tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84692132968390406992024-03-18T09:12:20.081+00:00Beautiful ClutterThe thrill of finding something already loved and full of stories is uniqueJem http://www.blogger.com/profile/03909795752665059574noreply@blogger.comBlogger164125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469213296839040699.post-6942788408294590402015-10-20T17:22:00.001+01:002015-10-20T17:22:20.037+01:00Back From Outer Space {Hello to anyone still reading!}<div style="text-align: justify;">
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It has been so long since I have written and published a blog post that I've almost forgotten how it works! A couple of months ago I had the lightbulb moment I'd been waiting for; I woke up and I missed blogging, missed writing, missed photographing beautiful objects, and missed interacting with online friends who shared their own interests through their portions of the internet. With this little ache settled in the pit of my belly the only thing to do was to start a fresh notebook (old habits) specifically for ways to revive my blog. Out poured idea after idea, pages and pages of things I'd like to share. Kettle boiled and bucket-sized mug of tea brewed, I then opened up my Macbook (I say mine . . . I may have purloined my Mums. Good thing she loves me) went straight to Bloglovin' and spent a couple of hours reading. It became clear to me quickly that I had been out of the loop for a very, very long time.</div>
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Prior to this I hadn't posted since September 2013 and everything seemed to have moved on exponentially since then. Seeking a little help to get back up to speed I scrolled through some of the recommended reads - quite a few of which seemed crammed with tips on how to blog - and came away feeling completely disillusioned. The professional blog designs, analytics packages, migration to self hosting, brand collaborations, heavy posting schedule, and social media commitment deemed necessary by each 'how to' in order to blog intimidated the life out of me! My tea had reached stone-cold status by the time I decided that this brave new blog-world was probably out of my reach; I didn't have time to post daily, the spare cash for a professional blog/web design or the know-how around promoting my blog on social media. So I gulped my cold tea (grim!) and busied myself making a mess in the kitchen to put the entire thing out of my mind. </div>
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Only I couldn't get the niggle to go away. Deciding not to make the same mistake twice I skipped anything remotely 'how to blog' in title and instead revisited my old favourites. Some pages, like mine, were now dormant but others were still going strong and it felt lovely to dip back into the worlds of their respective authors. Many were still posting along similar lines and others had branched out into new areas and visiting each was so nice - I know 'nice' is such an overused word, and often means underwhelming, but in this case it really was . . . 'nice'. Pleasant, amusing, heartwarming, inspirational. I'm not sure how much of a community feel there still is in the blogging world currently, I suppose that is something I will only find out with time but I hope there is still a sense of amity and collaboration. So now I guess I'm waving 'hello'! How are you all?! It has been quite a hiatus here on Beautiful Clutter, so much in life has changed over the past two years and with the coming months it is set to change more. I've missed you! I had thought about starting afresh with a completely new blog, but instead I've decided that perhaps I'll let Beautiful Clutter grow and change to reflect how my life has moved on. So for the moment I'm afraid it's the same old layout, same old style of photography and a potentially sporadic posting schedule; I hope if you're still out there reading that you won't mind that too much!<br />
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=8469213296839040699" target="_blank"><img src="http://i602.photobucket.com/albums/tt108/valentinestudio123/Client%20Blog%20Design/Signatures/CeautifulClutterSig.png" style="background: transparent; border: none;" /></a>Jem http://www.blogger.com/profile/03909795752665059574noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469213296839040699.post-76949381441677562602013-09-19T11:19:00.001+01:002013-09-19T12:19:15.905+01:00Optimism and Vintage Seeking <!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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It struck me recently that vintage fanciers are relentless optimists;
each charity shop could conceal a pristine and worthy treasure, every flea
market is rife with possibility and jumble sales are chaotic games of chance.
We have all flicked our way through overcrowded racks of suspect garments or
rifled determinedly in a box marked ‘50p’ just in case a treasure waits
patiently unseen at the end of the trail. On coming up empty from a hunt we
shrug our shoulders and reason that there have to be fruitless days in the name
of balance and reason that we’ll have better luck next time out.</div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Treasure seeking is such a heady mix of possibility and stories that it
is hard to resist - every find has had a life of it’s own before it comes to
you and there lies so much of the appeal for me – endless promise. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The most mundane of objects could tell
some of the most compelling histories; of themselves and of the hands they have
passed through on their journey. Magpie tendencies can be troublesome - no
matter how much space is on offer there are yet more curiosities to fill it
with. Lately I have been slightly stricter with myself in what I buy; I’m a
pushover and want to give a home to every orphaned teacup or woebegone book I
see and can’t bear to think of them stuck on a shelf lonely and unloved, but
that way hoarding lies! The funny thing is that less is more – a smidgeon of
self-control is a beautiful thing – because now every treasure I decide to make
my own feels more special for having passed the stringent ‘If I walk away from
this will I regret it?’ test. I’m headed to Birmingham next week to one of my
favourite hunting grounds for pretty old junk and I know I’ll relish every
moment of the chase, I just hope that whatever I find will fit into my
suitcase! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><a href="http://www.made.com/looks/as-seen-on-tv" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Made.com</a> just created a slightly tongue-in-cheek TV advert about how the makers of their furniture find the designs absolutely irresistible, they asked me to share it - and what I find irresistible - with my readers. If you've been dropping by Beautiful Clutter for a while you'll know I'm an incorrigible book fondler and page sniffer so the video struck a real chord with me, let me know what you think!</span></div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=8469213296839040699" target="_blank"><img src="http://i602.photobucket.com/albums/tt108/valentinestudio123/Client%20Blog%20Design/Signatures/CeautifulClutterSig.png" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial;" /></a>Jem http://www.blogger.com/profile/03909795752665059574noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469213296839040699.post-18069524091801177332013-07-22T07:19:00.000+01:002013-07-22T07:19:09.280+01:00Amazon Giveaway<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I hereby pledge to only steal lyrics from Right Said Fred this once; I'm deeply dippy (oh yes) about books. Secondhand lovelies especially with their comfortingly dusty aroma, sweet inscriptions and forgotten bookmarks yet a little parcel of brand new books is just as bewitching - they are crisp and unread with their own enticing scent - being the first to turn their pages feels brilliant to me.</div>
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So when <a href="http://www.appliancesonline.co.uk/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Appliances Online</a> asked whether I would like an Amazon voucher to give away to a lucky reader I was very enthusiastic! My Amazon wish lists (for I have several) are constantly growing and I know so many of you are just as fiendish about reading as I am, to be in with a chance of winning £40 in Amazon vouchers you can enter below! The giveaway is open to international readers and you have two weeks to enter, best of luck!</div>
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<a class="rafl" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/c121d91/" id="rc-c121d91" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a></div>
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<script src="//d12vno17mo87cx.cloudfront.net/embed/rafl/cptr.js"></script></div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=8469213296839040699" target="_blank"><img src="http://i602.photobucket.com/albums/tt108/valentinestudio123/Client%20Blog%20Design/Signatures/CeautifulClutterSig.png" style="background: transparent; border: none;" /></a>Jem http://www.blogger.com/profile/03909795752665059574noreply@blogger.com124tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469213296839040699.post-70181299262997374322013-06-27T11:54:00.003+01:002013-06-27T11:54:59.418+01:00Secret Histories<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Photographs can be such a personal thing, each time I come away from my local antiques centre with a couple of old pictures I feel as though I've been let in on a secret somehow - that wherever the subjects ended up I hold a moment of their history in my hands. Curiosity means I tend to start decoding before I even get them home; how old does she look? What clues do her clothes give to the decade? What does her expression say about her? </div>
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There is only so much to decipher by looking, the rest is a mystery, and that is where the beauty lies for me. I've always had an overactive imagination so I let it loose and see where it takes me; sometimes I'll invent elaborate family trees and a rich backstory other times a little summary of important points to note - prefers lemon curd to jam, likes to leave a trail of breadcrumbs for the ducks with the crust of her sandwich. Posed portraits are lovely to look at and I own quite a few but the exciting finds are images captured by accident. Rebecca caught my eye - the outtakes especially - her expressions make me think there is plenty going on beneath the surface and infinite possibilities as to her story. I found Grace, Katherine and Rebecca in the same box and I'd like to imagine they know one another - even if the decades don't quite match up!</div>
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It could be the Downton Abbey fan in me but images of life below stairs are some of my favourites, there is so much to surmise in the picture of the girls grouped around the table having tea and the coat hung on the back of the door feels spectre like - very ghost-at-the-feast. I'd love to know what you think the story is behind that scene!</div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=8469213296839040699" target="_blank"><img src="http://i602.photobucket.com/albums/tt108/valentinestudio123/Client%20Blog%20Design/Signatures/CeautifulClutterSig.png" style="background: transparent; border: none;" /></a>Jem http://www.blogger.com/profile/03909795752665059574noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469213296839040699.post-90610969939793477852013-06-19T11:49:00.000+01:002013-06-19T11:49:11.796+01:00Notebook Hoarding <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">The opening page of a fresh notebook is a heady mix of new stationery
aroma and possibilities, I get caught up in the ceremony of putting pen to
paper and setting the tone for any scribbles to follow, so much so that there
are several notebooks in my stash yet to receive a maiden scrawl. I’m waiting
for a worthy and perfect thought or idea to strike, you see.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The longer I wait, the bigger the
expectation grows until eventually I feel as though even Shakespeare would be
hard pushed to do justice in kicking off proceedings and therein lies the
trap.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is around this time that
I’ll start crooning over other notebooks while out and about: cover fondling,
page sniffing (I’ve become accustomed to the peculiar looks this earns me),
flicking through pages and testing their weight in my hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After a suitable period of
procrastination I’ll inevitably find myself lured into a stationers by
necessity – paperclips, glue or pens are the main culprits – and instead be
seduced by the siren song of notebook adventure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When it comes to notebooks I am powerless against the rush,
all self control exits stage left. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">That isn’t to say I
have dozens of them lying empty around my house, the great thing about being a
notebook hoarder is that once you have a couple of newer editions the older
crop start to look more accessible and before I know it I’m halfway through the
ornate purple number with the cream lined pages and heavy magnetic clasp.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gifted notebooks upset the cycle
completely, instead of the need to be worthy of the first page I tend to write
in them almost immediately with whatever is on my mind that day – these turn
into journals or inspiration books, full of daily-life stuff and pictures torn
from magazines of whatever makes my heart flutter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Regardless of the rest there is always one constant
slow-burner, a notebook with an added degree of special to me that I want to
take my time filling and keep for life, this one was a gift from Tristan a
few years ago and is all heavy marble-edged paper with a beautiful deep red leather
binding. The smell is out of this world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">I once knew a person
who had a dozen identical notebooks, one per year, filled at the rate of a page
per day and shelved together when completed, from an interior design standpoint
it looked good, but somehow it made me sad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For me, part of the joy in having a little library of
notebooks at my fingertips is the way I can grab whichever takes my fancy when
I’m struck with inspiration while I can’t sleep at night, and the unpredictable
journey each notebook takes – I’ll write pages upon pages of thoughts or
stories - then my next entry could be weeks later about a recipe I’m
experimenting with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s a
certain kind of magic about the rainbow of spines in a varied stack of
notebooks too – all different sizes and textures and each with their own story
to tell, which never turns out to be quite the plot you think it will at the
beginning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like to pick and mix
– some of mine are pastel and pretty, some are fabric covered and tactile
whereas others wouldn’t look out of place in the Hogwarts library.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Whatever your taste
there will always be a notebook that fits and sometimes, the very special ones,
find you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=8469213296839040699" target="_blank"><img src="http://i602.photobucket.com/albums/tt108/valentinestudio123/Client%20Blog%20Design/Signatures/CeautifulClutterSig.png" style="background: transparent; border: none;" /></a>Jem http://www.blogger.com/profile/03909795752665059574noreply@blogger.com37tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469213296839040699.post-59447864838385508552013-06-04T11:15:00.000+01:002013-06-04T11:15:13.804+01:00You've Got to Pick a Poet or Two <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Shamelessly borrowing from Fagin for the title of this post, but it seemed to fit the purpose perfectly! You all know how much I adore books and literature in general, vintage books even more so, but quirky little volumes like these are dream finds for me. Edgar Allan Poe sums up my thoughts on poetry 'Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words' - whenever I need to escape into language it is the ideal distraction. Getting lost in rhyme and meter comes so easily and before I know it I'm swept away on a lyrical tide, all woes long forgotten. On a good day poetry is a dappled light filter over an already pretty picture, on a bad day a transporting mechanism that takes me elsewhere entirely. So many people write poetry off after exhausting, analytical sessions in GCSE English and I can't say I blame them - the life and rhythm are reduced to bullet points and bludgeoned slowly to death. Try picking it up once again when the memory of those agonising double periods is dulled though, and I'm sure you'll find something with a brand of magic that appeals to you. Because that's what it can do - pick out beauty and wonder, love and loss, a huge range of human experience and give it breath in a way that moves you. I've always thought that music is what feelings sound like, whereas poetry is emotion on paper. </div>
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My iPhone is fantastic, having Shakespeare's entire body of work in an app is great, but it really can't touch the charm of these two little books. If you've ever read <i>Sense and Sensibility </i>you'll know that Willoughby has plenty to answer for, but I do have to appreciate a man who carries sonnets in his jacket pocket! </div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=8469213296839040699" target="_blank"><img src="http://i602.photobucket.com/albums/tt108/valentinestudio123/Client%20Blog%20Design/Signatures/CeautifulClutterSig.png" style="background: transparent; border: none;" /></a>Jem http://www.blogger.com/profile/03909795752665059574noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469213296839040699.post-4295044882319588222013-05-30T10:29:00.000+01:002013-05-30T10:29:55.396+01:00Rose Lemonade<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Delicate floral flavours set my taste buds alight, I once ate a rose creme masquerading as a strawberry truffle and since then I've been hooked (I was less keen on the liqueur that looked like a praline - but that's another story!). Violet, rose, geranium, lavender, jasmine, orange blossom - I'm always excited to sample something with a hint of floral magic and luckily these work so well in summery tipples. I tried Fentimans Rose Lemonade the summer before last and while it was lovely (I always keep an eye out for it in the supermarket) it wasn't quite rosy enough for me, I'm also a huge fan of still lemonade as well as sparkling so I set about coming up with a suitably blousy brew to quaff while watching the Royal Wedding. My first jug was definitely on the fragrant side, even for me! Since then I've been through dozens of batches each slightly different and have finally found the one that tantalises my tongue to perfection, the closest I'll ever get to alchemy.</div>
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I've shared my recipe card above so that if you fancy it you can try your hand at homemade rose lemonade yourself, a word of warning though; gently does it with the rosewater - you can always add more if you're a rose-loving freak like me but you can't take it out, drinking what feels like rosewater cologne from your Gran's dressing table is never a tasty experience! Go for unwaxed lemons if you can and give them a good wash before peeling them, I do love using a zester when I'm baking a lemon drizzle cake - but for this I found a vegetable peeler was speedier and easier. </div>
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Last but not least my recipe appears in the current issue of the wonderful <a href="http://prettynostalgic.co.uk/" target="_blank">Pretty Nostalgic</a> magazine, the photos above are outtakes really - it looks much nicer set out with their artistic page layout wizadry. Besides which the magazine itself is a firm favourite with me, definitely worth a peek if you're a fellow vintage fan as it is packed with inspiring pieces and has a brilliant ethos: spend wisely, waste less, appreciate more. I totally agree! </div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=8469213296839040699" target="_blank"><img src="http://i602.photobucket.com/albums/tt108/valentinestudio123/Client%20Blog%20Design/Signatures/CeautifulClutterSig.png" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial;" /></a>Jem http://www.blogger.com/profile/03909795752665059574noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469213296839040699.post-61426279822093206262013-03-28T08:00:00.000+00:002013-03-28T08:17:05.803+00:00Mug Shot<div style="text-align: justify;">
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I was packed off to University with a box of crockery we picked up at Argos, it soon transpired that my little matching set was identical to those of half my flat. We never knew whose mugs/plates/bowls were whose and in a student kitchen with dubious standards of hygiene it was a touch hit and miss when making a cup of tea! I think this is what kicked off my love of distinctive, pretty mugs - nobody could pinch my super clean, shiny ones now that they were so different from everyone else's. I never found carefully grown mould on top of congealed cuppa-soup again. Well, almost never. </div>
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Mugs are a personal thing; witty-banter talking point mugs, plain jane white stoneware mugs, retro charity shop offerings, mugs with cats, mugs with dogs, the gaudy patterned sort, delicate bone china granny-mugs. We all have a preference, and when you think about it your favourite mug (as long as it stays in one piece, there is always an inevitable dropping incident) is a constant companion; it weathers cold mornings, flu season, tea and sympathy, bad days and busy days as stoically as the occasional 'just because' breakfast in bed. If mugs could talk . . . . Think of all the conversations they have overheard, snippets of life they have witnessed and gossip they've gleaned from being central to cosy catchups with visiting friends and family. The likelihood is they've seen you first thing in the morning minus the miracle of a shower, a hairbrush and a coat of mascara too. </div>
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The boy frequently grumbles about our jam-packed mug cupboard - but he made a few additions of his own when we pooled our resources seven years back, in fact he owns a witty-banter talking point mug with a fart-based quote that I'm loath to make tea in for anyone besides him and my Dad. I took out my entire mug stock last week, determined to prune half a dozen or so to take to the charity shop and could have sworn I heard the cupboard creak in weary relief. There was much shuffling and muttering, a hot spa dip for them all and then half an hour chilling out on the draining board before I returned them all to their rightful home. They know too much! </div>
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Jem http://www.blogger.com/profile/03909795752665059574noreply@blogger.com40tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469213296839040699.post-2476943156746294752013-03-24T06:16:00.000+00:002013-03-24T06:16:48.366+00:00Georgina<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We have snow again, and plenty of it - the strong winds have been creating odd little drifts and although it is late March I'm transported back to December somehow. I had a wonderful childminder growing up - she was, and is - truly one of a kind. An Irish woman from county Cork with a heart the size of the moon and occasionally a very matter of fact turn of phrase. At Georgina's we would spend days like today building indoor forts of blankets and sofa cushions, hanging out by the log burner munching toast and playing Contraband, or bundling up in ski jackets to brave the cold and bounce on the snowy trampoline in the garden. There were endless snowball fights and soggy walks home from school which meant squeaky shoes and wet socks in the porch then a race for the comfiest chair by the log burner. The kitchen was a place of wonder and there was always something bubbling away on top of the stove or baking inside it; we made biscuits and bread, dropped scones and fairy cakes, tarts and even doughnuts. Christmas was a riot of badly topped mince pies, cheese straws and cards sporting lollystick frames around cut-outs from the previous year's festive brochures. Pancake day equalled barely contained pandemonium in which we'd all queue up eager to help stir the mixture and flip our own pancakes before Georgina slid them deftly onto our plates, it inevitably lead to some batter based disasters, I vividly remember only narrowly avoiding wearing Jonathan's pancake when he got a little overenthusiastic with the flipping action. </div>
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Random recollections but I often think of Georgina on snowy days!</div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=8469213296839040699" target="_blank"><img src="http://i602.photobucket.com/albums/tt108/valentinestudio123/Client%20Blog%20Design/Signatures/CeautifulClutterSig.png" style="background: transparent; border: none;" /></a>Jem http://www.blogger.com/profile/03909795752665059574noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469213296839040699.post-79657946492634899852013-03-21T08:00:00.000+00:002013-03-21T08:00:15.621+00:00Go well, Belle<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Belle was the most adorable puppy I had ever laid eyes on; her ears were too large to be allowed, she had a permanently quizzical expression and the pads on her little paws matched her bright pink tongue. It was love at first sight. She was a long haired Weimaraner, a present from my Dad to my Mum for her 40th birthday, and she grew up quickly into a gangly, wiggly, overenthusiastic member of the family. To say she had a presence is an understatement - tripping hazard would be more accurate - Belle was everywhere; underfoot in the kitchen, sprawled out at the bottom of the stairs, nudging at knees for a fuss while making short work of anything on the coffee table with her very waggy tail. If you gave her half a chance she'd be on your lap, failing that she'd offer you her paw until she had your attention. I missed her so much when I left home to go to University but each time I was back for the weekend I'd wake in the middle of the night to hear her scratching at my door to be let into my bedroom, once inside she'd shoot me a look as though to say 'What took you so long?' and then lay down to snooze. Like Peter Pan she never really grew up, she kept her puppyish nature right up to being 11 or so and never grew into her ears either.</div>
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Yesterday afternoon, after almost 12 years as part of the Cope clan, Belle was put to sleep - it was her time to go - old age caught up with her and there was a rapid decline in her health since Christmas. Pets can't live forever and it is always so sad to say goodbye but it is worth the heartache now to have had the years that came before. </div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=8469213296839040699" target="_blank"><img src="http://i602.photobucket.com/albums/tt108/valentinestudio123/Client%20Blog%20Design/Signatures/CeautifulClutterSig.png" style="background: transparent; border: none;" /></a>Jem http://www.blogger.com/profile/03909795752665059574noreply@blogger.com34tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469213296839040699.post-15368382791766769382013-03-17T16:41:00.000+00:002013-03-17T16:51:29.959+00:00Of Late<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Can you reminisce fondly about a place even before you leave it? This past couple of weeks I've been cataloguing sights and sounds with near-obsessive detail, building a cache of snippets to call upon down the line once this little old house and I part company. It's a creaky sort of place; stoic, patient beams and uneven floors, pockets of bare brick wall and huge sash windows with many a gap in the frames for a determined gust to whistle through. It will be a bittersweet goodbye. A sad farewell to the view of rooftops and trees from my little desk, the sloping ceilings, and visits from the glossy black hobo cat who frequents our courtyard. I won't miss the bad-green bathroom suite or the chipboard kitchen units though, even with my prematurely rose-tinted spectacles sat firmly on the bridge of my nose. The scores of things I love about this small town on the edge of the Peaks, and this house, have all added up to make it feel like home - I have been so happy here. Yet there is adventure afoot, new possibilities in a city well known to us, T and I are on the hunt for to somewhere live there - but until the right thing comes along I'll be homeward bound to spend a month or two with my family and that is no bad thing.<br />
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My in-between moments have been either a flurry of list making - moving is a brilliant excuse to indulge my list habit - or quiet, reflective little things full of simple pleasures. Finding a stunning edition of Keats' <i>Realms of Gold </i>for fifty pence (really!) made it a very good Friday, even if the daffodils I picked up for a pound resolutely refuse to bloom - save one. You cannot beat a bag of snowies for a Saturday treat but during the week I spoilt myself with an epic letter-writing session, then sat back to paw through my collection of old postcards and appreciate their penmanship all over again. The last photo speaks to what triggered our move. T closed the door on being unhappy and unfulfilled in his work, back he goes to freelancing and (hopefully) more room to make dreams a reality - that is something I am more than happy to up sticks for.</div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=8469213296839040699" target="_blank"><img src="http://i602.photobucket.com/albums/tt108/valentinestudio123/Client%20Blog%20Design/Signatures/CeautifulClutterSig.png" style="background: transparent; border: none;" /></a>Jem http://www.blogger.com/profile/03909795752665059574noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469213296839040699.post-59123791610678413732013-03-09T12:59:00.000+00:002013-03-09T12:59:10.978+00:00That & the Other<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My oldest friend Ali came to stay this week so it has been a very good one; lengthy chats, much giggling, plenty of walking, charity shopping and antique fondling in abundance. All with the necessary stops for tea and cake, of course. We watched <i>Jane Eyre</i> and <i>Amélie</i> back to back, met <a href="http://confusedbrit.wordpress.com/">Sara</a> for afternoon tea (I had so much fun introducing two of my favourite people), spent far too long in Paperchase, discovered the creepiest childrens book (see last pic: <i>Play With Us?</i> Or what!?) and yet somehow we didn't get around to opening the bubbly. I'll save it for the next visit. </div>
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I love appreciating this little town through new eyes, I'll be very sad to leave it!</div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=8469213296839040699" target="_blank"><img src="http://i602.photobucket.com/albums/tt108/valentinestudio123/Client%20Blog%20Design/Signatures/CeautifulClutterSig.png" style="background: transparent; border: none;" /></a>Jem http://www.blogger.com/profile/03909795752665059574noreply@blogger.com27tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469213296839040699.post-17668086210848586592013-03-01T11:38:00.000+00:002013-03-01T20:03:36.138+00:00Cream Tea & Twinings<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I'm a serial mis-matcher of vintage china, an excuse to break out a few of my favourite patterns or latest additions to my ever growing china family (the boy despairs) is always welcome. My teenage weekends and school holidays were spent serving endless cream teas, hand cut sandwiches and slices of cake in a lakeside tearoom. I've whipped countless bowls of double cream, filled thousands of teapots and could probably pave a tennis court with all the scones I've sliced, so it feels decadent to serve myself now and then; a miniature tea party for two was the order of the day. </div>
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I have something of an obsession with floral infused black teas and have tried so many over the past couple of years, they aren't to everyones taste but are definitely worth sampling. I was offered the chance to review a couple of teas from <a href="http://twinings.co.uk/">Twinings</a> recently, <a href="http://shop.twinings.co.uk/shop/twinings-lavender-earl-grey-tea.html" rel="nofollow">Lavender Earl Grey</a> was top of my wish list! The scent was divine even before I tore open the box, so the aroma while it steeped was heavenly - I experimented a little and found that three minutes brewing was just right for me. I'm an oddity when it comes to how I take my tea - it depends more than anything on my mood - so I've sipped this black, black with sugar, with a teaspoon of milk, with milk and sugar. Earl Grey in itself I find refreshing, add the lavender and it has a new dimension; the zesty bergamot is still discernible but the lavender lifts it somehow into something a touch more mellow. This has been my mid afternoon staple lately and an instant favourite, perfect to serve as part of an afternoon tea.</div>
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My second tea choice was <a href="http://shop.twinings.co.uk/shop/twinings-tea/new-fruit-and-herbal-drinks/health-benefits-tea-blends/twinings-detox-herbal-tea.html">Detox</a> tea from the <a href="http://twinings.co.uk/about-our-tea/infusions/twinings-benefits-blends" rel="nofollow">Benefit</a> range as I'm always on the watch for caffeine free teas to enjoy - it can be a very hit and miss affair finding one that isn't all mouth and no trousers! So many of them smell fantastic but taste disappointing. <a href="http://shop.twinings.co.uk/shop/twinings-tea/new-fruit-and-herbal-drinks/health-benefits-tea-blends/twinings-detox-herbal-tea.html">Detox</a> is a blend of lemon peel, milk thistle and lemon myrtle. This smells like high summer to me - freshly cut grass to begin with, the lemon then becomes more pronounced the longer the tea steeps and is more of a hug-your-mug than high tea sort of brew. I really did not enjoy the first cup, I had flounced off to answer the door for a parcel, left the bag in a little too long and found it was slightly bitter, I was more watchful the second time around! The lemon flavour is strong and citrus and I found it left a pleasant warmth in my throat as well as my mouth though underneath the zest is something slightly medicinal that definitely wasn't an immediate hit with my tastebuds. This blend was a grower for me, I find it very refreshing so great for first thing in the morning but not something I'd reach for purely on a taste basis.</div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=8469213296839040699" target="_blank"><img src="http://i602.photobucket.com/albums/tt108/valentinestudio123/Client%20Blog%20Design/Signatures/CeautifulClutterSig.png" style="background: transparent; border: none;" /></a>Jem http://www.blogger.com/profile/03909795752665059574noreply@blogger.com35tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469213296839040699.post-80925289320106476432013-02-27T12:08:00.000+00:002013-03-26T03:47:29.867+00:00Ballet<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When I'm browsing for books in a charity shop I never have a fixed idea of what I'm seeking, only that I'll know what it is when I see it. Dangerous method. I'm left wide open to temptation and since I never leave the house without a sturdy book bag tucked into my satchel (student habits die hard) I can load myself up with as many bookish treasures as take my fancy. You have to be able to spot an interesting spine if you're after a treasure, with so many tomes jostling for space it's easy to miss something. This is where the head tilt and the sideways wander come into action and I spend the next ten minutes ear to shoulder; as though the wind changed and I'm stuck mid-stretch, it looks ridiculous but it's just so much easier to read the titles that way, I've made my peace with it. Sort of. </div>
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It was mid sideways wander that I found this very well loved copy of <i>The Book of Ballet </i>for the princely sum of 70p<i>. </i>I've never been the ballerina in my family - my little sister got that gene - but I do enjoy watching. My sort of freedom is found on the back of a horse or in the world of a book, that being said ballet has always looked so free to me; the sheer grace and range of movement. I know that in reality ballet is blood, sweat and tears - total dedication to perfection, though it still conjures such a beautiful illusion for the rest of us. I think that's why this book came home with me. It has definitely seen better days and some of the pages are making a bid for freedom but it is such a gorgeous thing to leaf through - page after page of elegance and loveliness. I wonder how many little girls hands it passed through before it came to me.</div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=8469213296839040699" target="_blank"><img src="http://i602.photobucket.com/albums/tt108/valentinestudio123/Client%20Blog%20Design/Signatures/CeautifulClutterSig.png" style="background: transparent; border: none;" /></a><br />
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Linking to <a href="http://apronthriftgirl.typepad.com/apron_thrift_girl/2013/03/thrift-share-monday-mod-sonomas-new-digs.html" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Thrift Share Monday</a>Jem http://www.blogger.com/profile/03909795752665059574noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469213296839040699.post-88119404220679020272013-02-24T08:56:00.000+00:002013-02-24T09:03:34.813+00:00Bloodlines<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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You all know how much I enjoy old photos. Well, these are even more special to me - they're a tangible reminder that the love of horses galloping in my blood is a family legacy, something that binds me to the generations who came before and gives me a sense of belonging. Every family has an inheritance in one form or another; this is one of ours. </div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=8469213296839040699" target="_blank"><img src="http://i602.photobucket.com/albums/tt108/valentinestudio123/Client%20Blog%20Design/Signatures/CeautifulClutterSig.png" style="background: transparent; border: none;" /></a>Jem http://www.blogger.com/profile/03909795752665059574noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469213296839040699.post-12341244235640451082013-02-05T11:37:00.001+00:002013-02-05T11:37:54.319+00:00The Furniture Man (and flowers from a friend)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Since we moved to this little town in November 2010 there has been The Furniture Man, a cheerful soul with the pitch nearest the pub who sells all manner of interesting old finds from house clearances, although mainly - as you'd guess - furniture. Looking around the room I'm typing in right now I'm mentally tallying the sheer number of purchases we've made from him; the old ammo chest we use as a coffee table, the coffee table we use as a side table, a stack of vintage suitcases upstairs in the bedroom, 1930s picture frames, old cigar boxes, a writing slope, inkwell and still more. It reads like the conveyor belt on the Generation Game, minus the cuddly toy. Just before Christmas, as I was choosing books from his '10 for £1.50' box, we got chatting and he told me he was taking a break from the market indefinitely. I felt quite sad as I paid up and he bagged my books for me, I hope he is still cheerful whatever he is up to at present. My last hoard of Furniture Man books are stacked haphazardly on the windowsill, my favourite of which is easily <i>The Heart of a Friend</i>, just a simple little volume full of thoughts on friendship - which leads me to the bunch of white roses, pink carnations and gypsophilia currently hanging out in an old Kilner jar nearby. They were from my beautiful friend Lulu and have lasted almost a fortnight, there is something extra special about flowers from a friend I think.</div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=8469213296839040699" target="_blank"><img src="http://i602.photobucket.com/albums/tt108/valentinestudio123/Client%20Blog%20Design/Signatures/CeautifulClutterSig.png" style="background: transparent; border: none;" /></a>Jem http://www.blogger.com/profile/03909795752665059574noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469213296839040699.post-80293029554475953312013-02-04T11:04:00.000+00:002013-02-14T19:23:03.905+00:00The Language of Flowers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I came across this small, almost-square book a couple of years ago courtesy of a table top sale at the local church hall, it was sandwiched amongst pamphlets of train timetables, old ordnance survey maps and yellowing copies of Motorcycle News - when your Dad is a bike and car lover it's easy to recognise the bumpf that goes with them - so it took a little wrestling to pull it free. The spine was so ordinary, I was expecting something similar to a Ladybird book and couldn't have been more surprised when I opened it to find beautiful copies of handwritten pages laid out like a reference book - all explaining the meanings of certain flowers and plants, so sweetly illustrated and painstakingly done. Facsimiles of old books, in lieu of getting my hands on the old editions themselves, are some of my favourite things - I love to see how early copies looked. </div>
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I'd swiftly decided I was more than happy to pay the asking price of 20p, no haggling necessary (sorry, Grandad!), but the lady who had, up until then, been watching me excavate the book box had now disappeared and a man wearing a fur coat (in May?!) wanted to know whether the £10 label on the old, open-faced bike helmet was set in stone. I told him I couldn't do better than £10 because it was pristine and I was happy to take it home again if it didn't sell at that; years of car booting were paying off. He grumbled, made half hearted attempts at a grumpy monologue then picked up the helmet and handed over a crisp £10 note. By this time I'd moved myself behind the table to do a more professional job until 'the lady' came back and when she did, bearing tea, she was ecstatic that I'd flogged the helmet in her absence. She was moving to the south of France it turned out, so was getting rid of as much clutter as she could and planned to spend the money growing lavender once she got there. Good plan, I thought. 20p paid and the book was mine, I was off to buy a Dr Pepper and claim a bench in the park to sit and read. </div>
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I loved the foreword:</div>
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'There is a language, 'little known',</div>
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Lovers claim it as their own.</div>
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It's symbols smile upon the land, </div>
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Wrought by natures wondrous hand;</div>
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And in their silent beauty speak, </div>
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Of life and joy, to those who seek</div>
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For Love Divine and sunny hours</div>
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In the language of The Flowers.'</div>
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F.W.H</div>
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Taking it out to flick through on a blue day always makes me smile, so much care must have gone into producing the original. I wonder whether F.W.H devised the meanings himself, or whether he researched each one and brought them all together. Whoever F.W.H was, he was clearly devoted to his wife - I can't help but feel touched by a love like that! </div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=8469213296839040699" target="_blank"><img src="http://i602.photobucket.com/albums/tt108/valentinestudio123/Client%20Blog%20Design/Signatures/CeautifulClutterSig.png" style="background: transparent; border: none;" /></a>Jem http://www.blogger.com/profile/03909795752665059574noreply@blogger.com34tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469213296839040699.post-64350310458922365292013-02-02T12:43:00.000+00:002013-02-02T13:14:10.832+00:00The Vintage Tea Emporium, Uttoxeter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Yesterday I hopped on a bus to Uttoxeter to meet my lovely friend <a href="http://confusedbrit.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Sara</a> for charity shop wandering, much nattering and a delicious afternoon tea. It was my first real visit to the small market town and it is a magpies paradise - there are so many charity shops crammed into a relatively small area - I came home having spent very little yet had filled my sizeable cotton shopper to bursting with finds.</div>
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The undisputed highlight of our visit was the luxurious hour we spent in The Vintage Tea Emporium. I had done some pre-emptive googling ahead of our Uttoxeter meet-up and spotted this wonderful place via their Facebook page, I promptly booked us in at midday - a little early but there is something indulgent about afternoon tea for lunch! We arrived to a table for two in the window made up with lovely linens and set with extra-special vintage crockery (a perk of making a reservation!). A pot of Assam for me, Earl Grey for Sara and we were down to the serious business of chatter between sips while taking in the airy, pretty surroundings and in my case checking out the china patterns (once a vintage china obsessive, always a vintage china obsessive). When our three tiers of mouthwatering treats arrived we were immediately ravenous, they had happily catered to my request for vegetarian finger sandwiches and the selection was very tasty! On to the scones - one sultana which was quickly bagged by Sara as she hates cherries, and one cherry scone which worked out perfectly since I love them, mine had a great texture and the accompanying pot of cream was the perfect consistency. The top tier was home to miniature eclairs, miniature strawberry tarts and compact slices of carrot cake. Death. By. Dessert. The tiny eclair and tart were each light and yummy but by this point we were stuffed and couldn't quite polish off the carrot cake so instead washed everything down with yet more tea and some Fentimans Rose Lemonade. </div>
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If you are anywhere near Uttoxeter I'd definitely recommend a visit to such a dreamy tearoom, the service was so friendly and prompt, but we were also left to relax and enjoy ourselves rather than hurried out of the door the moment we had finished. To channel Arnie; I'll be back. </div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=8469213296839040699" target="_blank"><img src="http://i602.photobucket.com/albums/tt108/valentinestudio123/Client%20Blog%20Design/Signatures/CeautifulClutterSig.png" style="background: transparent; border: none;" /></a>Jem http://www.blogger.com/profile/03909795752665059574noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469213296839040699.post-69607873688486480072013-01-31T10:04:00.001+00:002013-01-31T10:09:55.348+00:00Ephemera<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Ephemera is a gorgeous word to say aloud, when spoken softly it gives a hint to its meaning - those delicate slices of the everyday never intended to last. Old things come with history no matter how mundane and this is partly what draws me in when I see a battered suitcase or a pristine decades-old teacup, my imagination is captured and suddenly I'm inventing a story - little details of whose hands it passed through and how it came to be where I spotted it. Vintage ephemera though, is even more magical in some ways - ticket stubs, hastily scribbled notes, snapshots and shopping lists which should have had the transient life of a butterfly somehow become a legacy through escaping the bin over and over. Where a 1920s beaded bag makes me wonder what sort of glamourous parties it was carried to, a bread and butter letter sent the next day thanking the hostess for a lovely evening fills in a few gaps. In a dream world the two would rock up together - one posing all the questions and the other answering with tantalising snippets - this never happens. Or not to me at least! </div>
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One of my friends asked me why I had so many photos of people I didn't know who were most likely dead by now when she saw an open box stuffed with black and white images. Good question. I think it's because in every picture there is a person who was treasured by someone, and even with a date or place written on the back there are stories about each image I will never know. So I'll carry on picking up interesting old photos, pretty vintage postcards and well-read letters when I come across them, they're a beautiful escape to enjoy over a cup of tea every so often.</div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=8469213296839040699" target="_blank"><img src="http://i602.photobucket.com/albums/tt108/valentinestudio123/Client%20Blog%20Design/Signatures/CeautifulClutterSig.png" style="background: transparent; border: none;" /></a>Jem http://www.blogger.com/profile/03909795752665059574noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469213296839040699.post-74434969273548643802013-01-29T08:16:00.003+00:002013-02-14T19:23:52.967+00:00Happy Birthday, Lizzie!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Books you read growing up are special, they stay with you and feel like old friends each time you pick them up to enjoy them once again, <i>Pride and Prejudice</i> is one of those well-worn favourites for me. My first copy came from a car boot sale, I was staying with my grandparents for a week during the summer holidays and on a particularly warm Sunday morning we were up, out and on the hunt for a treasure or two at an eye-wateringly early hour. I'd already read and enjoyed my first Jane Austen novel - a tattered paperback edition of <i>Sense and Sensibility </i>picked up for a few pence at a table top sale - so when I saw another Jane Austen in a book box for a few pence it was a foregone conclusion that with some change burning a hole in my pocket it would be coming home with me. Possibly the best purchase I have ever made. I spent the next few days cramming in a chapter whenever I could and once I'd reached the end I wanted to re-read it straight away! </div>
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Yesterday marked 200 years since <i>Pride and Prejudice</i> was first published, two centuries since the Elizabeth Bennet and Mr Darcy fascination began capturing the hearts of readers everywhere and still thousands upon thousands of copies are sold each year. I can understand why - aside from the slow burning romance - there is so much comedy to be found in Lizzie's everyday existence, and I think most Jane Austen fans would agree there are one or two characters from the book who can always be found in our own lives! </div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=8469213296839040699" target="_blank"><img src="http://i602.photobucket.com/albums/tt108/valentinestudio123/Client%20Blog%20Design/Signatures/CeautifulClutterSig.png" style="background: transparent; border: none;" /></a>Jem http://www.blogger.com/profile/03909795752665059574noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469213296839040699.post-36578118834216997282013-01-28T09:33:00.001+00:002013-01-28T09:35:50.747+00:00Happenstance<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Scouting flea markets, charity shops and car boot sales for pretty vintage finds is a treat enough in itself - I can't be the only vintage-hearted soul who actually feels a rush of adrenaline when the game is on (Sherlock reference. Oh how I cannot wait for series three!). Although occasionally something lovely will drop into my lap purely by chance and this is where the recent acquisitions above come in! A pair of very dainty fans came my way from T's Mum, Andrée, while we were helping her to pack up her house ahead of a move shortly before Christmas - one old and one not so old but both equally eye catching and fluttery. It could just be me, but I find that a sweet little fan opened up and hung on the wall or balanced on a shelf has a similar effect to a vase of pretty flowers in brightening up a room. The pack of bright yellow vintage playing cards were an accidental find on eBay - I was searching for a 1950s style card with a cute deer on the front for a friend and having no luck whatsoever, a little scrolling lead me to these beauties which were due to end in mere minutes. I made a cup of tea (jasmine earl grey if you're interested, delicious and so worth trying) popped in a very cheeky bid and moments later they were mine for the price of a newspaper. Fate!</div>
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My horsey teacups are a slightly different story - there is a little café locally where I picked up some casual shifts when we first moved to Derbyshire - tea is served in mismatched vintage china, chairs and tables are chipped but well cared for and the whole place feels like a snuggly country kitchen. I would wash endless teacups, milk jugs and tea plates in one shift there and frequently came across lovely patterns I've since kept a beady eye out for. None bewitched me quite the way a set of hunt-themed teacups did and so I regularly scoured all eight charity shops in town for weeks, seeking some for myself! I'd about given up hope when I ducked into the Salvation Army and one of the lovely volunteers I chat with each time I visit had put by some teacups for when she next spotted me. Out came a Kit-Kat box and inside amongst the tissue paper nestled three horsey teacups complete with three saucers and an extra tea plate all for the bargain price of £2.00. A very happy ending. Two of my greatest loves; horses and teacups, in one!</div>
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Did you happen to spot something beautiful, mysterious and brassy in the top photo? That would be the gigantic brass key sent to me by <a href="http://faithhopeandcharityshopping.blogspot.co.uk/" target="_blank">Lakota</a> in her Christmas swap parcel to me, she could not have chosen better - I have such a thing for old keys and this one although ornamental is a stunner, she knows me well! </div>
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Linking to <a href="http://missielizzie-meandmyshadow.blogspot.co.uk/2013/01/magpie-monday-purple-dress.html" target="_blank">Magpie Monday</a>Jem http://www.blogger.com/profile/03909795752665059574noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469213296839040699.post-70306119533935711592013-01-21T08:46:00.000+00:002013-01-21T08:46:18.094+00:00Dear Suzy, When?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When I read somewhere that Wes Anderson's intention with <i>Moonrise Kingdom </i>had been to reminisce about the magic of childhood love I had already seen the film and adored it, put simply he couldn't have done a better job. Set in the mid sixties on a small (fictional) island called New Penzance off the coast of New England the film revolves around Sam and Suzy, two twelve year olds each misfits in their own way. Sam is an orphan placed with well-meaning foster parents who run their home like a hybrid of church and army barracks, he struggles to make friends and is the least popular member of his Khaki Scout troop. Suzy on the other hand is the eldest of four children and a voracious reader who loves to escape into books, controlling her temper is not her strong point - she is often at odds with her eccentric attorney parents and is all too aware that they consider her a problem child. They meet, fall in love through exchanging letters and plan to run away together into the wilderness. </div>
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To reveal much more about the characters or the plot would be erring on the side of a spoiler, but suffice to say there is adventure, comedy and an undercurrent of sadness mixed in with the romance. If you vividly remember the awkwardness of your pre-teen and early teen years or ever felt like the black sheep of the family (whether you were/are or not!) you'll understand what lengths Sam and Suzy are willing to go to having each found a person who accepts their quirks. The casting is divine; Edward Norton as the earnest, chipper and slightly incompetent Khaki Scout leader, Bruce Willis plays an unfulfilled lonely cop and Tilda Swinton is saccharine and threatening as 'Social Services'. Kara Hayward and Jared Gilman bring Suzy and Sam to life with such an endearing awkwardness, I don't think the film would have worked half as well had they been experienced child actors.</div>
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If you can't stand whimsy - or Wes Anderson films - then I doubt <i>Moonrise Kingdom</i> will be up your street. That said there is so much to appreciate in the styling of the whole thing for anyone who loves a vintage aesthetic! I swooned over the portable record player, Suzy's diligently packed suitcase of her favourite books and the attention to detail on everything from the Khaki Scout uniforms and amazing authentic 1960s interiors to the wardrobe choices. Plus the way it was shot on super 16mm film leaves you feeling as though you jumped into someone's Instagram feed or your face was stroked with vintage Polaroids for ninety minutes. If you have a little stack of films or books you turn to after a rubbish day for some comfort you'll know what I mean when I say that <i>Moonrise Kingdom</i> made it onto my pick-me-up stack!</div>
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Hope you all had fun in the snow this weekend, </div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=8469213296839040699" target="_blank"><img src="http://i602.photobucket.com/albums/tt108/valentinestudio123/Client%20Blog%20Design/Signatures/CeautifulClutterSig.png" style="background: transparent; border: none;" /></a>Jem http://www.blogger.com/profile/03909795752665059574noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469213296839040699.post-54802843128366310652013-01-16T16:49:00.000+00:002013-01-16T16:49:18.614+00:00Handmade<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Flicking through Christmas pictures to beat the January blues might seem like an odd sort of cure but I found a handful I thought I would share - a handmade present to my boyfriend's Mum - some organic dead sea bath salts scented with Rose and Lavender. If you recognise the shape of the jar then you're a fellow Nutella lover and I'll level with you; sometimes I enjoy a teaspoonful or three straight from the jar. I once read somewhere that how you package a homemade gift is almost as important as what you make and I've tried making my own giftboxes, printing my own wrapping paper but with this jar of joy I kept things very simple. The little luxury was some printed linen ribbon I was very kindly sent by Lyn Abraham of <a href="http://www.squeakgiftandparty.co.uk/" target="_blank">Squeak Gift and Party</a> who sell handmade gifts, decor and trimming in the heart of the Peak District and not 15 minutes from my front door. There's something lovely about discovering a brilliant local shop, seller or crafter. I frequent the local market every week and feel very lucky that Ashbourne, the market town I'm based in, is full of gorgeous independent shops so shopping local is something of a joy rather than a fraught effort. I've been inspired recently by how many people I have seen making successes of small businesses . . . . . About time I revamped my own little Etsy shop after a long period of neglect. Watch this space!</div>
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Happy Wednesday all,</div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=8469213296839040699" target="_blank"><img src="http://i602.photobucket.com/albums/tt108/valentinestudio123/Client%20Blog%20Design/Signatures/CeautifulClutterSig.png" style="background: transparent; border: none;" /></a>Jem http://www.blogger.com/profile/03909795752665059574noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469213296839040699.post-645210033086691852013-01-02T20:05:00.001+00:002013-01-02T20:05:32.974+00:00Festive Finale<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Can it be over already? I miss it! The trimmings, presents and food were all wonderful but hanging out with my family back home was the best part - lazing around shooting the breeze, battling the onset of a food coma together and wincing at the shocking climax of the Downton Abbey Christmas special - on Christmas Day!? Really?! It was a jam-packed trip home fitting in as many of my Lincolnshire based nearest and dearest as physically possible, catching up on furry snuggles with the four-leggers in the family and getting amongst it helping Mum in the kitchen. As the boy and I set off to drive back to Derbyshire on Friday afternoon I felt so emotional and suddenly didn't want to leave, it's a funny feeling being homesick for a place before you're even out of the county borders but it does make going back all the more special. </div>
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Resolutions aren't really my bag, so I've made a few promises to myself that I intend to keep this year - one of which is to see more of my family. We almost lost my Nannie in 2012 and though she beat cancer for the second time it has really hammered home how important it is to cherish everyone you hold dear. 2013 has arrived and I'm excited about what it may bring with it! I wish I could bottle the warm, glowy positivity oozing out of my pores at this very moment and store it for a gloomier day but since that wouldn't work I am savouring it instead. Along with the glass mug of mulled wine I'm sipping from - well, who says you can't get your mull on after New Year's Day?!</div>
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I really hope you all had a lovely time over Christmas. Happy New Year!</div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=8469213296839040699" target="_blank"><img src="http://i602.photobucket.com/albums/tt108/valentinestudio123/Client%20Blog%20Design/Signatures/CeautifulClutterSig.png" style="background: transparent; border: none;" /></a>Jem http://www.blogger.com/profile/03909795752665059574noreply@blogger.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8469213296839040699.post-53093457836123361412012-12-03T13:02:00.000+00:002013-01-03T17:36:55.763+00:00Style Me Vintage: Clothes. A Giveaway: Now Closed!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
One of my favourite purchases this year has been <i>Style Me Vintage</i>: <i>Clothes</i> by Naomi Thompson, I have loved flicking through it on a gloomier day to cheer myself while sipping a cup of tea. The photography is beautiful and the tips on sourcing, dating and what to avoid when hunting for vintage clothes are so helpfully written. The highlight for me though, is the breakdown of each sartorial decade from the 1920s to the 1980s - the key shapes and silhouettes, the way the fashion of the decade was shaped by its popular culture and hints for putting together an authentic look. There are even some familiar faces inside like the beautiful Fleur De Guerre from <a href="http://www.diaryofavintagegirl.com/" target="_blank">Diary of a Vintage Girl</a>. Besides which, it is such a pretty book in itself that it looks lovely on my coffee table!</div>
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I have one fabulous copy (complete with that brilliant new-book smell) to give away to a lucky reader of Beautiful Clutter. A not-so-Christmassy Christmas giveaway you could say! To be in with a chance of winning this gorgeous tome you must be a follower of my blog via GFC or Bloglovin' and leave a comment below telling me which decade is your favourite when it comes to vintage fashion inspiration, make sure to leave an email address so that I can get in touch if you win! You can also tweet about the giveaway for an extra entry, just leave a separate comment telling me that you have. I'll pick a winner at random one week from today, so Monday 10th December, best of luck clutterbugs! </div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=8469213296839040699" target="_blank"><img src="http://i602.photobucket.com/albums/tt108/valentinestudio123/Client%20Blog%20Design/Signatures/CeautifulClutterSig.png" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial;" /></a>Jem http://www.blogger.com/profile/03909795752665059574noreply@blogger.com63