Ssssssshhhhh….somebody, somewhere is getting this gift from me sometime soon….I can’t say who, or what it is….because I’m mysterious like that. Or, more to the point, the recipient might be reading and then it would be no surprise at all would it?
This is my offering for the Art Exchange project I blogged about a few days back. Make one gift, post it off, receive 36 in return…in theory. Even if I get one I’ll be thrilled.
I do feel a bit shy about my ‘offering’ because I’m such a beginner crafter. Also, the offering was immediately snitched by a Megaboy. Then the other Megaboy forced me to make one for him. I was going to make a third, non snitchable offering for the project but I ran out of supplies. So, in the dead of night, I snitched one back from the Megaboys and have posted it off. Let’s hope they don’t notice (slim chance).
To divert attention from my crap crafting I have gone all fancy with the wrapping.
Little bug clothespeg holding on a hand stamped, shaped paper apology for crap crafting:
Alternative view, hopeful that the lavender diverts attention away from crap stamping:
Crocheted flower embellishment. Oddly tied on with ribbon bow and stuck down with sellotape to stop it slipping all over the place. Pure class, that’s me…pure class…
‘Handmade with more love than skill’…that’s what it says on the card. Pretty much sums it up….I do feel sorry for the recipient! But it’s been a fun project.
Alas I can’t share the contents of the parcel because it would be too embarrassing will spoil the surprise. Sorry about that.
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Oh me love this! I saw one of these on Emma Bradshaw’s blog and totally and immediately hearted it. A wee catalogue card with your own list of joy/evil complete with handwritten scribblings. It’s a thing of beauty, right up there with the Grudge Book. Make one for yourself here.
Also, announces by stealth, the Spuds are going on holiday soon. To someplace hot (which ticks off another of that bloody 39 before I’m 40 list which is visibly aging me by the day). It involves a flight in an actual plane, two small boys, 27 suitcases, a lot of swearing, muttering and murderous glances, 45 bottles of wine (outgoing flight only) and MrSpud’s ‘swimming’ which looks like he’s drowning. That poem, ‘Not waving but drowning’? It was written especially for him, even though he wasn’t born when it was published. Our 4 year old can swim better than him.
We don’t have a lot of luck with foreign holidays. Our first one was cancelled as MrSpud was loading the last of the bags in to the car, ready to leave for the airport, having got up at 4am. I noticed green pus pouring from Bertie’s ear (then 6 months old) and that was the end of our Florida jaunt. There are pitiful photos of me, cruelly snapped by our security cameras, sitting on the bottom of the stairs in the house, head in hands and crying. I wasn’t crying because I was missing out on a holiday, but because of all that wasted packing (which had taken weeks) and streeeeeeeesssssssssss.
Two months later we went to Kefalonia in Greece. I got pregnant by mistake. Bertie was 8 months old. The rest is history. We’ve not been abroad since.
So, with trepidation, we are attempting to leave the country in the hope of actually making it to our destination and returning without a surprise stowaway on board.
Watch this space.
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BS…BS…BS…BS??? Blue Skies….Big Smiles….British Springtime…Balmy Suffolk (or should that be Barmy Suffolk?)…Beach Strolls…no Bull Shit…
Spring has sprung, it’s official. Brilliant blue skies, sunshine, warm breezes, hanging out on the beach without wanting to cry after 5 minutes = the first signs of Spring and I’m giddy with it. I don’t think I’m alone…
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