Saturday 29 October 2011


Not that I really want to dilute my chances of winning but this is too glorious not to share.

Remember these?

Well, Fee at Chipper Nelly is having a giveaway so get on over and do what you must to enter. I'm rather hoping that by telling you all about it karma will see that I'm in with a big chance of winning some myself! Fingers crossed hey?


Wednesday 26 October 2011

Normal service

...has resumed here in Cuckoo Land. It's not like I can take a week off work to lie in bed and sob all day long! Which is very much what I'd quite like to do, especially as I feel sick and dizzy from the medication I'm taking. But the show must go on and it would do me no good to wallow. Therefore I'm getting on with things best I can. Don't get me wrong, I'm still feeling all that I have been feeling but now it's all out in the open, literally, right out there in the whole world wide web, I'm feeling a positivity creeping over me. I have felt a number of emotions since flinging my last post out there. All the ones you'd expect but also embarrassment. I wasn't expecting that. I suppose for all the "I hate how we don't talk openly about depression" babble I am one of those who has the taboo deeply ingrained into my social persona. I have hovered over the delete button several times, but then I'll remember that in my small way I'm doing what I can to try to break down the stereotypes and the stigma. Also I feel a bit like I have polluted my 'happy place', my neat and tidy sunny blog with gloominess.

I've been touched deeply by all the comments on  my last post. The support you have sent my way does help you know. I have been amazed by not only the amount of private emails I have received but the length of these emails, the kindness in them, the sharing of experience, the overwhelming desire the writer had to try to help me. I am humbled. I will be responding to each and every one as the weeks pass.

It's been more cathartic writing my last blog post and responding to well wishers than the months and months of counselling I have had in the past. But the biggest thing to make a difference was an unexpected email from a fellow bloggers husband. He emailed to say that I have helped him understand his wife better. She is in the same boat as me, sometimes buoyant, sometimes sinking. To know I have properly helped at least one person has made me feel like there truly is a reason for everything.

And for now that is all I will say on the matter of my frame of mind, I shall just quietly get back on track. I'm ever hopeful that I'll snap back quickly this time since I hadn't been walking about getting more and more sad for months on end.

Ok then moving on. Lets talk crochet! I've been crocheting quite a bit since Tuesday. And I have a couple of tad dahhhhhhhhh moments coming on.  I have finished my ripple cowl and the cushion cover for Little's room. I'll do a proper post for each a bit later. But here is a sneaky peek.

The ripple snood waiting for the ends to be woven in

Little is delighted with his bolster cushion

Mini and Little are ill. Not that you'd know it when the calpol kicks in but it is making for quite a tiring time round here. Big has an infection that the creams aren't touching and you already know what's going on with me. Poor Mr C, not only has his wing man fallen meaning he is having to pick up the slack but he has injured his shoulder making it all a bit more tricky. Our half term holiday isn't what we'd planed as we are under house arrest lest we spread about our nasty germs. Therefore I have been focusing on the niceties  of a quite life at home.

Still enjoying flowers Clairey gave me when I got Christened.
They have lasted so long.

Eating plenty of fresh fruit and veg

Drinking fresh mint tea

Enjoying the last of the meadow flowers and sweetpeas

Feasting on delicious soup made from cauliflower and horseradish
Drinking lots of tea (Heather this ones for you!)

So there we are. That's the state of play around here.

Sometime ago now I received a surprise parcel in the post from Sandi (she said she wasn't going to make a habit of sending stuff but I think she fibbed!) Inside was some cream and maroon felt tied with pretty ribbon and these suuuuper duuuuper egg cosies.

Thank you so much Sandi, you perfectly gorgeous lady. (see Sandi's post here)

ps. Next week I am going to New York with Mr C for one of My Girls wedding. Rah is getting married!!!! Granny is moving in to look after the boys. She's such a good egg. There aren't many people who would look after my chaotic brood for nearly a week. She is looking forward to it. I'm not sure if I should warn her what it's really like around here or to keep schtum. Why shatter her illusions! I'm very excited to be going to NYC as I haven't been for such a long time. I used to go twice a month when I was crew for Virgin Atlantic but I haven't been since January 2001. I'm so happy I'll be there to see Rah marry but, oh my, how I will miss the baby. It's ok with the boys as I can talk to them on the phone and I'm used to them being at school or away for the occasional weekend. I haven't left the baby for so long before nor been so far away. I'm very apprehensive that my homesickness will spoil what should be a welcome break and a fantastic holiday. I suppose it's perfect timing in that I'll be able to rest and relax properly but bad timing in that I'm not feeling myself and my imagination is going into high drama overtime.

If anyone has any thoughts on what places, shops, museums, restaurants we should visit then please let me know. I will be doing all the usual stuff but I don't want to miss the less well known places.

pps. Mini's first tooth popped up on the 20th October and he has started to crawl properly. He also properly vomits anytime I try to feed him something savoury. He gags, retches and then throws up the contents of his tummy. So any reassuring stories of fussy eating babies that now eat everything would be most welcome. My other boys preferred fruit to veg but they never threw up, they just spat it out.

ppps. Broody hen is no longer broody and has finally started laying again. 

Wednesday 19 October 2011

Slipping swiftly

I've just been crocheting, a stolen moment whilst the baby naps, but I can't concentrate. I'm mentally composing a post. It won't leave my head and my heart is racing and eye's keep filling up. So here I am blogging to just GET IT ALL OUT.

Before I launch into this post of gloom (feel free to click away as soon as you like - normal service will resume with the next post) I'll quickly tell you what the yarn is that I am crocheting my ripple snood with. It's Rowan Pure Wool DK in the following shades:
Pier 006
Frost 044
Marine 008
Cypress 007
I did have indigo in there too but it looked almost black in the dark half light and I didn't like it so I frogged it out and tucked it in my ever growing stash.

Now what comes next is going to be a bit of a brain dump. Probably quite erratic and no photo's to relieve your tired eyes. (You know, I really would click away now if I were you!)

For a little over a month now I have been very, very tired. I've been a right pain in the arse. I've been awful. I've felt awful. I had things going on that were stressing me out. Things that other important people in my life were relying on me for. I would have dealt with these things just fine if I hadn't been so tired. Mini still wakes in the night and I'm on my knees.

In the middle of this past month I had had a long day. A rudely early start and six hours driving in the car to deliver a cake that I was certain wasn't going to survive the trip. I got home and cried on Mr C's chest. I said "I don't feel well". I wasn't talking about a cold coming on. My head was feeling wrong. I kept hoping and hoping that I'd spring out of my gloomy demeanor. Hoping that I was having just a normal blip. You know, a bit hormonal, a bit tired. General busy life stuff. You see I live in fear of becoming ill with depression again, so I was hoping that I'd get back on track.

I haven't manage it. I'm not back on track. I'm in a spin and a panic and I can feel I'm slipping. Swiftly slipping. Wierdly I am comforted that I have for once caught myself early, that I have trotted off to the doctors after a tearful phone call in pretty good shape, at least, I'm not in a total black fog of despair. A mist of gloom rather. When you look at how lovely my life is, to feel this way is not fitting, this is how I know I'm falling. I have nothing to be depressed about so my logical brain (it is still working  bit) is telling me that my chemicals must have gone a bit crazy. I think of it like a diabetes of the brain. The brain just isn't producing the hormones I need to feel normal.

Now I guess it would be good to start at the beginning. I've always been a fairly cheerful person but I don't do well when stressed or tired. Really quite normal I think. After Big was born my mind went into overdrive. Sleep was in short supply and I had a baby that didn't seem quite right, not sure how to phrase it. However I was the only one at that time who felt things weren't ok with him. It caused me to quietly worry and whittle, I worried and whittled through many long sleepless nights. Things always seem worse in the middle of the night and those hours spent cradling my small boy who seemed to have no idea what sleep was all about meant that I walked through the days with a persistent feeling of concern which, over time, escalated into full blown Post Natal Anxiety which led to slight depression. I went to the doctors about my baby on several occasions to say how concerned I was but by this time my mind was playing horrid tricks on me and I was blowing everything out of proportion.

So the doctor treated me rather than looking at my son. I guess the fact that I was seeing horrific accidents in my head was more pressing. I'd be driving along and I'd visualise a lorry ploughing into us. I would physically jolt at the thought. In my head I saw myself fall down the stairs breaking my baby's neck every time I got him out of his cot after a nap. I would slip and stab myself when emptying the dishwasher. I would faint whilst bathing him and he would drown. I would trip and his pushchair would wheel in front of a car. Of course none of these things ever happened but I would 'see' these images like watching a film and it was terrifying. I would feel shaken as though I had tripped. I was prescribed a very good medication and began to feel quite alright. But it still took almost four years to get Big's diagnosis as every doctor and health visitor and to some degree family and friends still tried to comfort me as an anxiety patient rather than a mother whose instinct was saying that there was something going on with her child. Thank goodness I am a stubborn and tenacious bugger (to my detriment at times) as Big's condition, if not kept under supervision, could cause some difficult health issues for him in the future.

So that was my first run in with a brain backfiring. Second time was nasty. Oh it was just dire. There was a lot going on at the time. Little Cuckoo had been born at Christmas and he'd been suffering with reflux and colic. He was never a small boy and so he has never had small lungs nor a small cry. My health visitor was retiring after 40 years and she said she had never heard a young baby with such a loud cry. The sound distorted in ones ears, left them ringing. And it didn't stop for long either. It was four months of constant screaming. Big was still waking twice in the night for 2 hours at a time and whilst he was asleep Little was awake. We had a huge renovation/building project going on. We ended up sleeping in the playroom with both the boys. The only rooms we had were the kitchen, utility, playroom and ensuite. Plenty of room but no where to take a shrieking baby in the night. I was up with Little the second he murmured for fear he would disturb Big Cuckoo and Mr C. Mr C had just taken over a business that had been doing badly and so he really needed his wits about him and therefore needed to sleep.

I was busy beyond anything I had anticipated, I knew two young children would be no picnic but Big wasn't like a two and a half year old. He was like a one year old. It was tough going but not impossible and I just got on with it. Thousands deal with much tougher situations. But the lack of sleep led to my brain malfunctioning but I didn't see it coming. I was too busy and tired to notice that I was getting ill. I was exhausted. I kept having an odd sensation in my chest, a bit like when you dream you are tripping up the pavement. A bit like someone had jolted me. I can't quite describe it. It happened regularly, every five minutes or so and my heart would leap in my then very thin chest. I couldn't sleep as I was jolted every few minutes and every snort or murmur disturbed me

One day, I as I was making a cup of coffee, I had a brief lucid moment when I recognised that I felt desperate. I was about to pour a kettle of boiling water over my arm so that I could go to hospital and just STOP, just give up, be cared for, escape my life, escape myself...and I thought "Oh My God, I'm ill. I didn't know!"

Ruby Wax summed it up so well for me. When your brain is sick you haven't got one in reserve to compensate, to say "Hey no.1 brain, you're exhausted and poorly, I'll take over for a bit" You're just lost in the bleak confusion. When your liver packs in you go a bit yellow and feel quite shabby, your brain recognises this and off you go to the doctor. When it is your brain that is ill it's not so straight forward. I have spent so long worrying that I'll miss the signs and that I would do something dramatic. That I would lose my mind and do something so devastating it would destroy me and it would destroy all I care about. I've witnessed first hand how someone can wreck their life when they were out of their mind and how that ripples out to everyone who loves them. I've seen the devastation and I never ever want to get to the point where I have missed the signs that my brain is sick...I'm not saying this very well at all. I'm trying to say something without saying it, so I'll just say it. My fun loving, sociable Aunt became deeply depressed. She started out just a bit sad, then a bit worried, then unable to cope. Before long this capable woman was unable to speak, wash or feed herself. Eventually they gave her medication that seemed to work. She started reading again and talking to people. She was improving. One day, after months of looking after my Aunt, my grandmother thought she was well enough to leave for half an hour. My Aunt encouraged her to go and get some fresh air. Said she'd be fine. But when my Grandmother returned my Aunt had hanged herself with her dressing gown belt. She'd obviously had a desperate moment when she felt she could no longer go on. Had she have remained in the vegetative state she'd have probably stayed sat in the same place my Grandmother left her, but because she was responding well to the treatment but still had a long way to go, she had the motivation to exit stage left. I'm not saying I have had suicidal thoughts, not now, not ever, but I have had things go through my mind that I would never have expected and I've seen that it is all too easy to fall deeper and deeper into mental illness till you are no longer yourself anymore. My Aunt was the very last person you'd expect to hang herself. She liked to complain too much!!!

I guess some of you newbies to my blog are surprised to be reading this.  You won't have read the posts were I have stated that I have had Post Natal Depression. You'll have flicked through the last few posts and seen what a wonderfully privileged life I lead. How fabulous my friends and my family are, but then you only see what I choose to reveal here. This blog is my therapy as well as my diary and my place to mingle with like minded crafting gals. It is the place I document all the good stuff that I want to remember, the place I come to to focus on the small details that bring me joy. Funnily enough it has been my rescue this time round too. I noticed as all the comments were pouring in from my last post that I wasn't feeling the joy of the day the way I would have if I was feeling myself. It's like I was there in body but not really there in the moment. I feel too much like I am going through the motions. I am short tempered too much, I'm tearful, worried, tired, flat, joyless, restless, my heart is thudding. I'm not enjoying the things I love. I'm on auto pilot. I'm like a walking, talking doll. To the world out there I appear to be the smiley happy go lucky thing like always. I wonder how long I could have gone on like this, in this denial. I kept thinking "I'll be ok in a minute". You see I have periods through the day when I do feel fine, when the smile on my face is genuine. But that's the trouble. I'm so up and down but I focus on the ups and try to ignore the downs because I don't want to be that person cashing in a prescription. I don't want it to be me again. Not this time. It's not fair! Why me? But then again, why not me? Why not me? 

It's like this: I'm standing on a cliff edge, my back is to the sea and I'm facing sunny fields of wild flowers. There's my family and friends frolicking about, a bag of crochet, a yummy picnic, the sun is shining and the breeze is gentle. But behind me there's a storm rolling in, it's on the horizon. Dark, black thunder clouds, streaks of lightening. The sea is the colour of sewage and swirling around the jagged rocks. One step the wrong way and I'll fall into it. Most of the time I have two feet on the grassy ledge, some times one of them dangles down, stones falling down the cliff face as I struggle to get my footing again. Right now both feet have slipped. I am hanging on with my fists tightly grasping the long grass. Both feet are well and truly flapping about trying to find a resting place to steady myself while I climb back up. I can still see all the good stuff up on the top of the cliff in the sunny fields. I'm still looking at it. I still want to be there, I don't want to fall. I know how horrid it is to be free falling down and down towards those rocks. I'm so thankful that after the last time I got back to my old self and I am ever hopeful that because I have seen my doctor before I was too far into the blackness that I have been saved. My fear has always been that I wouldn't seek help in time, that I'd not notice how confused and muddled I was becoming, that I would lose myself. That who I am will be torn so badly apart that I'll never get put back together properly and I'll be an empty shadow of the glorious, vital person I can be. It's funny how you can only appreciate all the positives of oneself when you imagine it all being destroyed and stripped away. I'm not being big headed, I know that when I am well I am a nice person, I know I have attractive qualities in my nature. I'm not perfect but I do a good enough job most days of keeping those I love happy and that's the main thing I guess. I am finding everything so much harder at the moment, it's terribly difficult to be everything I am when I'm not feeling like I'm connected. (I've cut this from an email I sent a long time ago, I knew one day I would be blogging about PND and that I would want to include this analogy, though I have edited it a bit as I wrote it when I felt very well)

The thing I find hard when I feel flat, when I lose my emotions and they get replaced by episodes of simmering rage or worse, nothingness, I find the hardest thing is not being able to tell people what's going on. I don't want to worry anyone. I don't want to drag others down. I don't want my children to be taken from me (big fear and unlikely) I can't rant and sob, I've gotta hold it all together with out having had a chance to offload. I don't want to ruin my marriage, my friendships. I don't want all those people I love to fear that I'll go the way my Aunt did. I don't want them to worry. I don't want to burden my best friends, they have their own problems to deal with, such busy lives to lead, they don't need to be talking to me from Dorset, Reading, London, Dorking,...knowing they are too far away to be of any practical help. Knowing they can't get to me and back in time to pick up their children from school. They don't need the added stress of worrying about my fragile state of mind.  Have I explained that very well? I'm not sure.  I suppose I'm just saying to you my dear Girls, my dear Mum, I didn't want to worry you as I love you so very much.

I understand a bit about depression as I used to work in the medical industry and because of my family history I have had a lot of conversations with people who know the facts and I know that I feel like I do because my serotonin levels are buggered up. If my insulin levels where buggered I'd take diabetic medication and so when my serotonin goes wrong I'll take the appropriate meds to get better. It's not forever, I'm resigned to the fact that sometimes I'll be ill and sometimes I'll be well. I'm also resigned to the fact that there's a lot of misunderstanding of depression and people are incredibly judgemental which makes it a dirty secret style sickness. I hate that. So that is why I'm putting all this out there I suppose. It's my story and I'm telling it in my own way and dealing with my wonky brain in my own way too. Some people might think that going to the doctor and walking out of the surgery with a prescription is the wrong way to do things. But I know me and I know my body. It seems this is just what happens to my hormones after I have had a baby. No amount of counselling will help my brain produce more of the seretonin I need right now.  If I had cancer I'd have chemo, it would save my life. If they'd treated my Aunt sooner it would probably have saved her life. It would have prevented all the horror my family has been through.

This post has done me the world of good, I feel like I have got everything out of my mind now, the endless chatter can stop for a bit and I can take great comfort in the fact that although I feel like  (forgive me, I am about to swear on my blog) ... shit. Although I have blubbed my way through this, I am going to feel just fine in the future, already I feel lighter, knowing it has happened again and I'm not in as bad a place as I was last time.

In the past when I have mentioned my PND I have had a few people either leave me a comment or email me (my address is over there in my side bar) saying that they struggle too and that many people in their real lives have no idea. Why oh why are we so happy to discuss our sex lives and pelvic floors but not comfortable to talk about depression or mental illness? How many times have you heard someone say "I've been signed off with stress"? I bet you 70% of those people are beyond stressed, they are depressed but they feel like they will be persecuted for it. I'm happy to talk to anyone and everyone about my journey. Sometimes I get a reaction of pure disbelief. After all what have I got to be depressed about? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. So I know it's because my chemicals are out of balance. I say I'll talk to anyone about depression but actually I only ever talk about it in past tense to strangers and acquaintances. 

Now I must go as I need a wee and the baby is due to wake up and I need to do some star jumps in the sunshine. I need to do some exercise for I am on "Project Feel The Joy, Get The Cuckoo Flying Again". I shall be nurturing myself for a bit. I want to feel better, I never want to be calling my doctor in a desperate panic and in floods of tears ever again...though I bet you I will do one day....

So in the mean time, you may or may not hear from me for a bit. I may or may not be cheerful when you do. Funny thing the internet, for I may be having a really crappy moment yet I'll be writing something on your blogs that would never alert you to the way I am really feeling. It's a good thing though, to be writing jolly messages to people when you feel bad, a bit like standing up straight and smiling when you don't feel very confident. 

Ok I really am going now, I must stop waffling, do excuse any hastily typed errors! 


ps. If you need a little lightness now, ay I refer you back to this post?!

Sunday 16 October 2011

Once upon a time, a couple of weekends ago...

....there was a little family of five who frolicked about in some unexpected sunshine. I know, I know I'm a pants poet.

Remember that really hot weekend at the beginning or October? Wasn't it special? Such a treat to have weather like that when all hope of Summer has passed.

Mr C's family came to stay with us and we all took full advantage of the garden. The boys hare tailed around as they are prone to doing and Poppa busied himself being useful as he usually does. This time he plucked all the fruit from the trees before the beastly wasps got at it all.

My sister in Law (Ma Belle Soeur as I call her) arrived at tea time on Saturday. The boys are always so pleased to see her, not just because she brings sweets shaped like pigs. That's her in the distance, she is always behind a camera, rarely in front.

The washing was pegged out, I think that may have been the last time anything got dried completely outside. 

I think this is THE ugliest photograph of Little Cuckoo I have ever seen!
And we spent the afternoon sitting on the outdoor sofa's relaxing.

The sun was almost over the yard arm so Granny had a Kir Royal.
I'm not sure the following photo's translate very well here, they were amusing on the camera when flicked through. Mr C was giggling and snapping away as I tried to erect the cheap little TV table to pop our drinks on.

Ha ha haaaa! I look like such a dorky scarecrow. I needed that drink after all that taxing table business. I swear it was harder than the rubix cube.  

Did you spot a bit of crochet there? 

I'm making a cushion cover to go in Little's bedroom. It's almost finished and I have to say I am loving the colours and loving the stripes. I am really hoping to get it done soon but I have a feeling that the button hunt may delay the reveal. I've not done crochet button holes before, they were very satisfying. I may even do crochet self cover buttons too. That may save me the hunt for the perfect button. I've got more crochet to show you later at the end of this post.

Look at that baby! He had literally just woken up and yet he was full of smiles, as always. He is such a joyful child.  I cannot believe how lucky we are to have him. It has been such a relief that he is so easy and content. It means I can spread myself around all the boys much more easily than I could if he cried as much as the older two. He has been a true delight since the moment he was born. Little Cuckoo is totally in love with his baby brother. He thinks about him and looks after him in a way I never thought a three year old could. Big Cuckoo 'likes' him but keeps asking me to put him back in my tummy and turn him into a girl. Little Cuckoo then shouts "NO MUMMY! I will miss him if he goes back in your tummy! Keep him out!!"

It was astonishing how hot it was that weekend. Very, very warm. Hotter than the summer was.  Not unbearable though, it was perfect. The wind was warm, and that's a big thing for me because we live on top of a hill and it is always windy. Even on a sunny summers day the wind often leaves me with goose bumps. It was lovely to be able to sit outside and feel comfortable. We'd not managed that this Summer as the wind always had a chilly edge to it. 

We all stayed out on the sofa's till gone midnight, well the adults not the kids obviously.

Oh it was heavenly. Spending the evening outside, a warm breeze, some cosy blankets for some snuggle factor, something lovely to drink. Perfect. I even saw two shooting stars.


 Not only was the weather glorious it was special for us for another reason too. Mini Cuckoo and I got Christened. 

Nic the Vic was giving us the low down on what was going to happen. It was modified a little as he was going to do both me and Mini at the same time. There was a moment when Nicolas was marking the sign of the cross on my forehead with oil that felt very....I'm not really sure how to describe it without sounding like a right numpty. It was very... quiet. Nicholas was looking in my eyes and I could see he was saying something yet I didn't hear him. I felt peaceful. After all the excitement and bustling about I felt quiet. For a brief moment the chatter in my mind was silenced. It was a welcome interlude as both before and after that moment I had an uncontrollable urge to giggle my head off like a simpleton.

Ma Belle Soeur took so many gorgeous photo's so I'll fling a few in now to share with you.

All that was missing was my God Mother, Bee. Her daughter was poorly with a sickness bug and Darr was away in Wales so she couldn't come.

After the service we all went to The Garden Cafe in the village for cream tea's. It was a quintessentially perfect English afternoon. I cannot believe how fortunate we were to have such glorious weather on such a special day for us.

Grandad Chuck and Bobber
Stuffing my face
I look soooo pale and mangy next to the uber gorgeous Gem

Gem is Mini's God Mother and I'm so happy she was able to come. Her husband works a lot of weekends so to have them both with us was greatly appreciated. The poor duck was in a flap when they arrived as they'd got stuck behind a broken down tractor in a lane that was too narrow to do a three point turn. They had no phone signal either and Gem was concerned she'd miss the whole shebang.

Gem and her husband taking a stroll with a cup of tea

The Princess (Gem's daughter) made a friend for the afternoon.

The Prince (Gem's son) enjoyed his cream tea enormously before nose diving off the seat.
We were going to have the cream teas in the glass house if the weather was wet, it was by far and away much better outside on the long table.

I'd love our garden to look like this, we do share the same view but our garden is
sadly not planted up very well. I haven't a clue what should go where!

I love this photograph of Big Cuckoo and his God Father wearing a similar shirt having a little chat. 

I can't include any pictures of  Mini's  other God Mother Clairey (one of My Girls) or God Father James as I forgot to ask if that was ok. 

Since we were having cream tea and lots of cake I realised that there was no need for a Christening cake. So I made a coconut and lime cake for Saturday night pudding and decorated it with some fabulous bunting made by clever Jooles. The cake was pretty ugly but tasted great and no one noticed its looks as everyone was ooooohing and ahhhhing over the bunting. 

As you know I don't put our names in this blog, the reason being I don't want us to pop up in google if a certain someone from my past tries to be nosey. It's not that I am being all mysterious and secretive, just trying to keep out of google is all. But I figure names in a photograph can't be googled. Am I right in thinking that?

I ordered a special Christening gift for Mini made by the super talented Fee from Chipper Nelly.

Beautifully packaged

I could spend way too much time playing with these blocks.
Notice the packaging ribbon now tied to the knob on these freshly painted and revamped
old orange pine drawers

I have been spending quite a lot of time looking at all the perfect images she chose for Mini.
Notice all the bird references.

I'm now hankering after some Christmas blocks, in particular these ones.

Mini played with the crinkly celophane for an age

I said I have more crochet to talk about and so here it is.

 Not much to show yet but this is going to be a ripple snood. I'm joining in with Heather and Lucy's Ripple along. If you haven't heard about it already, I'm certain you must have, you can read all about it here and here and see lots of other ripple alonger's stuff here.