{nano cam}

I couldn't resist sharing this little Pentax camera with you -- a real working camera, onto which you can build your own designs with Nanoblocks. Only from Japan, of course, but surely they'll make it over to the rest of the world one day?

My Dad brought one home from a recent business trip, and it went off with my sister, Alice, to her first year of university last weekend. You can bet that that camera will see a lot of good times!

We saw Alice off to her new life, and then made the long trip back home, where we're slowly remembering what 'real' life is like!

{diy: washi tape flags}

Washi tape. Chances are you've seen a roll in a pattern you can't resist, and bought it. Chances are, once you've got one roll, you've decided to become a washi collector. Chances are, you now have an entire cupboard piled high with red tape, blue tape, tape with musical notes, with Japanese stamps, with the entire words of Shakespeare printed in miniature. 

But what do you actually do with the stuff?

You make flags. And then you make cupcakes. And then you stick the flags into the cupcakes and have a jolly good time.

Having made millions hundreds dozens of little flags for Mossa's birthday earlier this week, I've got the method down. Is it so basic that you could probably do it in your sleep already? Yes. Am I going to share it anyway? Yes. It might save you a bit of awkward finger/scissor/tape/cocktail stick manoeuvring.

(Are you drooling over those cakes above? Bakewell Cupcakes, baked by my sister, Alice, they use The Best Cupcake Ever recipe that I shared the other day)

You'll need:

• scissors
• cocktail sticks (long or short. I prefer long as you can cut them to make short ones, too)
• washi tape

Pull one end of the tape out, a good ten centimetres, and place the unpokey (i.e. 'blunt', for people who use 'real' words) end of a cocktail stick in the middle of the length of tape.

Fold the end of the tape over the top of the cocktail stick, sticking it to the tape on the other side of the stick. (Note: at first I was very worried about lining up the edges on both sides of the tape, but then got over myself and decided it looked quite nice uneven anyway.)

Snippy snippy. One straight cut, to separate the flag from the roll of tape, and two pointy cuts, if you like the snake-tongue effect. 

Here's another case of unnecessary worrying -- I oh-so-carefully measured the first two or three flags, and then decided that it was all a bit faffy, really, and decided to enjoy a variety of lengths of flag. Perfectly imperfect. Or, so I tell myself. We also scribbled '90' onto the flags in a very imperfect and blobby blue biro. 

We stuck the flags in cupcakes. We stuck them in Fruit Pastilles. We stuck them in Cadbury's Giant Chocolate Buttons. We slotted them into the holes in Polo mints. I even poked a couple into the tail feathers of my Mum's favourite straw chickens, to give them a bit of festive 'pluck'. In short: stick a flag in anything, and it becomes more exciting. 

So, tell me: am I wrong? Do you have tons of uses for washi tape? Have you never heard of the stuff, much less been tempted to buy any? Or do you, in fact, have the complete works of Chaucer on washi tape instead?

{diy: custom sketch pad}

What do you buy for the artist in your life? You know, the person who always gives you personalised paintings, artwork they've slaved over. For my granddad's 90th birthday, I found him a nice big sketchpad, but was rather unimpressed by the grizzly brown banana on the cover. Really, who gets inspired by rotting fruit? 

To make it a little more special, I gave it a little make-over, adding a custom cover. While I ripped the original cover off in a fit of anti-banana rage, I'd advise you to peel it off carefully. But then again, a good angry rip does feel rather good.

Print out a photo, for your new cover, onto photo paper (the heavier-weight works well to protect the pad). I used a photo of Tilly trying to steal Mossa's walking stick and chew on it -- at the time it provided a good laugh for both of them.

At this point, I found that the photo paper and the sketch pad were, unfortunately, different sizes -- the photo was a few millimetres wider, but also more than a centimetre shorter. The extra width was easy to remove, by trimming the photo with a paper cutter...

...but adding length proved a bit more difficult. Eventually, I used a fat bit of white packing tape -- lining up the bottoms of the photograph and the pad, and using the tape to fill the gap. Yes, this cuts about a centimetre off each page of the pad, but it seemed to stick it all together quite well. 

Tip: I found that using a generous bit of tape (i.e. extra on both sides), and letting the top of the pad hang off the table while you're taping helps it all to look a bit neater.

Trim the packing tape, and bend it over the top off the pad, and around the back (covering any scruffy marks left from where you ripped off the previous cover).

Hopefully, Mossa will remember his afternoons with Tilly whenever he does a little sketching.

In case his memory does fail, we penned a quick note in the front cover, just reminding Mossa who the pad was from (and how old he is). Add a pack of his favourite drawing pencils, and it's ready to be wrapped. Quick. Simple. And, hopefully, a good way to ensure you keep getting those lovely framed sketches as pressies. Everybody wins.

Do you have any quick presents to whip up for friends and family?  Please share -- I've got a little collection going here. With Christmas approaching, we're all looking for inspiration!

{a ninetieth birthday in photos}

It's the end of a long day of party poppers, pass the parcel, and Polo mints -- a ninetieth birthday party with personality. As all of our energy has been used up, scrambling to get the biscuits baked before the old folks arrived for their lunch, I'm simply going to show you some photos and go to bed. (With a leftover biscuit... or two!) 

{through the keyhole: into your house}

Over this holiday, we've stopped in to see many of you, family and friends. Perhaps you invited us in for a cup of tea. Perhaps you gave us lunch. Maybe you even let us stay a night (or ten). And now how are we going to thank you? By showing the world your secrets. Your stylish secrets.

Swing low, sweet Tilly! Our cousins, C & A, hung this giant swing from the centre of their playroom, and it was the perfect way to amuse a very energetic two-year-old, a curious Tilly, and a gobsmacked seven-month-old. The large mesh seat could happily hold two children, and looked much more comfortable than the wooden plank versions you usually see in edgy New York apartments (like these).

Again, there's something unusual hanging from the ceiling -- can you tell what it is? This was the dining room in the summerhouse where we stayed (or 'the Oasis' as our cousins, K & K called it), and ripe bunches of grapes dangled above our heads. As you can imagine, fresh fruit was always on the menu.



A stylish house of a smaller size! We spotted this playhouse in the garden at L & JP's housewarming party, and couldn't stop thinking about it. (On the DIY list? More like on the garage floor!)



Another idea from L & JP -- this sweet letter C is on the wall in their daughter's nursery. Unlike the usual painted or ModPodged wooden letters, this beauty was soft and stuffed and covered in fabric. If I can get over my initial dilemma (an 'M' for Matilda, or a 'T' for Tilly?), I'll have a go at making one myself.

And one more shot before we leave them alone... the white nursery, with a single red wall. Beautiful. (Ignore Tilly's slightly non-plussed expression -- she did like the colours, but was a little miffed to have been removed from a large stack of Dick Bruna books and popped into a cot with four other children, simply for the sake of us mothers taking a photo!)

Another red wall, this time at our cousins K & K's real home (as opposed to their summerhouse). I've got a thing for houses. For two years, while studying art, I only painted pictures of houses. This might have rekindled the obsession.

Ever been to someone's loo, and emerged with one of their paintings in your hand? This seaside piece, by St. Ives painter Susie Brooks, was hanging in our friend L's bathroom, and she kindly showed no signs of alarm when I came out holding it -- with clean hands, of course. What I love is that while the sea is painted, the land and houses are left white, simply outlined in black. Landscape painting gone modern?

Though her house is green green completely green, L added a red pepper to the salad to make us feel at home. (And Marimekko napkins for lunch -- the height of luxury!)

And last but not least, a quick shot from I & I (aka Mum and Dad), who have managed to squeeze a gigantic collection of Chinese ceramics into their new home in England. This set of Mao figurines, on top of a cupboard in the kitchen, brings back many happy memories of Dirt Market bargains.

Thanks to all of our wonderful hosts -- we have but a week left now in England before flying home. Tomorrow, we'll be celebrating my grandfather's 90th birthday, so stay tuned for a special party post. Pass the parcel for ninety-year-olds. It's going to be great!

{meanwhile, in texas...}

Leave a man alone for a week, and the house becomes a building site. Here are a few photos from Justin of the forest he has just cut down.

Without a certain someone running around chewing on wires, it seems all the drills and saws and other woodworky things that I don't know the names of have come out to play.

It has been a little rainy this week -- perhaps this is the beginning of our very own Slagle Ark? (Bella has a spot -- one more dog allowed!)

{the great british cake off}

Round here, we are crazy about The Great British Bake Off, a BBC cooking competition that has contestants cooking everything from loaves of bread to meringue pies. An hour of deliciousness every Tuesday evening at 8pm. (And, lucky for those of us outside the UK, episodes can be seen online here)

Of course, after seeing all that amazing food, we wanted to try it for ourselves. Many of the recipes are available on BBC Food, and we've also found that some of the contestants have blogs -- not only do they share the things they cooked on the show, but add other things that they're cooking in real life, too. My favourites are Jason (because I wanted him to win) and Holly (because her recipes seem the tastiest, if a little too perfect), but the whole list of sites can be found here.

The first dish to be cooked up by our very own home cooks: Best Ever Bakewell Tart Cupcakes, (our recipe, based on Holly's recipe). Slightly almondy sponge cake, raspberry jam, and a dollop of icing. Here's Chef Alice gently blowing crumbs from the tops of the cakes, while Chef Louise finishes filling them with jam, Chef Mum adds the icing, and lucky little Chef Tilly eats the cut-out middles of the cakes.

Twelve of them disappeared frighteningly quickly. Make sure you check out the finished cakes over at The Fable of the Table -- with fresh raspberries on top, they are rather pretty. And, dare I admit it, we're making another batch tonight, with a different kind of icing...

{i see london, i see france...}

Happy mail. Special delivery. A good post day. Whatever you call it when something that is neither bill nor junk mail shows up in the postbox, this is it. From the moment I caught sight of all those red stamps on the outside of the envelope, I knew it was going to be good.

Inside the envelope was a map. Not just any map. My first map. 

It's a beautiful map of Lyon, France, and the surrounding area, from the 1960s. Ooh la la indeed. It was sent to me by a generous reader, Sophie, (merci!) who had no use for it as the map didn't quite stretch to include her hometown.

One of my favourite details is the town of St. Etienne. Though Justin has already firmly vetoed the name, I've always loved 'Etienne' for a little boy. (He's more into naming boys after ferocious animals -- Bear, Wolf, Komodo Dragon). Ah, well, now I can enjoy it on a map. Whatever I end up making, you can be sure that this section will be used.

Notice that the roads are all marked in red? Perfect! Clearly, it's quite a bumpy, twisty mountainous area, and I'm imaging many of these roads running along crests of the Alps. Who fancies a bit of skiing? (And a nice hot pain au chocolat afterwards...)

So now, (well, once we're home again) perhaps some of our map projects can start to take shape. Although I'm finding that it's much easier to think about cutting the maps up when you don't actually have any... in person, this one really does look quite nice whole!

{the art of the acrostic}

Perhaps you didn't have your magnifying glass handy the other day, and wondered what you were supposed to be looking at in this picture from Mad og Bolig magazine.

Well, here's a shot from inside ARoS museum in Aarhus, where we happened to spot the original of one of the framed prints. (Note to ARoS museum police: I'm very sorry, but I didn't spot your white-on-glass 'no camera' signs until too late. If it makes you feel better, we got a parking ticket while inside the museum. Possibly at the very second I took this photo)

Oiseau, by Poul Pedersen, as you can see, is an acrostic. As far as I can tell, it reads: Where, Here, Paris, Stranger, France, Poul. And then downwards, the letters spell Bird. Perhaps not my choice of words, but I love the restrained use of red letters, and the way the words are arranged. With a set of alphabet stencils and a few tubes of acrylic, this would be quite simple to recreate -- either with your own acrostic poetry (ooh la la), or with a meaningful word, place or name in the centre.

After much searching, it seems that Poul Pedersen has kept himself rather quiet. A Danish artist, his paintings all seem to be collected around the Aarhus area, and very few are visible online. How lucky that we did venture into this corner of the Contemporary Art floor of ARoS (most of the art on which inspired rude comments like "I could do that with my eyes closed" and "Tilly made something just like that yesterday with squashed blackberries).

(source)

I did find another of his works, La Toile, that I also love. Unfortunately, my French isn't quite up to deciphering it all: You, Beneath the stars, The stars, Beneath the _______, The _______, Beneath You, The ______. I know, it's turning into a language test over here, but any help on what a toit is would be greatly appreciated. Hopefully it's not too rude to say in the comments.

I've been sketching away already, trying out different words for my own version, ready to paint once we're home again. Any ideas? Do you have any words on your walls?

{five things you didn't know you could make out of wicker}

Wicker. Yes, it's nice enough, but I wouldn't call us wicker fanatics. However, while in Denmark, Justin, Tilly and I found ourselves at the wicker festival in Moesgaard, just a few kilometres from our summerhouse, surrounded by wicker, wicker weavers, and fellow wicker-weaver watchers. And let me tell you something. It's not all about baskets. 

Hobbit homes. Is it just me, or have you ever wanted to live in The Shire? I can just imagine Bilbo's little face poking up through the window of this little wicker hut. Precious.

The willow branches, though cut from the tree, can take root and start to produce leaves of their own after they've been woven, giving the little huts a healthy mop of green hair, which you could trim or style as you like.

Wouldn't it be fun as a little playhouse in the garden? Tilly could pretend she was a panda. I'm sure, given the chance, she'd be gnawing on the shoots quite happily.

It seems simple enough to create at home -- winding, bending, in here and out there. Our neighbours across the road even have a willow tree in dire need of a prune, so perhaps they'd be happy to let us help ourselves to some branches? Verdict: We could make that.

Basket Huts. If you're not feeling Bilbo's hobbit home, what about a more Dr. Seuss-esque hut, with a strange and bendy chimney? Verdict: This seems rather more intricate (i.e. not for us first-time wickerists)

Pig-tail Trees. Another simple idea that we saw was braiding several willow branches, and then planting them in soil so that they took root. I'm not sure how well they would survive, or continue to grow, but they might look lovely sprouting up from the plant pot bench I mentioned last time. Verdict: Easy weave.

Evil Pigs. I know, you're wondering where the red is in this leafy middle-of-a-field post. Look no further than Mr. Pig's knobbly little wicker eyes. I'm imagining Watership Down, but with crazy pigs. Scared? Yes, me too.

Tilly, though, loved the wicker pig, and pestered him through the fence so much that the artist set him loose. Nevermind that I will have nightmares about Piggy standing in the corner of my room, his glowing red eyes fixed on me.

Miniature Replicas of the Space Needle. Or is it a tiki torch? Verdict: Tilly gives her seal of approval.

Yes, there were baskets, too. But they were interesting, slopey-topped, bulging-bottomed, baskets with character. 

This lady was off home with her new bit o' wicker. Go on, take that helmet off and put the basket on your head... you know you want to.

What about you -- did you think wicker was wicked already? Does that pig give you the heebie jeebies too? Do you ever want to drop everything, run off to New Zealand, and become a hobbit?