Would You Like A Nibble?

With the word wedding being bandied about this weekend, I thought I'd keep it going by using this version of a wedding cake photo for Sepia Saturday. It  was from a black and white print, but didn't my computer do a grand job of 'aging' it for me?
I can no longer remember who I made it for, but I do know the roses on it were palest blush pink. And I'd love a slice to eat right now. For breakfast. Instead of which, I shall have my usual porridge with a dash of cream the milkman  will have left on my doorstep this morning.

And thereby hangs a tale. I stopped blogging at this point, and went to retrieved milk, cream and cheese from the mercy of the elements. It had been sitting there for a good two to two and a half hours, as the milk cart hums by at about 5am. As I picked up the carrier bag, bottle and a leaflet, the sound of a snail dropping onto my pathway made a crack not unlike a pistol cap.
But it was only when  I opened out the flyer that I realised where he'd been clinging, and why.

I bet his jaws ached by the time he'd worked his way through that tasty morsel!

Of all the strange pictures I've posted since Hilary of The Smitten Image fame tempted me into the world of illustration, this one must surely rank amongst the most peculiar.  Nobody could ever say my Napple Notes blog is too predictable for words...

Homewell

This is a picture of weed growing in a natural spring at Homewell, in the center of Havant. Not the most inspiring of photos.

But then, I began experimenting,and suddenly, there was a different world, with a flower and a small water bug of some kind.

Then I got further involved and tried something else, which I liked most of all...

Breathe In?

It's all in the spelling... Suddenly, 'bated breath' can conjure a different picture for anybody who can't spell, or even read a dictionary!

I found my doodle cartoon in a folder this morning, and realised I could use it to write a caption in 160 characters, which is Monkey Man's Sunday challenge...

OK, So I'm Cracked!

Bit like this pot, then, I hear you say. Only bigger. And I wouldn't disagree with you. The point is, the crack hasn't spoiled its usefulness one jot.

My best pal at art college gave it to me on either my 20th or 21st birthday, apologising for the crack, but knowing that, to me, it didn't detract from its charm one little bit.  At only 7cm tall, with a diameter of 6cm, it's not exactly huge, but
over the years, it has kept safe a variety objects, from daughter's first baby bangle, to son's first baby tooth (now gone the way of all things, I hasten to add!)

For a long time, we couldn't decide whether it  was laquered wood or papier mâché, but now the crack has widened, I can see it's wood. We used to think it looked as though it had been made with porcupine or hedgehog quills, but I think that might have been a trifle far fetched, don't you? The point of this meandering post is simply to say, if you own to being somewhat cracked, worry not - there are probably many years life left in you yet!

And thinking about it, I may as well link this (early) to Sepia Saturday, on the grounds that it's brown and quirky...

What Happens On Mondays?

In the days before washing machines, and certainly when my Granny Ada was a busy mother, Monday was wash day. The everlasting chore of feeding a large family, as well as having to keep them clean, meant that the left overs from the Sunday joint would provide a quick, cold meal while she attended to the mountain of washing at the start of each week.

When I did a little research into my family tree, I discovered that her mother had also been widowed at an early age, and both women had done other people's laundry to help provide for their young families.

You will understand why this song was part of my childhood! Perhaps your know it too? It goes like this:-

Twas on a Monday morning
When I beheld my darling,
She looked so neat and charming
In ev'ry high degree.
She looked so neat and nimble, O,
A-washing of her linen, O,
Dashing away with the smoothing iron, 

Dashing away with the smoothing iron, 

She stole my heart away.

 Each succeeding verse deals with another aspect of laundering, and ends with the Sunday girl 'A-wearing of her linen, O." So when I saw this week's prompt from Monday's Child, my mind was full of' 'washday blues', and I wrote this as a little light relief!  

                                                     

Illustration by Elizabeth Webbe

                                                     

Goosey Lucy was quite choosy,
liked her ribbons smoothe.
So she ironed out the creases
said "No wrinklies, if you pleases,
crinkly clothes won't suit my mood-
I'm a spic-and-span type dude!"

Do You Have A Foot Shaped Mouth?

I heard this expression used yesterday, and it has set me to wondering. How many of us can honestly say they have never noticed this apparently inbuilt human deformity in themselves?

Of course, first we have to understand the old, English cliché "Putting your foot in it", which is used to indicate an unintentional blunder. From this, it is a small step to understanding fully the significance of "Opening one's mouth only to put one's foot in it."

Hence we arrive at the delightfully succinct description "He/She has a foot shaped mouth"... There must be some interesting equivalent phrases in other languages, which I'd love to hear, if any reader can supply them!

So with my mind cogitating on the pitfalls of "What you thought you heard I said, is not necessarily what I meant", I have written 160 characters to offer to Monkey Man for his Sunday challenge.


The sunshine of our love hides behind clouds of mis-communication. Once the raindrop tears have washed the skies, then perhaps there will be chance of rainbows.

Green Fingers

After telling you the tale of Perry Caunter and the carrot weeding lesson, I thought I'd show you this delightful snapshot of the boy who would one day be his pupil!

My husband obviously started practising early to be a gardener. Of course, by the time I knew him, the wheelbarrow had become a somewhat grander affair, and the headgear conspicuous by its absence, but the love of gardening remained!

I have no pictures of him as a child with any of his Devon born relations, but I do have a rather faded snapshot of his Grandfather, holding the hand of his brother Bertie, the one who died in childhood.

It's plain to see how the rural setting would have influenced the lives of any children who had the good fortune to grow up amongst its wide open spaces. It's also a great illustration of the special link that can often be found between the very young and the very old...

Now I'm going to link this up to Sepia Saturday, where you can see other examples of old, or not so old, photographs that might interest you.

Old Hat

Just for SmitoniusAndSonata, here is the picture I took in 2009 of small granddaughter with large hat and red eyes, because I failed to use the correct camera setting!

In a comment yesterday,  S&S asked what colour the original object was, though this has absolutely no bearing on the end result after I played with it using Arcsoft magic.

It just so happened, that when 'The Cockerel' appeared before my eyes,  I chose to save it, and it was mere chance that the orangey reds, greens and golds were not a million miles remove from the original colour range of the Easter bonnet.

 However, I now have on file a selection of other variations, ranging through blues, greens and pinks, one of which I shall now insert for all pink lovers amongst you. The permutations of colour and form when using the program are virtually limitless, and the end user has only to decide when 'enough is enough', in order to produce a stunning result.

Painting Without Paint

This feels like a cockerel. It started life as a photograph of my granddaughter's Easter bonnet- I am hooked on Arcsoft!

The world of computer graphics opens doors to possibilities my own brain would never have dreamed possible.

What is so incredible, the selfsame photograph also gave rise to this totally different blue creation.  
 
Can you understand the attraction of this modern day equivalent to painting by numbers?

Cousins, Minus Kissing?

What serious exchanges were being made by these two tiny girls? I can't work out the exact time of year, for the trees don't give any clues, but as my daughter (on the right) walked at eleven months and was born in December 1967, there's a fair chance this photo was taken Spring or Summer of '69.
Her cousin, six months her senior, appears to be giving her a lot of good advice on how to grow up into a beautiful young lady!
It was undoubtedly a conversation in a language known only to themselves at the time, but even after all these years, it appears to hover in the air for us to hear too, if we concentrate for a moment.
From the length of the shadows, I'd say it was taken towards the end of day of  'Getting to know you', and it looks like they'd arrived at a satisfactory conclusion before nightfall...

This is my short but sweet offering for Sepia Saturday this week, folks...

Sleepy Time Gal

 Image by telegraph.co.uk

I have morphed into one of these. Thanks to some anti- histamine pills, I've had more sleep in the past twenty four hours than I have for many a moon, but it's plain to see blogging is the last thing on my mind. Normal service will be resumed a soon as possible - or when I've finished taking the pills. Blog on, Blogpals...

Thanks Be To Edward Lear

You may have guessed I'm partial to a little Lear Lunacy. Wandering around Blogland this week, I happen upon this lovely illustration of his, thanks to Grandma's Goulash. She had set folks the task of coming up with a caption of sorts, expressed in exactly 140 characters.  Now, I like such challenges, so yesterday I played with some ideas on this handy Character Counter, which takes all the stress out of the exercise. After one or two abortive attempts, I finally made my words tally.

 Confucius he say, "Squalling cat and shrieking woman equal madness for man caught between. Remember, silent tongue worth more than rubies!"

I often feel as old as Confucius, though less wise, and this morning was no exception. I started the day in a happy way, by going to say "What have I got, Doctor?" to my favourite medic - the one who sorted my BPPV - or benign paroxysmal positional vertigo, to give it its full name. Today I had more oddness to show him. Blotches. Not spots. Hot, red blotches, mostly on the front of my shins.  And what was his diagnosis? Dry skin! And his remedy? Six printed A4 size sheets of information about Atopic Eczema, some anti-histamine pills, and a huge carton of Dermol cream. This can be used as a soap substitute in the shower, as well as a daytime moisturiser. I may be about to turn into a very slippery character - or at least, body! Snorts and giggles as I 'slip' away to apply the first lot...

Playtime!

Well, it was for me this morning. No moans about it being Monday, or dull and damp, or the start of another working week. No sirree. Thanks to the Poetry Bus Driver  JoAnne McKay, passengers were asked to write about various animals for their Ticket to Ride. I've been creating a couple of my own odd wildlife graphics. My limericks you can read HERE, but my doodles you can see right now!

Silly Billy

Sydney Snake

Down In Devon

Here's a photo of South Pool after a dry summer, when the ducks had to search hard for somewhere to swim! The second cottage in from the right was where my husband's Grandparents lived, and next comes a picture of my daughter and my Mum when we visited the village in about 1973.









You can see it was still a quiet, rural place, far from the hustle and bustle of modern day life.


I already told you the story of the gentleman we met that day, called Perry Caunter, the person who taught my husband to be patient when weeding a field of carrots by hand, and here he is for you to say hello to, as well.

These are my little trio of time warp pictures for this week's Sepia Saturday. I think they each tell their own stories, without my help.