Lute of the Frome

Poor Lol.

That’s Laurence Robinson, Merrily Watkins lover. He’s a musician with issues and in Fabric of Sin his biggest issue is the unholy destruction of his prized Boswell guitar by paid thugs.

The “Boswell” is a lovingly created guitar from the hands of Al Boswell who treats each instrument as a child of his loins.

The guitar cost Lol £4,000. (The book was written in the late ’90’s, early 2000’s if I remember correctly)

Boswell’s guitar making business is called – The Lute of the Frome.

Frome pronounced FROOM.

Can’t make this shit up. Catch me if you can :o)

Faith, Hope & Clarity

So many childhood memories.

We once lived in a flat, my parents, me, one toddler brother and one baby brother and the grown ups knew exactly how to keep me quiet and occupied for hours. All it took was a scrapbook, some Victorian pictures, scissors and a glue stick. I’d be parked at the dining room table but always found that too confining so ended up on the floor surrounded by “stuff.”

:o)

I’ve gone back to this just recently with Sarica as my guide and mentor.

The Traveler’s Notebook is now being used as both a planner and a journal. I’ve thrown away the amazing Ryder Carroll system. Again – far too restrictive.

My journal has two sentences hand written on the cover. The one in the title above because this process is incredibly peaceful and meditative. The other is a quote from Hamlet…

WORDS, WORDS, WORDS.

Simple. Childlike and something that can be done as and when.

Here is Sarica.

Vodka & PotPourri

I prefer moist potpourri. Just my preference.

Mine is housed in huge terracotta Victorian Butter dishes – where they’d hand whisk butter. They usually have yellow paint on the top.

Do what the lady below says and then when you need to refresh it all, spray with vodka and water, add more essential oils and microwave for a few seconds.

POW!

Like canopic jars full of herbs and spices – potpourri can last decades.

Putting The Apples To Bed

I’ve been in my small orchard, looking at the apples. We have maybe 6 apple trees- cookers and eaters, a cherry, pears, plums, walnuts, raspberries, currants, gooseberries, damsons etc

I’m so ashamed of myself. Another year has passed without me making full use of this wonderful food at my fingertips. It’s even more painful to me knowing that I’ve been blessed with a recreation of my favourite childhood memories of living with George and Anne, my grandparents, and helping them harvest their garden.

They had a tiny 1920’s/30’s semi-detached house with no central heating, a bathroom downstairs and open fireplaces. The main living room was made smaller by a built in pantry (much like the one above) that housed a wonderment of delights on shelves, in bottles, in jars and crates on the floor.

The smell of stored apples is something that I will never forget. Along with the memories of George and I putting them to bed for the winter…wrapped in newspaper and carefully placed.

Oooh. I’ve come over all nostalgic :o)

I HATE Bananas

Sorry but.

Apparently – so my mother told me – we had a banana tree in the garden in Singapore (my place of birth) when I was tiny and I, allegedly, over-indulged.

I can’t remember but maybe (?)

I did the same in Grandad George’s tomato greenhouses. I remember that one :o)

And I can take or leave a tomato to this day.

More More More…How do You Like IT?

Who dances in a push-’em-up bra on film?

The Pear Grenade

And a pair of them too :o)

I opened the front door earlier to a delivery person and realised that he had my ticking-time-grenade hanging right above his head.

Ooops.

But they have to stay there a bit longer. They are not ripe yet and this has been the best year for pears here in ages.