Alice & Clement

Two things.

Firstly, thank you, lovely people, for your Alice charm bracelet enthusiasm!

Alas, silver flamingos and white rabbits are in short (hence, expensive) supply, but I am working on suppliers of both (and hats, tea pots, hearts ...) RIGHT NOW! Yes ... on a Saturday night! THAT, my friends, is how dedicated I am to the cause. I will get some more made up as soon as practical and let you know what, and when (and how much **cough cough**) as soon as possible.

Secondly, and purely because it made me laugh until a little bit of wee came out, I heard this joke the other day, which I would like to share with you. I make no apology if you've heard it before. Rather appropriately, since it's a year this week since the great man died, I give you ... Clement Freud.

Curiouser and curiouser

Last week, I had an email from a friend of a friend.

"I'm looking for a charm bracelet for a birthday gift for a colleague, on an Alice In Wonderland theme. Do you think you can do something? She really loves flamingos, so we definitely want to include that."

Time from order to delivery ... one week and one day. EEK!!

So, with visions of blue caterpillars dancing in my head, I indulged in a little

hardcore Ebay and Etsy time (can we have three cheers for internet shopping? Hip, hip, hip hooray!), within a couple of hours, I'd ordered up mushrooms, keys, Cheshire cats, tea pots, love hearts and ... a silver flamingo!

All week, little parcels have dropped through my letter box from

'round the world, and I've added them to the bracelet, and on Tuesday evening, I got to hand deliver this ...

Cute, no?

And look!! There is even a silver flamingo!

There was just one small glitch. You know how they say that art mirrors life? Well the White Rabbit, entirely in character, was late! He arrived this morning, and has been put on a clasp to be added to the bracelet in due course. Dapper, isn't he?

I've had so much fun finding all the bits for this bracelet. I think I see some more themed charm bracelets at loulouworkshop in the not too distant ...

Does Any Person Here Present ...

... know of any excuse that I can use for not having told you all about the wedding of the year, now almost three weeks ago?

No. Me neither. But since the bride and groom will be back from their honeymoon in a day or two, I think I should procrastinate no more and tell you about it.

So, the wedding was that of my lovely friend Angela who is my oldest friend in the whole wide world ever ever. We were friends when I was three and she was two. Isn't that amazing? And in Mark, she was marrying someone absolutely right for her in every way. They compliment one another perfectly, and appreciate it, which is just fabulous.

I get a wee bit emotional when I see my friends settle down with the right people which, by and large, they have (there are one or two exceptions, of course, which I think decorum requires me to not name ...) so forgive a little sentimentality.

The wedding was in a village near where we all grew up, at the church in which we saw another great couple married a couple of years ago, and the reception was (now you're going to like this) at a brewery in the next town. A brewery. Delicious!

And it was all just brilliant. The vicar was just batty enough to fit the bill, the carols were sung with gusto (but then, my friend Simon sounds a lot like Harry Secombe's more talented brother, so we tend to all stand behind him and mouth along), and there was enough booze that my friend Adrian gave us a wee monologue about how much he loved us all. The speeches struck an emotional note (reducing more than just the bride to tears ... **ahem**) and we even managed a bit of a dance (to, amongst other things, Chesney Hawkes (who knew that he was still going?!) which is something of a perennial favourite). It was just fab.

And the bride, of course, looked radiant, in quite possibly the most lovely wedding dress that I have ever seen. The story of how she came to be wearing it on the Big Day is quite a long one, which gives testament to the fact that sometimes, these things are just meant to be. That was her dress, and the planets were aligned to make sure she flaming well got down the aisle wearing it.

You might notice the small but beautifully formed doo-dah in her hair? Well that was courtesy of moi! I was given a brief to make something a bit like one of those, with some of them, and a bit like that, and absolutely NONE of them, and I created away. I think the customer got what she wanted. It certainly looked the part, even if I do say so ...!

But the thing about which I was most very really truly very excited was my gift to the happy couple. They have lived together for a few years, and really have everything they need to run a successful household. Their wedding list was therefore, rather magnanimously, I thought, with Oxfam Unwrapped. But this is my oldest pal, and I wanted to give her something more material and less worthy (don't look at me like that! I bunged a note in a collection box on their behalf too). Imagine my glee then, when I was pointed, by a friend of taste, at this lady, who made these (eyes right) lovely things for me!

Aren't they ace? A mini Mangela! Aren't they just the BEST thing you ever did see? I would urge you all to rush out and buy every bride and groom you know a pair of these gorgeous little buddies.

So there you have it! The social event of the year, and it was wonderful. Ladies and gentlemen, raise your glasses please and toast ... the happy couple.

xxx

Blind Faith

"She asked me what my five year plan was, and I said 'I don't know.'" Amelia came over for a dirty curry and to set the world to rights on Friday night, and relayed a conversation she'd had with a particularly successful artist friend. She looked slightly wide eyed when she said it.

And with that, I realised that I've never had a plan.

Certainly I plan on a small scale. "Today I MUST push the hoover 'round", or "tomorrow I'm meeting Cat for breakfast", or "next weekend Kelly and Nathan are coming to stay". Even as far away as "my parents are coming for Christmas" (which, I suspect, will be another post, another time).

But the real stuff? The big things? Nothing.

I did a pretty vocational degree. We were all, apart from an astute few, who noticed what what was happening to them, going to be fed out of the education system and into the non-glamorous world of property, conveyor belt style. I went to a series of interviews and had an offer of a job which was conditional on a certain result in my finals. Which I got. So I went there. Not so much a plan, as a solution.

My next job was secured in a bar during the December Christmas Party Rush. The one after that I was head-hunted for, just at a time when I was feeling a smidge disillusioned. And now this job move - the result of a chance conversation at an opportune time. All of my career moves have been based on good luck rather than good management.

As for accommodation, I lived in a house share which was, in retrospect comedically dreadful (again ... for another time, I think) and which came to a mercifully swift end. I had two weeks to find somewhere to live. I walked past an estate agent's window as he was putting a new ad in the window, asked him if I could look at it, took it, and moved in within the week. I lived there for four years. Then one day an email about a flat to rent nearby was accidentally sent to me, so I moved there.

Buying my current home wasn't even something that I entirely planned to do. There was an incident relating to a drunk and slightly pervy landlord outside my front door in the wee-small hours, looking for a bed for the night. It was a one bed flat. I started looking for somewhere to buy the next day.

Even Loulou Workshop wasn't so much planned, as fallen upon. After a particularly miserable couple of weeks (work trouble, boy trouble, ill health, wallowing, self pity, woe, woe ...) a friend suggested that I could work part time and try to bring a little balance to my life. That was on the Sunday. On the Monday I spoke to my boss and asked if I could stop working on Fridays.

Friends can tell you about boyfriends that I've accidentally dumped. I once went for a drink at Kings Cross, and ended up in Lille. Just this weekend I went into the hairdressers for a trim and came out with a whole new look.

So no. I don't have a five year plan. I don't even have a one year plan. To quote a popular American sitcom, I don't even have a "pl". I have got this far though my life reasonably successfully, without ever having any purpose or direction. I bowl from one project to the next. From one opportunity to the next. From one chance happening to the next.

I just can't decide if that's beautifully impulsive, or dangerously reckless.

In Which Some Stuff Happens #2

1) My journey to work this morning was a series of perfections. I got to the station just as the train was pulling into the station, and got the last seat in the carriage (admittedly half under a particularly broad man), then got to the bus stand just as a fresh new bus was pulling up. Perfect!

2) I've been spreading my exciting news at work. Some people have been surprised, but supportive and happy for me. Some have been oddly stern and disapproving. Some have entirely ignored me, leaving me feeling like something of a social leper (mother has suggested I ring a bell as I walk through the office, calling out, "unclean!"). One was, I believe, a little jealous.

3) I got an impromptu invitation to lunch with some old friends. We went to a good old fashioned boozer up the road and all had pie and mash for lunch. It was wicked, but terribly, terribly good. Over lunch, one friend started a story with the phrase, "it all started to go wrong with the plaster on that bathroom wall. It's a long story ..." and the rest of the story was drowned out in our snorts of laughter. It's a wonderful feeling to spend time with friends good enough that we can all fall into the same jokes so quickly.

4) Regent Street's Christmas lights were turned on this evening. (Might I be the first to wish you all a very merry Christmas.) I had intended to run out of the office promptly and join the fun, but I got held up. Then, just as I was finishing up, the firework display started, and my desk turned out to be the prime spot to watch it from. What a lovely surprise!

5) I have all the bits now to make the headdress for my friend, the lovely Angela, for her wedding, so am about to setting in with pearls and crystals and wire, and create something lovely. At least, that's the intention ...

Have you got the time?

time /taIm/ noun - the indefinite continued progress of existence and events in the past, present and future, regarded as a whole.

When I was a student, we went on a field trip. Imagine it. Thirty or so like-minded, bright, optimistic young things being shuttled away on a day trip. When you're studying property at Reading University, trust me, a day out is a fine and glorious thing. I imagine that we all hopped out of bed that morning with the giddy excitement of a child on Christmas morning, put on the uniform appropriate to our social set (jeans, trainers, and a holey jumper for some, chinos, deck shoes, and Ralph Loren with the collar flipped up for others) and skipped onto campus to pile onto a coach and hit the M4. In my mind, the sun was shining and there was Cliff Richard style singing in the aisle.

Oh yes. You can't beat it. The open road. The route set for an educational, but light hearted day out to see a case study in the flesh. That's right folks. We were going to a new housing estate in Essex.

Oh dear.

I don't recall much about the housing estate in question. I don't even remember what it was called now, or why it was a relevant that we were shipped there to loaf around carry out important research all day. I don't believe that, as housing estates go, it was in any way exceptional (which makes a girl wonder why we were driven through four counties to this particular specimen).

What I do remember is that, in the middle of said estate, there was a green, and around the edge of the green there were nine huge boulders. Each one had a smooth side, and in large, foot high letters, a word was etched into the face. Standing in the middle of the green, and reading around, they said "take time while time is, for time will away".

Something about the phrase resonated with me. I googled (is "google" a verb?) it today. It's an old Russian proverb. Quite a nice sentiment, don't you think?

And never has it been more pertinent than recently. Time is in short supply!

My office days are flat out at the moment. I don't know if you've heard, but there's this recession thing going around, and it makes my work doubly hard and half as financially rewarding. I'm not complaining. I've got a job, which is more than a lot of people can say, so please consider me grateful to be over worked and under paid (well, perhaps not grateful exactly, but you know what I mean). But it doesn't half take a lot of time.

And there's this new house. It's great! My own little set of walls, and I love them! But MY WORD! they take a lot of loving! As we all know, just the cleaning, cooking, washing, ironing is enough to keep a girl busy, without the sanding, wallpaper stripping, hole filling, hole drilling stuff too. Time, time, time!

Then there is Loulou Workshop. It's my passion. I would give my arm to spend more time on it, but the time it takes is already significant. I always have a hundred more ideas for pieces, than I have time to make and I really want to have the time to be a bit more creative. I'm bursting with inspiration at the the moment, but you know what inspiration takes? That's right. Time.

And now there is a new project. With a group of friends from the Open House event, we are planning a BIG local contemporary art project. I think that I'm too much of a craftsman, and not enough of an artist to be an exhibitor, but there's talk of management committees and workshops and educational projects. It'll be a long term commitment. Yesterday, at the latest meeting about it all, I heard myself saying "I'm happy to dedicate time to this," and wondered as I said it where I thought this time would come from.

This weekend was the first one in four months in which I had nothing in my diary. I didn't have to be anywhere with anyone doing anything, with the exception of the quick art project meeting yesterday. Three days to myself. Heaven!

So, I went to the supermarket, viewed a shop for the art project, had friends for lunch, viewed another shop, had an impromptu brainstorm about the project, went into the West End for a leaving do, had the planned art project meeting, went back to the supermarket for all the things I'd forgotten, bought and hung curtains in the spare room, baked cakes, went to a friend's house on a tea-and-sympathy basis, dropped some books to another friend, went on a fruitless boot shopping mission (more about this another time I think), cleaned the house, did three loads of laundry and spoke to my mother.

Isn't it nice to have a bit of spare time?