Beach hut love

Meanwhile my slight obsession with the humble beach hut continues...mmm, you can almost smell the calor gas!

And here it is, our very own 61A. It might not look much, but it's been the base of so many happy memories, particularly from my childhood, many of which involved my dear granny (sadly no longer with us). I remember we used to get changed beneath this orange and brown towel, that was sewn into a tube with elastic around the neck - did anyone else have one of those? Perhaps there's a market for retro novelties such as this! I may make some before Cath Kidston beats me to it!

Father's Day

I'm quite pleased with this little card I made for Father's Day, combining fabric scraps with my signature driftwood boats. I'm thinking perhaps I will do some similar framed pieces....watch this space!

Just what the doctor ordered

So, what better way to escape the traumas of the last couple of days than a lush walk aound Menabilly and Gribbin Head, near Fowey...

The kids were happily treasure hunting, rockpooling and making their 'Wishing Tree'
(I'm not the only creative one in the family)

... or just soaking up some rays


Steve and I are agreed: if we ever win the lottery we'll buy this place


Beautiful house with terraced gardens to one side, a lake the other...


..and simply step over the South West Coastal Path onto this...

..and this...

Well, we can dream, can't we?

Not for the feint hearted..

So, I have to tell you, yesterday wasn't one of the best days of my life. It started with the usual early alarm call, accompanied by a mild hangover and horrendous period pain.
That was nothing. At 11.30 there was a resounding thud from the lounge, followed by wailing. Herbie doesn't generally cry, so I knew it was bad. Turned out he'd fallen on the coffee table and had what the hospital later termed 'a laceration to the lip'. Part of it was hanging off like a bit of gristle and there was alot of blood. A very lot. I could lie and tell you that I'm a supremely practical mother and that I handled things with the utmost cool, but actually I struggled to hold it together. I didn't freak out but I could have done so much better. I also felt incredibly guilty.
Anyway to cut very long story short, the little man was finally taken into theatre to have 6 stitches at 8pm (we arrived at the hospital at 1pm), he hadn't been allowed food or drink in all that time, and frankly, we'd all had enough. Plus because it was so late, Herbie and I had to stay overnight, which is never an attractive option. But since visiting my dad in a Barbados hospital 3 years ago, I swore I would never criticise the NHS again, so I won't go on about it.

Anyway... we returned home at about 10am this morning, starving hungry and me feeling terribly dirty (couldn't ever do Glastonbury, need to wash my hair every day!) Herbie is fine. He's a bit bruised and very swollen, and he'll no doubt be left with a scar, but he's his usual chirpy self. I'd like to think that the experience had made him a little more cautious, but this afternoon he was caught attempting to follow Steve up a 15 ft ladder. Sigh- methinks this won't be the last incident of it's kind...

Finally I have to say a huge' Thank You' to my good friend Nina, who kindly picked up Buddy from school, fed him, looked after him and put him to bed alongside her own 2 children, until Steve was able to get there late last night. She'd probably wanted to go bed herself, so again thank you Nina, you're one in a million and I owe you (yet another) one.

Poor old Steve

You've got to feel sorry for someone who is meticulously tidy (definite OCD tendencies there) but who has decided to share his life with an artist who creates daily mess with scraps of fabric and tiny fragments of driftwood, not to mention the odd stray pin or needle in the carpet. Add to the equation our two young boys with their copious amounts of lego, crayons, action figures etc and Steve's fighting a losing battle.

He also hates stripes (?!)...which is a real shame because I adore them!
My latest purchase is this fab set of John Lewis mugs.


My fixation is also gradually creeping into the boys bedrooms.



Plus I've always dressed them both in stripes of one kind or another (much to their father's disgust).
I came across an adorable little towelling romper/jumpsuit by Mitty James the other day, and that's when he really put his foot down, in fact to quote his exact words, 'it's tantamount to child abuse'. I remember having a similar one when I was little and they're sooo comfortable. But somehow I don't think I'm going to change his mind on this one...