A summary

Hello! While I’m bustling around the blog with a yellow duster, squinting and squirting each element with Super Shiny Element Polish, let’s chat 2012. How was it for you? Did you accomplish many things and move forward towards your dreams? Or did 2012 rugby-tackle you from behind, and sploosh you face-first into a pile of cold mud?

I feel muddy but undaunted, oh blogger buddies. The word that sums up my 2012 is ‘emotional’. Losing my vibrant aunt to cancer earlier in the year was massively hard, and continues – of course – to be a huge sadness. If you’re lucky, then parents, nans, granddads, aunts and uncles – these form a protective but invisible umbrella over your world – people who love you unconditionally, just because you are you. When they go there’s a gap where they once stood, and you can always feel the draught, no matter how many years go by.

So that was the sadness – and it did stop my blogging, as grief does rob people of easy words, and replaces them instead with tricky ones that are hard to spell – like despondency (which I spell ‘despondancey’ - imagine Gene Kelly doing a sad soft shoe shuffle), melancholy (which I spell ‘meloncholy’ – someone suffering with cholera, chomping on a melon), and disconsolateness (a Mexican salad).

It didn’t stop me entirely working on redrafting my novel, though. Writing fiction can be such a gift when you wish to escape reality. Stories always give the writer, and reader, a gently swinging rope ladder to climb up and into for a while. So there has been progress, and I feel it is a much stronger story, and hopefully it will be ready to submit to agents in January.

This year has also seen moments of pure sparkly happiness, too. I was the bridesmaid for one of my best friends, who here I call Good Friend R, and it was such a wonderful and special time. R is my vintage partner in crime, and a lindy hop / swing dancer extraordinaire, so it was great fun to plan a vintage hen party, and her wedding was a complete delight. Lots of love and happiness to R and A.

I also attended another gorgeous wedding – one that was in OK magazine, no less – and this was my friend Kerry-Lucy to Lee Latchford-Evans, who you may know from the band Steps. It’s been so much fun sharing their pre-wedding excitement, and the celebrations.  Many sparkly congratulations to them. Kerry is also in a band – Concrete Rose – 2013 is set to be their year.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, nostalgia has been higher than usual on my radar. I am prone to a nostalgic wander or two, sometimes even the sort of wallow that would make a hippo proud. This year not only did I see My First Boyband (which sounds like a Fisher Price toy) – New Kids On The Block – but I also went to the Hit Factory Live, which was a Stock Aitken and Waterman concert-fest of pure pop memories.  Seeing NKOTB – well. For a heady teenage year they were plastered across my bedroom walls (along with Corey Haim, Christian Slater, and a random Home and Away actor. Even his poster looked bemused at the company he was keeping.) And then the world turned, and I left them behind... only for twenty-two years to pass, and here we are again. As for the Hit Factory – where to start?! I’ll start where I’ll end – with Kylie and Jason Donovan singing Especially For You. I tell you, Blogger friends, it was like Charlene and Scott had stayed together all those years, and the unseen episode of Neighbours – the one where Charlene cuts her hair and gets sexy with Michael Hutchence  – never happened.

Another nostalgia trip this year was visiting The House at Green Knowe. Hand up who knows what I’m talking about – which of you is smiling right now and thinking of the books by Lucy Boston, or remembers the magical BBC adaptation in the 1980s? Well – I’ll let you into a secret. Green Knowe is real! It’s a real place that anyone can visit – and Tolly’s room is completely as it is in the books and the show – and that wonderful air of magic and adventure from the stories is fully conjured by the house’s owner – the author’s daughter-in-law, Diana Boston. I went with another best friend, Good Friend A, and it has a special place in both our hearts.

A skip through my phone’s pictures and there are so many things I could tell you about but I can’t for fear of becoming that relative at parties who, after finishing the anecdote, goes on to repeat the same thing from a different angle unaware of the audience checking their watch and muttering ‘is that the time? I’m supposed to be calling into another blog’.

So all that it leaves me to do is raise a glass to you, dear reader, and wish you a very merry and productive New Year. May your 2013 sparkle bright.

Jayne x

Escaping on The Orient Express

I always find that the closer it circles to midwinter, the more myself and friends meet up, perhaps to let the warmth of our friendship alleviate the chill air and darkness. We gather in bright circles, in houses with fireplaces, in pubs with flickering candles, in cosy tea shops with china cups, in plush department stores where artificial lights bounce from each polished surface. We all whoosh into each others’ life in a flurry of scarves and hats like we’ve used one of Harry Potter’s port-keys, filled with stories from Away. It doesn’t matter if Away has been for a year or a week; each conversation will pick up from the last and expand to cover all corners. Every familiar voice is a boon and a blessing, the light of companionship a talisman to ward off the night.

And yet, perversely, the call of hibernation is loud. The gloomy days make me want to tuck inside and draw the curtains, turn on the lamps. I want to escape into books and time-travel to see Victorians in London, to follow action heroes tackling twisty crime thrillers in Miami, to listen to sharp-talking mods in Brighton, to dream about lazy days in Georgia, to wonder what life would be like on a boat with a tiger. I want to look at art, to lose myself in the contours of oil paint, the flat expanses of acrylic. I want to trace the outlines of faces in photographs, to memory-gather, to rejoice in all I love. I want to reflect upon the year and plot for spring. I find myself making lists (and checking them twice), and squirreling away buttons and fabric, ribbons and sequins. I flick the pages of recipe books and contemplate cakes, delicate iced flowers, spun-sugar butterflies. And in-between it all, back and forth I go to work, a piece of shiny glass being endlessly washed upon a shore, corners rubbed away by commuter-tough elbows and shoulders, until I am smooth, quiet, and uniform.

Unless I rebel, of course, a secret thought that often springs to mind when squished into an armpit on the Victoria line. One-day I shall trudge past St Pancras train station in my conformist clothes, and then I’ll fling off the dull overcoat, revealing a purple tutu and a red mohair jumper. Then, waving my passport, I’ll run away on the Eurostar to Paris. Paris! The idea also morphs into Venice! (said with exactly the same breathy exclamation-mark passion), and, also, sometimes, most-daringly, into The Orient Express! (Said with even more breathy passion, if at all possible, without degenerating into an all-out saucy pant.) Oh, how I’d adore to travel on the Orient Express. Let’s see, what would I need to take with me...

Clothes

If I’m on this luxury train then I’m assuming that I have a wardrobe budget to match. I’ll drip in art deco. I’ll shimmer in sequins. I’ll Charleston it up from sunrise to sundown. I’ll not step foot out of my cabin without an ostrich feather fascinator, and two small *chihuahuas named Fifi La Chew and Philippe La Mew.

Prabal Gurung at Harvey Nichols
Alexander McQueen at Selfridges
The Orient Express

Reading material

By my bedside, on a satin display cushion, will be a first edition of Agatha Christie’s classic book, Murder on the Orient Express. I’d read it wearing silk gloves, every so often discreetly sniffing the pages. Mmm. Book dust.

Both books pictured can be found via AbeBooks.com

Perfume

If not delicately dabbing my wrists in the finest book dust, then the deciding factor in perfume shall be whether the bottle looks either like a) the ‘Drink me’ bottle in Alice in Wonderland, or b) the bottle the White Witch uses to make Turkish Delight appear, as in the original text. In the film I believe she uses a wand – yawn. Wands are so passé.

Alice illustration by John Tenniel
Vintage Perfume Bottles via Dee Devine, Pinterest

Handbag

My handbag on the Orient Express shall be a giant ball of exquisite fluff, hand-gathered from the back of Buckingham Palace’s sofas and settees. Should this prove unavailable, I’d go for either something vintage-inspired and chic, such as Diane von Furstenberg’s Fetish Box Clutch, or something that looks like a bling-covered Fisher Price toy for adults, such as Judith Leiber’s Carousel Miniature. Inside this I shall carry a compact silver mirror, a red lipstick, and a Liberty print silk handkerchief.

Diane von Furstenberg’s Fetish Box Clutch at Harrods
Judith Leiber’s Carousel Miniature at Harrods

Suitcase

This has to be a 1930s brown case of battered, but good quality, leather. The sort that muscular train porters can carry for me, considering the bastard bollocking thing has no wheels. *Note to self, never ever swear like my Auntie Shirley on the Orient Express*

The Dog and Wardrobe

Jewellery

Diamonds are a girl’s best friend... although of course a diamond is no good at texting ‘lol!’, sharing cupcakes, and gossiping at sleepovers. However, a diamond won’t also nick your first boyfriend, to put it in context. Moving on from teenage life, if I’m on the Orient Express, I’d like my fingers to be adorned with something sparkly, please. And my ears. And my neck. And my wrists. I might stop there. Maybe. (I have actually gone all Small and Solemn at the prices.)

Tiffany & Co
Liberty

Fifi La Chew and Philippe La Mew

La Chew and La Mew are Chihuahuas that fiendishly disguise themselves as cats. Did they fool you? They are the ginger master and tabby mistress of illusion.

Things to remember in November

Autumn days when the grass is jewelled...

November is traditionally a time of remembrance. We have Remembrance Sunday where we wear poppies, observe a two-minute silence, and think about the people who were killed during the wars. People like to say these brave souls ‘gave their lives’ but that sounds so graceful, like a present exchange. Romancing the world wars (or any war) glosses over how bloody awful they are for everyone. I always wear a poppy... and then realise halfway through the day that I’m wearing a pin... and then buy another... and lose it. Poppies are up there with pens, cigarette lighters, and umbrellas. They are all part of the grand Lost Item Shuffle.

In the UK we observe another act of remembrance in November, which is Fireworks Day. Here we traditionally burn an effigy on a bonfire and send fireworks into the sky, a custom held to remember that Guy Fawkes did not manage to blow up Parliament in 1605. We are basically having a nice evening out remembering a loser, folks. Don’t forget the jacket potatoes.

November is also that time of year when you must remember to pack your bag with all manner of warm items as the temperature plummets and sunny days prove a thermometer mirage. So far each day I have forgotten one of the following: hat, gloves, scarf, extra layer, umbrella (which classes as a warm item in my world as rain is cold). Forgetting a glove is particularly annoying. One hand is like a well-pampered Victorian, the other a shivering pauper.

I often find myself, after happily living off salads throughout spring and summer, trying to remember if I can indeed cook during November. You’ll see me in the supermarket, eyebrows in a knot, quizzically hefting a butternut squash, or prodding a pumpkin. There’ll be all manner of soup experiments and enthusiastic forays into recipe books – some meals successful, others bequeathed with love and best wishes to the cats.

The 11th month of the year is generally the time when I remember things that all year have been forgotten, such as dry-cleaning coats and wondering why I don’t yet own a pair of fluffy pyjamas, or slipper boots, or one of those enormous Snuggie Slanket things. Like a squirrel hoarding nuts, I take stock of all I’ve achieved (anything?), and launch tentative plans to finish This by December and That by January, vowing in the manner of Del Boy, that this time next year I’ll be a millionaire.

Author interview: Pamela Terry

Sometimes you read a blog and wish for that blogger to write a book. You know in your heart it will be the most magical book – the sort of book that you simply can’t wait to read, the sort of book you can sink into at the end of a long day, the sort of book that is pivotal to a lazy Sunday, a picnic by a stream, a favourite armchair in a patch on sunlight. And so you click on their blog and hope one day, one day – and now that day is finally here! Pamela Terry, the writer behind the lovely blog From The House of Edward, has turned her beautiful words into a book, and I’m so very pleased for her, and for us!

Pamela and Edward

I’m also delighted to welcome Pamela (and Edward!) onto my blog to celebrate. Let's find out more...

Can you describe your book to us? 
The book is a collection of essays on a wide variety of topics, but mostly centering on how taking notice of the seemingly insignificant bits of life can make the world turn in a more beautiful and meaningful way.   I really wanted the book to be something beautifully made, something lovely to look at and delightful to hold in one’s hand and I’m thrilled to say that I think it turned out to be exactly that.

Where would we be ideally sitting reading your book?
Snuggled up in a four-poster bed on a rainy night or under a tree in an ancient forest would be ideal, I suppose.  But I’m happy to think you could dip in and out of this book anywhere from the breakfast table to the train.

What made you decide to turn your blog into a book?
To be honest, it never occurred to me until I began getting letters requesting it.  Those letters got more and more frequent so I decided to pull away from the novel I’m working on and make it happen.  It was a lot more work than I expected but now that’s it’s done, I’m really glad I did it.

How did you choose what posts to be included – is there a theme? 
The book is divided up into seasons, but I wouldn’t say there is a specific theme apart from the joy of discovering beauty in the quotidian parts of life.  Of course there are stories about Edward, my big white dog, scattered throughout.  He is a sweet and constant reminder of all that is good and after all, the book is named for him.

Will there be additional material for a long-term blog-reader to discover? 
Actually, all of the pieces have been reworked a bit and there are a few new things as well.  The editing process took much longer than I anticipated.

Describe where you like to write? 
I have a big, fat chair in my library that is covered in a velvet floral that I love. I sit cross-legged in that chair with my laptop. The room is lined with books and a couple of favourite paintings.  There is a hand-painted mirror on the wall by the door that I purchased at a tiny little shop in Paris years ago and carried home in my suitcase wrapped up in shawls and sweaters.  There is a long window over the desk to my left that I like to leave open; I can’t see out of it from my chair so it’s not distracting, but I can hear the birds singing and the wind blowing.  Edward is usually asleep at my feet.

What’s currently on your desk?
Far too much, at the moment.  There’s a spool of antique velvet ribbon and a skein of blue-black wool.  Several journals and a collection of favourite pens that, sadly, I keep losing.  A framed photograph of Jacqueline Bouvier when she was a little girl.  Something about her direct stare into the camera serves to remind me that we are born with our essential natures, we only embellish or strip away as we get older.  Eyeglasses.  My property tax bill... evil thing that it is.  And a photograph of Shilasdair yarn shop on the Isle of Skye, the setting of which is, to me, pure heaven.

What gives you inspiration? 
Just about everything, I’m afraid.  The way a snowfall changes the light in the house.  The individual personalities of trees.  Wind.  The colour of a perfect strawberry.  The way grass feels on my bare feet.  The rainbow of book spines on a library shelf.  The Highlands of Scotland.  Edward’s smile.  Adele’s voice.  Cinnamon.  Wit.  Really, inspiration is constant in my life.

If you could time-travel for a day, where would you go?
I was completely besotted with Elizabethan England when I was a little girl.  To wander around Windsor Castle or Hampton Court on a day when the Queen herself was in residence would be amazing to me.  And let’s not forget, Shakespeare would be around somewhere as well!  If I were only there for one day, my chances of getting in serious trouble would be greatly diminished.  I’ve read Wolf Hall... I know how precarious life was then!

Like me, you are a big fan of autumn / fall. What does this season mean to you?
Perhaps it’s because the summers are so sweltering where I live, but autumn signals the start of a new year for me each time it rolls around.   I love everything about it - the fragrance of woodsmoke in the air,  the brisk weather, the colours, the clothes, the food.  It’s a very sensual season.   And it doesn’t hurt that Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas are celebrated during this time as well.  Every day in autumn seems like a treat to me.

What are Edward and Apple doing right now? 
Edward is asleep on the floor beneath my chair, with his head resting on my feet.  Apple is in the window seat in the next room keeping a constant vigil for her nemesis, the dreaded squirrel.  Upon spotting one, she will let out a yelp that will bring Edward running.  That’s Apple’s job as she sees it.  She’s the sentry, Edward’s the enforcer.

What song always makes you get up and dance around your kitchen?  
Have you been peeking in my kitchen window??  My husband and I are serious kitchen dancers!  Our last slow dance in the kitchen was to Because by the Dave Clark Five.  I highly recommend that one.  For fast dances, which both dogs join in on by the way, you really can’t beat Bruce Springsteen’s Cadillac Ranch.  Oh, and Son of a Preacher Man by Dusty Springfield is especially good when you’re making soup.

Do you have any guilty pleasures?
Fresh flowers, pedicures, great old country house hotels and coffee ice cream.

If you could be an artist, who would you be and why?
Wouldn’t it be wonderful to be able to paint!  I’d probably choose Lord Frederick Leighton. I adore the romantic atmosphere of his paintings; I could stare at the folds of the lady’s green dress in The Painter’s Honeymoon for hours. And as a huge added plus, if I were Lord Leighton, I would get to live in that exquisite house of his in Holland Park.

If you could live inside a work of fiction, what book would you choose, and why?
It’s tempting to say Harry Potter, of course.  To ride into town on a broom is outrageously irresistible.  I’d love to work in Mulberry’s flower shop, like Miss Pym in Mrs. Dalloway.  I’d spend my days looking out the window at that perfect London morning, surrounded by lilies and lilacs.  Or living inside Swallows and Amazons would be delicious. And, if you could remove the crazy lady from the attic of Thornfield Hall, I’ve always thought Jane Eyre wouldn’t be bad.  But I think I’d have to choose Mary Poppins.  To live in long ago London with the sense of grand possibility that she provided would be wonderful.  Imagine jumping into paintings!

Thank you so much, Pamela! I really enjoyed reading your answers.

It's a book! A real book! Yay!

Book details

From The House of  Edward
Essays by Pamela Terry

Available now from Pamela's website: www.pamelaterry.net

Blog details

Follow Pamela and Edward's adventures...

From The House of Edward