17.4.14

Garden bounty

Last night there was a charity flower school in aid of Marie Curie.

It was a riot.

Similar to one we did in the autumn, bring scissors and garden foliage, and there would be flowers and cheese and wine for you.

People came armed with all manner of bounty from their gardens it was heaven. This land is indeed so very green and pleasant.

It never ceases amaze me, how even with access to the same flowers and foliage, everybody left with an arrangement that was entirely different to anybody else's.

Thank you to everybody that came, and to the committee who work so very hard behind the scenes.

I wish we could have filmed it, the perfect slice of middle England, they had me in stitches.

This morning there was an earthquake in Rutland.

Rutland has been on the news.

and then a very lovely lady came in to chat about British flowers, i didn't hold back on my opinions.

nor did I to the waste people, Shanks has been taken over by Biffa, we used to speak to a nice lady at the depot up the road, but now you have to call a centre in Bucks. It took 15 minutes to get through to a lady who didn't know where i was or very much care, or understand that Trevor the driver is the man that holds Stamford together.

Is this progress? I asked her

Have a nice day she replied.

Waste disposal is the very unsexy side of floristry, i could talk about it for a very long time, nearly as long as i can about f*****g cornflowers.

15.4.14

Back on the chain gang

A beautiful Spring wedding.

Rankels, roses, tulips, lilac, jasmine and what have you for M & J.

Stubton Hall was the venue, if you want a venue sans swirly carpets and heavy brocade chairs,  and avec chandeliers and nice pots, this is for you.

Fresh flower cake toppers are so much prettier than sugar ones.

but i have jumped on the Sarah Wilson band wagon so sugar is now a banned substance.

The Pretenders obvs



10.4.14

I know you have a little life in you yet

I know you have a lot of strength left.

My grandmother is very poorly, things as a consequence have been a bit shit.

I'm so proud of Ma Hen, who has moved mountains. We have joked that there is a photo of her in all consultants' offices and written above it "Do whatever she wants doing, she won't let up"

I have done the usual Miss P. thing of shutting out all the people, because they have an annoying habit of saying things like "she's had a good innings" or recounting tales of what they believe to be similar experiences as a way of showing empathy. Equally annoying. I know I'm a bitch, people are trying to be nice.

Once you have shut out all the people, the only thing left is work. I have thrown myself whole heartedly into flowers, weddings, searching for the perfect vessels. Finding a new variety of rose, or the perfect shaped vase in which to show it off. I'm like an addict, wide eyed, scouring.

I shall bring you images of new vessels another time, but for now i bring you yarn.

A furniture shop was getting rid of lots of yarn, so i bought the lot and filled them with ranunculus. The shop window is uncharacteristically minimal. Customers are unsure about it, i can sense they feel uncomfortable, wondering if when they come in next time it will be to an entirely zen space.

and quite a lot of people have come in asking if i have wool suitable for making cardigans.

Kate Bush

In other news

Baby George is such a dude
New blogging schedule = 2 posts a week Tuesdays and Thursday
I haven't eaten any sugar
I have put the shop heater away and bought cosmos plants, so if the temperature plummets, you can blame me.
Might start selling wool


20.3.14

6

It was, as we left the soft play hell centre on her 5th birthday that she turned and said

"I'm having a flower school party next year, because i will be 6, and you said when i was 6"

I did, and so there was.

That year seems to have come around so very quickly.

In they filed, wide eyed with excitement, and a quite unparalleled eagerness to learn.

So very polite and kind, and so very proud of what they created.

I think this might be my all time favourite photograph.

14.3.14

Geraniums

I love them, the scent of the leaves evoking memories of dusky evenings on the Mediterranean. You remember the one, the terrace, the view, the happiness.

They are my foliage of choice in buttonholes, the shape and ruffle of the leaves perfectly framing a flower.

Isn't this all a bit too summery, shouldn't you be rejoicing and rolling around in narcissus and hellebore?

I should be, but I am allergic to both and would quite like my face not to feel like it is on fire for one day.

hashtag florist problems.

It is the first of the season this weekend, Ron is back, HAM is quickest, coverage starts at 4.30am on Sunday.


12.3.14

Lambs

Just doing their thing.

Not taking selfies
Not looking for sponsors
Not posting brought to you by *name of large company*
Not members of an affiliate programme
Not incessantly tweeting links to the same post

Perhaps the only ones on the internet that aren't, or does it just fell that way sometimes?

I am definitely not looking at all the cade lamb adverts in CWG.

6.3.14

My fingertips are holding onto the cracks in our foundations

and I know that i should let go, but I can't.

Kate Nash

On the radio this morning.

We are preparing for Mothering Sunday (30th March)

Potting up pots with hellebores, and scabious and herbs and black grass.

and after my plea for some babies to balance out all the death, people have obliged. Oh my what beautiful babies they have had, especially Martha.

combined with all the loveliness this morning of children dressed for World Book day, it could make a girl quite broody.

The Hound refused point blank to dress up, and has gone as Pilot off of Jane Eyre.

and then this morning Chloe (Caught the Light) Browne tweeted a link to this, I love the idea and might give it a go on the old instagram, if i can pluck up the courage. I shall pounce on unsuspecting customers, i might do a few, maybe write a book.

4.3.14

Leftovers and perpetual chicken

I can't imagine what I did before chicken, not that there was a before chicken, and neither does there appear to be an after. 

Just endless chicken, stuffed with bits found at the back of the fridge.

Leftover cooked quinoa, a spoonful of tahini, pomegranate, flat leaf parsley, lemon thyme, the zest of a lemon, and a squirt of agave.

It makes the most delicious salad, but far better to stuff the bird with it.

There is very little in life that can't be improved by the addition of chicken fat.

and could the biotech (GM rebranded) stop making freak roses, and just crack on with producing a lilac that is the colour of purple sprouting?

or just give me a recipe suggestion that does not involve chicken.