Mists and mellow fruitfulness

 

September, mists and mellow fruitfulness

For me, September is a season not only of mists and mellow fruitfulness, it is also the season in which my Dad passed away, one particularly glorious autumnal Saturday morning, fourteen years ago. There was no preparation, no last goodbye, just a simple telephone call to tell me Dad had gone ... and outside my window, the sun still shone like gold, leaves played in the breeze and the day was rich with warmth and autumn colour. 

Dad was a force of nature himself, he had a deep belly laugh and a colourful sense of humour, his was a presence never overlooked. He filled a room and loved an audience. The heart attack that took him from us, stole a man with a huge passion for life that never waned throughout his seventy four years. He was an explorer, a fighter, a big bold bolshy bloke with a firm handshake and a determination to succeed whatever the odds... and of course, he was our Dad, strong, solid and invincible... until he wasn't. Until the phone call. The call that rocked our world.

Over the years, shockwaves slowly eased into a ripple of acceptance and the equilibrium of life realigned with the arrival of a new generation, Dad's Great Grandchildren. Five perfect little people, full of fun, curiosity, talent and a familiar determination to push forward and conquer the challenges of life. I know Dad would be so proud of his new generation. 

And now, a picture of a hand knitted cardigan??? If you have read this far, perhaps you are curious to know why?! I am smiling as I write, because yes, this little cardigan is also part of Dad's story...

On the 12th of September 2024, six days before the fourteenth anniversary of Dad's departure from the mortal coil, a little boy was born into our family. Dad's sixth Great Grandchild. To welcome him, I have been knitting this cosy cable cardigan. We have no other family birthdays in September, so until now, September has been a month of memory... Dad, my Grandmother, my uncle. This September, I have enjoyed knitting for a happy family event!

At last, the beautiful month of September is filled with the joy of a new baby boy. Huge congratulations to his Mummy, my niece and his Daddy.

Welcome to your family little Nathan! 

Peggy's progress

PEGGY

Earlier this year, I told you about my Grandmother's childhood doll Peggy, a 1920's Armand Marseille doll, manufactured in Germany. Peggy was presented to me in a box, as naked as the day she was born, so I decided to research turn of the century knitting patterns and knit Peggy suitable clothes that my Gran might have approved of. So far I have made her a pair of pants, a dress and a bonnet to protect her real hair wig. I have also knitted one teeny tiny sock in crochet cotton on very skinny needs, which sent me boggle eyed! I will finish the other sock and knit a pair shoes and coat in the coming weeks... but in the meantime, here is Peggy wearing her new knits and looking much more like a well-loved dolly, a hundred years after she was first created.

Peggy

 

PEGGY

I first met my Grandmother's childhood doll Peggy many years ago. She was carefully wrapped in a soft white cloth and lived in a stout cardboard box, which for many years was tucked away in the depths of one of my mum's cupboards, safely out of reach of my sisters and I. Peggy, an Armand Marseille bisque doll, was one of a few cherished belongings which passed to Mum when her own mother, my lovely Gran, sadly passed away in Autumn 1975, at the age of just 54 years.

Gran was born in 1921, so my guess is that Peggy must now be fast heading towards a hundred years old. Imagine that! Armand Marseille dolls were produced from 1885 until about 1930 and their bisque heads were created from unglazed porcelain with a matte finish, which gave a realistic, skin-like, texture. The thing that immediately resonated with me is how loved Gran's doll must have been to have survived for almost a century! In the 1920's and 1930's, these china dolls were very fragile so must have been dressed and carried with immense care ... it is a complete wonder, not to mention tribute to their careful young owners, that any survive intact today!

I have loved dolls and bears from childhood, through adulthood and don't mind admitting to adopting an occasional elderly dolly to share with my own Granddaughter ... in fact we seem to have gathered a lovely little collection of 1960's dollies over the past couple of years and they are regularly 'fed', dressed and taken for walks by their dedicated, almost-but-not-quite-four year old, custodian.

When Mum arrived at my house for a cuppa recently, I didn't notice a cardboard box tucked in her bag. We sat on the sofa, chatting about everything under the sun as usual, while we sipped mugs of hot tea (Mum) and coffee (me) ... then Mum handed me the box. At first it confused me as I instantly knew what was in the box, but wasn't sure why Mum was handing her doll to me. I carefully slipped the lid from the box and gently unwrapped Peggy from her blanket, taking care to support her china head as if she were a precious newborn baby.

I asked Mum if she would like me to dress her doll as poor Peggy was as naked as the day she had first been created by Armand Marseille (a popular doll manufacturer situated in Koppelsdorf, Germany). Somehow Peggy's original clothes had been lost through the passage of time. Mum smiled knowingly and that was when a strange thing happened, or maybe not so strange after all...

So, Peggy now lives with me and while she waits for me to finish knitting her an age appropriate dress and undies, she has borrowed a pretty cotton dress and knickers from my Tiny Tears doll, to cover her modesty. I have had a fascinating time researching vintage knitting patterns from the 1920's and 30's, so that I can knit something akin to what Gran and girls of her era may have dressed their dolls in. It has been an interesting dip into the social history of my Grandmother's day but more importantly, Peggy has given me a wonderful means of reconnecting with my Gran. Taking care of the dolly Gran cherished as a very young girl, has bridged the decades since her loss when I was only twelve years old and offered me a fresh view into my Gran's life as a young girl ... an elderly dolly always comes with a window into history, you just have to take the time to peek through the layers of dust and try to piece together the past.

I am so grateful to my Mum for passing Peggy into my care for the future and absolutely thrilled to be able to show her to my Granddaughter and tell her about how my Gran, her Great-Great-Grandmother, loved her dollies too.



Incidentally, for those of you wondering who Peggy's little teddy bear friend is ... he was made by the wonderful Pamela Ann Howells of 'Bears that are special'. Pam, a doyenne of the UK teddy bear world and on a personal note, a very lovely lady and old friend from my show days, was previously assistant designer to the famous Chiltern Hygenic Toy Company, in the 1950's.

Thirty nine years

 

THIRTY NINE YEARS..

I was just twenty years old when my baby girl was first placed in my arms, not much more than a girl myself. Thirty nine years have raced by and my baby girl has become a daughter any mum would be proud of ... independent, free thinking, compassionate, hard working and always determined to create the best in life, both for herself and for those she loves.

Happy Birthday to you Daughter, may all your days be full of the sunshine, love and laughter, you so deserve.

All my love always,
Mum xxx

A child of the sixties

PATTI PITTA PAT AND CHATTY CATHY

It was my birthday a few days ago, a strange one under the current restrictions, but quite fun nevertheless. It is only a couple of years until I turn sixty (my goodness, seeing that in print is odd!) so I thought this could be the perfect year to indulge my inner six year old girl by purchasing a doll from my childhood in the sixties to share with my little granddaughter, who also loves her dolls. My childhood was very traditionally filled with dollies, several precious soft toys and a big Chiltern Hugmee teddy bear, who sat on the end of my bed for many years (I also recall a box of toy cars including a Batmobile... my Dad's nod to the son he always wanted but never had I think!) I still have the softees, now rather floppity and threadbare and my Big Ted bear of course, but sadly my collection of dollies disappeared over time.

One of the dolls I particularly remember was Chatty Cathy, by Mattel. She was a rather glamorous blonde doll who wore a pink candy striped dress and smart black shoes. She spoke in short sentences when I pulled a cord on her back - that is until the day her words became more and more garbled, then completely indiscernible! Chatty Cathy was a precious Christmas gift from my Gran, sadly no longer with us... oh how I wish I had kept that special dolly to share with my own granddaughter!

The other doll I never forgot, was a large walking talking doll with short hair and a more robust, no nonsense appeal but after so many years apart, I couldn't remember her name. After a spot of frantic 'Googling' and more than fifty years later, I finally located her, or to be more accurate, her exact lookilikey. My Patti Pitta Pat 'The Electric Walking Doll', was waiting for me to claim her on Ebay! Such moments should always be born of impulse, so I threw adult caution and middle aged commonsense to the four winds and snapped her up before some other nostalgic child of the sixties did. By some miracle of sound, simple engineering, a couple of hefty D batteries and the good care of her previous owners, my Patti was soon toddling dutifully across the workroom carpet, arms outstretched, while I grinned broadly, brimful of nostalgia, much to the confusion of my husband. I can't wait to introduce Patti to my granddaughter on our next 'childcare bubble' day!

Lockdown birthday was an odd experience. Instead of the usual lounge full of family eating cake, I had time to take a private trip down Memory Lane, walk my dogs in the deep dark woods where the bauble tree grows and eat a cosy steak dinner with my husband and daughter. I met my mother in the pouring rain for a birthday walk a day earlier and received lovely messages, either in person or virtually, from my family throughout the day, so all in all, it turned out to be a not bad birthday, just a different one.

I very much hope that by next year, birthdays will be legally shared with loved ones once more but as a one-off, I don't mind telling you, this year's birthday turned out to be pretty good after all!

Lockdown Grandparents

I created Rosie to celebrate my granddaughter's 2nd birthday back in May ... which of course, happened during Lockdown. Sadly, under Lockdown Law, this meant my family wasn't able to gather for a traditional party celebration, so instead, we all sang Happy Birthday into our computer screens, while little Izzy watched and wondered. 

That morning, I drove my dogs close to my grandchildren's house for their daily walk (permitted under UK Lockdown law) and while my husband got the dogs out of the car, left 'Rosie' and her smart new dolly cot, on the doorstep, then rang the doorbell, stepped back to maintain the required social distance and watched with my Nana heart in mouth, as my delighted granddaughter discovered her special birthday gift on the doorstep and her Nana at the bottom of the garden path! Strange times indeed, but the smile on Izzy's face as she cuddled her new dolly was the most precious smile of all ... and enough to keep this Nana smiling too, as she blew kisses to her two excited grandchildren ... and in line with Lockdown legislation, turned around, wiped away a rogue tear ... and walked off into the woods with the dogs.

It has been so hard to be a Lockdown Nana, but I have tried my best to stay as close as possible to my grandchildren, whilst being forced apart by Lockdown. Each time restrictions eased a little, I scoured the Government website for the finer details, desperate to find a way to spend time proper time with the grandchildren I used to care for in my home each week... and each time it was clear that my life as a Nana was no longer under my own jurisdiction. The last time grandparents were legally allowed to care for grandchildren in the UK was prior to the 23rd March 2020. In more recent weeks the Government gave permission for us to spend time with our grandchildren at a social distance of two metres, which meant we were able to share walks and have some fun in the garden ... but still no hugs...

From 4th July it is my understanding we will at last be permitted to have grandchildren back into our homes ... but once again, at distance, minus hugs. I can't tell you how much these restraints hurt my heart, so goodness only knows what our precious grandchildren make of it all. 

Sadly, I don't believe our Prime Minister has given our youngest generation's feelings about being torn apart from beloved grandparents for months on end, very much consideration at all. I worry about the effect this may have on them, as they have so little voice of their own. It is for adults to consider what is best for these important little citizens and I worry that our Government has become so swamped with all things Coronavirus, that their feelings and needs have become something of an afterthought...

Maybe now that it has become economically critical for UK parents return to work, the true value of grandparents will become clearer to him.

Sending hugs and much love to all Lockdown Grandparents.

May we soon be recognised... and fully reinstated!

xxx

Simple pleasures and the price of 'freedom'

Throughout our Lockdown days I have found the simplest things in life have given me the greatest pleasure ... long walks with my dogs, creative freedom, the warmth of sunshine on my face, the dapple of woodland shade on a hot day, a gentle breeze through long grass, clear blue skies and the beautiful bloom of Summer. These are the things I will remember with gratitude when the Lockdown restrictions finally lift. 

June the 1st was a significant day for me and many other mums and grandparents, for two reasons. The first was that after ten agonising weeks, it was as though someone had waved a magic wand; at quarter past ten in the morning, my doorbell rang, I opened the door and there, stood grinning from ear to ear on my driveway, were my two beautiful Grandchildren and their Daddy, my son. 

At last. 

The second significance on Monday, was that after a completely joyous morning exploring the local woodland together, with light heart and a spring in our step, there was an announcement made at teatime, by the Government...

It will henceforth be against the law to invite anyone into your home who doesn't live there, including your own flesh and blood. No longer a Government guideline, no longer Public Health guidance, now a Law. 

In just ten weeks, an Englishman's home is now no longer his castle. 

Freedom to be with our loved ones outdoors, has it seems, been granted at a worryingly high cost from under our own roofs.

Hopefully if we keep focused on what we can do, rather than what we can't, the rest will follow ...

Bumblin' along..

I'm still bumblin' along here at All Bear. Making teddy bears is who I am and as I really don't know how to be anyone else, even in the midst of a pandemic, I have continued to create bears whilst 'locked down' and without doubt, will continue so to do, as and when the dreaded Lockdown eventually ends... whenever that may be. As yet the end of UK Lockdown restrictions still lies somewhere beyond the rainbow, a glistening mirage of hope and prayer...

That said, thankfully we have recently been granted an additional freedom privilege from on high... that of being permitted to meet one other person, from another household. The meeting must take place in a public space and be socially distanced by a required two metres, so it is still not possible to meet with younger grandchildren. However, with the required attention to detail in mind, I am thankful that it has at last been possible to take a relaxed walk in the sunshine and enjoy a picnic with my daughter in our favourite local park.

Given this new freedom, it has been necessary of course, to choose between offspring as only two people may 'gather' in public at any given time. I can only imagine how some families reconcile such divisive ruling among their nearest and dearest, but in my case it was quite a straightforward decision, no toss of a coin, or favourite child selection required. My adult daughter lives alone and has been almost completely isolated from the 'real' world for nigh on three months, with only her three cats for company, while my son has the household hubbub of his wife and children to keep him on the straight and narrow.

Spending time walking and talking in the fresh air with my lovely daughter, was a relief, a very precious moment, a heartbeat of our normality. I so long to have both my kids put their keys in my front door, let themselves in and have them raid my biscuit tin like old times, but until that day returns, I am just grateful for the small but significant mercy our UK Government has now seen fit to grant.

A small step maybe, but a step nonetheless.

April

April has been such a beautiful month, with the exception of a few chillly days. The weather this month would have been perfect for celebrating my son's 35th birthday, had we not been quarantined from one another under the UK's Lockdown rules, at the time. It should also have been a wonderful month for exploring our local woods and enjoying the bluebell with my grandchildren. Instead, we have had to make do with virtual contact online and the one thing that proves, is that virtual lives are simply not enough for anyone...

I so miss the chaos, the cuddles and the smell of my real life. I want to hear squeals on a Tuesday, shrieks of laughter, mischievous whispers. I want to feel the warmth of little hands in mine, to read stories snuggled together on the sofa, to chase around the garden together, to wipe spaghetti hoops from chins and snot from noses. 

I just want this Lockdown to be over, so I can be Nana again.

That's all.

A new arrival!

What a weekend! 

Storm Dennis blew in and as the wind howled and rain crashed, a precious baby girl, my third Great Niece, made her way into our world in the wee small hours of Saturday...

It seems only a blink of an eye since I had the privilege of being present at her mummy's birth, an unforgettable, beyond words, experience, one I shall always hold dear.

The older we get, the faster the years fly it seems and now this brand new generation is growing fast and bringing my family such joy.

Congratulations on the birth of your daughter Lauren and Terence, I am so very happy for you!

Welcome to the world Miss Millie Louise, 

wishing you a safe world of opportunity and love.

With all my love,

Your Great Auntie Paula.

xxxXxx

Words of wisdom from Pooh..

It was my 57th birthday yesterday and despite it being a work day, my special people still made the time to remind me, our lives are interwoven and that is worth celebrating...

So, thank you everyone. I hope you will always know that I am so grateful to be part of your lives and to have you in mine.  Being your Mum, Wife, Nana, Mother-in-law, Daughter, Sister, Auntie, Great Auntie and Sister-in-law, roots me in this world and makes me who I am...

In fact, I couldn't be me without all of you ... and that truly is the greatest birthday gift of all.

:-)

xxx

Dark January Days

When the wind howls, days are dark and the garden is like a muddy swamp, the best thing to do is snuggle on the sofa to share a good book ...

We have had a stormy few days here in Kent and I don't mind admitting, I am weary of gloom and longing for the brighter days of Spring. 

Yesterday my Granddaughter and I spent the day playing dollies, singing and reading books together. Thank heavens for time spent with Grandchildren ... these amazing little beings have the power to brighten even the darkest of January days!

Once I have braved the stormy elements with my dogs today, I plan to head back into my workroom to work on a new teddy bear. 

Please pop back soon for pics ... hopefully the sun will be shining by the time I'm ready to share this bear!

:-)

New Year's Day Molehills

2020 squelched off to a boggy start when my family and I met in Mote Park for our first welly walk of the year, on a rather gloomy New Year's Day.

I love this park in all seasons and no matter the weather, always enjoy a walk here. It was doubly special to walk with my kids and grandchildren as we entered another new year together. I used to love walks here with my kids, thirty something years ago, when they were 'nowt but a pair of cheeky mini munchkins, sploshing on the edge of the lake in red wellies and I am touched that they still recall our games of poohsticks under the old stone bridge and adventures as we searched for Winnie the Pooh, Eeyore, Piglet, Tigger and Rabbit in the woods.  The best childhood memories should always be magical enough to last a lifetime.

And now of course, my grandchildren also don wellies to explore this beautiful park with us. This year Toby decided he was hunting for bears, which involved some very muddy adventuring, not to mention a jolly good splosh in the lake with Betty. Little sis Izzy, was happy to collect sticks as she toddled through mud and across molehills, somewhat determindedly picking herself back up every time she tripped over.

This is a walk we have done countless times before as a family, but each time there is new fun to be had for everyone... and as I watch my children, grandchildren and dogs playing together in what has always been my favourite local park, the years fall away easily and fond memories of my time here as a young mum happily 'outdoorsing' with my son, daughter and our dog Harvey, can still make me smile, so very many years later.

Some walks are about more than scenery and fresh air... some walks have the power to evoke memories of your happiest times and to remind you that despite the muddy molehills of life, what truly counts is walking through it together.

:-)

It's just another New Year's Eve

It's another New Year's Eve with our year almost at an end and to be honest, I'm all for a quiet night in with the telly tonight. It always seems to me there is something a wee bit maudlin about ringing in a new year after a family Christmas, then letting the old one, full of memories of loved ones, slip like grains of sand through the fingertips on the stroke of midnight...

So 2019, I thank you for my family times, for the fun times ... and for the days of sunshine. I wish our time together could have lasted longer; maybe less of a race from start to finish, perhaps more of a gentle stroll with warm sun on our faces but here we are, just another New Year's Eve, another one like all the rest.

And of course tomorrow a new decade will dawn. May it be full of hope, possibility and of course, love and laughter for everyone.

2020, I ask that you take good care of my family, continue to fill my grandchildren's days with magic and above all, keep safe our world for them.

xxXxx

Thank you Blog Reader, for sharing a glimpse of my creative world this year, for reading my ramblings and simply for being out there ... wherever there is. I wish you all a kind and gentle 2020 and hope to see you here again soon.

Happy New Year!

:-)

Guy Fawkes Night

Fireworks are a strange entity for me ... I hate how they frighten my dogs, but since a little girl, have always enjoyed celebrating Guy Fawkes night with my family.  So, after settling my dogs into their beds with cosy fleece blankets, a plug-in herbal calm thingummy and the radio turned up, we headed out into night to a local organised display, completely overdressed for what turned out to be, the mildest of November nights...

My Dad always enjoyed bonfire night and I have happy childhood memories of dressing a 'Guy' in his old pyjamas to sit on the bonfire in the garden. On Guy Fawkes Night, there would be an old biscuit tin in the shed containing a selection of rockets, fountains and Catherine Wheels; Dad would hammer the Catherine Wheels onto the garden fence where they never quite spun freely, but enchanted us kids nonetheless. The fountains usually made a half hearted effort to flare and fizzle at the bottom of the garden and rockets, which were launched from empty milk bottles secured in the flower bed, would either zoom heavenwards leaving a magical trail behind them before landing in our neighbour's gardens, or, more alarming, would shoot unpredictably back across the garden towards we kids, as we ran shrieking away from them as fast as our legs would carry us!

These days we are of course, far more risk averse and sensible, so opt for an organised display for our annual family celebration ... and as I watch my Grandchildren and my grown up children enjoying the sparkling Bonfire Night sky, there is always a moment when I sense my Dad is still enjoying that magical night sky with us.

:-)

Traditional British poem

Remember, remember, the 5th of November

The Gunpowder Treason and plot;
I know of no reason why Gunpowder Treason
Should ever be forgot.

Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes,
'Twas his intent.
To blow up the King and the Parliament.
Three score barrels of powder below,
Poor old England to overthrow.

By God's providence he was catch'd,
With a dark lantern and burning match
Holloa boys, Holloa boys, let the bells ring
Holloa boys, Holloa boys, God save the King!

Hip hip Hoorah!
Hip hip Hoorah!

A penny loaf to feed ol' Pope,
A farthing cheese to choke him.
A pint of beer to rinse it down,
A faggot of sticks to burn him.

Burn him in a tub of tar.
Burn him like a blazing star.
Burn his body from his head,
Then we'll say: ol' Pope is dead.

:-)

Pumpkin Huntin'

On Sunday afternoon, we set off in the car, welly booted and with cameras primed, in preparation for our autumnal deer spotting outing at Knole Park in Sevenoaks. However, our plans for a fun family tromp were thwarted, as for some reason unbeknownst to us, Knole Park had closed its rather grand gates to the public. Determined not to give up on our planned family walk, we drove past the park opening and rang my son and his wife to see if they had any bright ideas ... which, thankfully, they did!

Five minutes later, we met up with everyone at a mystery destination, the lovely Riverhill Himalayan Gardens, which despite having lived in Kent for forty plus years, I had never heard of before ...

So rather than deer hunting, we spent a fun afternoon exploring beautiful gardens and hunting for pumpkins instead!

Riverhill is a family owned property and the Estate is managed today, by the Great-great-great-grandson (and his wife) of John Rogers, who bought this fabulous property back in 1840. We thoroughly enjoyed the dog-friendly (on leads please) gardens and were made very welcome.  The gardens were a magical blend of the formal and the more mysterious ... absolutely perfect for exploring with my grandchildren.

In fact we had such a fun afternoon at Riverhill, we very quickly forgot all about our original plan to visit Knole!

:-) 

A Dinosaurus-roarus Birthday

Wishing my amazing little dippy dinosaur explorer Grandson, a very happy 5th birthday today ...

The poor lad had to go to school on his birthday (boo!) so I am looking forward to sharing a birthday cuppa and a little cake when I catch up with him later today.  I can hardly believe how much this whirlwind of a boy has taught himself about his favourite subject (and also his Nana and everyone around him during the past year!) He really is quite the walking talking dinosaur encyclopedia.

Happy Birthday Tobes, 

May your 5th birthday treats be every bit as dinosaurus-roarus as you are hoping they will be!

With Megasaurus love always,

From,

Your super-proud, 

Jurassic Nana xxx

Life is for the living..

I love early Autumn walks, so popped the dogs into my car yesterday morning and headed over to the Woodland Trust for a wander in the Autumn sunshine...

It was very peaceful; the girls enjoyed a good run and plenty of serious sniffing ... there's bunnies in them thar hills ya know! Thankfully, the bunnies stayed snug as bugs, tucked up safely in their burrows.

It wasn't until later that morning, when we arrived home after our lovely walk and I opened the door of my fridge to make myself a coffee and saw a bottle of Chapel Down wine, that I realised the date. September the 18th. Nine years to the day of that breathtakingly beautiful Autumn morning, when I received the telephone call that told me you had gone forever...

And with that sudden intense memory, came a realisation that eventually our world did turn again and life is for the living.. just as you always said it should be. You have never been forgotten Dad and never will be, but I know you would be reassurred to hear, that now, nine years on, we are no longer submerged in unending sadness.

My family and of course, Polly and Betty, gently lifted my soul from the darkness of deep loss and carefully guided me back towards the sunshine over. It is has been a long process and one that probably never quite ends, but it taught me that weaving threads of great sadness through joy, can help the pain of loss ease over time.

And speaking of joy Dad, I hope that somehow you are able to know the Great Grandchildren you never had the chance to meet. My goodness, they are so inquisitive, fiesty and fun! Every so often I catch a glimpse of you in my Grandchildren when I least expect it, a twinkle in their eye, a determination to fathom a problem, a raucous belly laugh...

You so would have loved them!

xxxx