funkymonkey

Monday, 26 September 2011

Summer's End

From Aug 2011

Summer's End? Well, not quite it seems. We have summer's final fling on the way and it's due to last until the weekend. After, the darkness and rain of yesterday the sun has returned today with that gentle warmth it usually posesses in September. Light and sunshine are making my bargain flowers look even more spectacular. Only two pounds for all of them from Bridgnorth market. You wouldn't find that in the supermarket now would you?

From Aug 2011

There won't be many more opportunities to buy such luscious bunches thoughas the garden flowers of summer and autumn give way to those that can be grown cheaply in greenhouses. Nevermind, I'm making the most of this gorgeousness whilst I can.

Mr F. and I recently treated ourselves to a day out in Ledbury. One of my favourite shops Hus & Hem has moved into larger premises and was full of wonderful, funky Scandinavian design. I couldn't resist these hand blocked tea towels. I loved the big bold design of this green one

or the colours in this purple one.

From MAR2012

I neeeeeed them in my life. I must be such a sad, boring person to get so excited about a couple of tea towels, but they are another of my 'one weaknesses'. If I see a nice tea towel....then I've got to have it.......because I neeeeeeed it in my life. I'm not fussy, they can be be floral or stripy, bright and bold or pale and subtle, but if it grabs me...I've got to have it. Please tell me, do I need help, or does anyone else have this strange addiction? What is yur 'one weakness'? OOh! They are one of the few things I enjoy ironing too, there's nothing like the satisfacti0n of a pile of neatly folded freshly ironed tea towels. I think I'd better end my post there.....before my ramble degenerates any further. Have a good week everyone and enjoy the sunshine whilst you can.

From Aug 2011

Sunday, 28 August 2011

Three go Down to the Sea

This is St Anthony Head lighthouse...more commonly known in the Funky household as 'my lighthouse'. We've been visiting the Lizard Peninsular for nine or ten years now. Faithfully revisiting the same village and the same cottage year after year. Most evenings I will walk down the steep hill, past whitewashed cottages to sit at dusk on the pebbly grey beach and gaze at 'my lighthouse'. The view you see above is not the view I am used to for that glorious August week. Instead, I have to wait until dusk before I can see the beam of light from St Anthony head across the bay near St Mawes. But it is still 'my lighthouse' and every year my heart leaps as I see its comforting light shining across Falmouth bay, guiding ships through the infamous Manacles, rocks that have caused so many shipwrecks and taken so many lives.

This year we took the King Harry ferry

and went across to the Roseland Peninsular. We really went to look at St Mawes and the church at St Just in Roseland, but the highlight of my day and totally unexpectedly, was our visit to 'my lighthouse'. I love lighthouses and the safety and comfort they represent, knowing that ships can identify where they are by the 'character' of each light. Every lighthouse run by Trinity House has its own 'character' which means that the light stays on for a certain length of time, then off for another length of time, and lights can be a combination of white and red. St Anthony's character is a combination of red and white light flashing for 15 seconds at a time. I dream of living in a lighthouse, watching ferocious storms from the safety of its impenetrable thick walls.......I think I read too much Enid Blyton as a child.

That day, we were also able to visit Portscatho and the lovely shop I've seen here at The Mermaids Tale.

Do you like the little bottle I bought there? Naughty of me....but it did happen to be my birthday. I think I deserved a little treat.

We love Cornwall, but not for us are the bustling streets of St Ives, we love the quiet coves

From Aug 2011

and wild coasts

From Aug 2011

Not to mention the odd fishing village where we can usually be found wandering around, devouring the occasional roskilly's icecream.

From Aug 2011

Edit: I've not blogged for a couple of months now and hope to get back to blogging from now on. Things have been difficult at work recently, as I now have to do half of my hours at another location. This involves extra travelling and longer days for me, besides the disruption of being in another place learning another set up. I'm still trying to figure out if this move makes my job more or less vulnerable and as you can appreciate it has been quite a worry for me. As I like my blog to be my 'happy' place as opposed to a 'gloomy' place like Eeyore's I thought it better to keep out of the blogging world for a while, and although I haven't felt able to comment on blogs, you can rest assured that I've been reading blogs avidly to cheer myself up. Hopefully, normal service has been resumed.

Friday, 10 June 2011

Sweet William

Sweet William. Along with the bright colours of autumn dahlias, Sweet William always remind me of my Grandad's garden. He grew them every year without fail and I think I love them because of it. Grandad's garden was very organised. A small lawn for the grandkids to play on and a path up the middle seperating the remaining garden, with regimented rows of beans, potatoes,onions and peas doing their own thing, scrambling up the pea sticks. The other side of the garden was my favourite because that's where the flowers grew. Reds, yellows, blues and pinks. At that age, I couldn't identify most of the flowers, I just knew if they were pretty, or smelt good. The fences of the garden were low and much time was spent chatting to neighbours, although voices had to be raised to include those a couple of houses down the row. I can also remember the pigsty, almost a ruin then, hidden down in the far corner of the garden. I couldn't understand why this small red brick litle building was called a pigsty. I'd nver seen a pig there. But apparently, Grandad used to keep pigs during the war to supplement the rations. Although, not allowed to keep all of the pig when it was slaughtered, I'm sure it helped feed the family still left at home, not away fighting.

He was brought up in the countryside, his brother a shepherd I think. So keeping animals was a normal thing to do in those days......I think we're getting back to that way of life now aren't we?
I think there may have been chickens too at one time.

I also remember the Anderson shelter. It intrigued me, even scared me a little. Many people kept these after the war and Grandad's was still going strong in the sixties and seventies when I was young. It was split into two sections, with an entrance at either end of the shelter. One side was used as a little work shop, with a bench and tools hanging around the corrugated iron walls. The other side was full of plant pots and other gardening paraphanaelia. It was here that the onions were strung and hung in the autumn.

Well, last Saturday whilst shopping in town, I saw these flowers and had to buy a couple of bunches and bring them home with me. They still look pretty today, some in the lounge and a few on a kitchen shelf, reminding me of my Grandad's garden. Do flowers bring back memories for you? I would love to know. I know that foxgloves always make me think of my husband and I suspect cow parsley in the lanes always remind him of me. Flowers...don't they bring back evocative memories.

Monday, 6 June 2011

A little Treat

From June 2011

With Teenage Boy holidaying in France last week and me feeling all jittery about him being away from home for a week,Mr F. decided we should have a little treat. It certainly helped me stop worrying. We had just one night away in gorgeous B&B in Lacock. Above, you can see our very own private door with polished wooden stairs that led up to our cosy bedroom, set away from the main house. We even had our own little garden to enjoy the evening sunshine. We spent the morning in Bath, where I got chance to visit some of my favourite shops and spend some money I shouldn't have. But Lacock was the real treat. In fact, I've taken so many photographs, I'll have to blog the second day of our trip in a seperate post. As there are quite a few pictures, I won't bore you with many words.

From June 2011

This is the main building of our little getaway.

From June 2011

And the view from one of windows in our room.

From another of our windows you could see St Cyriac's church

We were also next door to house of James and Lily Potter. In fact it's where they were murdered by the evil Lord Voldemort.

Of course any visit to Lacock is not complete without a visit to Lacock Abbey, also used in the Harry Potter films

From June 2011

The Abbey gardens and grounds were very pretty too.

From June 2011

How about a little tour of the village houses, shops and gardens?

From June 2011

Such a pretty, peaceful village, although I was a little disappointed not to bump into Colin Firth, Greg Wise or Judi Dench...maybe next time. by the way, Teenage Boy arrived safely home yesterday, having had a brillant holiday with his friends. He brought this with him

From June 2011

and this.

From June 2011

Monday, 30 May 2011

He's Gone....

Oh yes....he's gone. Saturday morning Teenage Boy met his friends at school and boarded the coach for the long journey to the south of France. To the Ardeche to be precise. He doesn't look that excited in this photograph, taken just before we drove to school. But I think that's just his aversion to having his' boring' parents taking 'boring' photographs. We waited a while whilst everyone was checked in at school and luggage loaded. And watched the scramble for seats, only to see them all get off the coach again because they had forgotten something, or because Mom and Dad needed to check something before finally sending them off on their week long adventure.

Not to mention the comedic scenes as teenage boys ducked and dived and in some cases ran to avoid giving their parents a hug before leaving. Mr. F. proffered a hand in case Teenage Boy prefered a handshake to the much wanted hug....I'm pleased to say, we both got our hug. And now he is in the Ardeche, jumping into raging rivers from the top of cliffs, canoeing dangerous rapids and later in the week moving on to the mediterranean coast, windsurfing and sailing in dangerous tidal waters. I know it's true........I saw the video of last year's trip. So this week, I shall spend worrying......is he eating? did I pack the right clothing? will he hurt himself jumping into that damned river? Who'd be a mom? Do you worry about your kids constantly, or are you able to be laid back and say ....wahtever? Mr F. has plans to keep me occupied this week and I think that will be the best therapy.