Saturday, 9 February 2008


I try to be a good host, but I find it difficult to make small talk, offer drinks and hand out the canapes to everyone,  all at the same time. 
This cocktail dress seems to solve the problem.  I could carry the tray, and the guests picked the food straight from my breast and felt welcomed without words.
To make a cocktail dress in 15 minutes you need;

1 dress
1 packet of 1 1/2 " nails with big heads on.
Cocktail sausages, gherkins, cheese, pineapple, stoned olives, cherry tomatoes.
1. Stick nails through the dress from front to back, in some sort of design that will suit you. 
2. Cut up sausages, gherkins, cheese, pineapple, stoned olives and dry them on a paper towel or t-towel. ( don't cut up the cherry tomatoes )
3. Put dress on, and place the food on the nails. Get a friend to help you, it's easier.


Harriet's birthday is always a joy to celebrate, and her 30th was no exception. 
FOOD Theme! 
When I think of Harriet I think of colours and smiles and dinner with pudding. 
In fact I think of dinner with pudding when I think of all of the people I love. 
Louise and I ended up going as the food we really are.
I don't know why my life is so connected with sheep. Rachael means 'Little Lamb' in Hebrew, and I am born under aries, the ram. I have curly thick hair, knocked knees and a hard stare when I want to use it. I grew up in the lake district where sheep live, and somehow I managed to devote most of my life to working with wool. I found some horns when I was out walking the fells and they fit perfectly. I want to be a Swaldale / Herdwick cross. Swaldale because I'm blonde and Herdwick because I get homesick.  Sue came over and painted my legs and arms and bottom and face, brown, and I made this hot pant jump suit in fleece. It was very comfortable, and then when I was at the party I realised that when I'm in a noisy room, my voice annoyingly sounds like a bleating sheep. 
Our dear welsh Louise however, is a leek. She stands tall, for green things, and has roots. 
Harriet is a bag of chips and when it comes to fancy dress, we are all chips off her block. Rx

Our Baby Rabbit RIP>

Rfid Albertavich RIP.

I would like to announce the very sad news that baby Rabbit, Rfid Albertavich, died suddenly but peacefully, whilst under anesthetic for a castration at the vets at the age of 7 months. 

Rfid, named after (Radio frequency identification system) son of Alberta, was born on Anglesey, Wales, moved to London at 10 weeks old, after his baby coat had been shawn off.  In his short life, he made one ball of the finest white angora yarn, and bundles of  fluffy, hot, panting, love. 

Rfid knew he was handsome. He would sit down and wait for me during the days, and in the evenings hop along the bar at the Florists ( pub) eating  celery from the bloody Mary's. Late nights, he guarded the shop,  eating the vintage knitting patterns and licking the walls.

He also ate in his short life, one book of Turner's water colours, the cover of Tears for Fears 'Head over Heals', and one pair of Ukranian straw slippers.

He had a successful career, modeling for the Tatty Devine, Dark Stages collection, and opening Prick Your Finger by welcoming our first customers with ribbons around his neck, and at one point talking to the Telegraph Magazine about sustainable fibres in fashion. 

His favourite food was fresh mint which kept his breath fresh for kissing, which he did every time he was picked up, followed by a cuddle, and then a bite about 10 minutes later. 

He is burried at my parents house, on the edge of Windermere, next to a stream, with a hazel tree planted on top. 

He is much missed.

Rfid Baby Rabbit RIP.

Retirement of a dishcloth

I'd like to explain why I've sometimes been working in the shop in my pyjamas. It's quite simple, I've been up all night knitting with friends and tea and U tube, a scene, I could never tire of....except, 
my dishcloth has done just that. Felix noticed and took this lovely picture.
This dishcloth was knitted by our friend Sue in hand spun jute, just over 2 years ago, and has been in use, Monday to friday, with only two summer breaks, and two Christmas holidays ever since.  It has lifted a hot kettle off the stove, up to five times a day, cleaned trays and surfaces, with light washing up, mostly cups and saucers, then a wash and tumble dry on the weekend. It's deteriation has now become rapid and it must retire to a sunday dishcloth. 
There is a horrible temptation to go out there and find a new, more absorbent, perhaps even anti bacterial dishcloth, but at the end of every knitting class, when I meet the dishcloth again, one can't help feel that if one is going to do any chore at all, it might as well be done with love.
So here we are, a new dishcloth with a crochet edge, knitted in our new Shilasdair, organic hand spun cotton. It's so spongey, I've started knitting a second one to buff up the glasses for our gin and tonics at 6pm.