Balls to Black Friday!

I know, I know I've used this title before, but it still stands.  I'm studiously ignoring the consumer madness of Black Friday.  It's not even confined to one day anymore; it rumbles on until Christmas and beyond, with people scooping up yet more home decor and fast fashion, the latter doubtless coming to a charity shop near you in February, stocking fillers no one wants and electrical gadgets that will stay in their drawers, unloved and unused for the remainder of time.  

I qualify this by adding that I have purchased items in sales in the past, so I get the temptation.  However, I've also shopped second hand since my teenage years and it didn't take me long to learn that the thrill of a good quality second hand find (an item that may have commanded £££ new - not to mention discovering something that no one else will be wearing), is a) way more of a rush and b) a little more responsible.  

I rarely visit high street stores these days and when I do, I'm shocked at the mountains of mass produced discounted clothing that will very soon be added to the real clothes mountain in a Chilean desert.  Do you know that this is growing by 39,000 tonnes per year?  Our addiction to fast fashion is now visible from space. 

Image:  Skyfi

So, my wardrobe, or clothing rail, is pretty small.  I try to keep it that way to maintain balance and perspective.  I love clothes, but also have an ongoing internal dialogue about them.  Fashion is fun but also superficial.  

I dress for myself and mood and practicality very much dictate what I wear.  If I'm going on a 10 mile hike for example, I want to be comfortable.  I'm going to wear trousers thick enough to withstand the brambles I'll have to contend with, boots that won't rub my feet and are mud proof and a coat that is waterproof.  If they happen to look good together, it's a bonus, but if those practical outfits don't always express who I am at my core, I'm at peace with that.  There's always time to dress up.  In stark contrast, on another random Tuesday, I may well be found wearing a flowing kaftan or some crazy patterned vintage maxi skirt for a working day indoors when I don't see another soul outside of my family.  

I have friends who adore putting together an outfit and friends who are more about other forms of creative expression and couldn't care less what I'm wearing; they just want to hang out.  It's all about balance.  Everything we buy, whether or not it's thoughtfully produced, will, in all likelihood, one day end up in on a mountain in a desert in Chile - and I try to keep that in mind.  

So my recent second hand purchases are items that suit my style, are variously vintage and/or of great quality and will stay with me for the duration.

1.  Wrangler Leather Cowboy boots; timeless coolness.

2.  Monsoon Embroidered Tabard.  This livens up a pair of jeans and works well belted over a roll neck and maxi skirt.

3.  Breton Top

Classic black and white Breton with scalloped bib in the thickest cotton by Joanie.

3.  Vintage Welsh Wool Waistcoat...

...teamed here with vintage velvet.  Never mind Black Friday, it's vintage brown vibes here.

In other news, I've been listening to a lot of podcasts this year.  I'm late to the party, but there are some corkers.  I confess, they've slightly overtaken books for me this year.  I quite like drifting off to sleep at night with a familiar voice in my ear.  

Here are some recommendations:

1.  Miss Me?

Singer/actress Lily Allen and her childhood friend, Broadcaster Miquita Oliver, discuss an agreed topic.  It's an entertaining listen; funny, poignant, thought provoking and outrageous in equal measures and the two communicate in an honest, authentic way that only the oldest friends can.  I swear they forget that the world is listening.

2.  Uncanny

My friend Sarah and I were discussing this at length in the pub on Friday night.  It's all about people's paranormal experiences but is very balanced, with input from sceptics and a team of researchers on each and every case.  Trust me when I say that many of the stories are hair raising and quite often it's the sceptics' rational explanations that seem the most implausible.

3.  Where There's a Will There's a Wake.

London actress and comedian Kathy Burke invites a new celebrity guest each week to plan their perfect death from last supper to funeral arrangements and who gets what.  I recently listened to the Danny Dyer episode.  Danny Dyer is a foul mouthed cockney actor, who can also be incredibly funny.  He was very clear in his instructions which was to be buried "stark b*!!**k naked, but for a pair of pink cowboy boots."  

So here's a question for you.  What would you like to be buried in?

Last week, we also caught the opening night of Fontaines DC's UK Romance Tour in Wolverhampton.  If you're unfamiliar with the band, they are an Irish post punk band formed in Dublin in 2014.  Grian Chatten, the lead singer, is a poet and in my humble opinion, Shane MacGowan's natural successor.  He's a different character to Shane, but an amazing lyricist.  We feel lucky to have seen them at Wolverhampton Civic, a relatively intimate venue.  Their next tour, I suspect, will be an arena tour.

Here he is in action; a darkly poetic soul.

Talking of darkly poetic, I'll leave you with my latest photos from the garden.  I'll probably be loitering here for a while, given that our car is now a write off thanks to a disagreement with a service station pothole close to Manchester.  See you soon!

Fern fronds

Decaying leaves

Mahonia berries

First Snow

Surprise!  Snow was in the forecast, but we weren't expecting it as far south as the Midlands.  This is the first time we've had snow in November since 2010, but after weeks of gloom, I was happy that something was happening!  

I grabbed my camera, layered up, laced up my boots and headed into the garden and beyond.

Hydrangea is the gift that keeps on giving; beautiful in every season and especially now, with its transitioning blooms encrusted with ice crystals.

Further up the garden, the pine needles were glistening and bejewelled.

With Christmas closing in, the holly was on point.

Through the garden gate, the dying foliage clung to life under the virgin snow.  I didn't see another soul; the silence only broken by the muffled sounds of my footsteps and chunks of snow falling onto the ground around me (and a little down the back of my neck), disturbed by racing squirrels and landing birds.

I headed up onto the ridge.  Usually, by the time the snow arrives, it's January and the leaves have long since lost their autumn colours, leaving behind smudgy pathways blackened by mud and decay.  Today it looked magical!   

I barely noticed the cold.  Nature's awesome.  These photos were taken less than 3 minutes' walk from my garden gate and to seemingly have it all to myself made me feel very thankful and helped soften the blow of being forced to cancel plans to meet up with a friend today. 

On the way back down, I paused to capture the snow falling against suburban backdrops.

Leaving you with a short highlights video.  Stay cosy!  

First Snow of 2024

The Craic

Photo:  Andrew Catlin

The passing of Shane MacGowan has upset me greatly.  I loved his fusion of punk and Irish music and whatever you may think of his lifestyle choices, he stuck by them, lived life on his terms and continued to write beautiful poetry throughout.  Hats off to him that despite being dogged by rumours of only having 6 months left since the late 1980s, he made it to 65.  

Now whilst I could never adopt his chosen lifestyle, I defend his right to do so.  We now seem to live in a world awash with meaningless inspirational quotes from bland celebrities and "influencers" and where the endless pursuit of physical perfection, identikit gym honed bodies and superficial attributes - new nails, brow trends etc etc...are too often prized above great conversation.  Yet, even in his drink and drug fuelled state, I'm betting that polymath Shane's company was more interesting and enlightening than most.  He also believed in unity, love and compassion and would never judge or pass a homeless person in the street.  He devoured literature and truly believed that drink and drugs stimulated his imagination and creativity.  Given his legacy, who are we to argue?

I also totally understand his attachment to Ireland, having visited numerous times. I am now feeling desperate to return. 

It's the people that make Ireland so unique, and this year, they've lost a couple of greats.  RIP Shane.  I know his influence was far reaching (tagging Beate in this as she was first to pay her tribute in blogland here: RAILWAY KEEPER'S COTTAGE : WINTER HOUSE. SNOW. LEGENDS. (bahnwaerterhaeuschen.blogspot.com)).

Digressing slightly, fellow hibernophiles and/or comedy lovers may also have heard of the cult TV series Father Ted, a 1990s hit show detailing the shenanigans of three dishonourably discharged priests exiled to a remote corner of the far west coat of Ireland, aka "Craggy Ireland."  

The central characters were Father Ted Crilly, Father Dougal McGuire and Father Jack.  Ted was the sensible senior (his questionable handling of charity funds aside), Ted his dim sidekick (26 going on 6) and Father Jack was a hopeless alcoholic who, throughout the entire three series, uttered only the following words:  "Feck", "Girls" (pronounced ger-uls), "Drink" and in a rare moment of coached semi-sobriety: "That would be an ecumenical matter."  

One of the most memorable episodes features a rebel priest, Father Damo, who leads Dougal astray with his smoking, drinking, ear piercing and talk of Oasis, before stealing a groundskeeper's whistle ("It's only a bleedin' whistle!")  Father Damo was played by comedian/actor/writer Joe Rooney, who is more widely known in Ireland.

In a strange twist of fate, I recently spotted that Joe Rooney was touring "A Celebration of Father Ted" and immediately booked tickets.  We were promised (and Joe more than delivered), music, insights into the filming of the series, extracts from the Father Damo episode (The Old Grey Whistle Theft), some great Irish storytelling and a Lovely Girls Competition (another episode storyline).  

To cut a long story short, I made the fatal mistake of answering a question posed by Joe at the event and ended up being chosen by him to enter the Lovely Girls Competition.  The criteria myself and my fellow contestants were judged on?

1.  A lovely walk. (I won).

2.  A lovely laugh (I didn't win).

3.  Making the loveliest sandwich (I won).

Ultimately, I was chosen as the winner and awarded the coveted prize, a whistle blown by Father Damo himself, handed over with one instruction "Never wash that!"

Even more surreal, I was approached after the show by a mother and daughter, who asked me for my details as she was planning to marry in the next couple of years, the Father Ted connection being evidently important to her.  Quite a night!

But over the last few nights, some of my favourite Shane MacGowan lyrics have been playing on a loop in my head.

I'm not singing for the future

I'm not dreaming of the past

I'm not talking of the first times

I never think about the last.

Beautiful huh?  I take them to mean live in the moment.

So for me, photography enables me to truly live in the moment.  Take these recent portraits from a walk around the vintage fairground at Stourport on Severn and on a shopping trip to Stourbridge.

I challenged myself to approach people I found interesting, engage them in conversation, before asking permission to photograph them.  I could have just walked past them and never thought about them again...entirely forgettable moments, but that pause and the resulting images enabled something more from those fleeting encounters.

Arlo, Hook a Duck stall holder

Jonas, Fairground Worker

Kai, friend of Arlo

Retro Toy Store Owner, Neil

Furniture Store Owner, Lynne

In the last 7 days, the weather has delivered Fairytale of New York festive vibes with freezing temperatures, "wind that blows through you", sparkling frosts and ice.  I've yet to decorate the house for Christmas, but have consumed a couple of Irish coffees and the odd pint of Guinness in Shane's honour - and to keep out the cold.

And, just as night follows day, as soon the temperature rises, in rolls the mist and rain.  I prefer the former, as captured here, just beyond the garden gate.

So, I've very much been focusing on work recently; forever trying to challenge and push myself in different directions.  I have a couple of exciting projects lined up for 2024 and have been framing some prints to offer for sale in a couple of local small businesses - Archie's Attic, a popular cafe in Enville and Eco Maniax, a plastic free shop in Stourbridge.  

But right now, December is a time to assemble and celebrate the people in our lives and I intend to do just that.  Cheers!

Autumn Ready

We're into the second week in October; a time traditionally associated with misty mornings and chilly nights.  So what happened?  We're in the middle of what used to be known as an Indian Summer - something of a rarity - but is now quite obviously the frightening reality that is climate change.

In spite of the unseasonably mild weather, the trees and woodland floor seem to be on message.  Leaves are turning and fungi are popping up everywhere (just as they should) suggesting that, at least for now, they will infuse the soil with nutrients for the trees, their beneficiaries.  This puff ball fungus, on reaching maturity and upon impact, dramatically releases a cloud of dust like spores into the surrounding area.  Isn't it magical?

The grey squirrels are also preparing; collecting and squirrelling away acorns and nuts to store in their hastily dug (and often forgotten) larders.

We're all suspended in this strange between-seasons no man's land.

For once though, I'm prepared for Autumn.  I've already moved a number of items that I didn't feel I would wear enough during the colder months to justify their space on my clothes rail.  I've carefully shopped - slow fashion - acquiring a few more winter staples (inexplicably being low on versatile knits for example).  I've added to the reserve of books piling up on my bed side table and was calmly preparing to welcome the dark nights with open arms; relishing fruit crumbles, long walks and back to back rainy weekend film marathons and we find ourselves basking in 20 degree sunshine.  

So what's new?  Well very little here is new.  Most of these garments have doubtless had more than one owner in its life, but now it's my turn.  So in reverse order.  Feel free to hum the Top of the Pops chart rundown music as you read.

10.  Navy blue polo neck jumper by former High Street store BHS.  One can never have too many of these beauties.  I wear them, alone or layered, when the temperature plummets.  Here, in this grainy, evening phone pic, I'm wearing it with an old vintage Indian cotton maxi skirt to keep out the chill.

At 9, a 1990s Adidas top.  This was a high risk purchase for me (£2.95).  I'm not usually drawn to sportswear, but this fleecy gillet spoke to me and is very warm and cosy.  Great for woodland walks, with a knitted hat and gloves.

8.  Himalayan Hemp Nepalese Rucksack - Perfect for carrying extra lenses around on our walks.

7.  Winter whites.  It might sound counter intuitive and I have little research to back this up, but I feel that white warms up my sun starved skin in winter.  I've scored a River Island top in thick cotton with puffed sleeves (see 4 below) and a versatile M&S knit.

Just in at 6, this Zara jumper.  I do find myself increasingly seeking out colour as I age.  This pastel pale lemon will remind me that spring is around the corner when I'm shivering in January.

Dropping to number 5, an Indian cotton dress.  This one's a bit of an anomaly in an Autumn wardrobe, but it could still work for now, layered over that navy blue polo neck, leggings and knee high boots.  

A new entry at number 4!   I kept picking this next item up and hanging it back on the charity shop rail.  I initially assumed it was a skirt, but actually it's a pair of ginormous wide leg trousers.  They're synthetic and a bit "fashion" but give a great silhouette and are lined.  The label (Ghost Harlem - Japanese?) was new to me and ultimately the quirky avant-garde print and vibrant colours won me over.   Sometimes love just can't be explained, but that's what this is!

I'm wearing them here with the aforementioned "winter white" River Island top, but stripes work too, as would a slouchy, chunky knit.

3.  Black and white striped polo neck.  I like the way the Breton stripes echo the Adidas signature stripes of my sporty gillet.  It will also work beautifully layered under a sleeveless tank top and teamed with my next find......climbing towards the top spot...

2.  Pleated midi skirt, made in the UK by now defunct heritage label, Windsmoor.

I've yet to wear this vibrant, winter bright skirt, picked up for around a fiver.  I spotted it on the charity shop rails during the heatwave, but just adored the colours and knew I already had a few items that would work with it.  I think I might pack it for our city break next week.

And straight in at number 1.  My one new purchase - a Kharibu vintage kantha waistcoat.  I spotted these earlier in the year and although I knew I had to have one, I bided my time until the £70.00 price tag became £40.00.  It's definitely going to be a wardrobe staple for me.  Here is is teamed with baggy jeans and a Breton t-shirt.  

So if all of this talk of Autumn hasn't given you that Ready brek inner glow, this little anecdote just might.  

Twitter is sadly these days associated with a narcissistic billionaire and toxicity.  But last week, after taking to the platform to try (in vain) to get some resolution from Virgin Media regarding our locked email account, I asked if anyone else was having similar issues and sharing my frustration in not being able to speak to an actual human being.  Within a couple of minutes, I received an affirmative comment from one London based Sarah Ziegel.  

While we vented at our mutual frustration online, Gareth finally managed to unlock our email account (with zero assistance from Virgin Media).  We decided that we should message Sarah and offer to talk her through the steps Gareth had taken in the hope that they would work for her.  

So Sarah and I followed each other on Twitter and Sarah messaged me her phone number.  Gareth promptly made the call and hey presto!  Twenty minutes later, Sarah was reunited with her inbox.  

Sarah was so grateful that she insisted Gareth supply her with our address.  An author, blogger and mother to four autistic children, Sarah has written an award winning book, Marching to a Different Beat (winner of The Selfies Book Awards 2023 Memoir Category).  I was so excited to receive a signed copy in the post the following morning with a lovely handwritten postcard.  

Twitter can be a force for good and I can't wait to read it.  Judging by the intro, I know I'm in for an emotional and engaging read!

Bye for now!