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In the Vale of the White Horse

A scant year after our last house move, we have moved again. This time it was because Mr Namasi started a new job in Oxfordshire. We were so happy in our last thatched cottage that, when our house hunting efforts unearthed another one, Mr Namasi’s mind was made up. I vacillated between the thatch and a larger bungalow nearer to his office, but the thatch won out. So now we find ourselves in a little cottage in Uffington, near the famous White Horse, which we can see as we drive about the narrow country roads.

There are paddocks where horses graze within 50 metres of our door in pretty much every direction. At least two of the abutting neighbours keep chickens. There is a community garden behind the local pub, which is two doors down. Apparently, there is a litter picking event twice a year, which I hope to become part of. There is apparently not a craft group in the village. If only we knew someone who might start one… oh, hang on a minute! Watch this space.

Quirky spaces

This cottage is even older than the last one we lived in, with even more quirky, mis-shapen spaces that are tricky to furnish. I love it!

Our new garden is huge and L-shaped. The owner used to live here herself with her family when she first bought the cottage over 30 years ago. And they kept ponies for her daughters in the stables at the far end, and there is space enough for them to have grazed in the short bit of the L. I will, of course, be using the stables as my workshop. With the owner’s blessing, I plan to turn the end of the L into a wild meadow to attract bees and butterflies.

Sofa in the kitchen

Moving home is always an opportunity to re-evaluate and re-arrange. The leather sofa that has accompanied us through the last 13 years and three homes refused point-blank to fit through the doorway to the new lounge. So now we have a comfy sofa in the kitchen. Talk about silver linings! First, the kitchen is big enough to accommodate it. Second, there is nothing quite so comfy as lying on that sofa while Mr Namasi takes his turn at cooking the dinner, and we catch up on our respective days. I love having people over for a meal, but I confess to a measure of FOMO when I need to attend to something in the kitchen. That sofa is going mean that I can ask some of our guests to come and chat to me while I’m working. The kitchen is also big enough to hold a six-seater dining table and chairs.

Large kitchen

The kitchen was the first space we unpacked completely. I wanted that sense of security that comes with being able to cook a meal and eat it, without stress.

In addition to the large kitchen, there is an actual dining room, which is taking shape nicely, but is a low priority.

Our bedroom is almost done. A couple of boxes have yet to be unpacked, and our night stands will have to be jettisoned, because they don’t fit. Of course, I nearly did myself a serious mischief by insisting on assembling our new bed (complete with – heavy AF – iGel mattress, and pneumatic powered lifters to access the under-bed storage) by myself. Because I am pig-headed, stubborn and bloody-minded. Takes 2 people 4 hours to assemble, it said. It took me less than that, but left me with some impressive bruises and minor blood loss.

Both bathrooms have been claimed, after a few rethinks. I still have to change the roller blind in the main bathroom, though – the current mint-and-pink colour scheme is pretty, but it isn’t me.

Mr Namasi’s study, showing the offending beam

Mr Namasi’s study is pretty much up and running, only the alcove we thought perfect for his desk is proving to be a concussion waiting to happen as he keeps smacking his head on the beam – see picture. A re-org appears to be called for.

The lounge is going to need a rethink. The sofa obviously doesn’t fit. Plus the loss of some bedrooms in the downsizing process means that we need a sofa bed for guests, anyway. So we’re on the hunt for one of those. But for now, we have somewhere comfy to spend our evenings, even if it is a little mismatched, with chairs drawn from odd places.

At this stage, we have whittled down the pile of boxes impressively, but those that remain are mostly in my studio and workshop. So there is nothing being kreated at present. Normal service will be resumed in due course. In the meantime, the process of unpacking my studio just seems to cause more clutter before subsiding. The fact that this is all happening while the football (will it be coming home?) and Wimbledon are both on telly, means that it’s going more slowly than it ought. Sorry about that!


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Don’t diss the flatpacks

This started as a Facebook status and grew like Topsy, so I thought I’d turn it into a blog post instead.

The Architectural Digest recently published an article about the 13 most popular Ikea products. Why 13? I have no idea, and it’s beside the point. Moving on.

Some people assume that no flatpack item of furniture would ever be allowed to darken my door because I ‘make stuff’. Occasionally, I will be chatting to someone who will sheepishly admit that they sleep on an Ikea bed or own an Ikea something or other.

Please allow me to disabuse you.


For one thing: I’m married to a Swede. A certain amount of Ikea stuff is mandatory. Much like the three Volvos we have owned at one time or another. Okay, our visits to Ikea usually have at least as much to do with the kiosk as the furniture store. Meatballs, pickled herrings, lingonsylt, and our permanently disappointed hope that the Lördagsgodis (pick ‘n mix) stand will start stocking hallonbåtar (raspberry boats – see image).

Because we’re in the throes of packing up to move, I’ve had a birds’ eye view of the role that Ikea plays in our home furnishings.

So, here goes, working down the list from the article in Architectural Digest:

  1. Billy bookcase. After one too many house moves, our faithful Billy book cases have finally been retired and recycled. We had three of the really tall ones in our last house, and two in this one. Our next house has built in bookshelves.
  2. Poäng chairs. We currently have two of these chairs (in bright orange): one rocker and one standard with foot stool.
  3. Malm bed. I don’t think we’ve ever had one of these, but we have certainly had other beds from Ikea, single, double and bunks.
  4. Kallax shelves. From where I am sitting at the moment, I can see two of these units in our passage.
  5. Rens sheepskin rug. I think this must be a US product, because the sheepskins in the UK have different names. Either way. Not a fan.
  6. Stockholm rug. As with the Malm bed, we might not have owned this particular item, but we have owned (and still do own) woven rugs from Ikea.
  7. Lack table. I think I draw the line at these. They’re useful and cheap and cheerful, but not very durable. There are better options out there among the pre-owned goods up for sale on any number of sites.
  8. Ektorp sofa. We haven’t had one of these before. But we are currently looking at getting a Friheten sofa bed for our new house. Especially if we can find a pre-owned one in the right colour!
  9. Docksta table. Not something we’ve ever had.
  10. Klippan sofa. Not something we’ve ever had, but for a couple just setting up home..? Ideal.
  11. Färgrik mug. Hell yes! We don’t have any at the moment, but we’ve had more than a few over the years. 65p for a coffee mug? And when it breaks, it can go into the hard-core skip at the recycling centre and become part of a structure. What’s not to love?
  12. Ribba frames. With so many frames available in charity shops and freebie sites, I doubt that we’ve ever had any of these, but it’s not beyond the realm of possibility.
  13. Frakta shopping bags. Hell yes. I have several of these, and they are so useful!

We also have:

  • some or other Ikea desk (possibly Malm) in Mr Namasi’s study. I’m sitting at it at the moment. I’m not sure it will survive this move, to be honest.
  • a lycksele sofabed in the guest room. I’ve made a new cover for it, and even slept on it myself from time to time. It has a better mattress than most of the sofa beds that I’ve looked at – especially those that look prettier in sofa mode.
  • Malm chest of drawers. At one point we had three of these. One recently gave up the ghost in protest against the thought of another move. One has gone to live with a friend who is just setting up home and finding the cost of things a little prohibitive. The third one is going to attempt to make the next move with us. Here’s hoping.
  • Hol side table. This has been part of our living room decor for yonks. I love the solid construction of it, but it’s showing marks now, from years of use. I’m thinking of painting it. Maybe with Unicorn spit.

And that brings me to my final point: it’s always possible to personalise the admittedly rather bland appearance of Ikea furniture. A new slip cover. A coat of paint. Wallpaper. Transfers. Funky handles. If you’re stuck for ideas, you know where to find me.

Don’t let anyone shame you for owning this stuff, okay?

Billy bookcase image credit: Matt.

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Moving house with a black dog in tow

It’s been a long time since I wrote a blog post. Last time I wrote, we were in the throes of househunting. Since then, having found a lovely new place, we’ve been preparing to move.

Many people will tell you that this is one of the most stressful things in life – right up there with divorce and the loss of a loved one. Apparently this is bogus. It doesn’t really surprise me, to be honest. I’ve survived some of the things included on the list on the other end of that link, and this doesn’t come close.

Mind you, this moving business has brought the black dog in for a visit, and that does result in a kind of numbness that might prevent me from being a reliable judge of my own stress levels.

Because the distance to work is simply too far for a daily drive (and there is no viable public transport option), Mr Namasi has become a weekly boarder. During the week, he’s in AirBnBs close to work, but he’s home for the weekend. So the long drive is only a Monday morning, Friday evening issue. This has been the best solution for him. His role is a newly created one, and there’s a LOT to be done, so he needs to be on top of his game. The sort of exhaustion that comes with dealing with a 2-hour traffic jam before the working day has even begun… well no-one wants that!

But the inevitable consequence is that the bulk of the packing and organising falls to me. I don’t resent it – it makes perfect sense – but the inescapable reality is that it is overwhelming. It’s not helped by the fact that we’re going from 4 bedrooms plus studio, to 3 smaller bedrooms including studio. This means getting rid of a whole bunch of stuff. It’s further complicated by the fact that, during the year that we’ve been in this wonderful cottage, our younger son moved in with all his furniture and then out into a furnished place, without said furniture. No sooner had he moved out, than our elder son moved in with all his furniture, only to move out into a furnished place… you guessed it… without his furniture. Fortunately, I found an organisation that is looking to start a wonderful project to help people get back up again after having taken a (metaphorical) tumble, and they were happy to take pretty much all our surplus.

I was doing so well until the last week or so. Suddenly my sleep patterns are all out of whack, and I’ve got that tell-tale jet-lagged feeling as if I’m watching myself from a distance . I haven’t yet reached the ‘I wish I was dead’ stage. Perhaps we’ll all be spared that this time around. Ain’t nobody got time for that.

The odd thing is, I’m genuinely looking forward to the new chapter. I’ve already joined some of the local online groups, and started researching ideas for the enormous garden I’m suddenly going to have to look after for the first time in my life. We’re going to need a second sofa bed to accommodate overnight visits from our sons and/or guests, and I’ve been researching that, too. Mr Namasi and I even visited Ikea to explore our options.

I’ve pretty much done all the big stuff: the end-of-tenancy garden tidy up has been booked; as has the carpet cleaning (complete with mandatory flea treatment) and house clean. The movers are taking on the task of packing up my workshop and upcycling materials, as well as the kitchen. The house is full of already packed boxes, and I add to their number every day.

Inevitably, there are one or two unfortunately timed commitments happening between now and the day of the Big Move, but that’s pretty much par for the course, isn’t it?

There’s no reason for me to be drowning. But the black dog is an unreasonable son of a bitch (in a sort of literally metaphorical or metaphorically literal way), and he has moved in just the same.

I know I’m going to get through this, and I know it will soon be over. But dammit, the gauntlet must be run, it seems.

In the meantime, not a heck of a lot of kreating is going on. Bear with me, will you?

IthinkIcan IthinkIcan IthinkIcan….

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If I were a letting agent…

We’re currently in the process of house hunting. A rental in this instance. And we’ve been struck by several common factors and behaviours exhibited by most of the letting agents we’ve encountered in the process. If you’re a letting agent, or thinking of become one, I reckon you could set yourself apart by avoiding most of these quite easily. So, in no particular order, here are some tips from a complete outsider to your industry:

1. Don’t assume the enquirer knows about lettings

This is the most important point, and one which binds all my following suggestions together: remember that your enquirer is almost certainly not a letting agent. They might in fact be totally new to the rental market. Or new to the country. or both. Start with the assumption that all this is totally new territory to them.

2. Remind the enquirer which property you represent

When responding to an email enquiries, include some kind of reference to the property in question – a link, a picture – something that will remind the enquirer which property you’re referring to. We’re using Rightmove, identifying properties that match our criteria, and using the hot link to email the agent.

Note that all screen grabs have been taken at random for the purposes of this post. I have deliberately avoided referencing agents I’ve actually dealt with during this house hunting experience. So this is not an indication of the sort of service offered by the agents referenced here.

This link takes you to an online form, which you complete and submit.


All very convenient. Until the responses come in.

Most initial responses from the agents to online enquiries contain no information that help the enquirer remember which property they pertain to. A response from Joe at Blah Blah Letting Agents might mention 123 Streetname Street, without mentioning the town. I suspect we’re not unique in that we’re looking for a property within a 20 mile radius of my husband’s new job. So that casts a fairly wide net, and captures a large number of potential localities. We’re also not hunting one-by-one. We’re enquiring about several properties at once, so need a little help remembering which particular property you represent.

3. Know the essentials

In my experience, there is a disconnect between the information the agent has at their fingertips, and the information the enquirer actually wants. Information about the locality is helpful, but generally speaking, people can do an internet search to find out about local schools, shops, pubs, crime rates, etc. It’s information about the property itself that isn’t that readily available. I get that it isn’t always possible to know everything about all the properties on the books. Especially for evening and weekend viewings, when you might be covering for someone else. But there are certain key pieces of information that really should be at the agent’s fingertips.

Central heating – At one house we looked at recently, the agent told us the central heating was gas-powered. Then we opened a shed in the garden to reveal one of the biggest oil tanks I’ve ever seen. So was this what actually powered the central heating? Or was it an obsolete tank that the owners had simply not yet got around to removing? The agent didn’t know. And then we found a large rectangular metal structure outside the kitchen, connected to the kitchen by means of some kind of pipe or cable. It obstructed the path from the side gate to the rear garden. What was it? No idea, said the agent. And a little further down the same path, I spotted two large gas canisters connected to the house. No connection to gas mains. This was also news to the agent.

Broadband speed/fibre availability – I have yet to view a house where the agent knows whether fibre is available in the house (or even the area), and what the broadband connection speed is like. In this day and age, this is critical information for many people. If you work remotely, or are a professional (or even avid amateur) gamer, you need really a quick connection. Before we moved into our current house, we looked at the perfect house out on a remote country lane. It ticked almost every box for us, but the agent didn’t “know much about computers”, so couldn’t answer our questions on the subject of broadband/fibre. We did our own research, and found that it wouldn’t be adequate to our needs.

White goods – large appliances are pretty expensive, so it’s vital to know which of the items currently in the kitchen will be staying and which will be going. In one of the houses we viewed recently, there was a large, gloriously orange, top-of-the-range fridge-freezer. The agent was quick to point out that that was the property of the current tenant and would be leaving with them. She knew exactly what other appliances there were in the kitchen and utility room, and which were included in the lease.

Furnished/unfurnished – some properties are available furnished, some unfurnished, some semi-furnished, and some landlords are flexible. The agent needs to know exactly what the position is on each house. One house we viewed recently was available unfurnished, but the owners were planning to leave lampshades and mirrors. If decor styles matter to you, you need to know this, because your furniture and decor might not work with the items being left in place. When we first arrived in the UK, we rented a furnished house. In that instance, furnished included everything down to the last teaspoon. We opted to use our own bed linen to provide our young sons with a connection to the bedrooms they had left behind. After that, we moved into a semi-furnished house, in which we were able to use those few items of furniture we had brought with us from South Africa, as well as those we had bought during our year in the country. Although the lounge was furnished, the landlady agreed to remove the lounge furniture, so that we could use our own. The agent was aware of this flexibility on the part of the owner, and it made the process easier.

4. Don’t try to blag it

One of the houses we looked at this weekend had a lot going for it, including a beautifully fitted, modern kitchen with integrated appliances concealed behind elegant fronts that matched the cabinets. We asked which white goods were included. Without looking up from her notes, the agent waved a hand airily and said, “Just what you see.” My husband looked pointedly at the uniformly grey fronts and said “So… nothing, then?” We had to open all the doors to identify which were actually cabinets and which were appliances… and what appliances there were. Since the house was still occupied, it felt too much like snooping for our liking.

If she had admitted that she didn’t know, and explored for (or even with) us, that would have been somewhat better. Ideally, the agent should know the property details before coming to the appointment, but I realise that that isn’t always possible in a busy agency.

5. Know what’s in/excluded

One of the properties we viewed recently opened out onto a little wilderness. Part of the area was carefully mowed and tended, up to the dividing line between that property and the one next door, but there was no fence along that dividing line. Was the little area included in the lease or not? Was it a common area, shared among neighbours, with an understanding that each person tended the part abutting their property? No-one seems to know.

In our current garden, there is a door that opens into a garage. But the garage is not included in our property. That belongs to our next-door neighbours. And they have right of access across our back garden to their garage. This is also the only way they are able to get their bins to the road on collection day, so they have right of access for that purpose too. If a person had a vicious dog which might attack an ‘intruder’, or if they themselves were inclined to become anxious about people having access to their garden, this information would be a dealbreaker. Fortunately, we were given this information up front. Our neighbours are lovely and have never abused their right of access. They have taken the trouble to befriend Jess, so that if she happens to be outdoors when they’re ‘doing the bins’, there is no unpleasantness.

So there they are: my top tips to letting agents, from the perspective of a potential customer.



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Moving on…again

The last nine months have been among the happiest of my life. We have been living in a thatched cottage in a village in rural Northamptonshire, and I have had the luxury of a studio and a workshop in which to wield my various pieces of kit.

When we sold our previous house and started to look for places to rent, the sort of places we were shown within our chosen budget caused my spirit to plummet. There were some fairly decent places within that price range, but none that would accept our pets. And the places we were seeing were dire. Dilapidated, insalubrious, poky… The only place we saw worth considering turned out not to have broadband – a deal breaker for us.

Then a friend told us about a client of his who had a property to let. It was well outside our budget, so I had doubts about going to look at it. I’ve watched ‘Say Yes to the Dress’ (don’t judge: my son was due to get married). I know how it goes. If you look outside your budget, you’ll find the perfect thing that you can’t afford, and then be miserable about everything you can afford. But Mr Namasi thought we might as well look. So we looked. And we fell in love. And nothing else would do.

Because neither of us had a regular income, we had to pay the full year’s rent up front. It was a massive chunk of change.

And it has been worth every penny.

It has been a time of restoration and healing for me, on so many levels. I had hoped that I would see out my days in this lovely home in this delightful village. Everyone who has come to visit us here has remarked on how well it suits us. When the subject of the end of our lease came up, I wanted to stick my fingers in my ears and shout lalalalaaaaaa in that time honoured gesture of denial. Mr Namasi is more pragmatic, but this place has been balm to his soul, too. Not least because of how happy I have been here.

With the end of our lease period approaching all too soon, it transpires that it has been ‘for a season’. Mr Namasi has accepted a wonderful job offer in Oxfordshire, and starts on Tuesday. It has all happened incredibly fast. The job is such a perfect fit for him, the recruitment ad might as well have had his name in it. When he went to discuss the offer with the MD, they were so busy talking about their plans and visions for the future of the business, they almost forgot to discuss his remuneration package.

Of course, I am disappointed to be leaving this cottage and the little village. The craft-and-coffee group I started is just starting to take hold properly. And the response to my litter picking events has been so positive. The neighbours are a delight. But I’m optimistic, too. We’ll find another wonderful house in another village setting. I’ll join or start a craft group there. I’ll get involved in a local environmental initiative there. And we’ll befriend the new neighbours. We’ll be somewhat further away from our sons, and I will miss them sorely. But they are adults, and living their own lives. They will still come and visit us – we will only be a manageable car journey away. And the wonderful thing about Karyn’s [re]Kreations is that they can be [re]kreated anywhere. So the house hunting has begun in earnest.

I really thought I’d crumple in on myself when I had to face moving away. But I haven’t. I’m feeling a little overwhelmed at the scale of everything we have to do in the next couple of months. But I’m not burying myself under my duvet. And this gives me enormous hope.

If you happen to know of a wonderful property to rent within reach of Abingdon, do get in touch, won’t you?


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Litter picking part deux

33 bags of litter

I recently posted about a litter pick on one of the roads leading to our village. The response to that was good enough for us to take another run at it. Since the second event differed fairly significantly from the first, I thought I’d write about it, in case it should prove useful to anyone considering organising a local litter pick themselves.

Last time, the local contractor provided us with a box of grabbers, gloves enough for everyone, litter bags and hi vis waistcoats. I assumed that this would be the case for round two as well. It wasn’t.

When we arrived to collect the kit, nothing had been set aside for us. In spite of an exchange of emails confirming everything, no record had been made anywhere that we were coming. Fortunately, because we were a small group, they were able to rustle up enough grabbers for us, and we were given more than enough bags. But that was it. No gloves and no hi vis. The gloves weren’t the end of the world: most people have gardening gloves. But the lack of hi vis was a distinct worry. The road we were working has no pavements. In fact, on one side of the road, there isn’t really even a verge to speak of. Since there is also a blind bend, there was no question of sending people out there without making them as visible as possible to oncoming traffic.

I posted a few frantic messages in various social media spaces and was able to beg and borrow enough hi vis waistcoats to go round.

In March, the spring foliage was only just starting to come in, and the litter was much more visible and accessible. This time around, the foliage was much denser, making it more difficult both to see and to retrieve the litter. You would think that that would mean we collected less, wouldn’t you? Not so.

Last time, we had a team of about six people, and we collected 15 refuse bags of litter in two hours, over a distance of less than half a mile. This time, we had a team of 10, and we collected 33 bags of litter in two hours within the same sort of distance.

We found fewer unusual items on this outing, but the prize probably goes to the heavy tractor tyre, filled with sludge, which had to be dragged up out of a deep ditch. There was also a pile of about 8 black bin bags filled with builders’ rubble – dumped about 100m further along in the same ditch – which we were unable to retrieve. We’ve reported both the tyre and the builders’ rubble to the local contractor, and we hope that they will be collected soon.

Last time, the day was cool and overcast. This time, the sky was blue, the sun was shining and the mercury was cheerfully high. So hats, sun screen and a water supply were definitely needed.

The most common items retrieved were plastic bottles, drink cans, food wrappers and glass bottles.

Lessons learned, hints and tips

  1. Place your booking for the litter picking kit with your local provider. Find out if there’s a formal process you can go through to make sure that you don’t fall between the cracks.
  2. Order enough kit for everyone. Even those who tell you they have their own grabbers. They probably have one of those doohickeys designed for picking up things about the house. They really aren’t strong enough to drag a recalcitrant, half-buried soda can from the undergrowth.
  3. Make sure you know what you’re getting from the contractor. If gloves and hi vis gear aren’t included, ask around: many people have their own and may be willing to lend theirs to you. Don’t shrug off the hi vis gear. It’s absolutely vital that your team is as visible as possible – especially on country lanes with no pavements.
  4. If you’re working country lanes, it’s better to work during the months when the foliage is sparse. The litter is more visible and easier to retrieve. Also, you’re less likely to disturb the home of a small animal which might have young. In the warmer months, when the plant growth is more dense, it’s perhaps better to stick to working residential roads and public spaces.
  5. It’s best if your team works in pairs or small groups, especially if you’re working country lanes. Two people are more visible to passing traffic than one. And if one person gets hurt or stuck, it’s good to have someone on hand to help out. Also, if you find larger items (like tractor tyres or TV sets), it might take more than one person to retrieve it.
  6. Have your team tie their filled bags off and leave them by the side of the road, then collect them all up at the end. If people have to drag filled bags to a central point as they fill them, it means they have less time to actually pick up the litter. It’s also more exhausting. It follows from this that the litter pickers should carry enough spare bags with them that they don’t need to come back for more each time they fill one.
  7. Advise people to wear hats, sunglasses or protective eyewear, and sunscreen. Of course, if they choose not to, that’s their prerogative. But it doesn’t hurt to take along some sun screen for people to use, just in case. When it comes to hi vis, though, I would put my foot down if you’re working country lanes: if you’re not prepared to wear it, I’m not prepared to let you take part.
  8. Provide water – and put someone in charge of distributing it up and down the line of workers.
  9. Take along some kind of cream to treat nettle stings. I didn’t do this, and I wish I had.
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My tangential ‘process’

Working with found and reclaimed materials requires a measure of flexibility: you can never be sure what you’re going to have to work with, so it’s best not to run on rails.

Two recent pieces I’ve made illustrate this fairly well. So I thought I’d write about them.

Shepherds’ delight

The impromptu weaving

One Sunday night, while Mr Namasi was at ice hockey, I ran out of yarn for the project I was working on. This was the second time in a week that there was too much project left over at the end of the yarn provided, and I was deeply frustrated. Also, I was in the middle of watching a movie on telly. Something which I simply cannot do without something to occupy my hands. I had to find something to do. And quickly.

There are some who might be able to understand the degree of urgency with which I was looking for a project: those people who absolutely have to have something to read on the loo. Inevitably, at some point in your life, you’ve experienced a sudden and urgent need and you haven’t been able, for the life of you, to remember where you put your book/kindle/magazine/whatever. There follows an urgent search, the like of which mere mortals will never understand.

It was like that.

I have, under the table in my studio, a stock of picture frames. They were used by a sixth form student as part of a design technology project display, and had been dumped. And then rescued by yours truly.

I grabbed one of them, a spool of sisal twine, and some yarn remnants. I had only the vaguest idea of what I planned to do with it, but swirling around my mind were images of the beautiful weaving my (Swedish) mother in law used to do. Of course, she had a proper loom (and a proper spinning wheel… both of which were works of art in their own right). But I thought I might be able to fashion some sort of rough loom thing out of the frame. It was never going to be of the order that my mother in law could produce, but I thought it might work.

A bag of felt tip pen lids

Once I started working, I couldn’t stop until it was done. It has ever been thus with me. When I’m on a roll, I have to keep going, regardless of the nature of the project I’m working on.

My husband’s ice hockey ends very late on a Sunday night*, and he seldom gets home before 12:30am. I usually manage to wait up until he gets in, but I’m less usually able to stay awake long enough after that to join him for his wind-down drink before he makes his way to bed.

On this occasion, he came home, had his drink and went to bed before me. I joined him at about 2:30am, having finished a piece I call ‘Shepherds’ delight‘.

The fragrant mobile

I recently acquired a bag of plastic felt tip pen lids. I was pretty sure I could find something creative to do with them. And I have no doubt I eventually will.

But yesterday (what is it about Sundays?), when I started exploring ideas, my mind went off at a tangent, and I ended up with this.

About as far from plastic as it’s possible to be. All natural materials, with the exception of a smidge of gold paint: driftwood, cardamom pods, some other kind of seed pod, felt balls (wool), sisal twine, pine cones, twigs…and a splash of essential oil for olfactory delightfulness.

The fragrant mobile is not yet on the website, but if you’d like to snap it up before then, you can purchase it from my Facebook page.

So I guess it’s back to the drawing board on those lids. I have an idea of what they will become. Watch this space!

*This is quite normal, in order to spread the huge cost of running an ice rink, a large number of teams, clubs and groups will pay to use to the rink at all manner of weird times. The teams with the greatest chance of bringing in a paying audience – understandably – get the best time slots. Everyone else has to fit in where they can. I have heard parents express their dismay at their 10 year old children having to attend trials for regional and national teams between 11pm and midnight. My husband and elder son play on a Sunday night from 9-10:30pm. My younger son plays on Mondays and Tuesdays – his Tuesday session finishing at midnight.

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Moving into new spaces

I’m very excited to say that Karyn’s [re]Kreations are to be found in some new spaces.

Currently on display at Woodley Wool

A few of my furniture pieces are currently to be found at Woodley Wool where, until they are sold, they serve as display space for the lovely yarns and haberdashery stock for sale. Jo, who owns the store, has also taken on a few of my knitted and crocheted items to include in her stock.

So, if you’re in the Berkshire area, please swing by the store, say hello to Jo and have a browse through the treasures on offer. Jo will also be offering crafting workshops in a rather wonderful space at the back of her shop. Who knows? Maybe one day I’ll get to run one or two of them! I have a friend who lives in that area, and spending time there is always a treat.


Soon to be seen at Click Antiques & Vintage

And then, a little closer to home for me, from the beginning of May, I will have a space at Click Antiques & Vintage, where some of my restorations will be found. I will aim to include a fair range of pieces, but the primary focus will be on vintage restorations, in keeping with the ethos Nick and Claire are looking to emphasise.

If you’re within reach of the Northampton area, and have never been to Click before, do consider popping in. It’s a total treasure trove – an eclectic mix of vinyl records, vintage glassware and crockery, tools from a bygone era, furniture, photographic equipment… a real something-for-everyone space, with a cup of tea or coffee on offer for those who finish browsing before the rest of their party.

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Great British Spring Clean

You’ve heard me complain about it before: over the course of the last few years, the roadside litter situation in Northamptonshire (and beyond) has significantly worsened. The plant growth along the A45 in recent months has been festooned with so much plastic that it takes my breath away. It’s particularly noticeable during the winter months, when there is no foliage to conceal it. Fly tipping is also on the increase, and in addition to the sort of litter that is thrown from the windows of passing cars, our roadsides have become dumping grounds for electrical appliances, sofas, tyres and all manner of other detritus of human existence. The ridiculous part of this is that I live within an easy drive of four drive-in recycling centres, all of which are closed two days a week, but those closures are staggered, so that there is always at least one of them open on any given day. This is one of my hot button topics.

Waiting for someone to do something, and whinging because no-one was doing anything didn’t seem to be working as an approach. So I decided that – being someone myself, as luck would have it – I would do something about it.

I live in the sweetest little village and, while the village itself is relatively clean and attractive, the roads leading to it are not. The subject of the state of the roads surrounding the village comes up fairly regularly on the community FB page. I was a little nervous, because we’re comparatively new to the village, and sometimes people can be resentful when Johnny-come-lately types start sticking their oar in. But the initial reaction was positive, so I decided to go ahead.

I contacted the local council, and learned about the nationwide Great British Spring Clean. I don’t know where the initiative was publicised, but I hadn’t known anything about it until that point. I had to get a bit of a wiggle on to schedule our local village litter pick within the time scale, but we managed it. Norse, which manages our local refuse and recycling, was very supportive and helpful. They provided me with gloves, bags, grabbers and hi-viz vests for all the volunteers. They also supplied guidelines and suggestions.

On Saturday morning, armed with grabbers, sporting our natty hi-viz vests and wearing protective gloves, we headed off to tackle one of the roads leading to and from our village. The group size vacillated between five and six people as some left and others joined, depending on their availability. As we worked, several passersby thanked us for our efforts, and asked to be included next time. The subsequent reaction on social media spaces has been positive enough to warrant a repeat.

Fly tipping

Some of the items we collected had clearly been there for some years, if the prices printed on the beer cans were anything to go by. Do you remember when beer cost 65p a can? Many cans and bottles so hidden by the plant growth, that we only became aware of them when we stepped on them and heard the tell-tale sound of plastic or metal crunching underfoot. The thing I was most concerned about was plastic wrappers and packaging – the sort of stuff that can throttle an animal. There was plenty of that.

We allocated two hours to the task, during which time we collected 15 bags of litter. We also encountered a pile of garbage that had clearly been fly tipped, and which included many items too large to fit into our bags. This pile we moved to the roadside where it could be seen and collected by the team due to pick up the bags.

Among the more unusual items we found were:

  • a pair of handcuffs, in their pouch – consensus was that they were the real deal, rather than the kinky bedroom games sort, what do you think? See picture.

    Handcuffs – real or kinky?
  • a washing up bowl – perfectly intact
  • Best Dad in the World coffee mug – also perfectly intact. Do you think Dad was demoted?
No longer the best Dad?
  • three chisels (not all in the same place)
  • a toaster
  • a television set (excuse the blurry photo)
TV set

We finished up at 12:30 and adjourned to the local WMC for a pint together. The mood was very positive, and people were keen to do it again.

I highly recommend it. If you’re hesitating for some reason – perhaps (like me) you think that someone else would be a better candidate – take a deep breath and make the call to your local council.

And yes, I get it – you pay your taxes and the local authorities are supposed to use that money to do this stuff. And perhaps the reasons it hasn’t been done are valid, and perhaps they aren’t. The fact remains that until something is done about it, you have to live with the litter. Waiting for ‘someone’ to do ‘something’ doesn’t seem to be a viable approach. And, if nothing else, this is a great way to connect with the local community.

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A Parker Knoll overhaul


Some time ago, I acquired a Parker Knoll wingback chair. It had belonged to someone who had wanted to reupholster it herself, and then – having painted the legs black, and re-covered the seat cushion in the same colour – decided that it wasn’t going to be quite as straight forward as she had expected.

Parker Knoll furniture has been a British standard 140 years. Their wingback chairs are fairly timeless and – like Volvos – they are so well constructed that they just keep going.

I needed a chair in our bedroom where I could retreat with a book or my knitting when my anxiety levels rose, or when the rest of the family wanted to watch something on telly I didn’t fancy (sometimes those two things are related, but not often).  A comfy Parker Knoll was just the job.

In order to blend in with the colour scheme in the bedroom, I went with an aubergine upholstery fabric from my all time favourite fabric shop, Millshop Online, where it had been reduced to £1.00/metre (it might even have been 75p/metre, now that I think about it).

I chose a mustard coloured flanged piping. I wanted olive, but I couldn’t find any, so I compromised by painting the legs with Frenchic pea soup. Once it was done, it looked perfect with the van Gogh Irises cushion we’d bought on a trip to Paris.

I’m thrilled with the finished product, and now can’t wait to get started on the other armchairs awaiting my attention: two commissions, and three on spec. One of those commissions is a recliner, which will be a first for me, but I’m feeling confident.

For now.