Bristol with cantinas and falafel

Well, it’s been a busy half-term, what with getting a new job (exhibitions curator at the Ludlow Assembly Rooms) and having the children around, with two exhibitions to put up and take down within a week of starting the job.

But I did eventually remember to collect my children from Mother, and we’ve managed to squeeze in a brilliant couple of days in Bristol, just at the centre of things, before I go back to researching new artists and (more prosaically) trying to find a local supplier for foam board so I can mount information properly.

I’ll write about Bristol, and then take a look at the artists in the assembly rooms, and then, right at the very end, there’s a surprise find of a book review site which is really rather shiny bright and lovely.

Bristol was brilliant. We stayed in the Youth Hostel (see pictures above), as we do. Why? Because it’s cheap as anything (fifty pounds for a family room with en-suite, shower and breakfast included), right in the heart of the nice harbourside area, about a two minute walk from @bristol and pretty much next door to the Arnolfini and the Architecture centre. And of course there’s The Trumpet Bridge, which isn’t called the Trumpet Bridge, I’m sure, but the Millennium Bridge or something. But we call it the Trumpet Bridge just the same.

I do love Youth Hostels, but they do vary. Bristol seems well-staffed (I expect people love volunteering for it because it’s all urban gorgeousness), and although still slightly tatty, tatty in the sense of ‘perhaps you should have got the polyfilla out before you painted that’ rather than ‘oops, plaster’s coming off the wall’. I thought, at one point, how my life does seem to revolve around places that are a bit like that. Co-operative-like, and full of goodwill and volunteers, but still there’s something always peeling off somewhere, and clean is one thing but smartly polished another. And then I thought how much I prefer that kind of thing to the travel lodge culture, and the posh hotels, which have resentful unhappy staff who might, or might not, spit in your tea. So I’m probably quite lucky, really. And that’s a thought I had before I even GOT to the canteen at Spike Island, which is an entirely gorgeous story of cous-cous salads, leafy greens, falafel and roasted vegetables. More of that later, too.

One nice and not-often-reported on thing about Youth Hostels, is that the people in them Read. In the Bristol one there is the advantage of huge comfy sofas and books, but equally at breakfast everyone seemed to be reading. Mainly papers (of the Guardian and Times variety), some guidebooks, some more heavyweight looking stuff, and a biography of Richard Hammond, but still all reading. S’good. Another nice thing about the Bristol one is that the Breakfast (included) is nice. Lot of muesli-type things, a big bowl of natural yoghurt, cold meats, grapefruit, croissantish stuff, or the bacon/sausage/tomato thing. Coffee. Hot Chocolate. Orange juice. All relaxing and filling, and it’s improved since the last time, too.

But anyway, on the first day, we headed up to Clifton, to Look at the Bridge, and take in the view through the curious, Victorian and round Camera Obscura. I like Camera Obscura, or at least the three I’ve been to, and this one reminded me greatly of the one at Aberystwyth. Same kind of slightly Victorian, peeling round the edges, Scientifically Spectacular interest. And a hand-painted sign for the Attraction that surely must have been penned and painted in 1931. Underneath (yes, that’s underneath) the Camera Obscura, was the Giants Cave, which nicely proved that yes, there are still some parts of England that the Health and Safety Stazi have not yet reached.

With a cheery wave (handpainted notice recommended that under fours shouldn’t venture down there) the manatthedesk (biscuit tin of money, none of this fancy ‘till’ nonsense) told us to watch our heads as we issued down. And we did. Down, down into a never-ending tunnel of spiral stone steps, culminating in a sheer metal staircase, culminating in a small, uneventful… err, cave. With a hint of light at the right hand side. So, following the light, we issued out…pretty much straight into the gorge. Yes there were railings, Yes there was the kind of metal see-through planking so beloved of National Trust properties. But my Mother, quite seriously, would have wet herself. Well, she would have wet herself if she had been foolish enough to vanish orff willingly down numerous steps into the darkness of the rock. Which she wouldn’t have done. So, I suppose, there you go.

Right, so Bristol was fantabulously fantabulous. I can heartily recommend the SS Great Britain (I thought it was going to be very dull. How wrong I was), and the National Galleries touring ‘Love’ exhibition (much more interesting than it sounds, and at the Museum of Bristol, which also has a big Egypt exhibition, and the most amazing wooden/polished brass/pull chain Victorian Ladies Toilets – working ones, too). I can also recommend the Arnolfini, of course and…a find for me…Spike Island, which was a factory of some sort, and which, by some kind of magical transformation, is the home of many fine artists (it grew out of a Bristol Co-operative that I had heard of, from when I was in touch with such things), and, in the canteen, the most gorgeously cheap-but-nice food that you sometimes are lucky enough to find in towns. Salad, of the help-yourself variety, but nice salad, with nice bowls, not the gloop and ick stuff you get in Various Chains. Falafel. Hummous. Yoghurt. Joy. Oh, and a lovely lentil quiche with sweet pepper sauce, too, and all for about four pounds each. Wow. And if you’re thinking ‘you heathen, not to mention the shows’, well, they were on change-over, and I’m going back to see them, so I am faintly vindicated. And I want to get tickets for some of the Festival of Ideas things at the Arnolfini, if I can.

Oh, but joy, and lots of interesting people-watching to do, mainly of people lugging canvases around, but some women with babies, one holding a large pink parcel tied with Blue String. Also some Older (I think they were mature students) Women with Lots of Books, and a very quiet, eminently gorgeous artist at the next table, who I would have made moony eyes over, only I was intent on feeding myself, and trying to convince R that chilli cous-cous really is a good idea (she preferred the chips, because she is five, and she just did). Anyway, with New Job I will get to go to Views there, since I boldly announced myself at the desk, and so hopefully will get to know the place better, which’ll be something to look forward to.

We did other stuff too, but travelogues get boring when written by amateurs, and besides, I’ve a lot to get through, this post. In fact, I might split it, and do a separate account of Ludlow Artists, and The Bookbag. In fact, I will.

Sunshine, ice and mummified Barbies.

Well, it’s been half-term, and I’ve been enjoying my children. One trip to London (I could almost see the doors opening in my eldest daughter’s mind), friends round for a party, more friends round for tea, and gingerbread men to be baked (and eaten). This week, technically, was back-to-work, but as all artists-with-children realise, it’s difficult to get down to things when you spend a good hour looking for that masking tape, only to realise it’s been used in a vibrant (and imaginative, yes) game of ‘Tutankhamen’ – in other words, Mummify That Barbie. I’m torn between pride (best thing you can do to Barbie, really) and sticky exasperation. Youngest daughter has decided that her favourite reading matter is Pink magazine. Alas, it has little to do with Gay Rights, less to do with an ironic take on the punk rock movement, and is full of twirly (pink) ballerinas and smiling (pink) bears. I am tempted to start, singlehandedly, an Ironic Mommas Underground movement, and design a Pink magazine full of O’Keefe drawings, analysis of the contents of lipgloss (slimy fat, pigment made from beetles) and How to Mummify Your Barbie tips, but it might not sell.

And I have gotten some work done. The weather was gorgeous for photographs. Ice, sunshine, and the ice half-melted, half frozen. I have enough on my plate with the hedge pictures, and coast pictures, to not want to take on more, but I’ll hang on to these in the back of my head and see if I can do something with them properly another day. I even, at one point, braved the cold and took out my sketchbook, which is where the small watercolour comes from.

Mainly Mermaids, one castle, tonsils.

Well, it’s been longer than I like before posting here. I mean, a nice teasy gap is all well and good, but Over a Week? I blame both my tonsils (wildly inflamed) and my Personal Life (ditto), which occasionally draws me inexorably away from a computer screen, kicking and screaming as I am dragged.

All is now as sane as it will get for some time, and I have Mainly been Drawing Mermaids in my absence. One has turned out (rather unfairly) as a kind of Joan Crawford brazen hussy of a dyed blonde despite her watercolor (she is going to return to natural brown tomorrow, and it will suit her much better). The other is a sadder pencil drawing, which I think is nicer, but probably will not sell. Joan will undoubtedly sell. And soon I shall draw a less brazen Joan which will work even better and might contribute to my quest for Nice New Boots.

One trip to Ludlow, in the rain, but the castle always looks nice (it was Closed). How can a castle be Closed? It was very walkaroundable, and the views, although damp, were still romanticky and quite sad.

To cheer me up, as I walked us home in the rain, my youngest daughter (five) told her first ever joke:

Rosie: I have a joke for you.

What do you get if you cross a cat and a rabbit?

Me: I don’t know

Rosie: A woolly jumping.

Me: Hahaha. Very good darling.

Rosie: I made it up. Did it work? Was it funny?

Me: Not really, no. But it was nice anyway.

Rosie: It’s meant to be what if you cross a pig…err…and a sheep…and a trampoline. And you get a woolly jumper. So I changed it, it’s jumping (jumps up and down). Do you see? Jumping.

The pictures are of mermaids. Why not. It is January, after all. We had chocolate eclairs for tea to celebrate the joke.

Hedgerow, muted. With a choice of Fancy Cakes.

You’ll be pleased to know (I’m thrilled) that my seasonally mimsy self-reflection has ground to a merciful halt, and I’m back to my usual state of calm-amid-chaos. The resolutions have been made, the cake is back in the tin, and at least this year I have managed not to dye my hair bright orange in an urge to appear more interesting , but have left it it’s natural colour, which will just have to be interesting enough All By Itself.

I’ve been reading about Whistler, and his deliberate choice of muted palettes. I’ve never-ever been one for Muted Palettes. I like bright rich blues, and reds, and gorgeous silky greens. I like Kandinsky and Chagall and Frida Kahlo, with their peacock colours. But I also like Whistler, and his Nocturnes, Harmonies and Symphonies. With their muted, faded palettes, but gorgeous still.

Today was a muted day. There was not heavy frost, nor bright sunshine, but I went out and took the camera anyway (partly to see the overflowing river-water on the fields, partly to grab some special time with my eldest daughter). And I think I came back with some treasure. The photographs aren’t as immediately pretty as the frosty ones, but they’re interesting, and I’m fascinated by the colours in the seed-head one. So there we go. A muted hedgerow, but still interesting.

I spent much of yesterday in Ludlow, in the rain. We went first to DeGrey’s Tearoom, the children and I, and then to the castle. The tearoom is what you would think a DeGrey’s tearoom should be like. It has waitresses with little aprons (it must employ half the teenage girls in Ludlow on a Holiday basis), and real china. The tea is leaf tea, and comes with a little pot of water. And the cakes (you get a choice of ‘Cream Tea’ or ‘Afternoon Tea’) come on a little three-tiered stand, with aplomb. The building is Tudor, and the whole experience like going back to the 1930’s. The sandwiches (I chose salmon and cucumber) come beautifully arranged, as if they had been dressed by an old-fashioned couturier. It is a rather gold-plated experience, but one we cope with it by the children sharing the sandwiches and scones, and my not having a choice of fancy cake (yes, they are called ‘Fancy Cakes’). And it’s worth it, just for the sheer fun of the small ceremonial of it all.

Ludlow castle, if you ever get the chance, is well worth a look around. It’s not too large to be scarily imposing, and there’s plenty of room for children to run around. There are many tall winding staircases to spooky towers, and an ice-house under the moat which doubles as a skeleton-rattling dungeon. The views are suitably viewish, although the experience does lack the terrifying thrill I’ve experienced in some Cadw properties, which seem to specialise in surprising twists like unmarked 200ft drops to the waiting sea. I can only deduce that the Welsh do not believe in Fencing Children In. Or they are conducting some experiment to do with natural selection.

Drawing in the gap

I never know quite what to make of the gap between Christmas and New Year, and this year is no exception. Yesterday I was tired and fretful, and glad to be done with the hurly-burly hustle of a family Christmas. Today I’m bored and faintly restless – on the edge of something, but I’m not sure what. So I’m drawing, while the children play with their toys. I would like to be grand, and to make a thing each day, until the holidays are over. However the drawing today took a bit of a while, and I want to do more on it, or collage it, or embroider it, or something . We shall see. I don’t know yet whether I think that the sketch can come to anything any good or not.

Things you should know about my Christmas:

On Christmas Eve, Rosie decided to attack her hair with the paper scissors, just as my Mother was coming in for Mulled Wine and Polite Conversation. It was so hacked that I sat her (Rosie, not Mother) on the table and gave her an impromptu pudding basin ‘trim’. She looks a little strange, but given the ‘before’, it’s a distinct improvement.

Eleanor then (to be nice), wanted her hair cut short, too. So she has a bob, which suits her. Father, in his wisdom, collared me just as I was sweeping up the copious hairiness, and took the hair away in a bag, because, according to him (and he should know), it’s ideal for simulating Thatched Roofs on his guage of Model Railway. A slightly surreal moment, but it passed, thankfully.

On Christmas Day, I was woken at precisely Half-past Three, and didn’t get back to sleep. There is a picture of me, all dressed up, at my parent’s house (I did the cooking, but their house is bigger), but no-one will ever, ever, see it.

Eleanor’s favourite present is a whoopee cushion with a picture of a football on it.

Rosie’s favourite present is paper and new shiny felt-tip pens.

My favourite present is a Book Token. I am, officially, a dull girl. But a dull girl who loves bookshops, which has to be better than a dull girl who loves, say, Asda Meat Pies, or Bargain Hunting in Matalan. I may take the children into Hereford tomorrow, and we shall spend our tokens with happy abandon. I am considering taking the children to a Youth Hostel somewhere, because that really would be fun, and good for us all to get away for a night or two.

My Parent’s house is set in really beautiful countryside – a remote valley. It’s lovely – so quiet and beautiful. I managed to sneak out for a walk, early on Boxing Day morning. The views were splendid over the valley, and the river full and beautiful. I walked from Kinsham to Wapley Hill Fort, and then had to rush back for drinks and Aunties.

The pictures which are not of the drawing are of my Mince Pies, which I enjoyed making, and we are enjoying eating, and our cake, which the children decorated. I make my own mincemeat – it’s easy as easy and nicer than the boughten variety by far. The cake is a Dundee Cake, rather than a Traditional Christmas Cake, because I find the Dundee kind get eaten, rather than sitting around in the tin until November next year.

It is a bit early to wonder what 2008 will bring, but I am thinking about resolutions, and wondering anyway.

Introducing the Semolina Twins…

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No, not Vanilla and Oatmeal, of course - Cous-cous and Halva. But we’ll come to them later. They should be first, but the picture of the Halva isn’t as nice as the ones of the soap, and I couldn’t ask my five-year old to wait before eating it until Natural Light Came Out.

So, moving swiftly forward, as well as the lovely Semolina, I also flirted with her cereally sister, Oatmeal, making Vanilla and Oatmeal soap to give as Christmas Presents. Soap-making the easy way is fun. For this, I used opaque pure soap base, melted in a double boiler, and added cocoa butter, apricot kernel oil, vanilla extract and oatmeal. The yellow bits are calendula (that’s English Marigold to thee and me) petals – purely for show in this instance. If you’ve got dry skin, then this soap is really rich and moisturising. I use it as a face soap – it lathers beautifully, and it smells gorgeously wholesome but warm, too.

Now for that Semolina shout-out. Cous-cous is one of our teatime staples, but Halva I tried tonight for the first time – in search of a starchy pudding to warm up the children after a hard day at school and a long walk from the bus. It was a resounding success. A bit over-sweet and cloying for my taste – next time I’ll cut down on the sugar a bit – but the rosewater and cinnamon stick provided a really delicate combination of flavours which complimented each other perfectly. I may try popping a Vanilla pod in with the cinnamon stick next time.

The recipe, should you so desire to make Halva (it is very easy, and requires little more than sugar, milk, semolina and butter), I shall include on the recipes page (which is going to get awfully long, but I shall try to think of an alternative – I’m still building my website, but I could always stick the recipes up there in a ‘holding’ capacity, perhaps?)

The rest of my travails have been reasonably successful, too, which makes me sound like Ms McSmuggery Horrid, but usually at least 1 in every 10 of my travails ends in disaster, so be reassured. To the left is a sneaky peek of a work-in-progress – Christmas Stockings.

Unsurprisingly I make a lot of these at this time of year, but I’m particularly pleased with these two. I’ll post proper pictures of my latest batch when I’ve trimmed them with vintage buttons and shiny satin ribbons. I’m taking orders for next year, would you believe?

Also the Turkish Delight, although not perfect (have you ever tried whisking boiling sugar syrup into stiff cornflour-paste mixture?), is at least an approximation of delightful. And very pink. I shall blog about it when I’ve photographed it, and decided where to put all these recipes. Which people are reading. I know this because WordPress, in all its wisdom, has a Useful Stats Page. Aha.

Chocolate fishes

Marshmallow and chocolate kebabs, cream fudge, and other yummy things. It’s the time of year when I boil up sugar, do things with an orange that don’t stop with juicing, and make confectionary for Christmas presents.

Why do this? Well, firstly it’s cheaper – far cheaper, to make these things yourself. Secondly it’s fun, and thirdly you know the provenance of the items. I’m not sure it’s super-green because of fuel economy, but it’s not terrible, at least, especially if you save and recycle packaging.

So far I have made cream fudge (the recipe, if you want it, is here), barley sugar and crystallised orange peel (dipped some in chocolate, too – well, not actually dipped, more popped them in the pan and stirred them about, pulled them out, left to dry, rather than the ’skewer each piece on a cocktail stick’ tidy purist method). I’ve made mincemeat (very, very easy, and you can check for what kind of nasty fats go in there), and I’ve covered marshallows with chocolate for stocking fillers.

Tomorrow, barring adventures, I make Turkish Delight, which is such a delicate thing to make, and, like all these things, incredibly easy.

The barley sugar has been taken to friend’s houses for gifts (it’s vegan, which is useful), and the marshmallows have been put away. The crystallised chocolatey oranges have been hidden in the ‘cupboard where the ceiling is coming down’ and the fudge…

the fudge…

The fudge I have eaten. This is bad. There was one bit left, about half an hour ago. I photographed it. Then I ate it. It is (or rather was), and you can trust an expert here – Very Lovely Fudge. It sits on a nice vintage plate that I found for 10p, and which originally was made for a Brexton Hamper.

I have also made a small embroidered landscape with which I know not what to do next. I don’t want to embroider it any more, and so I shall, ummm…paint it?

Walking this morning.

Today was the first really frosty morning, so I went for an early walk up on the fields, and took some photographs. I’m not the world’s greatest photographer, but I did enjoy it, and I’ll use them later.

Then I came home to my warm cottage and finished making two rag dolls for Christmas. Then some work, and then some more work. On Thursday I’m going to make the soap (transparent, with leetle embedded pretties), and I’m going to get crocheting some nice warm scarves, since there’s been calls for them this year. Bit late for the Christmas markets, but never mind.

Frosty fields and a carpet bag.

I should post here more. I am doing things, I’m just not posting about them.

Presently, some of the things I am doing are Christmas related. Not much art-work, because I’ve taken on a copy-typing temp job to pay some bills, but lots of making things for my children, and some christmas card experiments with photoshop. Hence the picture. I’m finding it very easy to make sentimental (and slightly ghostly) Victorianaish images with photoshop, and less easy to do anything particularly interesting with it, but that’s partly because I’m not sure what it’s for yet.

My challenge this year is to make as much as I can as pressies. Soap, dolls, chocolate covered marshmallows, red wine with mulling spice – I can do a lot of that. I made some fudge in little origami star boxes for Brownies and for my daughter’s teacher. I’ll post a pic of the dolls in a sec.

Stuffed Mice and Caravans

Octoberish. Well, that’s my excuse anyway. It’s been too long since I posted here, and partly that’s because I’m lazy, but also it’s because I’ve:

1. Been doing some copy-typing of old (I mean really, really old – when spelling had no meaning, and land was described depending on whose land it abutted, and natural features) manuscripts for money (Christmas is coming, and selling pictures does not always make for a fat goose).
2. Having waaaay too much fun with my children.
3. Being monumentally uninspired about what I’m making/painting. Which, equally, doesn’t make for a fat goose, and this is a bad time of year to be fretting about inspiration.

But, the half-term holiday has done me the world of good (no copy-typing, more fun with children). We have made Origami frogs, my eldest went to a two-day drama workshop, and today we all went to Hartlebury Castle, which is the county museum of Worcester.

And it was brilliant. There was a great deal to do, some craft-themed (Halloween, dontchaknow), like making a pumpkin lantern, and a quill pen, and a dreamcatcher, a spoooky biscuit and some trail-themed (find the frogs).

My five year old liked the frog-trail best, and my seven-year old the lantern-making. Both had a wonderful time, and so did I. There’s an awful lot of interesting exhibits in this castle. Some are quirky (the dolls house), some fascinating (the gypsy caravans), some surreal (the stuffed mice playing cards), some cute (the little elephant) and some just interesting and clever.

They do ‘themed rooms’ which is great for giving children a proper sense of period, and the castle itself is beautiful, with a moat, and walks, and plenty of picnic benches.

There were lots of museum staff on hand, and everyone seemed to be smiley. Another nice touch – skipping ropes and hoops left outside for children to play with during the ‘lunch hour’.

So we all came back with inky fingers, arms full of goodies, and smiles.

Toad in the Hole for tea, and I feel like I want to do some work proper tomorrow, which is a good, good feeling.