The annual Cruise In
for vintage cars came to town this weekend, so our little township was alive
with hundreds of out of towners with their beautiful old cars. This is the time when we like to stroll around with a proprietorial air quietly discussing which one would be ours if we had the means to purchase such a delightful accessory for our art deco weekends. We had a chance to meet up with Mr and Mrs
Mustang and also some new chums, who were friends of theirs. We all sallied forth to our favourite café,
Banco, where we had a delicious meal (and one or two libations it has to be admitted).
That night Mr
Shoestring was keen to go to see Mr Tony Hamilton, the singer/impersonator who was “being” Roy Orbison and Buddy Holly. What a great time we had dancing, though I have to admit even wearing my most comfortable dancing shoes I
could feel the effects afterwards. One
is not quite so young as one once was, and though the spirit is willing the
body occasionally protests. It was
worth having a few sore toes though, and Mr Shoestring hardly sat down all
night which was very gratifying as he has been known to experience stage fright
when public dancing is called for, and to seize up and refuse to take to the
floor. For some reason this time he was
on top form and there was no holding him back, how unpredictable men are!
The battle with the
young cock blackbird continued unabated and the car was once again covered with
guano on both sides. Poor Mr Shoestring
has more or less given up the fight now, but he was gratified to notice that Mr
B Bird has turned his attention even further afield, and that the neighbour’s car
was also lavishly decorated with bird droppings, so at least poor Mr Shoestring
has not been the recipient of the attacks by Mr B Bird.
On Sunday I was in a
tearing hurry to finish yet another summer dress but I am afraid I met my
nemesis, having become too complacent about my abilities. It seems that I cut out one piece of fabric
incorrectly and did not discover my mistake until the dress was nearly
completed, hence had to unpick the seam and overlocking on said piece. Somehow I unpicked the wrong piece, then when
I was attempting to unpick the right one got so impatient that I attempted to
tear the seam apart. You guessed it, I
have ripped the fabric and now will have to make not only another bodice but
also another skirt piece. Aaaaargh! In the end it had to be left for another
time, I knew that I had run out of time and that if I continued on there would
be more disasters. Thank heavens I have
a bit of extra fabric, I only hope it will be enough to recreate the ruined pieces. This is what happens from thinking that just
because you have made a pattern up several times you can do it with your brain
switched off, I suppose.
The ill fated dress fabric which now has a nasty tear in one place
The "stamp" fabric which was such a success last weekend
In the garden
everything was looking lovely and it was one of those rare days when most
things met with my approval and I felt very satisfied. Such is the season that there were roses and
camellias blooming at the same time.
Red rose in the foreground, camellia in the background - hardly able to tell them apart
This old fashioned pansy took my eye
as the prettiest one I have grown in a long time.
The cobra head lily was blooming and looking
strangely evil but fascinating nevertheless.
I think this cobra head lily is Arisaema Ringens which comes from Japan , but I am
not entirely sure. Apart from the flower
the trilobed leaves are very attractive and do not seem to attract slugs in the
same way the hostas do.
Holey hosta leaves - can never defeat the slugs entirely!
Most of the
hostas have their leaves out now and they are bulking up and spreading this
year.
Now that I have come to accept the aquilegias I notice what a wide range of shades of pinks they have. Sadly I don't seem to have any of the blues, and I know that if you plant them you need to pick them before they set seed to prevent them from all crossing together and making unwanted shades. One of our visitors in the weekend was very taken with them, remembering them from her grandmother's garden, and I offered her some seeds once they have set and dried. (I refrained from telling her that according to ancient herbal lore a powder made from the dried seeds is supposed to be a very effective cure for lice - I thought she might take it the wrong way, somehow.)
