Ugh, deadlines...and, a give-away, AT LAST!

I have hit the ground running today!
Seems I have nothing but deadlines everywhere I turn. Today's deadline is for my June column in Warwickshire Life magazine. Unfortunately, inspiration has been on low ebb this time due to Swimathon, etc. 
But, I have pushed through, and spent the day writing about quilting, and a local artist whose work I truly admire.
Joanna Smith-Ryland turned her hand to a quilting project of mine, and truly saved the work from disaster!
She's a very talented lady, and her work evokes the simple pleasures of a gentler, more Austenian time...

Joanna Smith-Ryland cathedral window design "The Garden Collection"

JSR's original design "The Big Jewel Collection"

One of JSR's silk evening bags in cathedral window patchwork, with semi-precious stones

I'm a huge fan of Joanna's, and thoroughly satisified customer. Her artistry and attention to detail are impeccable. To say thank for my comments both here and in my print column, Joanna has very graciously offered me one of her silk evening bags to give away to one lucky reader!

Would you like a chance to win one of these lovely bags?

(Other colours/designs can be seen on her website.)

Send a postcard with your name, contact details and email, by 1 July 2011, to: 'Shakespeare Diva Readers Prize', Joanna Smith-Ryland, Corner Cottage, Fulbrook Lane, Sherbourne, Warwickshire CV35 8AS. 


One lucky winner will be drawn at random! International replies welcome! Good luck! 


More about 'Passionate about Patchwork'- Joanna Smith-Ryland - www.joannasmith-ryland.com

Ten days...

"Journeys end in lovers meeting.” - Twelfth Night

“I can’t wait to put that ring on your finger,” the D.E.B. said, waking me with a kiss in the soft light of morning. After days and days of rain, the sun has finally deemed to shine in these parts, and the birds outside our bedroom window twittered joyously in their dawn chorus.

Ten days from today I will be Mrs. D.E.B., and what an amazing journey it has been. I have surprised myself with the level of calm I seem to have found in these past few days. I have no doubt that all of that will change drastically next week, but at least for now, there is peace of mind.

Things are coming together beautifully. I had a very successful meeting with the Vicar (He is lovely.) about the flowergirls, and he has even taken on board the possibility of me entering last during the bridal procession.

Monday of last week, I turned up at the rectory with flower girl baskets in hand, to show the Vicar what we intended. Just the Vicar and I made our way across the churchyard for our trial run with the flower petals – PLOP! I got splattered by a low flying pigeon. “Well, that’s good luck!” the Vicar laughed. He has a great sense of humo(u)r.

Good omen it was indeed. Our meeting went very well. The Vicar himself sprinkled bits of lavender and rosebuds from the baskets during the test run. Most importantly, he tested how easily the bits could be swept up.  Looking up at me, as he knelt down with broom and dustpan in hand, he declared: “Yes, I think we can manage this.” Without restraint, I threw my arms about him in a shower of thanks.

I left that meeting with a very strong sense that all would indeed be well, that everything would be fine. And so it seems. The “Jam Making Maven of Barford” stepped in and saved my sanity and the wedding favour project (Blueberry and Lavender Jam); and all in less time that it would take me to make a cup of tea.

The quilt saga has yet to be fully addressed, but will receive my full attention this weekend. (I’m learning to focus on what I can control, and on one thing at a time.)

There is a turn of phrase I hear a great deal around here: “Well, you’ve got to laugh, haven’t you?” This bit of British truism is advice to which I am trying to adhere. I had a true test of this last Friday.

Last Friday was my “Day of  Reckoning” – my final fitting at Eternal Bride in Warwick. This was the moment for which I have been running, swimming and sweating for nearly five months.

Of course, I arrived late. I wanted to achieve the “full effect,” so I booked a last-minute appointment beforehand at my wonderful, newly discovered hairdressers (Pardeep at Toni & Guy in Leamington Spa) and got a haircut. Dashing back to the car, I grabbed some flowers from a street vendor on The Parade, a spur of the moment “thank you” gesture for Morag, the alterations/seamstress at Eternal Bride.

Little did I know, these flowers would be so well deserved. I zipped carefully from Leamington to Warwick (becoming ever so confident driving the Tank these days!), and sprinted into the shop.

Poor Karima had been sat waiting for me for twenty minutes (I should have got flowers for her, too!). Morag’s next client had already arrived so I took Karima for a coffee until Morag was free again.

I envied the lemon cheesecake Karima had ordered with her coffee, but I was good and resisted. “Think of the dress,” I thought to myself. Finally, we went back to Eternal Bride and climbed the stairs to Morag’s loft. I was ready for my Cinderella moment.

I skipped behind the curtain, and slipped into the bottom half of the dress with ease. Then leapt out of the changing area, giddy with expectation, holding my ivory, silk bodice in front me. All smiles, I stood before the mirror awaiting further assistance.

Morag moved swiftly and came to stand behind me, taking the ends of the bodice in her hands. I watched in the mirror as Morag and Karima’s smiling faces slowly turned from gleeful delight to shock and dismay.

“What have you done?” Morag said softly to my perplexed reflection in the mirror. I looked to Karima. “It won’t close,” Karima said with tears in her voice. “That’s impossible,” I squealed. “There is no way I have put on weight,” I said, trying not to cry.

“No, my dear. You haven’t put on weight. You’re not fatter. You’re bigger. Broader.” Morag said, completely confounded. She grabbed her measuring tape to confirm the fact. “Well,” she sighed, “You’ve taken two inches off your hips, one off your waist, and you’ve added inch to your torso. In short, my dear, you have reshaped your body type.”

I was stunned. “I told you you were working too hard!” Karima insisted. “What have you been doing?” Morag demanded.

“Running, lifting weights and swimming. Two and a half hours a day. Five days a week, plus Pilates on Tuesday afternoons...” I said meekly.

Morag needed to sit down.

With the wedding roughly two weeks away, I stood before her, a bride in an altered dress that did not fit. A dress, once several sizes too big, now a size too small. A bride who had come to her as a pudgy, but shapely petite, who had rebuilt herself unwittingly in a blind fitness frenzy. 

I stood before her now, looking like Michael Phelps in a dress.

 “What are we going to do!!?” Karima panicked. 

Morag stayed silent and thought. I could see the designing wheels turning in her head. This woman has designed her way around the world, costume dramas for the BBC and countless other stage and screen productions. This was surely, hopefully, just a minor blip on her landscape.

“It’s going to be a long weekend.” Morag said finally.

She then shared her strategy for rescuing and essentially re-designing the dress. She’s a genius. I am so sorry that she will need to go to so much trouble, but I think her interventions will not only save the dress, but will even improve upon it.

This was an utterly harrowing experience, but I think even this, too, will be one of those “It worked out even better than I expected” moments, when all is said and done. 

Well, you’ve got to laugh, haven’t you?

 

April showers

American-British writer T.S. Eliot once declared that April is “the cruelest month”.  For me, this month has not been cruel so much as it has been temperamental, and certainly at times a challenge.

Sunny summer-like days, followed by sudden, chilly showers, it has indeed been a month of highs and lows. Just when I felt I was closer to solving the ”wedding cake dilemma” (latest samples for testing being delivered tonight), I now have an unimaginable problem with the wedding quilt!

Foolish Southern belle that I am, I decided to make (by hand) a wedding quilt, with less than four months to achieve the impossible. But the timing is not the worst of it.

On one of my transatlantic visits to see the D.E.B. in November 2007, we had a day out in the Cotwolds with the D.E.B’s wonderful aunt and uncle. We went for a walk near Sulgrave Manor – ancestral home of George Washington, the first president of the United States – and spent the afternoon in Banbury.

While in Banbury, I found a cute, little fabric shop and bought some beautiful fabric. Like so many quilters, I am nuts about fabric, and routinely buy small amounts just to hoard, and hopefully  (eventually) use. On the occasion, the fabric in question was a green and ivory toile, and solid green cotton. Lovely.

So, when the idea of making a wedding quilt struck me, I thought: Voila! And, viva le toile! I had the perfect pieces right to hand. Also, like most quilters, I had bitten off more than I could chew, and had engineered and begun a project that would normally take 12 months to complete, in less than 6.

I called in reinforcements, and all looked to be going well, until, we ran out of fabric last week. And, we are nowhere near the end. At last reckoning, it appeared that we possibly, only possibly, have a quarter of the quilt done.

To add insult to injury, the fabric I have selected has now been discontinued. (What else, ye gods?) I contacted the shop in Banbury, going so far as to send them a handwritten letter in the post (remember those?) with cuttings of the two fabrics and an urgent plea for help. The called me the next day to say, regrettably, they could not help. They remembered the fabric but not the manufacturer. “The only thing I do remember,” the shop assistant said, “is that I think it was called ‘Reminiscences,’ maybe you could look it up online?” Great. Just what I needed, another Google challenge. And this time, a Google fabric and colo(u)r matching challenge.   

Fearing failure in the virtual realm, I had a modicum of success at “The Quilters Den” in Warwick. It’s a great shop, with super, helpful staff. They could special order all the fabric I need, the toile and the solid green. Hurrah! But – it will take 3 weeks for the fabric to arrive. I’m not sure that my quilting army can survive a 3 week delay…worse still, when I phoned today to ask the Quilter’s Den staff what the name and make of my fabrics, they were unable to tell me.  No doubt fearing that if they armed me with that information, I might take my trade elsewhere. April is a cruel month, indeed.

But, April can also be kind.

All around the village, everyone has been so supportive and enthusiastic about the wedding, and us. A few examples: The man who will be ringing the church bells for us on our wedding day came and introduced himself to us following a Sunday service. “I shall be ringing your bells, let’s hope for a fine day,” he beamed. He is such a gentle and loving old soul, who clearly takes great pride and joy in what he does, the joyous service he renders to couples on their special day. (At some point, after the wedding and all, I would love to join his little group of church bell ringers.)

Last week, after the St. George’s Day church service, Julia (part of the Monday-Wednesday Swim Club) and her husband, Robert surprised us with a large bundle of Asparagus, fresh from a local farm. “Just a little something” to let us know we were being thought of, and to introduce us to local offerings.

I got directions to the farm from Julia, and as it turns out, it is the same sweet, little farm where the DEB and I bought our Christmas tree. Growing Christmas trees and asparagus, what an idyllic way to spend one’s life. 

I went along to the farm yesterday and bought more lovely asparagus, plus a bundle for Julia and Robert, as well as one for the Vicar and Mrs. Vicar. Seemed a nice thing to do.

Another example, of April kindness: A knock on our door in late afternoon, my friend Di, with urgent news. There’s a couple in the village planning to sale their house. Di asked them to wait, before placing their house on the open market, and give and the DEB first refusal. “I know how much you two want to stay in the village, and we want you here, too,” she said.

Such a sweet and thoughtful thing to do. So, last Sunday, after church, we went and had a look at house down Mill Lane. Very lovely couple, wonderful part of the village. I really, really, really wanted to like this place -- not least because Diane had gone to such trouble.

In theory, the house sounded ideal: 3 bedrooms, garage and parking space (gold dust here in Barford), nice garden. To be fair, it was lovely. The kitchen had been extended was huge, light and airy.  But, as I am finding with most places we seem to look at, the downstairs is super, but the upstairs always leaves much to be desired.

The 2 double bedrooms upstairs turned to out be the size of what one would roughly call a large single, and the single room was the size of a broom closet. Jackie 1 (from the Monday-Wednesday Swim Club) teased me mercilessly the following Monday, when I reported this viewing in the pool. She said: “Ooh, you two clearly spend a great deal of your time upstairs.”

Embarrassed and flustered, I tried quickly to explain that our seeming obsession with bedroom size was to do with the bulk and size of my American furniture (Thank you, Crate & Barrel), and the vast amount of “stuff” the DEB and I have acquired and accumulated over time.

Why is that so many English homes, particularly those of a certain age and character, can be so lovely in some aspect, and yet, simultaneously so dark and pokey? (SIGH)

I really hated to disappoint Di. But, neither the DEB nor I were 100% sold on the place. Funnily enough, the house we are living in and renting at the moment seems to fit us pretty well. It is a modern construction, though not entirely characterless. So the quest continues. Not that we don’t already have enough on our plates at the moment.

'The Countdown begins,' and 'Yes, we have a winner!'

One month from today I will be "Mrs. D.E.B"!!!!!!!!!!!!! Woo-hoo! 

I find it incredibly hard to believe, what an amazing journey it has been.

Wedding plans are going well. 

The cake saga has be SOLVED!!! And the winner is....DUNCAN HINES!!

(Sorry, Betty.)

Cake mixes arrived, Sally the Cake Baker did her magic and sent samples home with the D.E.B. yesterday evening. I took one bite of the Duncan Hines version, looked at the D.E.B. and said: "Now, we are getting married!" It was "wedding cake" at long last. Alleluia! I think Sally the Cake Baker was about to go spare.

I have an entirely new nightmare on my hands with the blasted "wedding quilt" (what was I thinking?). 

But, for now, after a busy afternoon at the Stratford-upon-Avon Literary Festival, I'm pulling an "all-nighter" prepping for a pre-performance lecture on "The Winter's Tale" I have to give tomorrow morning to a group of 15-16 year olds from Italy.

If it's not one thing, it's another.

Good night!

Fit for a Queen

I looked in the mirror, and I actually liked what I saw. After nearly 10 weeks of sweat and strain, I found myself standing before a large mirror in the alterations loft of Eternal Bride bridal shop in Warwick. Surrounding me were the smiling faces of Debbie, Eternal Bride shop manager, Morag, the alterations diva, and my friend, Karima. 

I made myself think of that famous portrait of Princess (later Queen) Alexandra, wife of King Edward VII, or that portrait of the Wertheimer sisters by John Singer Sargent. "You look beautiful," Karima, getting misty-eyed, said as she stood close by me.  

Karima has been an amazing friend to me throughout this process. A bit of background: Karima is the D.E.B.'s best friend. She stood by him, and helped him through the difficulties of his divorce. She is one of those incredible people that is just all heart. When I first arrived in England last August (can it really be seven months ago?), the D.E.B. had asked Karima to be at our place to receive a floral delivery for me. (Yes, the D.E.B. had arranged to have a beautiful bouquet of flowers waiting for me when we walked in, and he had written me a little card that said: "Welcome Home. You're home now, darling, here with me.") 

Karima kindly received the delivery, and went further. She and her sisters, "Fudge" and Salina, spent the day at our house, decorated our bedroom with flowers and candles, and they prepared a huge Indian meal for us (our favorite cuisine!), and laid the table for us. They even left us a little menu detailing the goodies on offer, complete with reheating instructions.

Karima, Fudge and Salina have adopted me, and have stepped up and taken on the role of "sisters," just when I needed them. (Isn't it amazing how God/the universe places people in our lives precisely where and when we need them? I am firm believer that we always have the family we need, when we need them. They may not always take the shape, form or number that we imagine, but one must trust that they will appear.)

 

Aside from teasing me mercilessly about the pending wedding night high jinks, they have mucked in and offered hands-on support with my (overly-ambitious) crafty wedding projects: the wedding quilt and my lavender jelly (the intended wedding favour). 

A funny moment: Fudge and Karima came round the other day to harangue me (much needed) about the quilt, and I had prepared my first attempt at Lavender Jelly (anything to not work the quilt). 

"I think it might be a bit on the sweet side..." I warned Fudge, handing her a small jar and a spoon. "Good god! That's awful!" Fudge shouted, running to the sink for water. "You need some help, girl. Let's work on this." 

I love their candour, their warmth, humor, and colorfulness. I'm looking forward to spending more time with them, and they have promised to introduce me to the wild and wacky world that is "Bollywood." I can't wait to discover the Asian side of British life.

                                    

Back to the fitting...

In true sisterly fashion, Karima fussed and fretted around me, advising Morag on the necessary nips and tucks, until I reminded her that Morag clearly knew what she was doing. (In a previous life, Morag was a costume designer for stage and screen, so she knows a thing or two about alterations...) Good-natured Karima stepped aside, and let Morag do her job.

As my darling friend, Christopher, likes to say I had chosen well. My dress, an ivory gown by British designer Helen Marina, is quite divine. And I felt absolutely gorgeous in it. 

It is a very simple and elegant. 

What I love most about it is that it has a delightfully Edwardian feel about it. That luscious, Lillie Langtry-esque "Here-are-my-curves, you-may-adore-them" look that is sexy, but elegant all at the same time. (I have said before that I have often felt I've been displaced from the 19th C.) 

"Such a regal look about it," Morag said looking up at me, her mouth full of straight pins. "I feel like a Princess," I said, happy at last with my reflection. "No," admonished Karima taking my hand in hers, "that day, you'll be the queen."