How special to still have your mothers sewing creations. You'll have to post one day, they sound beautiful and would truly hold special memories.
The YouTube video was amazing. I was mesmerised, couldn't stop watching it. I must admit I was thinking he would fall in. Such talent to skate on such thin ice. The footage was obviously filmed by a very talented aerial videographer. Thank you for sharing.
I would love to post pics of Mum's beautiful sewing. She was so clever. In her time sewing for me, she used to make Vogue Couturier patterns - dozens of different pieces to the pattern and she'd nut it all out. I always felt so elegant in whatever she made me.
And that ice-song! I felt the same as you, Maree. Mesmerised. Thanks so much for commenting!
I swoon with silk, Rebecca. When we used to travel to Thailand, I would walk into silk shop after silk shop, looking at bolts of fabric filed like books in shelves. It was heaven.
In my fabric boxes in the linen cupboard, I have the loveliest burned orange length that would make THE best shirt. But I don't trust anyone to make it up now Mum has passed away.
And besides, husband and self are such stay-at-homes that an orange silk shirt at night to watch TV seems just a smidge of overkill.
Mind you, we have a tailor who visits our island from Hong Kong and I love his work...
That burned orange Thai silk sounds incredible, Prue!
I remember Dad (a longhaul pilot) taking clothes (usually ones that Mum had made) to Bangkok to have copied in Thai silk. He even had a favourite tailor over there! In Hong Kong he'd find all manner of goodies in Stanley Market to bring home.
I love the thought of date night in the Batten house with the two of you dressed up to the nines, with chilled champagne, some delectable asparagus and something fabulous to watch. 😊
Think trackie daks, no grog (we don't drink) and whatever I can rustle up from the garden.
AND, the plumber chopped through our internet line 4 days ago. Everything I'm doing has to be done through my little iphone 5 SE - an antiquated listening device. So no movies, because it pixelates. Sigh...
Shimmering... What a magnificent word, a magnificent vision. I never thought of it as an onomatopoeia before now, but with your lovely photos, and the stories of your mother in her silk and you in yours, the slightly blurry (unintentionally or not) capture of you dancing -- it's all spilling over with silvery movement and bouncing light.
The nice thing about shimmer memories is that one can pull them out of the memory drawer, unwrap them from the layered tissue paper and unfold them in their sparkling glory.
Precisely what I am doing this week as I lurch from dismay to disgust as I find that the plumber who kindly mended our burst water main beneath the front willow, has also cut our internet line. I'm operating off my phone (which operates from the tower up on a far hill), must remember to charge everything and can't watch a series I was well into on streaming TV.
First World problems really, aren't they?
Thank you so much for your beautiful comments, Elizabeth.
How special to still have your mothers sewing creations. You'll have to post one day, they sound beautiful and would truly hold special memories.
The YouTube video was amazing. I was mesmerised, couldn't stop watching it. I must admit I was thinking he would fall in. Such talent to skate on such thin ice. The footage was obviously filmed by a very talented aerial videographer. Thank you for sharing.
I would love to post pics of Mum's beautiful sewing. She was so clever. In her time sewing for me, she used to make Vogue Couturier patterns - dozens of different pieces to the pattern and she'd nut it all out. I always felt so elegant in whatever she made me.
And that ice-song! I felt the same as you, Maree. Mesmerised. Thanks so much for commenting!
Thanks for your beautiful comment and share Prue xx
So beautifully evocative, Prue - the sound of your mother in Thai silk - what a wonderful memory!
And I'm so thrilled to have seen that lovely picture of you dancing.
The ice skating video was extraordinary - what a remarkable thing. Just wow! 😍
I swoon with silk, Rebecca. When we used to travel to Thailand, I would walk into silk shop after silk shop, looking at bolts of fabric filed like books in shelves. It was heaven.
In my fabric boxes in the linen cupboard, I have the loveliest burned orange length that would make THE best shirt. But I don't trust anyone to make it up now Mum has passed away.
And besides, husband and self are such stay-at-homes that an orange silk shirt at night to watch TV seems just a smidge of overkill.
Mind you, we have a tailor who visits our island from Hong Kong and I love his work...
That burned orange Thai silk sounds incredible, Prue!
I remember Dad (a longhaul pilot) taking clothes (usually ones that Mum had made) to Bangkok to have copied in Thai silk. He even had a favourite tailor over there! In Hong Kong he'd find all manner of goodies in Stanley Market to bring home.
I love the thought of date night in the Batten house with the two of you dressed up to the nines, with chilled champagne, some delectable asparagus and something fabulous to watch. 😊
Date night! Ha!
Think trackie daks, no grog (we don't drink) and whatever I can rustle up from the garden.
AND, the plumber chopped through our internet line 4 days ago. Everything I'm doing has to be done through my little iphone 5 SE - an antiquated listening device. So no movies, because it pixelates. Sigh...
In which case, tonight you need to swish in shimmering silk and dance together to (unpixelated) music. There! 😘
Hope your line gets fixed really soon - that’s such a shame!
Shimmering... What a magnificent word, a magnificent vision. I never thought of it as an onomatopoeia before now, but with your lovely photos, and the stories of your mother in her silk and you in yours, the slightly blurry (unintentionally or not) capture of you dancing -- it's all spilling over with silvery movement and bouncing light.
The nice thing about shimmer memories is that one can pull them out of the memory drawer, unwrap them from the layered tissue paper and unfold them in their sparkling glory.
Precisely what I am doing this week as I lurch from dismay to disgust as I find that the plumber who kindly mended our burst water main beneath the front willow, has also cut our internet line. I'm operating off my phone (which operates from the tower up on a far hill), must remember to charge everything and can't watch a series I was well into on streaming TV.
First World problems really, aren't they?
Thank you so much for your beautiful comments, Elizabeth.