam is beginning to look very appealing.
Which must be why I appear to be carrying my passport around on a regular basis...because you just never know!

Dear Diary...Wednesday 3rd July 1991. The Underground - it gets under your skin.

Day 2 in Israel, back in dusty old Hadera with a rucksack, a hangover and a ticket to SdotYam.

An apparently full SdotYam and a two hour wait, but I'm hoping to blag it through Trina.

How did that happen???  Last month I was set on Middlesex uni.

Oh yes...my portfolio was distinctly lacking in written work and the uni refused me. Ah well...

Yesterday Emma met me at the airport, new boyfriend in tow - at 3.30am!

They'd been waiting four hours and it's the first time anyone's met me at Ben Gurion, so I was really touched.

A sherut to Jerusalem where we managed to wake everyone up in my hostel room and the afternoon at a deserted village and spring just outside the city.

I don't remember Emma ever being so keen on hiking, but it's so good to see her again!

And the evening?

Back to The Underground, beers 'n' straws and seeing David again for the first time in a year.

Funny how you can just pick up where you left off.

We grabbed a jeep and drove round Jerusalem in his break, chilling, laughing - catching up.

It was good!

The Underground gets under your skin.

A club where cars and jeeps seem to magically appear when you need them.

A club with a long memory and Amadeus weaving his magic.

Where else does that happen???

I've missed Jerusalem!

Mosaics. The therapeutic quality of smashing china with a big hammer.

For the past month and beyond I have been full of good intentions to mosaic my paving slabs.
Have I started?
Not a jot!
But I should.
Is there anything more satisfying and therapeutic than smashing crockery with a large hammer?
And teapot handles look amazing in the grout.

This paving slab - now finished, polished and grouted - was once a teapot,mug and a couple of bowls.
The outside rim was finished with a second smashed teapot- a teapot with sentimental roots in Jerusalem, but apparently not designed for holding boiling water!

I love mosaics,but not the kit form or regimented square tiles bought in neat cellophane bags.
For me it has to be freeform...smashed china and cement based grout.
Twice I have tried to make a uniform, perfectly flat mosaic, and twice it has remained unfinished, languishing in a neglected part of the garden till it finally fell apart.

Children also love mosaics. and the mosaic below was made by a group of primary school children at an
Art Club I used to run.
Lesson learned....never give a child a hammer and a metal tray on which to smash tiles -particularly in a draughty village hall with a high ceiling and metal window frames - the noise was deafening!!!
However, the results were impressive.

This dolphin was made by a group of children at my now defunct Art Club.

And staying on the mosaic theme, albeit loosely, I stumbled on a facebook page today called ''BlueButterflyArt''which is so beautiful.
The page owner paints on concrete tiles, which have a lovely whimsical quality to them - well worth a visit!

https://www.facebook.com/bluebutterflyart


Having had a week of Spring sunshine it was a shock to wake up this morning to a thick fog, so china smashing put on hold I have been sorting through cards and photographs.


This year it's urban, but last year was ducks,and I've just listed this set of three cards on Etsy.

https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/182650599/ducks-a-set-of-three-blank-cards-each?ref=shop_home_active_1


 There is something very appealing about ducks.
  They have a whimsical quality and oodles of charm


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