The best classroom in the world is at the feet of an Elderly person.

It is my ambition to provide welcoming floor cushions when my day comes to sit in that chair.

And the eyes of them both were opened; and when they perceived themselves to be naked, they sewed together fig leaves and made themselves aprons.

~ Genesis 3:7

Fig    Definitions from Oxford Dictionary

• Broad leaved tree
• Fig leaf: device for concealing something
• Fig-Out: dress up (person) bedizen.

Bedizen: deck out gaudily

With those few words buzzing about in my head, began a project that took a year to complete.  The idea of Eve as a temptress somehow fits in with the ‘Fig’ definitions above.

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It was academic year 1991/2 and I was enrolled for the second year of a London City & Guilds Creative Embroidery Course, at a local Technical College.  I loved the practical side of it but had one big problem… I saw projects in 3D in my head and found it difficult to put my thoughts on paper.  There I go again the blots and the blank page syndrome!  When it came to art the only thing I was confident about drawing, was a chair across the floor!

Back then I did not have a computer so all my research loosely involved Trees - books, magazines, paper for drawing & writing on, even parts of pencils came from trees.  I began to look at and examine trees more closely.

This picture is only one example and I kept it for the colouring, it came from a magazine like so many more at that stage.  My camera was of low quality back then and I had to wait until the whole roll was complete before sending the film away to be developed, only then did you discover that half the prints were unfit for use and details a smudgy mess.  Oh! what we could have done with a digital camera.

So trees, bark and paper came between me and my sleep.  I read about Barkcloth; it is a versatile material that was once common in Asia, Africa, Indonesia and the Pacific. Barkcloth came  primarily from trees of the Moraceae family.  It is made by beating sodden strips of the fibrous inner bark into sheets of paper-like fabric and dyed or otherwise coloured.

Tapa, a papery cloth was made in a similar way in the islands of the Pacific Ocean primarily in Tonga, Samoa and Fiji.  In former times the cloth was primarily used for clothing, but now cotton and other textiles have replaced it. The major problem with Tapa clothing is that the tissue is just like paper: it loses all its strength when wet and falls apart.

Tissue paper was where I began, tearing it in rough strips and placing them to look like bark.

Then came tissue scrunched up while wet to give the effect of rougher bark.

Another idea was canvas and ribbons dyed with tea.

At this stage I wanted to work with paints in autumn colours so I went to my fabric bin and hoked about until I found a few plain pieces.  For anyone interested in trying fabric paints, you need to wash the fabric first to remove any finish from it or the paints may not take.

So this sample is from the rough mixed fibre fabric that I used for my first attempt.  I tore it in long strips and plaited them together.  I had enough for three plaits from the single width of material.  I placed the plaits on a strong layer of plastic sheeting to prevent the paints staining the surface underneath, in this case the floor of the spare bedroom.  I applied Deka silk paints randomly with a medicine dropper onto the fabric plaits.  The plaits were quite damp at that stage and I left them for about six hours before opening them out.  I then left the strips flat to dry naturally.

Using the lines formed like creases from the paint I stitched pin tucks in a variety of threads some glitter and some plain.  Very little was needed.  This sample below was dried quickly by placing between two layers of baking parchment and ironed.

Next I tried the same method on muslin, and both silk and cotton organdie.

The paint needs to be ’set’ by heat, and the easiest way is by ironing.  NB make sure to place baking parchment above and below the fabric to prevent staining either the iron or the ironing board cover.

Pleased with my results so far, I turned my mind on how to use the strips.  I was thinking of Eve but wanted a little more than fig leaves. :roll:  So the next stage was to select other fabrics to go with the bark effect panels.

The fabrics marked 1, 2 & 3 in the photo above were the direction I went.  No. 1 was my choice with No.2 for extra effect.

While taking a break from fabric paints and allowing the material to dry I distracted myself with sorting some old photos for another project.  This photo of my mother taken while on holiday in Nice, just a few short weeks before the outbreak of WW11, seemed to jump out at me.  It was the shorts.  Her shorts were purchased while on the holiday and considered rather scandalous when she came home.  ( I wore them in the garden as a teenager, I think Elly wore them once and I am sure my sister still has them!).

Shorts and ‘hot pants were all high fashion at that stage so I decided to try and recreate them for sentimental reasons and to add a heart shaped bustier to go with them.

I decided to appliqué four painted panels to the bustier with some stylized leaves to represent fig leaves.  For these I used the organdie decorated with machine embroidery.  I also used one of my other experiments - of the muslin as a base; scraps of organdie, silk and sparkle threads, fine gold mesh, braid and coloured rayon threads were trapped in food/Saran wrap and over sewn with zig-zag machine stitches.  With them I used wooden beads, covered tiny spools and machine made cords (something I love to do).

You have been very patient so far, so I’ll not bore you with the sewing.  It is time to see the finished outfit.

And from the other side…

Thats not a hole in my tights, just a mark on the photo!

The top had a second life….

For Elly’s Graduation I made, by request, a pair of trousers and a detachable skirt that started on a hip bone and went around the back to the other hip bone.  It was more like a cape at waist level and removed for dancing and that is where the idea for her wedding outfit came from.  The skirt was worn around her shoulders for the homeward journey in the early hours of the next morning!

Lily wrote about words in hard covers, Alexia talked about words in mac-wearing hardbacks, and Tommy told us of his love for crafting words.  Now it is my turn

I love words, but….

It takes me a month of Sundays to read a paragraph and two months of Sundays to write one.  The words misbehave and jump up and down the page like a naughty schoolboy.  Words with more letters than I have fingers are impossible for me to read, say or understand.  I need silence and no interruption when reading something important,

I do read books, but it can take 12 months for me to finish one, if you don’t believe me just ask Elly.

When I was young all words were committed to paper with an ink pen.  Misspelling and ink blots were there for eternity and enough to intimidate me from writing for life.  Ink blots always happened near the end of the page and if the letter or exercise was important it had to be discarded and begun all over again on a new page.  The memory of an Aunt who returned childish letters and envelopes with red correction marks on them many months after they were posted had the totally opposite effect to that which she intended.  To this day I fear a blank page.

With my introduction to computers backspacing and spellcheck became my firm friends.  No more smudges or blotches to mar my work.  The chance to make changes and correct major mistakes and move sentences or paragraphs to a more suitable place was worth more than any Lottery prize.

There are many well educated Bloggers out there whose work I look forward to and enjoy, while there are others who write in such a complicated way that I have no hope of ever understanding the message they wish to convey.  There is room for everyone and no obligation to read every blog

I have read blog posts complaining about and almost condemning bad grammar, punctuation and misspelling.  The authors never seem to realise how hurtful such a post can be, no allowance is made for the effort or indeed courage it takes for some people to hit that publish button.  Not everyone has reached or is capable of reaching A* grades.  There is room for everyone.

If everyone had a Ph.D, who would empty the bins?  There is room for everyone.

The recent story going the rounds of the Irish Blogworld of 500+ people queuing in Grafton Street, Dublin for a sales assistant vacancy in a Londis convenience store is a wake up call.  I wonder how many people in that queue had completed a university degree.  I am sure they were wishing that There is room for everyone.

UPDATE: Follow up post on this subject at Magpie’s Nest

Take wi-fi out of class: teacher

A County Tyrone teacher has called for wireless products, known as wi-fi, to be taken out of classrooms because of health concerns.

While I recover from the shock… you can read the article here.

Come on, I know you have thoughts on this and I would love to hear them.

On Saturday I wrote about Men in Skirts.

I have always liked kilts.

Guess who went to Scotland for holidays?

I still have a kilt in my wardrobe. In fact when Elly was young I actually made one for her. A well made kilt enhances both men and women of all ages, shapes and sizes. Dancer’s kilts use 10 oz. Tartan wool. A man’s kilt uses 13 oz, or, preferably, 16 oz. tartan, which doesn’t crush and holds the pleats well. If you think about it, a kilt is the equivalent of three layers of fabric across the back and a double layer at the front. They are very heavy, warm and comfortable to wear particularly in cooler climates.

A certain young lady let it be known on my blog the other day that she was curious to know what is under a Kilt. She came to the right person. I spent some time searching for an appropriate little video in order to complete this shy refined young lady’s education.

So just for Lottie I present:

Ok, so the real secret is:

Now you know!

Will sent me a link about Obsolete Skills I was fascinated. I deleted about half of them, mainly the tekkie ones. AND the one about Cave Wall Painting. Huh! I certainly don’t go that far back!

I hope I cut all the repeats, but I have done all of these 109 things at least once!!

Now if my list is not enough you can always go back to the Blog Post.

Adjusting rabbit ears on top of a TV

Adjusting a television’s horizontal and vertical holds

Adjusting a television’s color and hue adjustments

Adjusting a clock’s pendulum

Analogue radio listening and tuning in

Calculating a square root using pencil and paper

Calculating sales tax?

Calligraphy

Cash Register used manually entering the prices

Changing the ball or ribbon on your Selectric Typewriter

Cleaning the balls inside a computer mouse for better traction

Clicking on the up and down arrows of a vertical scrollbar

Counting back change

Operate a credit card imprinter (click-clack)

Cursive handwriting

Darning a sock

Faxing a document

Focusing a camera

Freethinking

Getting off the couch to change channels on your TV set?

Getting to know your neighbors?

Going outside? (instead of editing pointless Wikis)

Hand crank a car to start it

Hand lettering large signs

Handwriting

Having Cash

Having your gas pumped for you and your oil checked at a full-service gas station

Knowing what part of town someone lives in by their phone exchange

Licking stamps or envelopes?

Lighting a kerosene lamp

Loading a reel to reel tape drive

Long-Distance Phone Calling

Long division

Look for a job in the classifieds

Looking up a business on the yellow pages

Making an operator assisted phone call

Making change in shillings and pence

Manually loading ink on a fountain pen from an bottle

Map Reading

Marriage?

Memorizing Multiplication Tables

Mailing in the order form of a catalog?

Operating an agitator washing machine and clothes ringer

Operating an Overhead Projector

Paying with cash?

Peeling the developer layer off a Polaroid?

Peeling back a lid from an sardine can with a key?

Percolating coffee

Playing marbles?

Polaroid photography

Putting a needle on a vinyl record

Quill Sharpening

Reading a dictionary or encyclopedia

Reading a paper map

Reading a Sundial?

Reckoning arithmetic without aid?

Remembering passwords

Remembering telephone numbers

Repairing small appliances? (replaced element in the Iron)

Replacing Shoe Sole and Heels

Rewinding an audio cassette using a Bic pen*

Ripping the little holes off the sides of the computer paper

Rolling down the car window

Selling something in the Classified Ads?

Sending a letter

Sending a telegram?

Sharpening a pencil

Starching a removable collar?

Spelling

Starting a car that has a manual choke

Thinking for oneself

Ticket Conductors on Buses?

Operating a Treadle Sewing Machine

Trim the wick on an oil lamp?

Tuning a radio

Typing and sending a telex?

Untangling the cord of a telephone?

Using a beer can opener

Using a bit and brace?

Using a bottle opener?

Using an ink blotter

Using an abacus

Using a compass

Using a fax machine

Using a flash bulb?

Using a fountain pen

Using a light pen

Using a Logarithm Table?

Using a manual choke in cold weather

Using a party-line telephone

Using a pay telephone

Using a pay toilet

Using a scythe

Using a slide rule

Using a Typewriter?

Using carbon paper to make copies

Using correction fluid

Using a mangle to dry clothes?

Walking long distances

Washing clothes with a washboard?

Watching a slide show with a slide projector

Wearing a girdle

Wearing a hat

Whipping cream with a whisk

Winding a watch or clock

Winding up loose cassette tape with a pencil eraser before putting the cassette in the deck

Worrying about important things?

Writing email whilst offline and going online to send

Writing using a dip pen and powder to dry up the ink?

Ian wrote about ‘Unhappy school days. It rather opened an old wound for me. So far I have skirted around those years trying to convince myself that I was over them.

Primary school was normal enough I think, apart from all the days I was kept at home to open the door and allow the doctor in to see my mother, unfortunately her health was not the best at times. Among other problems she had a serious heart attack when I was ten. I was also needed to prepare meals for the family. I remember my first attempts at making dinner involved going upstairs to find out from mammy what to do at every stage. The meals were cooked on the gas stove or in the oven. I avoided the grill as I considered it dangerous. My father and brothers would consume at least five potatoes each without those for my mother, sister and myself. Peeling the potatoes and vegetables took an hour each day. I became quite adept at making stews and casseroles. My eldest brother helped when food was cooked and pans and dishes were hot. No way as a slight small 8-10 year old was I capable of lifting them. Daddy NEVER entered the kitchen and expected his food on the table as usual! Homework! Why would I need to do that, when there were men to be fed!

At secondary level I went to a new school (3 years old) run by the order of Nuns that taught my mother. We had to sit a written examination to gain entrance. Our class of thirty whittled down to 15 after Intermediate Certificate. We were constantly reminded that it was a College (this allowed them charge higher fees) and that they did not teach us - they educated us! Their main priority was to reduce the debt incurred in building the school. We had a wonderful Gym, equipped with bars, ropes, horse, mats etc. It was the envy of many another school and we used it only as a supplementary examination hall! The pupils’ parents were bombarded with books of raffle tickets on a weekly basis, at least 12 books at a time. I refused to take them home – I was the only one with nerve to stand up and say so.

It was the early 60’s and I was one of 6 children, my father had spent almost a year in and out of hospital. Daddy was diagnosed with Addison’s disease, a visit to the library told my eldest brother and I that it was fatal. At that time there was no cure. My reading of the situation at the time was that if my mother handed out money for 12 books of raffle tickets to me each week then she would have to do the same for my 5 siblings. At that point there were three of us in Fee paying schools. No way was I going to ask for £12 a week.

No allowance was made for late developers, slow learners or difficult home situations. Pupils were told which subjects they were allocated, there was no such thing as choice. Abuse both physical and mental was employed on a daily basis. If you didn’t keep up you were lost from the radar. Pupils not thought to bring glory were encouraged to leave. I was considered a rebel and not at all bright.

Reading was not a priority in our home. Latin and French were difficult for me, Irish was a torture. The fact that if you failed Irish you failed the whole exam in those days, added to my burden. Back then Irish was not standardised and in one school year alone we had four teachers. They happened to come from the four provinces, Ulster, Leinster, Munster, and Connacht, each with their own dialect. To my ear they were four different languages. I never really recovered.

Maths I managed but science was not offered to me. Art and Domestic Science were on my programme and I actually knew more about cooking and hygiene than the teacher. She knew little about sewing, but a sister of my father’s took me under her wing and nurtured in me the love of the needle.

By now you all know my level of English! Elly constantly corrects my grammar and spelling. The fact that I am borderline dyslexic adds to the problems. Reading justified text, or light print on a dark background is torture. There are many blogs I would love to read, but if I have to struggle to find the content in amongst the flashing lights, bells, whistles and distracting adverts, well I walk away. Am I the only one to do so?

The nuns did try to move me out. Mammy stood her ground; she had to leave school at 16 in favour of her brothers’ education, so she was determined to let me go as far as the boys. I passed my leaving certificate with a couple of honours thrown in, much to everyone’s surprise. I was glad to leave school and never returned for any of the reunions.

My best pal was at school with me. Despite distance, family and other commitments we are still close and in touch on a regular basis. She has been a second mother for Elly, and her sons the brothers Elly never had. As I often say some good came out of those dark years!

Do you remember 1895? Well old and all as I appear, and never mind what Elly says, I don’t remember it either. I am sixty and not 112! So what am I going on about?

Guglielmo Marconi an Italian inventor proved the feasibility of radio communication when he sent and received his first radio signal in Italy in 1895.

By 1899 he flashed the first wireless signal across the English Channel and two years later received the letter “S”, telegraphed on 12^th December 1901, from England to Newfoundland. The signal was sent via a 160ft/52m aerial in Cornwall, England, and Marconi received it at St John’s, Newfoundland, where they used an even higher aerial kept aloft by a kite. This was the first successful transatlantic radiotelegraph message. At the time the feat was applauded on both sides of the Atlantic.

So today, the 12^th December as we phone, text, blog, podcast and Skype to one another across the world, may we not take it for granted but celebrate the life, vision and the work of Guglielmo Marconi!

Last evening I heard something scary. I was listening to the radio. BBC Radio 4, the Money Box programme. It is now back for a new season. I often find it informative. I have yet to discover how to get those old pennies out of my Money Box; they never seem to cover that topic! I might have to resort to a tin opener!

One of the topics last night told how some Credit Card customers are running into problems at hotels. They explained how one “standard practice” in the way card payments are reserved can sometimes affect your ability to spend. Perhaps you International Travellers out there are well aware of the practice. If not you can listen to the piece on the above link.

When a person checks into a hotel they are asked how they will be paying. Most of us now for simplicity and ease proffer our Credit Card. At that point the hotel *Earmarks* a sum of money to include the daily rate for the number of days we hope to stay, plus the cost of our anticipated spending e.g. breakfast, dinner and use of the Mini bar plus an extra to cover accident.

One caller told of his checking into a hotel, but later changing his mind for some reason and booking into another one. When He handed over his card at the second hotel he was told there was a problem. His limit was not sufficient to cover the bill.

He contacted his Credit card company and was told the first hotel had *Earmarked* £1500 to cover his stay and when he booked into the second hotel they wanted to *Earmark* a similar amount.

Another person checked into an Hotel as per normal and then went out for the remainder of the evening to shop and have a meal. The next time he tried to use his card it was rejected.

We learned that it is a common practice for hotels to do this, yet nowhere is it advertised or are we advised.

Now you are warned! Take note.

I wonder does my Elly know.

A young farm lad from North Kerry went to study at University in Dublin, but about one month into the first term, he had foolishly squandered away all of the allowance his parents gave him.

Then he had an idea. He called his daddy. “Dad,” he said, “you won’t believe the wonders that modern education is coming up with! Why, they actually have a course here at college that will teach our dog Blackie how to talk!”

“That’s absolutely amazing,” his father says. “Do you think I might get him enrolled on the course?”

“Just send him up here to me with €1,000″ the boy says. “I’ll get him into the course. So, his father sends the dog and the €1,000.

About 6 weeks later, the money ran out again. The boy called his father again.

“So how’s Blackie doing, son,” his father asks.

“Awesome, Dad, he’s talking up a storm,” he says, “but you just won’t believe this - they’ve had such good results with this course that they’ve started a new one to teach the animals how to READ!”

“READ,” says his father, “No kidding! What do I have to do to get him in that course?”

Just send €2,500, I’ll get him in the class. His father sends the money.

The boy now has a problem. The Christmas holiday was approaching, his father would find out that the dog could neither talk, nor read. So he shoots the dog. When he gets home for the holiday, his father is all excited.

“Where’s Blackie? I just can’t wait to see him talk and read something!”

“Dad,” the boy says, “I have some bad news. Yesterday morning, just before we left to drive home, Blackie was in the living room reading the Irish Times, like he usually does. Then he turned to me and asked, ‘is your daddy still messing’ around with that little redhead who lives in Tralee?’

The father says, “I hope you SHOT that F*ck*r before he talks to your Mother!”

“I sure did, Dad!”

“That’s my boy!”

I am sure that young lad will go far!