Hooked

The CrochetQueen, having taught me the basics of her wondrous craft last week, afterwards sent me a link on facebook.
And then, at the market yesterday, I had coffee with a GrandeDame of the art, and we sat happily stitching together while she further instructed me. She too sent me away with a link in my ear.
I'm not at all sure that either of them have done me a favour.

For one thing, I have burnt my knitting needles.
Knitting?
Who wants to knit when there is crochet out there waiting to be knotted?

You see what I mean?

I am not an owl by nature, but long after the In-Charge had carried his bad back off to bed last night, I sat up perusing the crochet-idyll of cyberspace. I stayed up until the candles guttered in their sockets and my screen flickered with the effort of staying awake.

But oh joy, oh rapture, oh itchy fingers!
Here are some of the treasures I found.
I hope no one minds me sharing them with you. Who knows, it might inspire you all to go out there and buy a hook!

Totally thrilling

Much too good to eat

    

Right up my street

If I had these, I'd leave all my clothes in a heap on the floor so I could see the hangers

How pretty is that?

BUNTING! I knew bunting was just WAITING to be made

Bored with making cupcakes? Iam. Maybe I'll give these a try instead. The more you eat, the thinner you get

A touch of Morocco

And some of you may remember this beauty on my blog last year.
I wanted it very badly indeed.
(I still do.)

Well, for all you mad cyclists out there - how about this instead?

Or compromise. Have a rickshaw (probably safer on city streets than a bicycle, and there's room for the shopping too).

Small wonder I lay awake in the small hours wondering if I can spare the time to sleep at all?



Do you think, if I'd learned to crochet at a young age, my life might have taken a different course?

Well, be that as it may, I am well and truly hooked now, at any rate.

The photos on this post have come from:
For the Love of Crochet
Comunidade De Arte E Artesanato
Colorful Arts And Crafts
 

Or if you prefer pure art, have a look at Prudence Mapstone's website

Shoe Boxes v Handbags

Feeling pink? Fly-the-flag bag

 I was listening to the radio the other day - or at least, it was on in some shop.
They were discussing moral issues.
To be precise, they were discussing a handbag.
Apparently it cost 18,000 euros.

That is one heck of a lot of handbag.- or possibly just one heck of a lot of euros.

Mercifully, for the state of my sanity, the overall consensus was that it would be obscene to spend 18,000 on a handbag. Even if you had it to spare. Or even 9,000. Or even 4,500 - or - well, you're getting my drift.

How much is it permissible to spend on a handbag?
I don't know, and you're talking to someone who is known to fall for handbags on a regular basis here.

Thrilling pink straw bag, bought in a French supermarket

In fact my darling son has taken to walking into a well known purveyor of such choice items and buying the glitziest, prettiest handbag he can see every birthday or Christmas time, bless his cotton socks. (There's nothing like bringing them up to REALLY understand how women tick!)

Sometimes he buys me bags that are even more grown-up than I am

But 18,000?
OK - lets get the gloves off here. Forget 18,000. I have spent most of my life being totally broke, so obviously my sights are a good bit lower than most. But even so.
I would have serious difficulty in coping with a handbag that cost 1,000 - let alone 18.
Diamond encrustations notwithstanding.

Diamond encrustations, as you can see. It came in at a tad under the 18,000.

I'd find myself looking at it and mentally stacking up all the other stuff it could have bought, alongside its glamorous gorgeousness. I'd end up not using it, because it bugged me, somewhere deep down inside.
And that really would be a waste.

Maybe that all sounds a bit high-horseish. It probably does.
But the reason it has sprung to mind today is that I am surrounded, in my rather unkempt kitchen, by glittery pencils and glitzy stickers, and novelty rubbers and pretty little notebooks. By pencil cases and fun-socks, hair ties and wondrous marbles.

I don't know what bit of Christmas turns you on the most - if you celebrate Christmas in any shape or form - but when my kids were young, and indeed, when I was young myself, the very, very best bit of Christmas was the stocking that Father Christmas left at the end of the bed. It wasn't a pillowcase, or anything gross like that, just a large stocking stuffed with all manner of little, joyful, crazily-exciting bits and bobs. And of course, being a girl, the super-best bits were always very colourful and glittery.

You're probably picking up on the glittery, sequinned theme at this stage

And when I finally grew up (well, sort of grew up), it gave me more pleasure than anything else to fill those stockings for my kids, and to watch their faces on Christmas morning as they opened them while we all sat around eating breakfast by the fire and the Christmas tree. Well - I ate the breakfast, probably, knowing me - and they opened their stockings and devoured the edible bits.

I'll be frank - I'm not above putting stockings together for them even now, if they are able to get home for Christmas - but this morning I'm putting together Christmas stocking 'Shoe Boxes' to be sent to 2-14 year olds abroad who otherwise won't get a present. All I can say is, if it gives each of them - any of them - as much pleasure to open as it has given me to put together, wow - RESULT! And some.

The question going round in the back of my mind as I'm tying up little parcels of stick-on jewels is this: how many Shoe Boxes could you make for 18,000?

Total joy