Stall's well that ends well.

Kablam! Another monster pun!

Well, come one come all and listen to my great tale of the Great Dixter Christmas Fair..... I arrived half an hour before it opened (having set up the day before) to find that hordes of super keen people had been let in early! And someone was already standing at my stall asking to buy things! "Amazing", I thought, "I shall be cleaned out before it's even time for elevenses". This proved not to be the case, but there was an excellent turn out, and it really was the most amazing location. I was in the Yeoman's Hall, next to an enormous raging fire (note to Great Dixter - surely you are plant savvy people, and know that flowers do not cope well next to leaping flames? Just saying is all...) with a jolly troupe of other stall holders, selling everything from beautiful handmade soaps to amazing jewellery. Hidden up the stairs past the tombola, some might say we were tucked away from view, in the manner of a slightly embarassing family member. I like to think we were the jewels in the crown of the fair, positioned cunningly next to the tea and cake section, a reward for the inquisitive shopper. Look at the stall of destiny, is not it lovely?

Bizarrely, all the things I thought would be snapped up instantly people didn't even look at, and the things I made last thing at night in front of the telly just to use up leftover material, were ohh and ahh-ed over, and bought straight away! Which just goes to show how much I know. Nuffink.

The most frustrating thing at these events is when people pour over you work, saying "oh it's all so beautiful, you're so clever, it's so wonderful, you have such talent" and then they walk away without buying anything! Still, a tremendous boost to the morale, if not to the coffers. That said, the whole thing was a delight, and I came away with a spring in my step and a cheque from none other than Christopher Lloyd! (great nephew of I believe...)

The most surprising moment was finding Yukka, one of the Great Dixter dachshunds, under my table trying to make off with my sandwich. Fat hund.

Now my attention turns to the big wedding next weekend. I've already worked out that there are not actually enough hours in the day to get everything collected, arranged and delivered, but I have every confidence that someone will invent some sort of time travel device by next Wednesday. Every confidence.

Of Moss and Men

It's the 1st of December, the yule tide is here, and once again I have come to the realisation that truly, moss is the devil's work. I know I'm all 'green' and what have you, but even I get a fit of the screaming ab-dabs rummaging though great auld dirty bags of wreath moss. There are THINGS in there... More things than last year... Plus the bag I have looks all green and mossy and delectable on the outside, but inside it is full of brown, nasty, un-mossy stuff. Nevertheless I have continued, and am quite pleased with my little wreath-lets, even though at their heart lurks the dingy moss of doom...

I made some willow rings earlier last month for some dried wreathy delights, and, despite having got quite giddy on the fumes from my hot glue gun today, they are looking very nice too. And yes, I hear all you 'but you should wire everything on individually, glue is for losers' people out there, and to you I say....tthhbbbpppp.

All these wonderous things will be on sale at my stall at the Great Dixter Christmas Fair this weekend! Come one, come all, grab your maiden aunt, coerce your children, bribe your parents, blackmail your spouse and come get festive.

Also check out the lovely e-advent calender at Green Union. Behind every door is an eco-tip, and if you send in a good one you could win a highly valuable prize from me! Or, if you're lucky, one of the other lovely people involved...