Make of the following what you will, it is not a made up tale, it is how it is in my cottage. Shortly after moving into our cottage I was sitting in my chair reading, I looked up and caught a movement out the corner of my eye, I looked and saw what I thought was a shadowy grey cat disappearing out of the room. During that first winter and early spring I would see this little cat flitting about the house. It was by no means solid just a sort of sad grey glimmering shape, always on the move.


When the warmer weather arrived and we had our back door constantly open, I got to know the only cat in our vicinity, a wonderful tortoiseshell tom called Indie. He was a great character, obviously the king cat and he decided that our house was an extension of his house next door and would wander in and make himself at home. He once stayed in the middle of winter with us for eight days, just going out and back to his own home when he wanted a meal, though he was not adverse to begging food off us as well. During the time Indie was around I never saw the little grey cat but would often see Indie watching something along its pathway. Just over two years ago we got our own cat, Pixie, and Indie soon made friends with her. We went on holiday to Cornwall and the day before we came home, I was standing in the kitchen of the holiday home we had rented and saw the little grey cat run across the kitchen. I turned around to follow it with my eyes and saw Indie standing by the kitchen counter, as solid as if he was there. The next day homeward bound, we had got as far as Kings Cross Station, London, when my phone rang. It was my daughter who was house sitting for us. She rang to prepare us for the fact that Indie had been runover the day before and was struggling for his life at the vets, where his owner had taken him. Unfortunately he didn't survive.


Indie started to appear around our house, sometimes just quickly sometimes more leisurely, I would see him in the alleyway sniffing his favourite herb plants, as Pixie grew they looked very similar, but it was not Pixie I was seeing it was Indie. One day I saw a cat I thought was Pixie going out the back door when I was on my way to the living room, in the living room there was Pixie curled up on her favourite cushion fast asleep

Our next ghost cat is even more curious. A year ago a family moved in on the other side of our cottage with many cats, the oldest of which was a large black tom, Merlin, in character he was a bit of an Indie, knew what he wanted and went for it. Sometimes Pixie and him were friends sometimes Pixie would have a quick spat with him. Then one day I had been stroking Merlin on the back wall and returned to my kitchen to see another large black cat walking into my dining room. I knew it was another ghost cat, I can't explain how I am certain these are cats not of our reality, because although they do often appear solid there is just something about them and their movement. The black ghost cat now became part of our lives.


My mother was scornful about these ghosts cats, until one day she was visiting and we were sitting talking and she suddenly looked at me and said that a black cat had walked across the room, and no, it was not Merlin. I got used to seeing this black cat and one day my neighbour told me a strange story. Apparently, Merlin had a brother Arthur who was identical to him, when they both became adult cats, unfortunately, Arthur died, they were so identical that she was never sure whether it was Merlin or Arthur that had died, so the remaining black one she called Merlin.
My neighbours moved away, with reference to them you can find a very early blog story about them and how they abandoned their cats. The black ghost cat didnot go with them but still appears occasionally in our house.


Our latest ghost cat is our own darling Pixie, who was run over on midsummer's day, and died instantly at two years old. At first I did not see her but after a few days I began to hear the little bell on her collar tinkling as I went around the house. About a week after she died I was passing our open bedroom door on the way downstairs and I glanced inside as I often do and there was Pixie curled up on her favourite spot on our bed. Occasionally in the night I can feel her weight lying on my feet or when I am watching a dvd I feel the weight of her sitting on my knee, and put my hand out to stroke her before I remember.

Now I have told you the story of my three ghost cats, I see them in daylight or at night, sometimes they move quickly through my vision, sometimes they are just there, but if you turn and look away and back again they are gone. The little grey cat I have not seen for a long time, Pixie I see the least, the other two cats equally, Indie seems to turn up at times of events, changes or upheavel, either good or not so good, the black cat seems to wander quitely, but sometimes seems to rush around caught up in a happening. They are just there, I don't communicate with them I just seem to share my space with them.

















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Sunday Scribblings - Who else might I have been?

I see a solitary cottage surrounded by hedges, a gap in the hedge is filled by an old wooden plank gate, overhead is an arch from which rambling roses tremble. Beyond the gate is a small winding path of sandstone with moss growing between the cracks, to etiher side of which are a profusion of plants, some with flowers in bud, some in full bloom and some in their blowsy later stages. Hollyhocks and spires of delphiniums thrust upwards through the perfumed mass. The path arrives at an old wooden door with a heavy iron knocker, there is a many paned window to each side of the door and a small latticed window above peeping through the edge of the thatched roof. Scarlet geraniums in clay pots surround the door and a pair of bright green eyes watch from under a bush.

There is a woman, not young yet not old, a timeless face, she wears a long striped blue skirt covered with a snowy white apron trimmed with lace that matches the fischu around her shoulers, a battered straw hat on her head tied under the chin with a bright blue ribbon, her arms are full of herbs and grasses. She turns the corner of the cottage and pushes open the wooden door, inside is a spotlessly clean room with a vast inglenook fireplace, from an iron hook above hangs a large iron pot. There is a highly polished settle adjacent to the fireplace and a dark wooden dresser on the back wall filled with cups and plates and a pile of battered books. The sun streams through the window causing dust motes to dance in the air around the vase of wild flowers that is placed on the table there. There is a latched wooden door at the far side of the inglenook that would lead to the tiny room above. There is a movement alongside the table.

The woman turns left, and opens a door to the other downstairs room, the green eyes watch now from underneath the table. From the beams of this room hang many things, herbs and flowers, hanging upside down to dry, copper pots, an empty birdcage,a bunch of crow feathers and hooked along the beam is a besom. A large scrubbed table takes up most of the space in the room and the walls are lined with shelves full of bottles and jars, containing seeds, herbs and strange coloured liquids, jostling for position with piles of books. The woman lays her herbs and grasses down on the table, beside an open receipe book, scales and a pestle and mortar. A pair of green eyes now watches from the room door that is left ajar, a nose sniffs at the combination of fragrances that infuse the room.

Standing at the table the woman unties her hat and places it on the table, from the profusion of items on the table she extracts a white mob cap which she places on her head coiling her long plait inside it. Thoughtfully she turns the pages of the largest book, and looks at the old crabbed writing on the pages. She props the page she wants open with a stone jar, reads it her finger tapping against her teeth, then calmly begins to pull off the leaves of some of the herbs she came in with and drops them in the pestle and mortar. The pair of green eyes open wider with excitement and with one leap the cat lands on table opposite the woman, rubs against her arm and settles down to watch. Who else might I have been? Am I the cat or the village wise woman?
Purr!

This is the wedding card that I made for my daughter's friends wedding. I will take some photographs of her in her outfit and post them at a future date. This is the first of her friend's to get married, and she is, of course, very excited about the wedding, and has helped with the last minute preparations. She has whizzed off to the nearest town at 8.30am. this morning to have her hair done for the wedding this afternoon. This is not bad considering none of us got to bed before 3.00am. this morning.

The reason for the late evening was the leaving/housewarming party for our next door neighbours. They have been good neighbours and we will miss them all and their dog who wanders round into our house and garden to visit us. Unfortunately, the family is splitting up and some have left the village completely, but some have moved slightly further up the village, so they are technically still neighbours, just not our next door neighbours and next door neighbours are the most important, so it is nice when you have helpful and friendly ones. There were leaving drinks round the bonfire, on the scrubland behind our gardens on Thursday night, and last night a house warming party in the house a few doors up the village. It seemed very strange waking up this morning and looking out of the bedroom window and seeing next door's garden empty of its garden furniture, lights and ornaments.


I am always interested in the way people move into the village. When we moved here we didn't cause a stir, we went out and about saying hello to people as we passed them and slowly got to know people. We did nothing controversial, and respected the way people in the village did things, and we took care to understand the quirky 'rights of way' that seemed to affect every property. Bit by bit we became part of the village. Some people, though charge in and ride roughshod over the residents, never taking their views into consideration and being quite selfish. There is one person who moved to our village about eighteen months ago and this person has just about upset everyone in the village by not respecting 'rights of way' and turning to the law courts at every opportunity when he does not get his own way. Asking about the village and communication with the long term residents would have eased his way considerably. We all have to rub along together, and it is easier to live and let live.

My Local History Group had its August meeting on Thursday, and it is going very well. I am organising a trip to the County Records Office, where we will have a talk from one of the archivists, about researching local history, which will help the members who are not skilled in research. I am also looking to set up a series of lectures with different speakers talking about the area's history. These lectures will be not just for the History Group but will be thrown open for any one in the village to attend for a small door charge, to help our funds and to pay for the speaker. The building in the photograph is the medieval guildhall in my local town.

The weather was hot and sunny yesterday, but damp and rainy today, but already, and it is only the beginning of August I have noticed we are to have some night temperatures as low as single figures, which seems early to me. Busy collecting seeds to keep for next year, and will have to get some advice about my lavender bush which is getting a bit woody and old.

This will not be a long post but it is an important post and I want it to stand alone without the detrius of everyday life surrounding it. I may make another post tonight for the usual things I write about. The world at this present time is in a perilous state, apart from the damage we are doing to the planet with our greed, we have situations in the Middle East that could escalate and eventually become wars that everyone will be dragged into. The price of gold is starting to move upwards, that is usually a sign of imminent war. Why is there no ceasefire? Why is Iraq about to tumble into civil war? Why are countries invading other countries? Why are we still fighting in Afghanistan, on terrain where westerners never win? We seem to be sending troops to all these hotspots, in England I am sure our army is spread very thin. What is the next step for Mr. Blair and his cohorts around the world, call up for all young men? Do you really want your sons fighting in wars that we seem to be helping to create? How many children have to die before our leaders see any sense?

Please let us make the 21st century one in which we live and let live? How would you feel if troops entered your home town and told you what you could and could not do? Would you stand back and let them or would you stand and fight them? There are two sides to an invasion. There are two sides to every story. Let us have a ceasefire in these conflicts, let us try to talk like the civilized beings we are supposed to be. Please do not let the current situation gather strength and grow until there is not going back and the ultimate deterrent is launched. Please people of the blogging world, let us spare a little time from our usual blogging fun and stand up and make a statement on our blogs or a comment on someone's blog to say We do not want war.

I am posting some more photographs of my garden. I was going to post them yesterday but blogger didn't want to co-operate with me. The photograph opposite is of my beautiful red lilies. I have never grown such a deep coloured lily before and was quite impressed with it. The rain has been pouring down all day today, so that is two days worth of heavy rain now. The weather is a lot cooler, in fact after the heat I found it slightly chilly today. I am quite satisfied with the rain but rather think I would like to get back to some sunshine now. I am happy to note that the new dahlia flowers that have opened today are beautifully white and not burnt at the petal tips like the ones that bloomed during the heatwave. My crocosmia and my windflowers are now in flower and I have one sunflower out, though I grew 'Russian Giants' this year and have not been impressed, I usually use just a common or garden variety which have always reached about nine or ten feet. These 'Russian Giants' are a miserable six feet, but perhaps it is due to the odd weather we have had this year. I always think that once the windflowers are in bloom it is getting towards the end of my gardening summer.


This is a photograph of one of my favourite garden ornaments, my moon gazing hare, which sits there staring at the moon all night. The hare is sitting next to my pot of bay. The photographs that follow on from this are, my shasta daisies and nicotiana, a close up of the shasta daisies, then the first of this year's flowers on my clematis, and my deep yellow lilies and finally a view of my salvias and dahlia buds, looking over towards the bed where my sunflowers are growing.


These are my shasta daises, and my red nicotiana, they are surrounded by phlox, both pink and white, which are just beginning to flower, and my white lilac bush that flowered in the late spring.


This is just a close up of my shasta daisies, I only planted them this year, my children bought me them as part of a mother's day plant selection present. They will probably be much more profuse next year.


This is a close up of my clematis on the rear wall of my garden, this was the first flower that bloomed on it this year, on a later roll of film I have some photos of it in full bloom.


These are my yellow lilies from last year, I just took a risk and left the bulbs in their pots over the winter, and no harm came to them and they are just as gorgeous this year.


You can see my sunflowers here, staked against the outbuilding walls, then in the bed in front of them are, to the left my large purple salvias, that the bees love so much and to the right my white dahlia, which is just in bud.


I was busy cooking yesterday, as my daughter, Sweetpea, arrived yesterday afternoon. I always ask her what meals she would like when she is at home, as she says she loves to come home to some home cooked meals. Last night we dined on Hungarian Goulash, which was her choice, and she likes my quiches, so I decided to make a couple in the morning and she could have a piece of one with salad for a late lunch. I made a courgette, mushroom and tomato one, but I also made a spinach, mustard and tomato one, the receipe for which was posted on Vintage Pretty's blog. It truly made a delicious quiche, the mustard adding a lovely sharp tang. Thank you Vintage Pretty for such a delicious receipe.



Last night, Sweetpea's friend, who is getting married on Saturday came and picked us both up from our cottage to take us to see the cottage her husband to me and herself have bought. It is in the next village to mine, it was so small and sweet, the only way to it is up a lane and down a long but narrow hedged entrance way. They have a lovely rowan tree at the entrance to their garden, but unfortunately, it is being choked by japanese bindweed, and does not look to well. She delightedly showed me all around, the cottage has many wonderful period features, such as three beautiful fireplaces, two of them sandstone and wonderful quirky cupboards and wooden floors. It took me back to the time we moved into our first home, it was a furnished studio flat in Manchester, and I can remember trying to add little touches to it to stamp my style on it. Ah the excitement of your first abode, with all life ahead of you, but I am still happy to be where I am and with the life I have.

No more sitting in this cool shady spot reading, for a while. The weather finally broke last night. I had the living room door open and hurt a battering on the back windows, yes it was a very heavy but short shower. However, when I was sitting at the computer later, the rain began again in earnest. This time it was very heavy but accompanied by a sharp wind that was blowing the trees about. Now I have a love/hate relationship with wind. Sometimes it makes me feel exhilarated when it blows me along and blows away the cobwebs so I feel refreshed, other times I feel as if I am in a battle with it and I feel angry and exasperated with it. Although I do love to be tucked up in the living room with a throw and a hot drink whilst the wind whistles and howls down my chimney in winter, and I also love lying in bed on a cold rainy night and hearing the wind knocking the rain against my bedroom window.

However, this morning the sun was out but there were scudding clouds and the temperature was a lot cooler, I walked round the garden, and it was well watered, but some of the flowers had been buffeted by the wind. As a gardener, I sometimes feel I am never happy, I either seem to be complaining about hot sun burning my plants or wind blowing the petals off and bending them. That's gardening though, the weather is the one in control.



These photographs, were taken about two to three weeks ago, in the really hot weather. The one above on the right is where I love to sit and read when the sun is too fierce for the garden table and chairs. The photograph to the left shows the same corner without my chair in the way. The pots that are standing in the basin of the old bird bath are full of nasturtiums and calendula, and these are now out in flower, though later than the ones in the garden, as they do not get as much sun in the shady spot. The summer sun hits the shady spot early in the morning, between about seven and ten, then leaves the spot cool for the rest of the day.



These are the plants I grow in pots by the back door, and under one of the kitchen windows. I don't know if you can see it in this photograph, it could be hidden by plant leaves, if you click on the photo to enlarge it there is a log between two of the pots and a little crosslegged elf sits on top of it.



This is a photograph taken of the shady spot from upstairs, by hanging out of the bathroom window, it also shows my hanging basket. You can see my ceramic sun plaque hanging on the barn wall. Below is a close up photograph of my hanging basket, it is planted with petunias, impatiens and trailing lobelia. You can see the corner of the door in the loft of the barn.



The photograph below is of part of the main garden showing all the pots in flower on the gravel outside the outhouses and the photograph at the end of the posting shows the same view from the opposite side with my lavender bush at the side of the alleyway. Click on them to enlarge, and look at the splendid red lily that I grew for the first time this year. I will post more photographs of the main garden, and some close ups of plants another time. I took most of these photographs, if you remember I am learning to use my husband's highly technical camera. Some of my photos I was quite pleased with but one or two were a bit blurred and I had not got the light right on some of them, but I love that camera and its satisfying whirr and click.



I have a busy week this week, whilst the weather has been so hot I have washed all my curtains, throws, and rugs and hung them out in the sunshine to dry. Today with the cooler weather, I set to and started putting my house to rights, as it has been sadly neglected with the heatwave, when it was too hot to do anything except loll around and keep cool. I thought I would tackle our bedroom first, and it is now looking clean and fresh with all the curtains, cushions and rugs etc in it sunshine fresh. The lace on the bedside tables is snowy white and my perfume bottle collection sparkling. Tomorrow I plan to do the dining room which has been an unused room with all the eating out side that has been going on. It is looking very sorry for itself. I also want to make some quiches tomorrow, I have my daughter, Sweetpea, home for a few days and a flying visit from my son, the Big Friendly Giant. They are both attending at wedding at the church in the next village, on Saturday, one of my daughter's good friends is marrying one of my son's friends. Although when the couple met they were not aware of this. My son is just coming up from London for the wedding, but Sweetpea is making a short break of it. It has been a joy to have her staying for a few days twice in a month. So I am afraid a big cleanup of the house calls before I can properly enjoy doing some of my craft and garden projects again.

Sunday Scribblings - My 2 Cents

I wasn't going to join in with Sunday Scribblings this week, as I am so busy with various projects at the moment,then I started thinking I wanted to participate even if it was a really short piece. It's just that it wouldn't seem like Sunday to me, without posting on Sunday Scribblings and putting my two cents worth in.

I know the phrase your two cents worth, but here in the north of England, people used to say your 'three ha'pence'. I grew up hearing my family say 'your three ha'pence worth', and I have to admit it was mainly said to me. I must have been a terrible trial for adults when I was a child, for believe me, I had opinion about everything and an opinion that I had to voice out loud. I constantly heard, 'Oh there goes Daisy putting her three ha'pence in again.' School reports invariable said '...would do better if she didn't talk so much and have an opinion about everything that she wants to share with everyone.' How stifling is that, how can you learn about the world without giving your childish opinions on how you find it and listen to what other people say in return? I only ever had one teacher who wrote something along the lines of ...never try to repress this child's imagination or views, they are a gift.


When I became a parent myself, I allowed both my children to express their views about anything and everything. To ask questions and to discuss the answers. Two questions of their's have always stuck in mind. My daughter at seven years old asked me while skipping along shopping 'How do we know that we all see the exact same thing when we look at things? How do I know that that shop looks the same to me as it does to you?' Well that was a showstopper. I said what I thought and she quickly put in her two cents worth. My son's question was just as mind boggling, 'When we are sitting in this room how do we know there is still another room next door?', that one is almost 'the tree falling in the forest' theme'. Naturally, neither of them had an easy time at school, my son especially in secondary school was thought to be 'cheeky' the way he queried everything and voiced opinions, but to me they had enquiring minds, something, I am afraid that is not encouraged in the English education system anymore. See, that's me putting in my two cents worth.

My final two cents worth, is if people don't have opinions and question everything, including authority, how are we ever going to put the world to rights. Voicing your opinions means discussion, and discussion might mean not jumping straight away to violence and war. If you voice an opinion that is fanatical, it is better than just festering away in your mind, someone somewhere might be able to dissuade you of this opinion.

Yes, the photographs above are of myself as a child and of my two children who are now adults.

Imagination is the living power and prime agent of all human perception - Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Before I put my box of old family photographs away, there are two more I would like to show you. The photograph on the right is my Great Grandmother, I posted about her husband, the army man that became a gardener, and passed all his gardening knowledge on to my Grandfather. I often think about my Great Grandfather when I am gardening and wish that I had known him, he could have given me lots of advice, I sometimes think he does whisper some in ear when I am dealing with my plants. I think my Great Grandmother looks so pretty, she was ten years older than her husband, but would never admit to it, she even hid her true age on the census form of 1901, only her birth certificate tells the truth. I presume her husband knew her correct age. They seemed a very happy couple, and I often feel there is an untold story about the pair of them, just a feeling I have. She apparently, always looked young for her age, and was said to be a lovely person and very loving and kind to my Mother.



The photograph above is of the wedding of a Great Aunt of mine, I have no positive date for this wedding yet, but suspect it sometime between 1914 to the early 1920's. If this is the case, the bride is definitely not in her first flush of youth. I do know for a fact that this is her only wedding, so judging by when she was born, she must have been a lot older than the normal age for brides at that time. I am still investigating this photograph, but could not resist showing it, mainly because of the contrast in fashions between the young and older ladies. The old ladies look very traditional, but the younger one are definietly looking modern, especially the one in the belted coat with all the button features and felt hat. The young teenage girl in her white dress, with its broad sash and straw boater, looks lovely doesn't she. If I ever find out more about this photograph I will post about it again.



This photograph is of my dining room dresser, it was taken during the Christmas holidays a couple of years ago. I happen to mention on a blogging friend's comments that I noticed she had a Portmierion plate in the photograph, and told her that I collected them. I promised I would put my dresser photograph on the blog, and if you click on it you can see the plates in more detail. I have to admit, I don't think I have ever paid full price for my Portmierion, one or two pieces I have been given as presents, one or two smaller pieces I actually found in charity shops and the rest I bought in discount china shops, so I suppose they are slight seconds, though I cannot see any flaws in them.



Thought I might as well post this other photograph of my dining room at the same time, in the corner is my lovely pine console, I have put wicker baskets on the two shelves underneath. Along the back, I don't think you can see them in the photo are all my small jars of various herbs. Yes, the walls are bright yellow and look even brighter yellow in reality, a sort of egg yolk yellow, but I painted them in honour of Monet's kitchen in Giverney, and I try to contrast the yellow with a lot of blue as in the blind and some of the plates. There have been one or two items added to the room since then.

The photograph is explained further down the posting.


The temperature cooled down for a day and then started upwards again, yesterday the heat was tremendous, it didn't even cool at all in the evening, too hot to sleep, I went and sat in the garden at 3.00a.m., there was no breeze just this hot still air and I noticed this morning that no dew seemed to have fallen last night. The garden is taking copious amounts of water, I have had to give up my troughs of nasturtiums on the back wall as a lost cause, they have all been burnt by the sun. Normally, my nasturtiums can cope with our summer heat, but if this is just not a freak summer, and future ones are going to be as hot, all of them will have to be planted in partial sunny spots. The ones in those places this year are thriving, one of my dahlia bushes doesn't like the heat either.

I have had two lovely days though, acquiring lots of vintage items. Yesterday, I travelled to my nearest town. Wow! I thought the heat was high at home, but it seemed to me twice as bad in the town. The schools are off for their long summer holidays and the town was really busy, with children, tourists and everyday shoppers all battling along in the hot sun. I decided to do a quick tour of some charity shops and have a quick root around in them. I found some lovely things. I bought two beautiful wine glasses with lovely blue patterned stems, sort of mock art nouveau, the cutest pottery honey pot shaped as a hive with bees embossed on it, a lovely set of four embroidered linen table napkins from the early 1950's still wrapped in cellophane and in their original display box, three beautiful glass single bloom vases and a lovely pressed glass fruit bowl which I can just see full of trifle in the middle of a table.

I then went on from the town to visit my Mother, I was showing her my purchases and we got on talking about hats, which is another thing I love to collect. She happened to mention she still had her wedding hat, I remember as a child her showing it to me, I thought it had been thrown out, but when she moved house she had boxed it up with other mementoes and put it in the outdoor storeroom, well I was right into that room and I searched until I found it, and I brought it home with me. It is a beautiful navy blue straw, with grosgrain ribbon, all that is missing is the floral bunch that was attached to the ribbon. It needs a bit of renovating but it will look lovely hanging on my bedroom wall with my other hats.

We are losing our next door neighbours, they were living there when we moved to the cottage. They have been really good neighbours and we will miss them all, but on the up side, part of the family is moving further up in the village, so they are not really lost, its just that with the complicated way Rights of Way are organised round our properties [an outhouse of theirs is in our garden and our garden gate goes through their garden etc], it was nice that there was no trouble with this and we always accommodated each other. I now am waiting to see who our neighbours are, they move in at the end of next week. However, the lovely thing is that my neighbour was having a big clearout and brought some boxes round for me to rummage in, to take what I want, and then just dispose of the rest. They are things of her mother's and grandmother's glasses, ornaments etc. I will look through the boxes tomorrow. She also gave me some lovely cotton throws, and two cute hats, one brown cord beatles cap, and a lovely pastel pink angora cloche style hat. Wasn't it kind of her to think of letting me have the boxes? My Mother was telling me, yesterday, that I have always rummaged amongst old things. Apparently, from the age of eight, I used to beg my Grandmother to let me go and root through her attic, and I would come down wearing old hats, clutching old books and toys of my mother and her sister's. So I obviously caught the vintage bug at an early age.



Here are two more of my old family photographs, these two are from my Mother's side of the family. The photograph at the beginning of the posting is the wedding of my Grandparents and this group wedding photograph just above is of my Great Great Aunt Kate's wedding. It's amazing to enlarge it and look at the people in detail. [If I have done this correctly you should be able to click on it and enlarge it.] Kate is the lady with the biggest bouquet. There is a woman at the right hand side near the back that has the most enormous stuffed bird on her hat and there is the man in the top hat and monocle. This is the photo I have framed on my dining room wall, I could look at it for ages. Unfortunately, I don't know who some of the people are and there is no one still alive who might be able to tell me. I just love old photographs and will post some more another time.

I'm taking myself back over the years today, to my later teens, ages eighteen to twenty two, when I was mad, bad, and dangerous to know, well I thought I was, and I have to admit I met more eccentric people in those four years than I have done in the rest of my life. I trailed around in long velvet dresses or faded prints, wrapping myself in a vintage shawl. You always knew when I was approaching by the clinking of my bangles, the rattling of my numerous necklaces and the cloud of patchouli oil [which I still love as incense] that enveloped me. My feet were sometimes bare, my eyes were decorated like rainbows, with my tin of Mary Quant greasy eyeshadow crayons, my hair was very long and dark and I was known to occasionally wear flowers in my hair. This is a photograph of me towards the end of that time, with my cat of that era, Jasper. The eyeshadow art had calmed down by then. Sorry about the state of the photograph, and my head chop, but it was the best of a bad bunch if you can believe it.

I began thinking about this time and what were the cultural influences in my life, what were the books, the music and the icons? I started thinking along these lines purely because of a chance remark I made to another blogger. I noticed in her profile she had a book listed that I had read around those years, she had recently bought it again, and I happened to comment that I loved that book, but it probably tells a different story now to the one I remember. Sometimes talking to old friends, I find you would not think we were all talking about the same incidents, we all seemed to live in this wonderful world of our own. Some of these mad years I spent at Art College, and I have to be honest and I look back in astonishment at what we did without thinking about consequences and got away with.

I'll cut, with great difficulty, the list of books, and music down to the five greatest influences, and I will be very interested to see if any of you had or still have any of them in your collection. The numerical order means nothing, it is just five greatest influences, apart I have to say, from the one listed first in the books.


The first,and surely one of the best book manuals ever is The Whole Earth Catalog.
I still have it tattered and falling to pieces, it was always the first thing you used to look at for information and to find further books on the subect. I remember sitting up all one night reading the small story that was serialised in bottom corner of the page.








The second book is The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test by Tom Wolfe. The adventures of Ken Kesey and his Merry Pranksters traveling America in their madly painted day-glo bus. How, at that time, it seemed like it must have been the adventure of a life time, we all wanted wildly painted vehicles. There were five or six of us who used to travel around in a wreck of an old car, and my did we have some adventures in it, chugging around the country music blaring from the speakers.





Third is Dharma Bums by Jack Kerouac. A fictionalised account of his friendship with poet Gary Snyder, a contrast of his outdoor life, climbing mountains, and leading to his stint the next year as a fire lookout, and his wild city life and its drunkenness and parties. This made me think more about Eastern thought and religion amongst other things.

The fourth book is Trout Fishing in America by Richard Brautigan. I adored his quirky books. Trout Fishing was a series of sketches, about such things as a character by that name, a hotel by that name, and actually a fishing tale with the name.

The final book is Cider with Rosie by Laurie Lee, a beautiful book about a small boy in the earlier years of the 1900's, living with his family in the country. I have since reread this books many times.

There are other books I could have mentioned such as Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert Heinlein, Nine Princes in Amber by Roger Zelazny, The Country Girls, by Edna O'Brien, I loved the sass and cheek of those girls, and Women in Love by D>H> Lawrence, which I am no longer keen on, but then I loved the two sisters in the book, their clothes and their penchant for wearing brightly coloured stockings, and I began a craze of wearing purple, red or blue tights based on that.


Onto music, I think I will just list these musicians and my favourite album by them:-
Joni Mitchell - Got to admit can't decide on a favourite I love them all
Grateful Dead - American Beauty
Jefferson Airplane - Crown of Creation
Neil Young - After the Goldrush
The Incredible String Band - Wee Tam and Big Huge



Well I know that is five but I have got to add a Bob Dylan, its my list so as a bonus I'll add Blonde on Blonde.

What are your favourites from that time?

I was lucky enough to see The Grateful Dead twice, when they toured England, and also saw Jimi Hendrix play in my local town cinema, on the stage, which seems incredible now to think of, and he wasn't even top of the bill. I loved poster art from San Francisco and loved making candles and brightly coloured Mexican eyes from sticks and wool. I went to a large music festival, living for three days in conditions [a sea of mud] that makes me shudder to think about it.

It's fun to look back at those days, and remember how I used to be, but its a calmer life I live today and thoroughly enjoy, but everyone should make the most of their youth, as I constantly tell my children.