Tuesday, 11 September 2012

September and a few corsages

As soon as my sons Birthday is over on 31st August I feel a change in the weather. Its amazing isn't it that the weather knows September has begun? The low sun and nip in the air takes me back to those first days of motherhood 30 years ago. Ahh sweet memories and where has the time gone?

All water under the bridge, and a lot of water has dripped through the kitchen ceiling from the central heating pump. We have had an almost resident heating engineer sorting out some long standing problems which should be finished by tomorrow afternoon at great expense.

This year, all last week in fact, has been Preston Guild. A celebration every 20 years of the granting of the Charter to Preston way back in History. 

All my young life my parents used to tell me what a fun time the Guild was, so I was really looking forward to being 21 and having Guild fun in 1972..but sadly I was away on my very first week as a teacher in Ashford Middlesex, so I missed it.

Twenty years later in '92 I didn't take much notice of it except for the last night when I went into town to watch the firework finale. My husband was working away so I went with my Mother and father, cousins and my two little boys. We waited for hours and hours for the fireworks to start. My younger son was on my dad's shoulders a lot of the time.We saw the spectacular fireworks and then all walked back to my parents' house. It made a lovely precious memory because 6 weeks later at the age of 65 my father died. 

So this years Guild? Yes we went to the second event, the Vintage weekend. 
Now I have mixed feelings about these vintage events. Sometimes the stalls look like the contents of my wardrobe that I can't bear to throw out.
There were cars, 

It was a big deal. Organised by Wayne Hemmingway. 

 There were hairstyles,
and sewing,

(It was all a bit hot and dark in there.)

and even some not terribly pretty yarn-bombing.

 It seemed very funny to see all this on the very steps I and all my classmates trudged up and down dutifully every lunchtime in a huge long crocodile with Sister this or that.  

("The Walk' was absolutely obligatory as our convent school playground was not made for the large number of pupils who attended so half were sent out on 'the walk' around the parks. 
During the first few weeks of term the crocodile was very very long, until we all found places in school to hide out and avoid it. It got shorter and shorter as the year wore on until it was about 5 girls and and a nun)
We walked home past our old games field where the back wall of some old changing rooms now sports some spectacular Graffitti

That was as far as I went joining in with the Guild 2012. I didn't watch a procession or go to a concert. I was faintly interested in the finale but I'm glad I didn't go because it wasn't a firework display but a dance and drum concert with a few pyrotechnics and if there's anything I hate its drumming. (Sorry if that offends anyone) There have been many complaints. The people of Preston wanted a firework display like the one in 1992!

I don't suppose I'll make it to the 2022 one! 
Ah well.

Ooh I almost forgot my BIG news. My work has been featured in a superb German felt magazine.
The jolly old Doc Martens were on the cover but my real stuff was inside. Thrilling. Its a really beautifully produced magazine and there is an English supplement inside mine.

So..its September..and time to make new stock.

I've been playing.

And because they are so big I decided they needed boxes. Readers may remember the card I got from Dunelm that I didn't know what to do with but just knew I would use it. Well, I found a use. Its perfect for these boxes, modelled on a little box I got in Greece. Just the perfect size and shape for the corsages.

Its only a pity I gave so much of it away!! I really enjoyed making these boxes.
 I've already sent three boxed corsages off, two to Australia and one to Germany. 
Thank you Dunelm.

OOOPS! Who can't add up? The next Preston Guild is of course in 2032. Thank you for pointing it out.

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