Aunt May's Chest

Ooo-er! No we haven't gone all school-boy smut. That is merely the (tongue in cheek) name for a rather lovely piece of heirloom furniture which you will meet in this post, along with some of its colleagues. The Aunt in question is one of Liz's long-dead relatives.

Liz's first pic to the 365 Project.

But ho for 'Imbolc', 1st of February, pagan first day of Spring, St Brigid's crosses and all that malarkey! We did actually make some crosses but readers of the previous post will know that the 1st of Feb was special to us this year as it was 'launch day' for Liz's Lisacul 365 photography project. We both wanted to get out there, take some pictures and fire them into the project's email in box  to make sure that the machinery was all working and that anyone enquiring of the website would see signs of activity. Liz took this rather stylish shot of her cross. I pinged in (rather predictably?) some livestock photos.

A predictable sheep?

The project is going to be an interesting one to manage because so far it has been set up with no deadlines for getting your pictures in - the team wanted no-one to be restricted by being too late or unable to get to an email by a certain date. The result is that while we know that the 'traffic' through the site since Liz's radio interview has been gratifyingly heavy we have no idea how many people are clicking away photographically out there. Worst case, I guess, would be someone thinking they would click away all through the project year and then have a big sort out and bang in their chosen 366 shots in Spring 2017! I suspect that some will wait for the first selections to be announced and to be posted to the site before thinking, "Hold up! Mine are better than those! I better get them sent in" Anyone fancy being on a 're-selection' group?

Deefer-dog enjoys the new cushion(s)

But what of this 'chest'? We have in our collection of furniture, a pair of small 'easy chairs' - bare wood frames with webbed backs and a simple cushion sitting on a webbed 'hammock'. They are my favourite chairs and the ones I use most despite the fact that they were free of charge and came with the Faversham house, having been stashed in one of the garden sheds as junk. Back then they had what were once rather nice tooled leather backs but had become perished and torn. We did not have a lot of furniture back then and we had a chum who was learning upholstery, so we asked her to take them on as a project. They came back in a nice shade of dark blue with nice restored padded cloth backs and matching covered cushions.

Auntie May's tiny dresser. It doesn't reach to my
shoulder height.

20 years later they were looking a bit well 'loved' with holes in the cushion covers, worn out beading, collapsed sponge blocks and badly stained fabric. Step forward Liz and the sewing machine for a first go at home upholstery. First though, we needed a trip to excellent local upholsterer and supplier of 'stuff', TX Upholstery of Carrick on Shannon where we were intrigued by them using a small, very quiet, gentle reciprocating saw to cut out our sponge blocks. Back home Liz already had some nice black and silver(y) fabric picked out and in fairly short order had knocked out 2 lovely cushion covers to go round the new foam. We are not sure what will happen about new backs for them as the material only just went the cushion covers, but they are lovely and comfortable once again and have quickly been re-adopted by the dogs.

One of a nearly matching bespoke pair of book cases

All this furniture-bashing got me to thinking that we have arrived at a lovely collection of pieces in this house of which we are very proud and with which we are very happy. Liz phrased it best when she said "It feels as though we have spent our whole lives accumulating the furniture for this house". Most of it is real wood, some stained but none painted, so it looks very right in this farmhouse environment. None of it was a priceless antique from some fancy-pants shop. None of it quite matches, so you'd never think we bought the house empty and THEN decided to furnish it. It came in fits and starts, some of it 'finds' in Kent (Chatham and Faversham), other stuff family heirlooms which we have only had since moving in, other stuff old-looking but actually new or bespoke built for us and finally the out-and-out new like the recent IKEA bookcases. That's probably true of everyone who has muddled along buying bits every now and then with no clear definite final vision.

Kitchen dresser with the 'other' alcove bookcase to its left
 (and the obligatory sleeping cat, of course).

My favourite pieces could well be the bespoke 'nearly matching' pair of book cases made to fit the unequal alcoves either side of our fireplace in Faversham, or possibly our wedding present kitchen dresser which came from a very close friend of the family up in Portmarnock (Co. Dublin). We also have a lovely oval mirror which came from my 'Nana'. I know that Liz has a great affection for the heirloom piece which gives this post its title, an old dresser which came to us via some time at Silverwoods.

Triumph of function over antique(y) charm. IKEA came to
the rescue when we just had TOO MANY books. 

I love that it is tiny, like a 2/3 scale model of our other dresser, reflecting that people (and houses) were much smaller back in the day. It does not even reach my shoulders. It is stained very dark, which we were once going to strip off and give it a lighter look, but a little way into the stripping/sanding we decided we liked the part-restored (distressed?) look and so it got a reprieve.We have another lovely old family piece, a chest of drawers upstairs. Somehow all these various items come together to make a comfortable, well furnished home. Now I must just evict a dog from my favourite chair.

Haggis, Ultra-sound and an Oasis

First up, Happy 12th Birthday to the H! Haggis, still a pup at heart hits 12 today and tomorrow is still well up for one of Dad's Challock Forest 6-mile walks. Me too, but we'll have to leave the Megster behind. She'd be about 6 months getting round, and that's if Dad carried her for the last 5 and a half! Birthday, so raw pork ribs all round. Yay Haggis!

Dad returns yesterday bubbling over with a new experience, that of being ultra-sound and Doppler scanned like a pregnant lady. Some unknown problem had caused swelling in one of his legs, and the docs wanted to rule out deep-vein thrombosis. So he was packed off to hospital to be poked and prodded, ending up with him being sent for an ultra-sound scan. many readers will have either had one, or be married to someone and watched one, but it was all new exciting technology to Dad (he loves all that stuff!).

For a DVT, he says, it's gel up the leg from ankle to groin, and then a case of inching down the leg's length looking for the rougly-round vein on the screen. Pressure on the leg with the probe crushes the vein (assuming there's no clot). Then in around the knee where it all gets a bit complicated with cartilege, tendons and other jointy bits (yum slurp... oops, sorry) they go over to Doppler mode, where a squeeze of the leg makes the screen flare with yellows, oranges and reds (but again, only if the flow above the squeeze is not impeded by a clot. Then back to probe-presses for the calf.

You'll be pleased to know that Dad's leg is not pregnant, and is also bright with flaring Doppler-effects and the vein eminently collapsable, guaranteed DVT-free.

Off next to Medway where Dad's wildlife-garden judging skills are to be deployed in the unlikely urban jungle of the Chatham Tower Blocks. He drives in somewhat trepidatiously. Both Mum and Dad used to live in Chatham (all be it separately in those days), and the blocks were no-where you'd go by mistake. Also no where you'd expect to find any kind of garden, never mind a wildlife garden.

Never mind - gulp hard and press the flat number and "call" on the big heavy security door. Get let in and follow the lady-speakers instructions climb the dodgy looking stairs to come out onto a kind of concrete mezzanine floor. Turn left and be greeted by......

..an absolute splash of riotous verdant growth and colour. A tiny space, just the ground floor equivalent of the balcony but absolutely crammed with pots, planters, baskets, planted up coffee mugs, drink bottles and off cuts of rain-gutter. Even cracks between slabs had been planted - some decent sized sunflowers tower from a half inch crack between path and the main building.

The whole is adorned with a completely mad eccentric but joyous mixture of plastic teddies, mermaids, dragon flies, lanterns and candle holders, coloured glass and stones. The flowers are all insect friendly - nasturtiums, lavender, marigolds and various climbers we didn't recognise, a-buzz with bees and hover flies. There's even a tiny bird feeder.

Amazingly the local "hoodies" seem to leave the old girl alone, and nothing gets vandalised or touched, even though it's well within reach of sticky fingers. On the contrary, this lovely crazy old girl's efforts seem to have spawned a local enthusiasm for adopting the grim civic planters, painting them up beautiful colours and planting them. More gardens are starting to appear on balconies and outside other flats in the area.

It's a real oasis in the middle of urban utilitarianism. Fair play to this lady, and more power to her elbow. Dad says this kind of thing makes the whole thing more worthwhile, somehow. Easy to be a wildlife gardener in Acacia Avenue, middle class leafy suburbs well protected from the madding crowd. Not so easy exposed like that to the whims of some of the local Herberts.

Ah well, Happy Birthday Haggis. Mum will be home soon from visiting Diamond (our thoughts are with you Di - we know it's a bit rough just now. Hang in there.

Deefski