Somewhere . . .

Somewhere in 2012, I lost my way . . .

Between the new job, Seeded and Natterworking, I totally lost my pathway, and 2013 is the year that I get back onto that pathway, and start feeling more like 'me,' and doing the things that 'me' finds energising and inspirational.

So, having trawled the Internet for tips of achieving the potentially unachievable, I have come up with the following top ten tips or guidelines that I will be sticking to in 2013:-

1. Switch off! Yep, I'm going to make sure that I don't have phone anywhere near me when we eat dinner, or spend quality time together . . . this will be a toughie, as, like many of you I'm sure, either my personal or work phone is quite literally attached to my hand at all times . . . even when I am in the bath!

2. Explore! Be it taking a walk along the beach, visiting to a museum or art gallery, or going to a new destination somewhere in the world, I'm going to be open to exploring anything and everything . . . 

3. Say no to guilt! I often feel guilty that when I am at home in the evening I should be working, or when I am having to work late, I feel guilty that I should be at home with Mr Seeded . . . Its really important that in 2013, I check myself and remind myself that I need a break from both, to recharge the batteries and be able to come back into both environments fully focused and ready to give my best . . . this one is going to be a major hurdle for me, so watch this space!

4. Goals! I have many, and for those of you who know me personally, you know that I am always thinking, and coming up with new ideas . . . I sometimes feel its easier for me to give people ideas which I can see them take to fruition, rather than keeping them for myself, and letting me work through them and see something bloom and grow. So in 2013, I'm going to set some goals (more of these in another blog I think!) and aim to finish them! It will be interesting to see how I make this commitment to myself, and finally see something fly.

5. Eat! Of course I eat, but I will be looking more closely at what I eat, and make correlations between what makes me feel good, and what doesn't . . . I know sugar and wheat are my enemies, so I planning on cutting them out of my diet as much as I can.

6. Just me! Being an Executive Assistant means that I often don't put myself first (if I did, I wouldn't be doing a good job!) Once a week, I am going to plan in proper 'me' time, where I do something that I just want to do, without Mr Seeded. Ive a couple of books I want to start, so that's what I'm going to plan into my 'me' time to begin with.

7. Help! In 2013, I will ask for help if I need it . . . simple things sometimes can be the most effective!

8. Be 'Good Enough!' I am quite often a fool to myself . . . in the constant search for sheer perfection, I totally stress myself out. To counteract the stress (and the inevitable arguments it leads to!) I am going to let go, and allow things to sometimes just be 'good enough' rather than 'perfect.' Don't get me wrong, I'm not going to let my standards slip . . . however, I'm going to teach myself that when Mr Seeded puts the clean washing in the wrong place, its not time to cue WW3 . . .  at least its away, and in a place I can find it . . .

9. Stop Comparing! I'm sure we all do this, but by comparing my life with many other peoples, I end up despairing . . . I'm sure many peoples outer facade belie a completely different story, and I need to remember that although we all try to be superwomen, its totally impossible to be perfect, even if outer appearances are telling me something else!

10. Get Passionate! I need to get the passion back in my life, and I don't just mean with Mr Seeded . . . 

So, I'm going to give these a try . . . these aren't resolutions, but more like lifestyle choices, that I need to make, to make my life the one I want it to be, rather than letting outside influences take over.

Happy 2013 all!

Much love, Ax

What was the best thing about this past working week? Clocking out on Friday afternoon . . .

Im not sure what the Gods were doing, or what planets were aligned with whom, but jeez, I have never seen so many emotional moments all come at once . . . and Im not just talking about me . . .

Next week, will be better, and I will make it better . . .

How are you all?

Ax

Stalemate . . .

'Everything you need comes to you in perfect time, space and sequence . . .' - Louise Hay

If the above quote is true, then life can be truely testing at times . . .

If I was a piece of bread, I would be one of those slices you find right at the back of the breadbin, when all you really want is a hot buttered slice of toast . . .  totally disappointed  . . . with bits of green and white mould on . . . not a pretty analogy, but I really do feel like that . . .

My ideas are stagnent, and my general demeanour is a bit crunchy . . . I feel like Im on the tip of an iceberg, but can't just get over it . . .

What to do?

I'm just biding my time, hoping that everything is fitting together, in exact perfection . . . and thats all I can do . . .

Im just trusting . . .

Mother of Pearl

I love mother of pearl, and always have done . . .


Since I was little, I would sit and stare at the beautiful colours that were reflected back at me, and get lost in them . . . I loved their texture, the smoothness, and the cool nacre that would warm to the touch . . . 


The first mother of pearl I remember was of my grandmothers - she had a wonderfully 1950s jewellery box, that was decorated in slithers of mother of pearl inlaid in-between ebony black wood . . . I have no idea where it came from, nor where it went since, but it remains in my memory, as did the song it played . . . what its title was eludes me, but I can still hear its tinkling tune now . . . 


The next was the most fabulous paste and mother of pearl jewellery set she had - it was just so old school glamour, and she used to let me dress up in it . . . How grown up I felt, being able to clip the earrings on myself . . . she used to pile my hair up in a chignon, and powder my nose - as close to make-up that I ever got to when I was little!


I am so pleased to say that she gave them to me when I was old enough to really appreciate them, and although a little bashed around as I used to wear them to university balls, I still love them dearly . . .

And now, I have my button collections . . . Oh! I could spend all day looking at them, and turning them this way and that . . .

Mother of pearl buttons are made from the nacre of mollusk shells mainly, and the history of their development is fascinating - have a look at this link for a little more information:-

http://www.burdastyle.com/blog/mother-of-pearl-buttons-a-uniquely-american-triumph


In fact, they were the first buttons I ever had in my collection, and although I have become a bit of a button slut (in that I love any kind to pieces), I always go back to the beauty that is Mother of Pearl . . .


No matter what I will keep coming back to mother of pearl, and whenever I see a pile of fabulous mother of pearl buttons, my fingers start to itch!


How about you?


Much love, Ax

The act of a master juggler . . .

So, its been a while since my last blog, as to be honest, I had no idea where I would be a month down the line from my last post . . .

I had been completely torn over starting the new job, and wanting to carry on with the buttons to the extent that I was . . . I had a conversation with the fabulous Marna from Little A Designs, where I said that I felt like my inner child had been fed fizzy pop and sweets all day, then been told to go to bed . . . I just wanted to throw a massive tantrum, and do what I wanted to do, rather than the grown up thing to do . . .

I have met so many wonderful people via the buttons and Facebook, that it just didn't seem right . . . Yet the overwhelming feeling of letting people down, and letting the button page drift away was just so intense, I just didn't want to part with it yet . . .

Ive now been in the job for a month, and all seems to be going well - its busy, but I have time to do things, and there is a post office on site, so I know I can pop things in the post to you all regularly . . .

I have also come up with a set of commitments to you and the button page, so I can ensure I am fulfilling my side of the bargain . . . 

1. There will be a weekly button sale, and if I can't make it, I will update it accordingly
2. These sales, and any others, will all be in the events page, so you can see when they will be
3. I will endeavour to get the invoices out within 24 hours
4. I will reply to emails within 24 hours, but if you haven't heard from me, please do give me a nudge!
5. I will be open and honest with you about my workload, and if I can't do it, will tell you so
6. I also want to try and do a monthly web chat - would anyone be up for that?

In return, I hope you will be open and honest with me - is that a fair swap ;)

I just hope you are all still out there . . . Are you?

Much love, Ax

Granddaddies Little Girl Part 2

 


So, it’s taken me a bit of time to write this one, due to one thing or another, and it’s taken me a bit of time to think about this very complex man, and group together my memories of him . . .

Granddad Ted was born into a family of birdcage makers in Covent Garden (how romantic does that sound!) and when he was old enough, worked with his father in the market as a green grocer. There were seven children in total, six boys and one girl, and the sense of family camaraderie really always came through. They would go off 'Hopping' in the summer, living in tin huts in the then Garden of England, Kent. Picking hops, singing songs, and eating good food, building up their strength for the harshness of a London winter. . .

I once asked him if he knew his grandparents, and where they had lived. ‘In the house that backed onto ours,’ he said, ‘but we didn’t really see them . . .’
‘Why?’ I had asked.
‘Well my Grandfather pushed my Grandmother down the stairs and killed her, so we just didn’t!’ What a startling revelation and one that I didn’t, and haven’t still, pursued.

In the war, he was still too young to join up initially, but then became a driver in Bletchley, the home of the code breakers.

Soon after the war, he married Betty, and along came two boys, one of them my father. Because of dad’s weak chest, the doctors advised them to move out into the countryside to the fresh air, and so they did, to the new town Hemel Hempstead. He opened up a greengrocer’s shop, with my grandmother doing the floristry side of things that grew and did well.

They soon moved from the town, further out into the countryside, and this homestead is where my main memories of him come into play . . .

He was Pa Larkin – there was always the bulging veg patch, the Sunday lunches and huge spread teas in the afternoon, shared with as many family members as possible . . . Us jumping on him, and him ‘giving us whiskers!’

He was soft hearted, and instead of demanding debts be settled in cash, often took goods in exchange – vans, chickens – you name it. This soft heart extended to animals, and he could never see an animal that was being mistreated . . .

He would go to the horse market in Southall, and buy anything so that the meat man wouldn’t get them . . . every Wednesday he would come back with a couple of new horses, much to my Grandmothers annoyance.

Quite often with these horses came carts, and gigs, and all the tack to go with them . . . this is my favourite memory of him . . . coming to collect us on a Sunday morning, the sound of horses hooves on tarmac signalling his arrival, and us rushing out to jump on to be taken along to the house, and lunch . . . His smiling face as we trotted along, holding all the traffic up, us giggling away . . .

Ill health got to him though, and once whilst fixing a roof, he fell through, and was left hanging for hours – it was that shock that the doctors said lead to his diabetes, but the heart condition was bought on by years of early starts, and post war rich food . . .

They eventually moved out of the homestead, as it became too much for them both, and when my grandmother died (she had always been the healthy one) he became bitter at the world that it had not been him . . .

I will always remember the good times with him, and times we shared with the horses, and in the garden . . . not the broken man he ended up being . . .

 

Grand-daddies little girl . . . Part 1 . . .

Grand-daddies little girl . . . Part 1 . . .

One of my co-workers very suddenly lost her grandfather, and it has made me think a lot about my wonderful ones . . .

Most of us reminisce about out Grandmothers - baking, sewing, their button tins ;) . . . and tend to overlook the Grandfathers . . . However, I can safely say that I totally adored both of mine, and on looking back, can remember the most unusual things about them . . . So before time moves on, and I forget all of these wonderful nuances, I'm going to write these two blogs for them . . .

Grandad George

Born in 1919, Grandad George was born within the sound of Bow Bells, and until the age of fourteen slept in a chair next to a fireplace . . . the fact that he never had a bed of his own shocked me when I heard this age eighteen.

Trained as a cobbler, he entered the Second World War as a machine gunner, and saw action on the D-Day beaches, something that he never once spoke about to me. He obviously enjoyed himself though, with photos of him and his comrades larking about during their time at camp.

A quiet gentle giant he was always such a gentleman . . .

His hands and nails were always immaculate, shoes polished, clothes spic and span . . . always close shaved, and smelling of Lifebuoy Soap and cigarettes, although his brand of choice eludes me . . .

He and his wife moved from London to give their young family a better start after the war - the new town Hemel Hempstead became their home, and he worked hard at the Vauxhall car plant in Luton. Soon enough, they had their own home, with very neat flower beds, roses, a lawn, a veg patch and a garden shed - the place where my memories of him are compounded by the wonderful smell of creosote and earth . .. The box that he made to insulate the outside tap so it wouldn't freeze, the oil tray that he kept under the car engine so it didn't damage the garage floor, and the wonderful deck chairs that until recently we still used . . .

The car trips we used to take to Weston, and the wind break, tea, rock and the vest, rolled up trousers and knotted hankie ensemble he would wear when he dug at the beach with us.

He became the sole carer for my grandmother when she became ill, and refused to put her into a home even when it was detrimental to his own health . . .

When he finally succumbed, he came into his own, but maybe looking back on it, it was due to his loneliness . . . He became a regular at bingo, winning a substantial amount of money, and going away on coach tours around the UK - once winning a fancy dress competition as dressing up as Carmen Miranda, complete with fruit!

When he died, he was the first of my grandparents to go . . .

He had two weeks previously been to see my Grandmother in the home for the first time, and then had been down to see my mum in her new home . . . it was as if he knew his time to move on had come, and he wanted to check that everyone was safe and settled . . .

I will never forget this wonderful gentle man, and the way he bought stability into my life . . .

Much love, Ax