Sunday, March 20, 2011

pink and blue rugs

Designers Guild is often rather dramatic for me, perhaps aimed more at the sort of woman who would take vodka on her muesli and be first off the mark at the traffic lights, but look at these simple rugs they have in lovely shades of blue and pink with a jaunty stripe, perfect for Blue and Pink Daughters. They speak to the still, small presence within every one of us, except men, that yearns for transformative textiles.



Momentarily life-changing rugs. I'm prone to these fits of enthusiasm. I continue to dream of the perfect cleaning product, probably in spray form, that will take away my cares.

A mother's acute discernment suspects that they are not non-slip, but a blogger's yen for the pretty overcomes this, reckoning that instructing the children to be sure not to slip will do.

[images: Designers Guild]

Saturday, March 12, 2011

taking comfort in chairs

My mother crocheted this cotton cushion-cover for me. It's lovely. You were just about to say so, weren't you? And on such a handsome chair! I hope I haven't blocked off a commenting avenue for you there.

[crochet cushion, ivory, pink border, lovely]

And Julie inspired me to make this semi-slip-cover, suitable for a craftswoman with a short attention span. It looks as though I put in some minor effort but is achieved by sewing a tea-towel onto a plain white pillowcase for an instant French country look, non?

[guestroom chair with slip-cover]

It rains here, away from home, and I need the distraction of fiction. Can you recommend anything, or indeed have you had something suitable published yourself in your go-getting way?

[made using the Catalog Card Generator]

There undoubtedly exist novels that are very readable despite falling into some of these fusspot exclusion categories, but morale is low and I have made so many mistakes with book-buying online that I need to be CERTAIN. I just want something self-assured, intricate and ineffable, preferably with a foreword. Something that fends off dampness and the suspicion that one has packed the wrong shoes.
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