Saturday, December 12, 2009
Sunday, December 6, 2009
The last few days before we set out on our annual pilgrimage to the Fete des Lumieres in Lyon were a worrying time for my partner and I. Just one question occupied our thoughts and once we had left Paris, the tension was palpable. The last few minutes of the train journey into Lyon Perrache were fraught with anxiety and we felt no festive joy as we dashed through the Christmas market. The scrumptious spicy cakes and fortifying vin chaud could not delay us now. We desperately needed to know: had the Club Tricot Canuts of the Croix Rousse, held on to their title of knitters of the World's biggest Bobble Hat and would the Gros Caillou (Big Pebble) be proudly adorned with the fruits of their industrious labour, as it had been during last year's festival? On arrival at our hotel, we hastily dropped-off our bags and made our way to the Croix Rousse market square, at the end of which, on a fine day, it is sometimes possible to see Mont Blanc. The majestic mountain was of no consequence to us...we longed only to see the Big Pebble sporting its wonderous woolly winter warmer. Imagine if you can, dear readers, the joy that filled our hearts as the top of the fluffy bobble came into view..
We don't think it's the same hat as last year. The bobble looks a lot bigger and I can't recall the fluffy trim around the bottom.
What happens to the Bobble Hats after the Festival? We like to think that they will be donated to a good cause and that maybe there is a refugee camp somewhere in the World, full of multiple-coloured, fluffy, bobbled tents.
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Friday, November 6, 2009
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Meanwhile, over at my other place, I've posted a scrap layout
Thank you for looking!
Monday, August 10, 2009
Here are two gifts to you all from our wonderful French holiday. If you use them in your personal projects, please do leave a link here so that I can take a look!
We had a VERY relaxing trip in a lovely place but you'd hardly know it by looking at the contents of our camera memory cards. Most of my photographs are of crumbling, urine-stained masonry and pavements: evidence of my serious grunge habit and need to feed it at every available opportunity. To make great grunge, at least one of the following five factors are required: the passage of time, extreme climactic conditions, neglect, vandalism or pee. Not wishing to make the slightest insinuation about a country and people that I love, but the French do a far better class of grunge than you can get here in the UK. It was for this reason that I was to be found loitering in the riper exterior locations around the Gare du Nord, after my long-suffering partner and I had paid 7 Euros to leave our bags in a locker so that we could stroll up to Montmartre and get a quick glimpse of the view over the rooftops of Paris, before returning to England. But Ah! The streets of Paris are paved with glorious grunge and I was compelled to stop every couple of feet, sometimes (much to my beloved's distress) whilst balancing precariously on the edge of a pavement or half way across a crowded pedestrian crossing. This left us with about 45 minutes to dash up the steps to Montmartre, take photos of each other and (of course) one of a bit of wall and then dash back down to the Gare du Nord and onto the Eurostar.
My beloved has an equally sad addiction for dodgy electrical wiring installations but you have to go to Lithuania to really indulge in that one.
Monday, August 3, 2009
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Step Dad: You wouldn't like Luton today. What do you think of it?
Son: Thinks he knows what's coming,tries to divert conversation: I wouldn't know, I only travelled through.
Step Dad (looking hot): Its all bloody WOGS.
Mum, quietly: Love, you can't ...Love...
Step Dad, warming to his subject: No, I speak my mind: WOGS. We had one at the door the other day. Terrorists! (which is his new word for them)
Mum to Son, desperate: If you invite them in do you think they take their shoes off, or is that only in one of them Muslim houses?
Step Dad: Terrorists you mean....
Heaven only knows what will happen when it reaches puberty...