A Finnish Tale….

I’m back from a lovely weekend away crafting in Milton Keynes.  Not the most glamorous of places but if you have crafting and good company who needs anything else?

I got quite a bit of crafting done – including this LO using January’s Counterfeit kit and the March sketch from Scrap365.

I even managed to get the journalling done on this one.  We stayed in cabins during our Lapland holiday and there was a drop box for the keys, so they didn’t get lost in the snow.  But we don’t need snow to lose our keys!

I always have trouble getting Puddle Duck ready and out of the door on time, but having to put on snowsuits and boots makes it even harder. I was worried we were going to miss the coach for our Husky Expereince and I couldn’t find the keys.  I asked Puddle Duck to run round to the coach and tell them I was on my way, but she refused to go without me.  So I had to put her on the bus and then go back to look for the keys.

I looked everywhere I thought I could have put them including on the floor incase they’d fallen off the table.  Still I couldn’t find them.  I ran back to the bus and asked Puddle Duck if she’d moved them.  I couldn’t believe it when she said she’d put them under the bed so that she could see them while she was lying on the floor colouring!

This story doesn’t fit in with Sian’s theme of precious things, but I’ll link it up none the less and if you want to read some more stories, grab yourself a cuppa and pop over to see Sian.

Jubilee Past

It’s been a busy week and not much sign of slowing down, so I’ll let the pictures tell the story.

This post was brought to you in conjunction with Sian’s Story Telling Sunday.

And since this page has the original photo and a vintage feel from the Vintedge papers by Ruby Rock It, I’m linking this up to the studio challenges blog.

A Jolly Jape for April Fools

Happy April Fool’s Day.  And to mark the occasion of my first Story Telling Sunday this year I thought I’d tell you about a jolly little scam we played on a very deserving fellow while I was at University.

Sitting comfortably?  Then I’ll begin.

We were in our first year and the Block Five Boys were full of jokes.  I don’t recall all the pranks they played that first year.  There were the usual move all the contents of someone’s room out and onto the grass type things, but this one took meticulous planning and an inordinate number of people to pull off.  Maybe this one sticks in my mind because I was involved and the mark, Alan, was not just in my Halls of residence but also on my course.

We collected together paper, envelopes and a John Bull printing set and created a pile of letters for all the first year guys on Alan’s block (who were all in on it) and put the lot in the pigeon holes.  Now this letter purported to be from the University Medical Centre advising all first years that they had to have a VD check up.  He was given an appointment time to co-incide with Taff’s (a fellow instigator) physio therapy appointment, so that the scam could be witnessed.  Another twist was the instruction to drink a pint of water an hour before hand, so that he would be able to provide a sample.  Some guys were given earlier appointment times to allow elaboration of the horrors and indignities to come and generally build the suspense.  One guy even skipped a lecture to add to the realism (although that didn’t take much inducement!)

Anyway the appointed time came and Alan excused himself to leave early from his lecture, having spent the last few minutes with his legs VERY firmly crossed.   We all managed to suppress giggles until he had left the room.

I believe Alan met Taff at the Medical Centre and I hope that Taff might be able to visit this post and leave some detail of what transpired in the comments below.  He told us afterwards but it was a long time ago and my memory is fading.

We were sitting in the Hall dining room when Alan got back.  By this time of course the word had got round and he was greeted by a massive cheer and round of applause as he walked in.  All credit to him, he took it in good part and bowed to the crowd.  He also managed to get the last laugh, telling us that the Med Centre were taking it very seriously and were going to do a full investigation!

I wonder what he’s doing now.  His first job was with Cadbury Schweppes, so next time you bite into Cadbury’s chocolate remember my old classmate Alan and the VD scam!

Christmas is for Sharing

It’s a very special Story Telling Sunday today – the last one of the year.  Sian has been doing this for a whole year now and it has grown from 7 stories in January to 37 in November.  My story will be very short because time is short (and so am I before anyone else gets that one in).

Puddle Duck and I went shopping today and ticked a few more presents off the shopping list.  A few days ago she informed me that she knew why we gave presents at Christmas.  Now it is often held that present giving as we know it really started with the Victorians (as does the Christmas tree – imported from Germany by Prince Albert, but I guess everyone knows that).  But really that’s the beginnings of it getting commercialised as mass production lead to a wider variety of affordable goods becoming available.  One of the earliest known customs of gift giving around the time of the winter solstice was the Roman celebration of Saturnalia, an ancient festival which took place in late December and may have influenced Christmas customs. I believe that the gifts were known as Strenae and started as green boughs.  They were later changed to cakes and honey and made compulsary by Caligula.

Christmas gift giving was originally  banned by the Catholic Church in the Middle Ages precisely because of these suspected pagan origins.  It was later rationalized by the Church, either on the basis that it associated St. Nicholas with Christmas, and that gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh were given to the infant Jesus by the Biblical Magi, or that the words ‘Kriss Kringle’ mean Christ-child and that the infant Jesus himself gave presents. Either way this helped to establish Christmas Day as an occasion for Christians to give gifts. In those days presents were very modest and included such things as cakes, fruit, nuts, dolls and items of clothing.

There are many legends surrounding St Nick.  One tells of three poor sisters who could not marry because they had no money for a dowry.  To save them from being sold by their father, St. Nick left each of the three sisters gifts of gold coins. One went down the chimney and landed in a pair of shoes that had been left on the hearth. Another went into a window and into a pair of stockings left hanging by the fire to dry. This is the origin of the Christmas stocking (or the shoes in Scandinavia) left out for Santa Claus.

St Nicholas was often shown wearing Bishops Robes and the now iconic jolly white bearded man in red robes is credited to the Coca Cola Company in the 1950s.

Whatever the origins of Christmas gift giving I like Puddle Duck’s explanation best – “It’s Jesus Birthday and he wants us all to share his presents”.

I’ll be sharing more of Puddle Duck’s thoughts on Christmas as I share my Journal Your Christmas Album over the coming days.  But that will have to wait for another day.  It’s getting late and I have a green T-shirt to mend for a little Elf to wear tomorrow night.

A Ghost Story

From Warwick Castle

The observant amongst you may have noticed that I totally missed Story Telling Sunday in October.  Well, since it is less than a week since Hallowe’en and exactly a week since we went to Warwick Castle, I thought I’d share the story of Moll Bloxham, which she told us herself.

There are a number of versions of the tale in circulation.  The first one we heard from The Rat Catcher, on the ghost tour.

Moll was a milk maid who lived at Warwick Castle. She sold short measures, but the villagers thought she was a witch and were frightened of confronting her about it.  Eventually they told the Earl of Warwick and he banished her from the castle.  But she ran to the top of Beauchamp Tower and locked herself in a room.  She was there for sometime before they broke down the door.

When they entered the room Moll was gone and they were faced with a large black dog with flaming red eyes, which pushed past them.  They chased the dog round the battlements until it finally fell to its death in the river below.

Now it is told, that if you are very quiet, you can hear the dog howling down by the weir and the rattling of Moll’s bones.

Now Moll herself told a slightly different story to the children gathered in the darkened Great Hall for Children’s Story Telling Time.

She said that she lived in the village and went to the Earl, with the idea that she would milk his cows, collect eggs from his hens, make butter and sell all of these to the villagers.  She would keep some of the money, he would have the rest.

This arrangement worked well for a while, but the villagers were jealous and said she watered down the milk, put wax in the butter and kept some for herself without paying the Earl.

When they went to the Earl and told him that she had been stealing from him, she expected him to defend her and send them away, but instead he had her pillaried in the Castle Courtyard.

She was tied up a and had things thrown at her by the villagers.  When they called her a witch she shouted at the top of her voice, ‘This Castle shall be haunted’.  Then she broke free and ran to the top of Beauchamp Tower where she barricaded herself in a room and hid under the table.

She was so afraid.  She thought her end had come.  She was just about to leave the room when she heard the castle guards stamping up the stairs.  ’Come out Moll,’ they shouted, ‘we know you’re in there’.

Now she doesn’t know how it happened, but suddenly she was gone.  The men broke into the room and found it empty.  They searched everywhere, then one of them looked under the table and there was a large black dog with flaming eyes.  They tried to catch it, but it ran away and fell to its death in the river – you know the rest.

The next time we heard the story was from this witch.  The Witches had taken over The Princess Tower (and a jolly good thing too if you ask me – those Princesses are far too simpering and sickly sweet) and this is what she told us as we waited to go in.

Moll was a witch.  She used to terrorise the castle by changing into a big, black dog and chasing everyone.  She watered down the milk and put wax in the butter.  When she was caught she cursed the castle, turned herself into the dog and the guards had to chase her round the battlements, until eventually she fell into the river and died.

So my page is ready for the journalling, but which version of the story shall I tell?

This post was brought to you as part of Story Telling Sunday.

Page inspired by Shimelle’s Pretty Paper Party (the finished page will go on the forum).

An Erudite Child?

A trip to Legoland was on our list of things to do this summer.  We went with The Best Friend:

We toured the sights of Mini Land – starting in London.

They were still celebrating the wedding at Buckingham Palace.
Then we toured the castles:

Caerphilly

Somewhere in Belgium

A Scottish film set

(No shortage here for photo scavenger hunters!)
They were performing Hamlet as we passed the Minack Thatre:

‘To be or not to be..’ quoted the speaker.

‘That’s Shakespeare’ said Puddle Duck.  Pretty impressive for a Key Stage 1 student I thought.

Later I asked her where she had heard Shakespeare.  William did it in ‘Just William’ on TV she told me.  Who said watching TV doesn’t teach them anything.

This story was brought to you as part of Story Telling Sunday. You can find more (and more substantial) stories here.

A Good Forgettery

Reading through Puddle Duck’s exercise book during parents evening, I came to a description of her morning routine. It went something like this…

Grandma wakes me up with a drink. Then I get up and I go in the bathroom. I wash my face and I forget to brush my teeth…..

HHHmmm – funny how she remembers she always forgets.

She’s always forgetting things (could be hereditary I’ll admit). But the best one is when she’s upset after being corrected for bad behaviour.

‘I’m sorry Mommy, sometimes I forget to be good!’

This story was brought to you as part of Story Telling Sunday. You can find more (and more substantial) stories here.

A Miner’s Tale

The first Sunday of every month is Story Telling Sunday at From High in the Sky.  I wanted to join in last weekend and I just made it because Sian keeps it open for a week.  (You can read all of this months stories here).  I also managed to get the story down on paper, using the latest Simple Aussie Girls challenge.

I did this one on paper rather than digitally because I already had the top photo printed. Both photos were taken last year when we visited The Black Country Living Museum. The bottom one on the canal trip and the top one outside the entrance to the mine after that trip. I knew I wanted to scrap something about the fact that Puddle Duck is a miner’s daughter but I wasn’t quite sure what until last weekend, when The Drake came to visit and told her about working ‘down pit’ as they say in Yorkshire.

This is what he told her: ‘We used to have dress up days on Friday, so we could go out for a drink after work – if we were on ‘Afters’.  We had to change to work because we got so dirty – we had clean and dirty lockers.  Some parts of the pit were so hot we worked in our underwear.  One place was called The Microwave because it was so hot.  We had to take salt tablets before the shift and they gave us ice to fill our water bottles – but it was warm water within an hour.  One day (when Shelley was about your age) the showers were broken and I had to go home dirty.  It was summer so it was still light when I got home.  I walked down the street and the kids ran along laughing because I was so black.’

I’m glad I decided to start recording some of her Dad’s stories.  Before this LO there was only one page in my albums with him on: it was the second page I ever made and it has no journalling (I’d even forgotten the date when I scrapped the photos and now I can’t remember the place either!).  We split up when she was two and then I moved back to Dudley to be closer to friends and family, but he still has to be part of her life.  It’s hard when he lives 100 miles away and he can’t drive.  Sometimes she doesn’t want to speak to him on the phone, others (like Friday night) she says she misses him and wants us to be a proper happy family again.  She’s still learning that we don’t get everything we want in this life and have to make the best of what we have.  Not an easy lesson but one that has to be learned to be really happy.

P.S. Hope to be back later with ‘Ten on the Tenth’.  Just need to pop over to UKS to cast my vote in Scrapfactor.