Watts trading

saying god bye

2011-10-24T10:18:00.000-07:00

I said goodbye to my brother today, not in a terminal way, but in a, I don’t know when I will see him again sort of way. I should be used to saying good bye to him not knowing when I will see him again, because I have been doing it since he was a teenager. At a time when not every house had a telephone, and if they did it would only be used for transatlantic calls for special celebration days and bad news, my brother moved to America. He fell in love with an American girl in his class at school aged about 14, and followed her when her family took her back to Oregon and broke my father’s heart.

As some of you know my mother died when we were all young, Paul, the only boy, but not the youngest, was only four years old; but our dad was determined he would keep his four children together as a family and he worked hard to keep that pledge. We grew up a very close family because of it, and he felt all that hard work had been dashed when my brother decided to follow his heart and leave these shores.

The last time we were all together was in August at our father’s funeral, and I didn’t know then when I would see him again either when he returned home. That visit was bitter sweet, and as lovely as it was to see him the reason he was here was to share a tremendous sorrow that changed our world, which also served to reminded us all that we are now the older generation and we none of us know what our allotted amount of time will be. We are all hovering around the age our grandfather and uncle had been when struck down with heart attacks.

Then a friend with masses of spare air miles offered them up to enable him and his wife to attend our nephew’s wedding in Preston last weekend, and they spent a few days with us here in Cornwall afterwards. Even after all these years he still gets horribly home sick for England and a little bit of him would like to stay, also Lostwithiel has woven its magic in his heart.

There is three years difference between my brother and me and because he was the sibling I got on best with in the later part of our childhood, and despite how revolting he could be, that was the age gap I chose for my children. He has an American wife (his childhood sweetheart) and is the father of four sons and grandfather to three grandsons and that will keep him in the states, he is a loving, kind, thoughtful, funny, handsome, talented, and hardworking man (and he will laugh at me for saying it) and despite him having been gone all this time I miss him everyday he is not here.

eldest sons wedding

2011-07-13T07:05:00.000-07:00

I have the most amazing red finger nails and they have been this way for over two weeks now. For the first time in my life I went to have a proper manicure and to have my nails ‘shellacked’ at the ‘Beauty Lounge’. But then it is the first time I have been the mother of the groom too. I had decided I was going to enjoy every single bit of this monumental occasion. I had bought my outfit in Bath on a shopping trip with my sister, and I had my shoes made to match by the shoemaker in St Agnes. I was ready.

Having sons I always knew I would never have the ‘mother of the bride’ experience but I have been so lucky because in my son’s new wife I did feel very much the mother of the daughter-in-law, that sounds so lovely I am going to say it again, my daughter-in-law, I have a daughter-in-law. I never thought I would share the experience of going shopping for a wedding dress for a child of mine, (he may not have been wearing it but it was very much for him too) so I had never wondered what that would feel like, and I have tears in my eyes now as I remember standing in the shop so full of emotion as the dress was selected; I felt so special and privileged, I cried then too. This lovely girl had given me this wonderful gift of helping her choose one of the most special garments she will ever buy; and on her wedding day I helped her put it on. One hears of friends having that special joy with their daughters, and although Kate is not my daughter, it was no less a magic thing.

Two days before the big event my son was every bit my son as he panicked because he had left some important stuff to the last minute. As soon as I arrived up country the day before ‘the Day’ we had the most perfect shopping trip, ever. It was as if someone had laid out the exact things we needed even thought we didn’t know what some of them should be, we were inspired; we got everything that was needed, not only got but were really pleased with; with a hair cut and lunch to boot and time to spare before the shops closed. This was my baby all grown up with a baby of his own, the step he was about to make somehow felt more grown up than anything that had gone before and I didn’t want to miss a moment of it

We all spent the night before at the hotel, and it was decided that my sister and I, with our husbands, would take Lee out to dinner. We chose a pub that served Thai food, it wasn’t the poshest place but the food was very authentic and very good, down to the sticky rice being served in little wicker baskets. The food, the lay out of the place and the atmosphere all reminded me of when Lorna and I had joined Lee for a couple of weeks when he was travelling many years ago, this was when I first noticed my boy was in fact a man and not only capable of looking after us, he did. That was a life changing holiday in all sorts of ways and here we were again with another life changing event before us.

My son and his wife to be had very clear ideas about how their special day should be, what they were doing was very important to them, they were very committed to the step they were taking and they wanted to share it with the people that were close to them. They didn’t want a ‘staged’ wedding, they wanted a celebration; and that is exactly what they had. I took a photo of the bride as she walked up the isle and it is one of the best wedding photos I have ever taken; she looked radiant, her excitement and joy shone out from her face. And who could blame her because waiting for her was this incredibly handsome man who had loved her even before he had asked her out; this man of whom I am so immensely proud. What made it such a family affair is that the ceremony was conducted my brother-in-law, my eldest grandson was the ring bearer and this little three year old took his job very seriously and preformed his duties without fault, he was a star.

If I believed that fate gave us signs on these auspicious occasions then she smiled that day; in between wet miserable days we had one glorious real and proper summer day with the bluest of blue skies and warmth one imagines when thinking of the perfect day. And a celebration should include a feast, a feast were everyone can eat all they want of delicious food until they can’t eat anymore, and we did; and laughter, provided by Luke taking full opportunity to tell stories of their growing up and working together, at Lee’s expense. Children ran around and had a ball, family events need children and they were provided for. There was a piñata for them full of toys, cars, dinosaurs, spiders, clickers, and water pistols, and as the shopping, fell to the ground and the children descended upon it, my eldest grandson stood up with such a look of triumph on his face, with all and only the water pistols in his arms. How I love boys. The only concern was their poor little son who was not feeling too well and was not so happy. And presents, given and received, I had managed to maintain my composure throughout the ceremony but when I was given a bangle with their names and the date inscribed on it for my bangle collection I was unable to hold it together any longer, and I cried.

When I look back on the day I feel I should have talked to more people, but I wanted to remember it all, to store it up to bring out on other less exciting days. The staff at the hotel commented that it was a very relaxed and laid back wedding, and they see a lot. When I went with the bride-to-be to see the wedding organiser at the planning stage, she said how very much in love they seemed, and added she dealt with many many couples, and didn’t always feel that.

When walking to work the day after meeting my husband, I could not feel the pavement beneath my feet, the sun shone just for me, the birds sang just for me, it was as if the world had somehow shifted on its axis, everything was the same but looked and felt different. I know not everyone experiences that in their lifetime but I wanted it for my children, and I believe my son and his new wife had that magic, and the very best of my wishes go with them into their new life together.

friends reunited

2011-04-20T02:07:00.000-07:00

People come in and out of our lives all the time, some stay for long periods others fleetingly; with some you are not quite sure how you lost touch and others you know full well what ended your association. What ever the circumstance there are things that happen in you life that make you think of those you have known and you wonder what sort of lives they had, are they happy, have you walked past them in the street ever and not recognised them? This is probably more a generation thing because the young are growing up with social networking sites that link people together and keep them in touch. The first of these, I am sure you all know, was Friends Reunited which is now out of favour. However those of my generation who signed up to see who was out there still get the occasional message from someone who would like to get in touch. Sometimes you cannot remember who these people are, other times it is a blast from the past so intriguing that you are unable to help yourself replying.

This happened to me recently, did I remember him he asks, how could I forget him, he broke my heart. Twice. I find it so interesting that you know almost nothing now about someone who was at one time the centre of your universe. It fascinates me that time passes almost without you noticing, my children are now older, by half again, than we were when we saw each other last. Also as hard as I try to imagine him as an older person, the image that is firmly in my head is that of a very young man. After all there is more of some bits of me and less of others and gravity has done its worst.

The other thing that interests me is that if things had worked out differently, if I hadn’t already met my lovely Tom when reconciliation had been suggested, I would be a different person to the one I am now. The opportunities I have had may not have presented themselves, circumstances may have prevented me from taking them if they had. Then there are my wonderful sons and grandsons, there are no grantees that there would have been other children to love equally. It is the experiences we have that mould us to who we are good or bad, I know I would not miss who I am because the person I would be could not imagine this life I have. I have been lucky enough to have had several careers and learnt valuable life lessons from some amazing people. I would not change it, I have had the most amazing life packed full of interesting chances grasped, and achievements I could not have dreamed of as a young person. We never know were even the smallest decisions we make in life will lead us, that’s what makes it such an exciting adventure!

2010-12-19T02:24:00.000-08:00

Christmas Letter 2010

Tom washed the kitchen floor yesterday and the colour of the water was similar to the colour of the water from the clearing up of the flood. It bought it home to me that how ever wonderful the clearing up process was, the evidence of its destruction is still on our streets; along with the sandbags and the bridge, we are still here.

I wrote the following at the time and then posted a less wordy account;-
‘Water, it is one of the greatest forces of nature; we all know this. One has seen the damage it can do on Wthe television, we know it in our heads. But when it rages out of control through the place were you live you know it in your heart.

Like Boscatstle our flood started on the higher ground surrounding our valley. They say between 2 and 3 inches fell in a short space of time and the trickle of water that bleeds out of the ground of the hill, and forms a pretty little stream that runs down beside Tanhouse Road, turned into a monster. A fearce and frightening monster that ripped boulders from the ground and cars from their parking place; that bursts through locked doors and leaved a calling card of thick sticky mud.

It was described to me as sounding like a volcano; it came in the dark of night turning a road into a torrent, rolling boulders and tossing them in the air as it tries to find its way to the river. Cars were carried away and discarded, as they piled up with scattered rocks, soil and tree branches to dam the way forward along the road; on it surges bursting through the front door of a house and out the back: there was no gate so the stones of the wall are exploded apart to be used as further ammunition by the water to smash and forces it way forward. It was as if it panicked when it reached the main road, another rush of water was coming from the stream that gives whispering Waters its name. It too has picked up souvenirs of it journey, pea shingle from the escape lane, which it carried all the way down to Quay Street. Being unsure of which way to go the water spreads out carrying its brown sludge through more locked doors spreading it murky waters into shops and houses. Finally it carried on down South Street continuing its destruction bursting open our back gates and depositing two inches of mud and flooding the little cottage next door. It pounded through the medieval arch with such force it hit the house opposite and rolled back on itself like a wave. More flooding occurred as the water spread out on the even ground along the river, up to waist deep at its worst. It was fast, furious and deadly.’house restoration,log burner

The advent windows progress day by day (I am number 13 this year) and the street Christmas trees are up and decorated with lights, I love that each shop (or in some cases private houses) are responsible for their own lights and therefore they are all different. It all underlines the fact the calendar is telling me, it’s that time of year again.

My Christmas letter has become an excuse for me to indulge myself the time to reflect on the year that has just passed and to record it as a kind of diary that I always enjoy reading at a later time. One of our great excitements is that after living in a house without an open fire for the first time in our lives, that has now been rectified and at last we have a log burner and warmth. As lovely as this is it is not our biggest or best excitement this year; that happened the day of our annual arts and crafts festival in May. As with other years I had offered my services and I was committed to seeing stallholders to their allotted spots down on the parade first thing in the morning. We were woken in the dark early hours by the telephone, I sat up instantly awake to hear the voice of my eldest son, Kate was in labour and I had promised I would have a case packed ready to leave when this call came. Never has a sense of duty and personal desire been so opposed. So I heard of Jacob Zachary Watts arrival into the world standing in a marquee in the early hours of the morning with a face wet with tears of love mingled with tears of frustration; as soon as someone else was there to take over my responsibilities I was on my way. I once read a quote by someone whose name I can no longer remember which was; ‘Grandchildren are your reward for not murdering your children.’ On a visit to see them recently I passed Jacobs slightly ajar bedroom door in the evening, and as I peeped around it I saw Kate sitting cross legged on the floor feeding him, and as she did so she was looking down at him as only a mother can looking at her child as she gently stroking his face. It was one of those moments where I felt so full of emotion I am surprised my body can contain it.

The restoration of the house is still on going, sometimes its two steps forward and one step back, for example the moving of some light fitting on the ground floor turned into major electrical work, resulting in floors of rooms we had finished being ripped up. However at last we have heat in the house, our lovely log burner, well one room really, but it does permeate the ceiling and take the chill out of the bathroom above. Hopefully the rest of the work in that room will be finished by Christmas as we will be 15 for dinner.

At the moment of writing 19 going on 20 year old Totty, our lovely old cat, is still with us but we are not expecting her to still be here Christmas, she will be sorely missed.

www.lostwithiel.org.uk will give you pictures of the advent windows and the flood.

Sitting here with town’s brass band playing in the street we really do believe it will be a Merry Christmas and a happy new year, and we wish one and all of you the same.

Cornwall's floods, Lostwithiel

2010-11-22T03:33:00.000-08:00

We are fine. The bottom of the garden had 2" of mud and had the car been parked there it would have been a write off. The force of the water burst the back gates open and caused some damage to them but I think they only stayed together through habit anyway. Talking of the car, Tom usually parks down on quay street but since he had to put his wellies on to get in it a few weeks ago, (it often floods a bit on a very high tide) he parks it by the church when he can and that is where it was.

It was a flash flood, one home had been condemned, seven shops are closed through having all their stock damaged. They are not missing much, the town is very quite, everyone thinks we are still covered in water. Traditionally the next two weeks are among the busiest of the year, that is not going to happen this year. We miss the bakery the most. The clean up was fantastic by Friday afternoon all the town streets were clean, they carried off hundreds of tons of mud, rocks and pea shingle from the escape lane main road that had washed right down as far as Quay Street. Dozens of cars were ferried out of town to be scraped. Skips have come and gone for all the furniture and flooring that has been thrown out of peoples houses. The poor bridge is still waiting for a proper survey and closed as an unsafe structure. The two huge long armed diggers and HGV lorry that dealt with clearing the debris washed down with the flood did not cause its collapse, but we are not allowed to walk across it. It divides the town in two. Going to the dentist, station or collecting my grandson from nursery is now a long walk around.

The force of the water is what surprised everyone, crashing through locked doors and carrying off cars or slamming them together or against remaining solid objects; dismantling stone walls and the mud, how everyone hated the mud.

Tanhouse Road is still closed as it is blocked with rubble. (This is the road the flood came down.)

Stories of insurance companies suing the environment agency because of drains not cleared abound.

However good things often come from bad, and it is not until you are about to loose something you take for granted that you realise how much you love it, so if our lovely bridge survives we have plans to pay homage to it.

2010-04-13T06:05:00.000-07:00

Somewhere in my ancestry there must be a tree because at this time of year my sap rises and I become a different person. There is also the added anomaly of picking up from the Morphic Resonance the feeling of holiday from the people on the street.

Waking this morning to a beautiful blue sky with the lightest wispy clouds, the sort that would be the white of the paper showing through the wash of blue in a water colour painting, warm sun, bird song and the occasional gull call, it felt like a holiday. I have been waiting for weather like this all winter with greater anticipation than usual because our new kitchen is downstairs. It gives us the sort of access to the garden I have not had since the house I grew up in. Lostwithiel is in a valley sheltering it from the wind and in our south facing garden there is a corner, up against the house just outside the kitchen, which is a perfect sun trap even first thing in the morning. It is here that we have had our breakfast the last few mornings; made more magical by the braver of the birds that have come and shared this spot with us at the bird feeder situated about four feet from the garden table, the robins, the lonely ring necked dove and the occasional blackbird. On Friday I was in my workroom above the kitchen, gathering together my lacemaking kit to take to the Lace Guild Convention I was attending at the weekend, and I could hear my lovely Tom in conversation with my two and a half year old grandson accompanied be the gentle sound of spoon on bowl. Their gentle voices drifted up and although I could not hear what they were saying I could imagine them together sharing breakfast and I had one of those moments that touch the very core deep inside your being with feelings of love and contentment so intense it feels almost to great to bare, and you know the only way to store it for those dark days that sometimes just have to be got through is to write it down.

2010-03-24T05:47:00.000-07:00

When we first came to Lostwithiel our garden was completely overgrown; over grown in a lost garden sort of way with steps, paths, raised beds and walls completely hidden, so overgrown that no light penetrated the window of the downstairs kitchen. Tangled and entwined wisteria, ivy and brambles hung in garlands from tree to tree, this is a garden with very little useful soil, the ground being just a solid tangle of roots. This ancient garden with its tunnels and dark hiding places made it a sanctuary for all forms of wild life and a hunting ground for all the local cats. With a huge amount of earth moving, hacking, slashing and plant rearranging it has become a little more accessible a place. Therefore it has seen more human activity and our own cats eventually claimed it as territory for themselves, and we now see fewer cats. Therefore it was an occasion for comment when Tom saw one eating some bread that had been put out for the birds. Our one remaining cat is now so old she only goes in to the garden when we are out there, and only if the weather is warm so the birds generally have it for themselves.
Since moving the kitchen to the one downstairs we have put up a bird feeder in easy view of the window which we keep well stocked, and have been trying to teach ourselves to identify them; although we have enjoyed the pair of ring necked doves that live in the trees in the garden since we have been here. So it was with some dismay we noticed through the window small downy grey feathers blowing in the wind when we entered the kitchen at the end of the working day on Saturday. Tom’s first reaction was to blame the cat we had seen the day before. The kitchen is at the end of the original wing to the old house which is not at right angles to the main building, and the garden continues at the odd angle down to the bottom where it reached South Street. To look properly into the garden you have to be close to the window, and as we did this we saw the back of a large bird of prey as it left the circle of feathers on the lawn with the body of the dove in its claws and fly away.
The surviving dove has so far remained, but it has left us with a different understanding of the phase ‘feeding the birds’.

2010-03-20T10:19:00.000-07:00

Uncoated steroid tablets taste exactly as you would imagine poison to taste. I know this because I have to take eight pills a day for the last three days with two more to go. The reason is not clear and the doctor and I disagree to the cause of my face turning glowing crimson, followed by an itchy rash that makes me want to scratch my face off, and swelling in places giving me an unrecognisable appearance. This has happened twice over a three week period resulting in me wanting to keep a low profile.

It was to this end that when Dillon requested to go to the beach we decided to go to the most secluded one we know. I am not going to tell where it is but we do have a paint colour named after it. We travel down narrow country lanes, the sort that are only wide enough for one car and you need to keep an eye out for where two could pass so that you know how far you would need to reverse should you meet a car coming the other way. Living in Cornwall has made me rethink what constitutes a narrow road. Maybe I have just never travelled along these roads at this time of year before but my delight in the unexpected wonderment at the road sides made me momentarily forget my glowing fat face. More often than not Cornish lanes have steep banks on either side; this is either where stone walls have become so overgrown with plant material as to look like a earth bank, or the road so old and well trodden as to have worn a deep furrow into the ground making it lower than the ground on both sides. Either way the edges of the roads were thick with snowdrops, I have never seen them in such profusion layered in drifts up the banks turn after turn along the road. I had expected to see the early primroses but this was made lovelier by the unexpected nature of it.

Dillon took some persuading to do the walk that leads to this beach, he kept asking where the beach was until he could look down onto it, and even then it looks a long way away. It starts with fifty steps then a zigzag path with a rapid decent ending with a scramble over roughly hewn steps in the rock. The day was unseasonably warm with a beautiful deep blue sky, someone had left a fire smouldering but that was the only evidence of humanity. We collected some more drift wood and built up the fire but it was just for fun because we were able to take off our coats and dig with Dillon in the sand. We collected odd bits of broken plastic flotsam that Tom and Dillon called treasure and ate our pasties that were still warm from the oven and a bear’s foot, a pastry stuffed with rich dried fruit and citrus peel covered in icing and flaked almonds, from the bakers that are big enough to share. We persuaded Dillon to make the climb back up to the car park by wondering aloud if he was big enough to climb the steep mountain back to the car, and he did, all the way even finding the energy to climb the wooden gate at the top. It was just a day out but it felt like a holiday.

And my face?; the water blister type swelling is subsiding for the second time leaving my completion with the texture of a deflated old balloon, you know the sort you find behind the sofa six months after the party where it retains the surface area of the inflated balloon while being shrunk to the size it was before being blown up. Trust me when I tell you on eyelids and the soft area under the eye, this is not a good look. Am I going to look like I am 80 years old for the next twenty odd years until I in truth reach that age? Oh please no.

2010-03-10T09:22:00.000-08:00

My weekend treat is the Saturday Times. As a very slow reader I tend to avoid daily newspapers relying on television and radio to keep me up to date with what is happening in the world on a superficial level, but generally I am happiest avoiding depressing news, I know it is shallow and small minded of me not to acquaint myself of important matters of state, international politics and world disasters. But I get so anxious and worried by the grief and mayhem my own life then seems so mundane and unimportant making everyday ordinary things seem pointless. So I concentrate on the bits that come with the paper.

I love the magazine and always read Robert Crampton’s ‘Beta Male’ on the last page with varying degrees but mostly immense enjoyment; how much of what he writes is the real Robert or how much of it is a made up character he writes about as himself, I am never likely to know. This week he wrote about his aversion to shopping and how everything has to be exactly right for his shopping experience to be successful, some of these conditions are outside the shop keeper control others fundamental to an establishments ethos. Even though his reactions are complicated and extreme, as a shop keeper I found it interesting and informative.

It was ignorance that gave me the confidence to open my shop, the only real training and experience I had was that of a shopper. The idea of a shop emerged from a statement I made to my husband in a fit of frustration about wanting to fine a shop with the things in it I wanted to buy. Once it was decided to use the space we had been renting to someone else, how that space was furnished, lit, decorate and arranged was decided by what was already there and to create a space I wanted to spend my time in. I knew nothing about the art of shop fitting. I knew nothing about conducive environmental conditions and the science of hot spots for display. All I had was training in textile design with a special interest in arrangement, placement and positioning; which included an understanding of colour shape and form. So when Robert talked about his need of space and minimal goods on display, I compared his vision with my shop. When he talked of how he liked shop assistance to be it made me think of how I behave with my customers. And I realised I probably haven’t changed my behaviour in how I would speak to someone in any shop I’m in. I am generally nosey and interfering and often speak, offer unsolicited opinions, or comment on other peoples prospective purchases; I have been mistaken for a shop assistant (while out shopping) and even offered a job.

So what is my ‘shop assistant’ style? My shop if full of lovely things that I feel passionate about, I love to shop and love helping others to shop and that really is how I consider my roll, to give information, advice and also an opinion. Or often times just a chat, a shoulder to cry on, a baby to comfort, a celebration to share or news to impart.

2010-02-24T12:33:00.000-08:00

Do we ever really grow up? I’m talking about those feelings and desires we keep tucked away for fear of looking foolish. Having children and grandchildren is a great outlet for this as one can be seen as entertaining them. Also for me personally buying toys for the shop indulges my inner child. We have just taken delivery of the most wonderful soft toys, beautifully dressed mice and rabbits, some with knitted jumpers and one even has lace-up shoes. It is interesting the things that we loved as children stay with us. It was soft dolls that held my heart when I was young, I had a rag doll my mother made me from a black material that turned navy blue with time, she had various hair colours as it was changed from time to time as combing the wool it was made from thinned and became unattractive – its last incarnation was white, the colour it still is. At one point my sister and I cut a mouth so we could feed her our sweets, having to pull out the remains of the previous one before stuffing in another. She was very well dressed, I remember making her a wonderful black and white dog tooth coat once, but then we made all her cloths; it was all part of the game.

We also made smaller rag dolls, it is difficult to remember the size now, but about 4” tall, they had the same woollen hair and my sisters was called The Duchess; if mine ever had a name I can not remember. My brother was allowed to join our games as long as he was the coachman, he had a large stagecoach, and even then we thought it an inferior thing made of plastic, blue plastic, with yellow horses; doors that open would have redeemed it but the duchess had to suffer the indignity of having to be stuffed through the window to enable her to be driven around. The duchess had the settee for her house and I had an armchair, and we would crease a scatter cushion in the middle to made a sofa for them, they too had a shoe box full of cloths each mostly ball gowns and stoles; we never knew what happened to them, it would be interesting to see how they match up to our memories. So when I see the wonderful little mice and rabbits with their lovely crafted cloths I think how the child I once was would have loved them and hope that this generation of children will be allowed to be children long enough to make fond memories like mine.

life's lessons

2010-02-18T15:28:00.000-08:00

I was having a February moment last week when Tom asked me what was wrong. I answered, “I have just realised the best is behind me.” Not that I believe I will never have more wonderful moments, but I will never again run just because I feel full of life, and have the energy and stamina to do it; never again be full of ambition to build a life for the future; never again have smooth skin, be a size 10 in proportions that matter and do crafts with dextrous fingers.

Not that being older does not have certain advantages; I do not feel hard done by. I have had that part of my life and it has been a full, eventful, rich and rewarding time so far. I am still having a lovely life, packed full of experiences spanning over half a century, and that gives one knowledge and confidence. I cherish these lessons living has taught me, the most important being, ‘If you do not have what you like, like what you have.’ The more joy you can get from small things the happier a life you will have. I have always thought it was having attained the age I have that taught me this.

Sunday we took Dillon to the Eden Project, he loves it, and it was his choice that we go there. We do so every two or three weeks. It was the first Sunday of half term and busier than it had been all winter, as we approached the land train I commented to Dillon that I wondered if our usual seat would be taken; on seeing us the land train man told him it was OK our front seats were still free. We watched the skaters, made Shaun the sheep inspired models in the Mediterranean dome, had lunch, played in the sand pit, climbed on stuff and were on our way to the Core to see the machines when we came across a lawn where in the summer they had circus type activities, spinning plates, hoola hoops, juggling etc. He stopped and said, “All the toys are gone; - that’s a shame.” Then he told me to step on to the grass, “Lets do hoola hoping!.” So we both stood and wiggled our hips with imaginary hoops, he was just as happy as if he really did have the actual thing. There it was, ‘If you do not have what you like, like what you have.’ He is two and a half years old - just two and a half!
We played in the Core, went up in the lift, not a lot of those in Cornwall, lifts; played drums, watched the automata (five times) and travelled on the bendy bus. As we got in the door at home he said, (just two and a half remember,) “Thank you for taking me to the Eden Project today.” There we go again The more joy you can get from small things the happier a life you will have. My heart could have burst, may be the best isn’t over just yet.

2010-01-07T16:06:00.000-08:00

We live above the shop, and as I have probably mentioned it is a Georgian grade II listed building. With 3mm thin glass in our windows that let out the heat without central heating to supply it in the first place. Plus old solid walls, of a combination of stone and cob, are also not good insulators especially when they are damp because they need re-pointing. Eldest son’s partner found it amusing that she could see her own breath while staying over Christmas; she was standing on the first floor landing at the time. Granted it was a bit chilly, but nothing like this evening, this evening it is cold. Chicken soup weather by the bucket, ( well not really a bucket but a pan big enough to bath a baby in), weather where you need to cuddle a hot water bottle as you dash from heated room to heated room. This does not include the bathroom, the only room with wooden shutters, which we do not open until the weak sunshine has melted the ice on the inside of them. There is a country were people go from a hot sauna to roll in the snow, I can’t remember which one but it feels a bit like that getting out the shower in the morning.

2009-12-28T07:11:00.000-08:00

Christmas 2009

I love the fact that Christmas is the time one thinks about all the people that have been special in ones life for one reason or another. I know the current feeling is that cards, let alone letters are a waste of resources and some even their time, but I love sending and receiving them.

Sitting writing cards give me the opportunity to remember and think about all the people that for some reason or another I am no longer in regular contact with, but still think about and want to know how there are and what they are up to. I really love Christmas letters and keep them all and read them several times.

Last years I did not send Christmas cards due to the awful year I had had; a simple and routine biopsy left me with an awful infection sewn inside me that had traumatic consequences that left me needing daily treatment for three months, being on antibiotics for a lot of that time. This left my immune system compromised and I spent a lot of the remainder of that year ill with any virus that passed the shop door. The death in mid December, and up country funeral, of an aunt who was very influential in my upbringing brought me to the decision that I was going to be unable to make my cards and could not bring myself to buy them. It is only as I prepared for this Christmas, which also has not been a trouble free year that I realise what a bad place I was in last year.

The shop has had a wonderful year, and I continue to love it, although the cancer diagnosis my sister had at the beginning of this year did give us all a bit of a worry; her wedding acted as a double celebration after the results of her surgery gave her the all clear. Most of the family were there including ‘the Americans’ my brother and his wife along with their boys with wives and one grandchild; the bridegroom’s son, who is an only child with no cousins, loved feeling part of a big family, we all found it a very special occasion.
The best news of the year was to hear that Lee and Kate will be having a baby in May; especially as my brother had rung my dad gloating he was going to beat me in the grandchild race as his grandchild will have a sibling in June. I am already trying to work out how I can manage regular trips up-country and have made sure I have somewhere to stay in May.

Boxing Day morningI was standing in my new kitchen looking out the window watching the birds, the sun had just come out after a shower of rain, the old apple tree still had rain drops on the branches that flickered and flashed rainbow colours in a halo of sunlight, it was so magical I hardly dared breath knowing any moment the angle of the sun would change and the moment gone, when Tom came and stood beside me and put his arm around my shoulders and we watched together. How is it possible I got to be so lucky.

2009-11-07T07:33:00.001-08:00

As your children become adult and go out into the world you become less aware of the milestones in their lives. There are the obvious ones, their first real broken heart, their first real home (where they take all their belongings), their commitment to a partner and having a child, but others often happen without you knowing or even if you do know without being there to share it.

Today was one of those days where I glimpsed one of my sons adding another of life’s experiences to his list. I was standing watching him out the kitchen window as in watery winter sunshine (in all senses of the word) in a sky of broken rain clouds that only Cornwall can provide, he dug a hole to bury their beloved old cat; made more poignant as a Ringed Necked Dove flew over his head. He made a lonely figure with his back bent intent on the task, his partner was standing out of my view cradling the box containing the poor cats body. Whereas we as a family always had cats, and in the past some have had to have their last days of pain shortened by vet intervention, he was never the one to do the deed. I wondered if one day he too would watch his son carrying out a similar task and feel that age old instinct of wanting to protect them from hurt, but know the only thing you can do is stand and watch.

2009-11-05T09:33:00.001-08:00

Today definitely feels colder, granddaughter-in-waiting, who waits here after school to be collected, says she loves walking down the street in the fading light and seeing the shop all lit up looking warm and cosy. We are putting out our Christmas bits in a very low key manner, we do not really like putting them out this early, but other years our customers have said it was a shame they had completed their Christmas shopping, while fingering our lovely decorations. This year they are mainly wood, lovely carved hearts, stars and angels. We have some red and white felt baubles coming from Hatti trading, which trade to support a charity in Nepal.

We can’t pretend we are too sorry the weather has changed to be cooler, as we took delivery of the most wonderful knitted hats and gloves and were waiting for the weather to get more wintry before putting them on display.

We are going to the firework display in Bodmin this evening and grandson is so looking forward to it, his parents have tried to prepare him for the noise and bright lights so it will be interesting what he makes of it all. He had difficulty getting to sleep for his afternoon nap he was so excited, but it can be as nothing compared to how excited Tom and I are seeing through his eyes, fireworks for the first time.

2009-07-08T09:57:00.000-07:00

Someone came in yesterday and said something to me that I am trying to understand. They said, “I don’t believe in the monarchy but I had a really lovely day Friday.” The fact he had an enjoyable day was not a surprise to me, Lostwithiel did what it does best, it partied.

The event was whispered about for some weeks before we all received the letter, hand delivered, from the town council a week or so before the event; there was to be a royal visit; a visit that was to last two hours.

The plan was to visit one of the oldest buildings in Cornwall to still have the Prince of Wales Feathers, which had just been purchased by the Princes Trust for use by the community. As a grade one listed building the owner is obliged to maintain it and the previous owner could not afford to do so, therefore you could say he was rescuing it for prosperity. The church bells and tower clock are down for refurbishment so he was going to have a look at them, and then a quick visit to the museum before finishing his tour in the mayor’s parlour.

Lostwithiel is a laid back sort of place, but this was going to happen a week before carnival week and so the main street were colourful with bunting and the street banners were up, some shops put out a union jacks or the Cornish flag. It did make people feel maybe they should re-dress the window because one had been pretending not to notice the dust and dead insects. And then there were the chores that were even longer outstanding, like our white granite at the entrance of the shop that was black with decades of dirt and dog pee and had been a task we had meant to do for the last four years the shop has been open.

Different gangs of suited people had visited the town at different times wondering the place with clip boards in hand. As the time neared, the ‘will he won’t he’ be visiting shops question went around the town. A shop keeper came in saying a security guy had been in and checked them out which lead them to expect a visit. No one had been in to us. Then a plain cloths policeman told us we were on a possible list. On the day of the visit, when half the street was barricaded to keep the public contained, we over heard the butchers next door being asked to stand outside to invite Prince Charles and Camilla Duchess of Cornwall into their shop. No-one came and asked us to be prepared.

As the royal visit progressed we heard they had been in the bakers, and sprung a surprised visit on Old Palace antiques, talked to a lot of the locals and rumour has it a kissed from one. After coming from the butchers Camilla was given a bouquet by Luke’s partner’s daughter, and talked to my grandson, there is a wonderful picture of him with his arm stretched out towards the Prince. Leanne said he was trying to hit him, Luke that he was going for his wallet. Then suddenly we were asked if we would like to stand in our doorway, I thought it was just to get a good view as he walked past, but no, suddenly there they were, shaking my hand and going into my shop and looking and talking about our products. They admired the baskets that had arrived the afternoon before, causing a mad last minute rearranging of the shop to find room to put them. Camilla commented that they would have to come shopping here when Prince Charles even asked the price of something. Also it amused them that we sold a chimney sweeps brush, (Luke commented they were not our best sellers), and they also admired the wonderful feather dusters we sell. And then they were gone.

Everyone felt uplifted by the visit, there was a lovely atmosphere in town all day even by those who had ‘bah humbugged’ the event, the Friday early doors pub visit was buzzing with talk about the day, all of it positive, everyone felt good. When I think about the people in my close acquaintance who have met him, and it is quite a few, I realise how hard they work to meet the people, how hard it must be to be smiling and pleasant all the time regardless to how you are feeling (an Officer close to the Prince had died the day before).

I am still no further forward in understanding the comment that seems such a contradiction, but I do thank them for not only saving the Duchy Palace but also for a. A lovely day that was enjoyed by all who came into town that day

2009-05-12T11:33:00.000-07:00

It is a long time since I posted a blog, but as a dyslexic words take me time and I seemed to be short of that commodity lately.

But I could not let Lostwithiel's arts and crafts festival pass without talking about it. It was truly wonderful; as I manned my post at 8am at the churchrooms ready to receive the craft stall holders the sky was blue with a gentle breeze, and this worried me. Would this mean people would forgo our inland town for the beach? Would we the organizers, stall holders, musicians, dancers and food preparers have toiled, some of us for the best part of a year, in vain? But as Mike so confidently quoted from the movie, 'build it and they will come', and they did, thousands of them. What a great, exhausting day, someone came in the shop to buy their usual Quinoa and fair trade coffee and said as they walked down our main street they saw a children's brass band, a one man band with a huge crowd around him, tap dancers and flutists. And this went on all afternoon. The mayor's parade started the day off with the town brass band, we had samba bands, drummers, harmoniarists, someone with a dulcima plus guitars and other stringed instroments. The suport we got from FLEET, who were our charity this year, were fantastic, our printed programme was essential and let everone know what was happening when, and I am grateful to all the businesses in the town who suported its production. Some shops were decorated with flags and balloons and a festive feel filled the town, everyone I have spoken too had a great day and already look forward to the next. So if anyone reading this fancies a weekend in Cornwall next spring, look on our town's web site to find our which weekend the festival will be, it is well worth the travel.

2009-02-24T17:23:00.000-08:00

I am writing this in memory of a very dear friend who died yesterday. For the last 15 years his friendship has been honest, transparent, unstinting and, I have to say demanding. It was never his decision to come to our house, but it was his to stay.

We first met him when he made his appearance in a cardboard box in a quite corner of our bedroom in the house we used to have in Bagshot. I watched him draw his first breath, waited while his mother cleaned him and dried him of the remains of the fluid that had protected him in her womb. Slowly, as his fur dried his wonderful ginger coat became visible. I had always wanted a ginger Tom.

We watched him grow using our dogs as his play things, soft furnishings and furniture his gymnasium and when he was old enough his mother introduced him to her territory. Between them they ruled their little bit of Surrey, friends were allowed to hang around but strangers were seen off. His delight was to swing through trees in our garden with the agility of a monkey; he could catch squirrels, and often did. Pidgins were his favourites though, but because of their size he could not get them back through the cat flap to his favourite killing field, which was under our dinning room table, he hunted for food not sport. Our neighbours lost their Koy carp, they blamed the heron, but that very large very golden fish in his mouth came from somewhere.

My sons loved him; he was like living with a wild animal. On summer evenings Lee and his friends would sit in the garden discussing the meaning of the universe, and Chilli would hang around like one of the boys. Suddenly he would pounce into a bush, catch some poor unsuspecting animal, kill and eat every scrap of it. They thought him a real cool cat.

He hated to be interfered with in any way, giving him pills and potions and doctoring injuries from things that fought back was a battle he usually won, and then we wouldn’t see him until he got over his sulk; crashing through the cat flap meowing at the top of his lungs as if to say I’m home, where is everybody, come and adore me. A later allergy to mites that live in fur and feather was a cruel afliction.

When he sat on your lap he wanted to sit on your hands so he had your undivided attention, if that could be as near your face as possible that was even better. He loved to be strokes when he wanted to be stroked and would groom you right back with loving licks with his raspy file like tongue.

He never really forgave us for moving to Cornwall, he had never had to carve out his own territory before, he was passed his prime and too many cats used our garden as neutral territory. He did eventually claim it for the summer time but during the winter months he stayed mostly indoors.

He was a big personality and his going has left an equally big space in our lives, we will truly miss him, but the birds on next doors bird feeder will breath a sigh of relief.

2009-02-21T10:44:00.001-08:00

It is pantomime time in Lostwithiel. I love our pantomime, it is held in the church room and a huge amount of effort converts the hall into a theatre for three days, complete with stage, curtains and lighting. We took Rheanna, our thirteen year old step granddaughter in waiting, and I wondered if she would be in that in between age, where she would consider herself two old to enter into the spirit of pantomime, and too young not to care what anyone else thought. I doubt there were more than a handful of children in the audience, but when the boys and girls were asked to participate to save our heroes every single person in that hall sang or clapped or shouted, ’Look behind you!’ when asked to do so, that included Rheanna.

The fun of going to the local pantomime is the complete social experience, people arrive early to claim a good seat, but a glass of wine and chat to friends and neighbours, you can guarantee you will know at least a third of the people in the audience, pleasantly passes the time until the entertainment starts.

As the curtain goes up silence falls and the audience holds it breath, and it begins, ‘The Wizard of Loz.’ Liz the practice nurse was well caste and wonderful as Dorothy and Yve, one of the doctors’ receptionists was Tonto, carrying matching doggie bag complete with bone decoration; These two have a natural rapport (last year they stole the show and not a word was spoken between them). A regular in the cast, a local architect, who played the cowardly lion was in the shop this morning, buying some of our delicious Pink Ginger cordial, saying how nervous he gets on the first night, it certainly didn’t show. The two witches were wonderful; Dianne in her red leather look bustier trimmed with black fur and Sandra from the chemist was transformed. The children in the chorus were delightful, but the doctor’s daughter, who played the guard to the emerald city, was the one that stole the show, she was a trouper.

As we all tipped out into the black night you couldn’t help feeling happy, regardless of all the bad things that are happening on a personal level and the national economic and environmental disasters promised by the media you really did feel uplifted. Also we felt grateful to be living in a wonderful place full of wonderful people.

Tonight Lucid are playing down the Globe, so there will be standing room only, I should feel too old to party with the young people but I don’t, and even better they don’t treat us as if we are either.

2009-02-10T13:41:00.000-08:00

We all have the odd rare experience so out of keeping with our everyday lives, that when we recall it later it feels a little surreal. I find these moment very precious and like to write them down, having done so I thought you might like to share my most recent.

We sell Earthborn Clay Paint that help old lime pointed and plastered solid walls breath.

Tom and I had a rare Saturday off last weekend giving us two days on the trot, what a treat; (a trade fair had caused us to miss our day off the previous week, so we were playing catch up.) We had taken a paint order that needed to be delivered, and as we have had poor experiences of paint via couriers in the past, we decided to deliver it ourselves and explore an area of Cornwall we have not spent much time in.

Our customer had given very precise instructions on the location of her house saying it is hard to find, and without the help of a milkman, I don’t think we would have. It meant travelling through the most westerly stripe of Cornwall, the bit from St Ives to Lands End which has a very distinct character, and I have found it very difficult to find the right words to describe it. When discussing it with a Cornish friend of mine she volunteered the word primeval. All over Cornwall, it is almost impossible to see the stones in the boundary walls that parcel up the land because hedges grow on top and lush greenery and flowers, which change with the seasons, grow over the rest of it. However, here the fields are small and their boundaries marked by naked stone walls; they look as if they have been there since man first started to farm the land; a treeless landscape, a landscape that is stunted by the merciless winds from the sea. Winds that have help sculpt the coastline after sweeping across the Atlantic Ocean bringing with it the changeable weather Cornwall is known for. The narrow coast road, made muddy from the field equipment that cross it, snakes around farms that have shaped it. Every now and then a rough track will lead from it; it is only by the green wheelie bins on the corners of these tracks do you know it leads to a home or homes.

It was along one of these lanes our directions were to take us. I had presumed by our conversation and my inexperience of the area, that the track would lead to only two houses; but as we travelled along I realised this was a road with a dozen or so homes along it, or what would have passed for as a road hundreds of years ago. (Roads in Cornwall have always been notoriously bad; to this day we do not have a motorway.) As we bumped along we could see houses that looked part of the land, in some distant time they had been moulded up out of the landscape, homes made from what was once the very landscape they now sit. Ancient solid houses of granite and cob with their rag slate roofs, where every slate is a different size; constructed with the largest slates, as big as a man could carry, at the gutters edge to small postcard size ones at the ridge. They may have been added to over the centuries, but have fundamentally changed little. I felt as if I had experienced some kind of time travel, a magical moment where I was allowed to glimpse a time we now call history.

a new year

2009-01-08T09:30:00.000-08:00

A new year,like turning to a clean page in a sketch book, what do we want to achieve? we should all write down what we would like to do, where we would like to go, who we would like to see and make it happen.

12th night has been and gone, and I’ve taken down the Christmas decorations. I am always sad doing it as the house looks so bare once all the cards, greenery and glittery stuff is gone. Then the longest two months of the year begin. Not my favourite time of year.

We do have new colours in the clay paint range to look forward to, Brushmate are also changing the colours of their pro aqua paints (for woodwork) to match the clay paint, although I still love the Cornish range of colours we do exclusive to us in the Green Paints. As there is so much still to paint in our money pit of a house, dreaming of ‘new’ rooms we can properly use, keeps me going. We still have boxes of stuff we brought with us that has never seen the light of day. The drawing room has two empty cupboards in it still.

Little Dillon, my grandson also lights up my day, his mum caught him today trying to put her lipstick on the cat.

2008-11-03T07:46:00.000-08:00

Written Friday
The weather this week has been mostly typically Cornish, and for those of you unfortunate enough never to have been able to experience it, the type of weather I am talking about is sunshine and shower. As I may have said before you can always find the sun somewhere in Cornwall, as the climate is so varied. However, the thing that thrills me about this type of weather is it creates rainbows; I had never seen the end of a rainbow until I came here. Twice now I have had the Disney moment of driving along with a complete rainbow from one side of the road to the other, on both occasions I was heading home, as if confirming the magical life we have here, I felt as if I was driving off into the sunset, as in the end of all the old ‘feel good’ movies. But today it was clear blue skies which enabled me to take some more pictures for the website. Arranging some items to photograph is very mechanical, but today I did have so much fun with the animalz, these wonderful wooden animals from Australia have such character, the camel even has a smile on his face. We are doing a special offer of a free fabric bag if you buy three animals. We have the farm animalz in the window and people are finding them irrisitable.

2008-10-24T01:10:00.000-07:00

Tom tells me that the latest figures published regarding the population of Cornwall records more people died than were born. This is not really so surprising as the west country is somewhere people retire to. It is also one of the counties with the poorer incomes, little industry, (no motorways, and one of the highest water-rates), cheap houses are snapped up as second homes so even finding somewhere to live to raise a family is difficult for young couples. Some coastal towns have reached the tipping point that makes them ghost in the winter because more houses are holiday homes the real homes. I can see the attraction of coming on holiday to a place and falling in love with the life style and wanting to be part of it as a 'getaway' from real life. The problem occurs when too many folk have the same idea, and the the community that was so appealing can no longer survive.

Thankfully Lostwithiel is too far from the coast to have that sort of appeal (although there are holiday homes here) and it remains a real place. It does have a high number of incomers but they are people committed to the place where they live. But best of all it has babies, lots of babies. Tom thinks there must be something in the water, I know it is just because it is a magic place. (An awful lot of people who have moved here have a spooky story to tell as to how they have come to be here, I will tell you mine one day) Watching young people that shop with Watts Trading (www.wattstrading.co.uk) expand their families is one of my delights in life. Selling the nature babycare products means I have an opportunity to watch as their pregnancies develop, hearing of the safe deliveries, seeing babies become toddlers, hearing how they get on with their first day in school, and I love it!

2008-10-22T09:43:00.000-07:00

Doom and gloom, from looking at the news first thing on morning television, in every news paper, on the radio, the worst recession since, what was it they said, the war, the turn of the last century? I can't remember what it was exactly, I just know I somehow can't feel low. I am not in pain, I have my lovely Tom, two grown up sons who stay in touch, my tiny grandson who lights up my life, the most gorgeous, clever, talented step granddaughter it is possible to have, a daughter-in-law in waiting who couldn't be more perfect if I had chosen her myself, a sister my dad and his wife within walking distance and I live in Lostwithiel. As my eldest son Lee would say, how perfect is that!

As I write this I realise what I have is a sense of community. I do not have to watch soap operas to get pretend second hand, I am absorbed by it, I am part of it and it is part of me. I am aware that some of the ridiculous optimism I feel is due to the place I am lucky enough to live in. I spend all day in my lovely shop, I am not the only one who thinks so as I am often told by visitors. If we just had a few more customers things would be perfect.

2008-10-22T07:03:00.000-07:00

just trying some thing

Bee Directory
Skoobe Link Directory
Free Link Directory Charolabap.com

lets see if it works. This is a link to a directory were in, it has to be here for us to be in it, which of course we don't mind, fairs fair.

2008-10-21T16:23:00.000-07:00

If the British have the most changeable weather on the planet, then Cornwall is one of the corners of the Isle that often gets it first at its most unpredictable. We have has really lovely sunshine this morning, warm and bright. We have a long dark corridor, long enough to run in, on the west side of the wing of the house. At the end of this corridor is the door to the room we currently use as a kitchen, very squatter fashion, which is double aspect with windows facing east and south. We have no idea how old this part of the building is, the modern ‘front extension’ is 1785, and the door bares the scars of the many alterations to accommodate the movement of the building over its many years and it is still ill fitting. This morning this room was lit with a shining golden yellow brightness by the low sun, and it leaked out through the gaps all around this door and formed a halo, making it look as if the Martians had landed. By early afternoon the change could not have been more dramatic. I was taking pictures of the lovely Kernow chocolate to put on the web site; I do this at the top of the house under the lantern window that is in the roof to light the stairs. The hail was so heavy and noisy I felt compelled to stop and listen, flicking through my mind the lay-out of the roof. The enclosed leaded valley that drains via the open covert that runs through the loft, and cascades down the mansard roof to the gutter outside. I needed to reassure myself I couldn’t hear running water anywhere I didn’t expect too. Having the new roof first was such a good idea.

2008-10-16T09:05:00.000-07:00

Wow, doesn't sunny weather make you feel better? Long may it last, anything that makes the winter feel shorter gets my vote. I feel in very good spirits today, getting my account to the accountant is one of these things that make me feel light-headed with relief, the preperations of which in past years has been accompanied by horrible allergic-to -stress manifestations, but not this year. Seeing Dillon can always lighten my day, and his mum popped by with him, and he had his tea here. However, my big news, and the news that has me feeling like I want to dance in the street, the news that has me grinning like the proverbial Cheshire cat, the news that is making me feel as if any minute I will burst with pride; is my talented son Lee has been awarded 'Best Dining Pub of the Year' by the Good Pub Guide'. He is the head chef at The Inn @ West End. He is usually very laid back about the awards he wins, but this one matters to him, and that make me doubly pleased.

I have also been painting colour charts for the green paint we do in colours that are exclusive to us. We need to get them on wattstrading web site so they can be accessible to a wider customer base. We intend organising them in semi gloss also, as that is the type of paint that is wanted at the moment. We re-did the window, like a couple of children, Luke and I were very keen to see if the Wooden Warehouse was as lovely as it looked in the picture, and we were delighted with it, it was great fun to arrange the bails of fabric, boxes of tea and barrels of different sizes on the different floors. We also have Zappo driving his wooden horse and cart with his cargo of sacks. The holiday family stand together while father takes a picture with his camara. So altogether a lovely day, how did I get to be so lucky?

Saturday morning

2008-10-11T09:29:00.000-07:00

Lostwithiel is in a valley and Fore street, where the shop is situated, leads down to the river. So when I step outside the door I can see hills when I look both up and down the street. This morning was a bright, sunny October morning and when I went out to get the paper I could see the hills were hazy with mist and birds had been busy rooting in the moss on The Ivy leaf's roof as the pavement past their house was littered with blobs of the stuff. Even in these uncertain economic times it still feel good to be running a business in Lostwithiel.

The shop this morning looks as if someone has given it a good shake, the detritus of 5 deliveries in two days was evident. And behind the counter had been Dilloned, the new push along flappy footed toy in the shape of a crow, (stocked because of the crows that nest down by the river,) was parked by the fax machine with the calculator, minus the paper roll that was unwound in a heap.

Unpacking new deliveries is like Christmas, and I get very excited when we get new things in, I have to stop myself sneaking stuff upstairs. The latest 'must have' bits include gadgets for the kitchen; the most amazing straining ladle, the best apple corer I have ever seen and a very smart stainless steel compost collector, with filter! Time to close now, the only sign of the sun now is on the roofs across the road so I want to see the last of it before it is gone.

2008-10-06T09:32:00.000-07:00

It has been a wet grey day, but for a Monday, quite busy. My dad, who lives just up the hill popped in twice today, and both times the shop filled with customers. We decided we need to rent him to come and stand in the shop!

Watts trading sometimes seems more like a meeting place than a store. Often this involves pushchairs, as small children particularly love being in the shop. There is one small boy (three-ish), his parents do not shop here, who comes in when ever he can give whoever is with him the slip. People think it is the wooden toys that are the attraction, but children love the things like the texture and crinkly packageing of the organic seeds and nuts. The natural fibre brushes are also a hot favourite, Dillon's brush of choice is the soft goats hairdusting brush, in fact it is his first choice of all the things in the shop. Even the wooden JCB's and wooden push along animals come after.

We have some lovely wooden incense stick holders from Morocco, and to demonstrate their purpose we have an incense stick in one. Today we had a bit of a competition with some of the customers in the shop, to match the smell of the demonstration one with those on sale, as I couldn't remember what it was. The customer bought the two favourites, African musk and Frankincense and Myrrh as he said he had so much fun.

Lostwithiel is a magical place and running my shop is a joy, and not at all like work.

terrible advertising

2008-10-02T02:40:00.000-07:00

As Watts trading is shop that that looks to the ethics of subjects like fair trade, organic, local, compostable and careing for the environment so can you imagine our horror when we saw on google statements like, "can you trust watts trading?". "Watts Trading ™ a Scam? The Truth Will Shock You!" "Watts Trading Protect Your Cash! Don't Purchase Before Reading This Info" This is not us!

We have complained to Google and the owner of the site that shares our name, so watch this space and see if anything happens. We are a small shop in Lostwithiel Cornwall, the credit crunch is scarry enough without negative publisity mistakenly assosiated with us.