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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.