As it was Sunday, we thought we'd go to church...

Actually, that's not strictly true. I wanted to go to St Stefan's basilica to photograph his preserved, wizened zombie hand. The basilica is Budapest's version of St Paul's Cathedral or Westminster Abbey, i.e., big and important. We assumed that there probably wouldn't be services. We were wrong.

It was raining when we set out at about 10.30 this morning. I would have preferred something a bit more exotic weather-wise. I mean, mid-November, just off the East European Hungarian Plain, one can surely expect snow - rain we can do ourselves at home, nae bother. But no, rain it has to be. Ho hum. Fortunately the basilica is only about 5 minutes walk from where we're staying, and on the way there we met this delightful chap:


The square in front of the basilica was wet and more or less deserted, so we went in, past the ornate door overlooked by St Stefan himself:

And straight into a full-blown Catholic mass! It was the whole enchilada - priests in fancy dress, swinging their incense and ringing their little bells. Every fibre of my being just wanted to yell "TED!"

It was, actually, (and part of me hates to say this, being a virulent atheist), terribly impressive. The basilica is gorgeous inside with lights meant to look like candles. There's gilding everywhere and, for this show, a full choir with organ singing their hearts out. The acoustics were just fabulous. I found it all completely fascinating on the level of some sort of anthropological fieldtrip. You see, I've never been to any Catholic service anywhere, so this was all new - the smell and smoke of the incense, the tinkling of the little bells (what was that for?), the liturgy in Latin - I could see how appealing and mysterious it all was.


We pottered around silently for a bit, listening to the lovely music and marvelling at how alien it all was and slowly heading towards where they keep St Stefan's Zombie Hand only to find the room closed for the duration of the service! Feck. I will return, though. (God, I'd better be able to take a decent picture of it, now that I've embiggened it up so much....)

After leaving the basilica, we decided, as we were obviously in a holy frame of mind, that it would be apposite to head on over to the Grand Synagogue and check that out. Mum visited it last time she came over to Budapest and recommended it, and seeing as how I've never been in a synagogue either, I might as well do another thing for the first time.

During WWII, the Grand Synagogue on Dohany Street marked the border of the Budapest ghetto instigated by the Nazis. It's the third largest synagogue in Europe. It was bombed to buggery during the war and it took until 1991 (after the fall of communism) for renovations to begin, assisted by large donations from Estee Lauder (the cosmetics lady) and Tony Curtis (the actor), both of whom were Hungarian Jewish refugees.

The outside is very striking as it's built in a Moorish style - it's covered in terracotta tiles.


As I said, I've never been inside a synagogue so wasn't sure what to expect, so I was quite surprised at how church-like it was.

And I was really quite taken by the rather bizarre white globular chandeliery-things:

Round the back of the Synagogue, in a courtyard, is the very small Raoul Wallenberg Memorial Park. He was the Swedish diplomat who managed to wrench tens of thousands of Hungarian Jews from the murderous grasp of the Third Reich and is rightly honoured around the world.

Most impressively there is a beautiful and striking holocaust memorial in the shape of a weeping willow made from stainless steel. Each of the leaves of the tree have engraved upon it the name of one of the victims of the holocaust and eventually the tree will be completely covered.


This particular memorial was built in 1989 but there is also another, older, memorial on the other side of the courtyard which lists names of people and has little niches for visitors to place pebbles in to indicate that the memorial had been visited (a Jewish tradition):


That's it for today, valiant reader. Tomorrow remind me to tell you of the fag-smoking statue and the 'Lock of Happiness'.....

Szervusztok a Budapesti ...

... or 'Hello from the capital of Hungarialand'.

Everything's been pretty groovy so far. One of Stelios' planes took us from the South of England in the company of a group of bodybuilders, a stag party all dressed in kilts and Hawaiian shirts apart from the groom who was in drag, and a quaint group of about 10 Hare Krishna cult followers. You used to see a lot of them, the Krishna botherers, skipping about in a procession down the street, banging tambourines and chanting - especially in the Seventies, I seem to recall - but you just don't see them nowadays. They seemed oddly old-fashioned.

The flight took a couple of hours and we landed mid-afternoon. It was grey and drizzly but not very much colder than home. The clinic sent a car to pick us up and take us to the apartment which is slap-bang in the centre of the city, about 3 minutes walk from the Danube.

The apartment block at 10 Joszef Attila utca ('utca' means street in Hungarian)

The apartment block is arranged around a courtyard. The front of the building is quite imposing, and the courtyard inside is a bit surprising because, at first sight, it seems somewhat shabby and rundown. This is, however, very common here. There's a small outdoor lift that takes you up to the fourth floor.


But, let me tell you, the apartment itself is like a palace. Almost. Well, all the rooms are bigger than mine at home. Even the bathroom is bigger than my bedroom.

Big kitchen/diner with hand-built units

Sitting room which has a 3-seater and a 2-seater sofa plus a double sofa bed. This place can sleep 6 comfortably.

Fully tiled bathroom with power shower.

The smaller of the 2 bedrooms which I'm using. This is still a queen-size bed, mind.

Mum gets the master bedroom.

It was dark when we first arrived, but the view from the bathroom window was of nearby St Stefan's Basilica, all lit up. This is quite a grand church but the best thing about it is that it has St Stefan's mummified hand on display in a glass case. And yes, of course I'll get you all a photo.



Today was our first full day so we walked until my feet wanted to strangle me, which would have been interesting to see. We wandered down the 'walking streets' (i.e., pedestrianised streets) around Vorosmarty Ter which had lots of lovely shops, but the best one of all was dedicated solely to Christmas decorations - utterly fabulous. If you want a 'fairy' for the top of your christmas tree in the form of a jersey cow in a meringue ballgown, this is the place for you. I was very taken with the fat green fairy and may bring one of them home with me ...

Just inside the front door. It smelled lovely as they were burning apple and cinnamon candles, and playing birdsong.

A tree full of imps, elves and fairies

I don't know whether these are tomato or orange elves but I just loved their curly hats and curly shoes.

The rather fabulous/alarming cow fairies. Note the human hands.....

Totally adorable fat green fairy. I think she's coming home with me...

I wanted to post more pictures today showing the interesting architecture but it's taken me hours just to write this, so tomorrow, my lovelies....

What's behind the Curtain?

Thought I'd slip in a quick one (ooer!) before heading off to behind the former Iron Curtain tomorrow morning.

My bad mood of the other day by teatime had vanished like so much morning mist. I did actually feel better for blarting it out all over the interwebulator but I'll try not to inflict such misery too often. When I started writing this brain-spew, my intention was that I would only put up posts that had a definite something to say and weren't just regurgitated ramblings about the (non-existent) activities of my everyday life. But I've found said ramblings creeping in amongst all the more worthy educational nonsense. And, to be honest, the blogs I read mostly consist of other peoples' musings about stuff happening in their lives which, I have to say, I find fascinating. So, perhaps the few readers I have are also interested in what goes on at Jones Towers. Hmm, this means that having said a few sentences ago that I wouldn't fling more whinging crud at you, I may have to retract that! Well, we'll just see how it all goes.

The good news (the very good news) is that in swapping over the contents from my summer raspberry-pink handbag to my winter black capacious sack-like bag, I managed to find the missing Mont Blanc pen! Calloo Callay, oh frabjous whatnot. I'd shoved it into a pocket that I don't normally use and so couldn't find it before when I was searching for it. I have therefore returned TLH's pen to him - it turned out to be a very short loan period indeed.

I am almost packed for Budapest. The flight leaves tomorrow at 1130 from Gatwick and, as I live only an hour away, we don't have to leave the house until about 0830, so a very civilised time to travel. As I may have mentioned, my mum goes to the clinic on, I think, Monday, to have various bodyparts tampered with, and will remain there for 4 days. So I have 4 days on my own in which to explore the city during the day, visit Mum at some point, and then entertain myself in the evening. I'm not brave enough to venture out after dark to investigate the bar scene or anything as tacky as that, so I've had to ensure that I've packed enough stuff to keep me entertained until Mum's back in the apartment.

I'm taking my iPod which now has 8500 songs on it including everything from Chopin to Einsturzende Neubauten together with this really nifty portable speaker which is teeny but LOUD.

I'm taking my laptop with me as I will go seriously mental without regular access to the interwebulator. If it all works properly, then I may well be able to update my blog from there.

I'm also taking my camera and intend to take A LOT of pictures. Budapest is blessed with some beautiful 'fin de siecle' architecture (well, it used to be part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire before the First World War) and it has a fair old quantity of museums and art galleries that I'm hoping to get round.

I'm also taking eight books with me which I may not get round to reading but at least I'll have them there. Some are books I've meant to read and others just sound interesting, but they're all light reads and I'll leave them in the apartment once I've read them. I got them all secondhand so they didn't cost me much which means I'm happier to leave them for future tenants.

They are 'Light a Penny Candle' by Maeve Binchy - obviously I know the name but I've never read any of her books. I heard her on Radio 4 a few weeks ago and thought she was hilarious. It's a thick book and the cover's a bit offputting (looks a bit too 'girly' for my liking) but what the hey, I'll give it a go.

'Let Them Come Through' by Neil Forsyth - the back cover says, "Nick Santini would have made a good living as a Medium if his manager wasn't a thief and he didn't operate in a world of endless corruption. With a TV show cancelled in murky circumstances, a crew member dead on his tour and the police and his past fast catching up with him, Santini is a man on the edge. The medium's job is to lie and lie well and only Santini's talent can save him while his life steadily unravels". It's been given reasonable reviews so sounds quite promising.

'I Capture the Castle' by Dodie Smith - I'm aware that this is a much-loved novel but it has somehow passed me by. I'm a little concerned that I'm now too old for it and I should have read it when I was 17 but I'll give it a go. I may read this one first.

Two books by Tobias Hill - 'The Love of Stones' ("The lives of stones are the lives of the dead; which always lead back, never ahead." So says Katherine Sterne, a woman whose life is devoted to searching for a single jewel. "The Three Brethren", a brooch fashioned from rubies, diamonds and pearls has been in existence since the 15th century, passing through the hands of Europe's monarchs and, in spite of its exquisite beauty, leaving a trail of bloodshed and ruin in its wake. Captivated by the jewel's dark history, Katherine finds herself on an increasingly perilous quest to discover its current whereabouts. Searching the hidden quarters of modern-day London, Istanbul and Tokyo, she enters a world steeped in greed and ambition, a world where men are prepared to kill to safeguard the Brethren's secrets") and 'The Hidden' ("Ben Mercer, a young archaeologist fleeing his estranged family in Oxford, finds his way to Athens and thence to Sparta. Confused and lonely, he insinuates himself into a team digging the site of ancient Sparta, an austere and introverted society whose warrior elite practised a form of eugenics by exposing unwanted children and for three centuries managed to keep subdued huge numbers of local people through terror. Ben desperately wants to feel he belongs somewhere, to be part of the multi-national group of archaeologists, but is the dig all that it seems? As he gradually melts their hostility towards him, and begins a relationship with one of the women on the dig, one is led to wonder whether there is something behind their apparent willingness to admit him to their number. Worryingly, ritual appears to be as important to the modern-day team as to the ancients... ").

And, finally, the trilogy by Pat Barker, 'Regeneration', 'The Eye in the Door' and 'The Ghost Road'. These books mix the lives of real and imagined characters during the First World War and I've wanted to read them for ages.

So that's reading material sorted. I'm also taking a whole load of DVDs to watch (I won't list them here but they include such gems as all three Godfather films, the first two Alien films, the original Hallowe'en, The Right Stuff, some Alfred Hitchcock, Fargo, Sexy Beast, Mike Leigh's fabulous film about Gilbert and Sullivan - Topsy Turvey, and other stuff which I can't remember just now).

I've also decided I'm going to teach myself how to crochet (I also want to learn to knit but that can come later) so I got myself a kit which includes a hook, a book of instructions and a large ball of livid lime green wool (you had to have the colour wool they gave you). I did once know how to crochet but that was several lifetimes and two husbands ago, and I've forgotten.

As if all this isn't enough, I've also packed quite a large quantity of Fimo Clay in various colours. TLH's sister made the sensible suggestion that I should pack the receipt because the large block of chocolate-coloured clay does look remarkably like cannabis resin, which could confuse an especially stupid Customs official. Although they're welcome to have a go at smoking it! And then I realised it did also look like how I imagine plastic explosive to look, so an extra reason for packing the receipt.

Fortunately the apartment where we're staying has a washing machine and tumble dryer because, with all this crap now in my suitcase, there isn't that much room for clothes so I'll have to wash what I do manage to fit in.

Hmm, I think I'm quite looking forward to it now. Obv, I'd prefer it if TLH was coming with me (his 'affliction' seems to be getting better, thanks to dilute bleach baths!!!) but that's not possible. We went out for an early dinner last night and had a really good time, ending up in Sainsbury's slightly pissed at 8.30pm and filling the trolley with cakes, biscuits, chocolate and ice cream (the basis of any well-balanced diet).

And talking of chocolates (nice segue there, Kaz), you might wonder what I want Fimo clay for. Well, I don't normally use this blog to specifically advertise my jewellery, but I'm making a new range of completely guilt-free, fat-free, sugar-free and calorie-free chocolate jewellery at extremely affordable prices. For real. I mean, just look at it and try not to drool:


So if any of those float your boat (and don't forget that it's getting perilously close to Christmas!), pop on over to VenerableBead where you'll find all these and more. /end shameless plug.

Well, that's me done, for now. I'm off to the land of Magyar horsemen and Goulash (in reality, it's more motorcars and McDonalds these days, but I can dream....)

I'm best avoided just now...

I'm having a rubbish day. Everything's annoying me to a ludicrous extent and I'm feeling so very shouty that I know if I start, I just might not stop.

I'm a bit stressed is all, and I'm not very good at dealing with stress. Some people thrive on it, others panic, I get catastrophically irritable while getting on with it then eventually get drunk and not care anymore. But it's still the middle of the day and I can't crack open a bottle just yet. I'm fully aware (thank you very much, no need to point it out) that there are plenty of other people out there with lives that are so unbelievably shit compared to mine and who just swan beatifically through it all. Well, good for them (I'm being polite now), but they're not me and I only care about me just now.

I also suspect that now I've reached the grandmotherly age of 46 and being definitely perimenopausal doesn't help. Today I am most assuredly a Grumpy Old Woman.

"So what's up, you crabby old witch?" no-one in particular is going to ask me (because I don't have many friends and those that I do don't give that much of a shit as they're all miserable old bats themselves - Hi Carol and Sam!!). I'll just write a list as it's easier. I wish I was capable of a more stylistic way of writing whereby I can work everything into pithy and witty paragraphs but, frankly, fuck that. I'll just get annoyed that it's all not as pithy and witty as I want it to be and hurl the keyboard at the cat. So a list is safer, not least for the cat.

1. The allotment

I only went down once throughout the whole of October. This is bad. The weeds don't stop growing just 'cos I can't be arsed to pull them out of the ground. It's not as if I have far to go, it's in walking distance of home and I do actually rather enjoy it when I'm there. But there's a lot of work to do down there at this time of the year in general, plus I've got five fruit trees on order that will arrive any day now so I should be down there preparing the ground, and I just can't be bothered. This doesn't, however, stop the little voice in my ear reminding me about it every time I look out the window and see it's not raining....

2. Jewellery sales

I've had rubbish jewellery sales this year (although please check out my new guilt-free chocolate jewellery range). The credit crunch has hit me same as everyone else I suppose, but there's nothing much more disheartening than having to get up at sparrow fart on a cold dark Saturday morning when you'd much rather be snuggled under the duvet, drive 45 minutes to a craft fair, then sit there until 5pm and come away having sold nothing more than three pairs of earrings. 'Depressing' and 'pointless' are words that spring to mind here.

3. Lost pen

I'm seriously gutted about this. Half a dozen or so years ago, when The Lovely Husband worked at a job in the City that he hated but which paid a stupidly large amount of money, we had enough cash to give ourselves some really nice treats and for Christmas he gave me a set of Montblanc Meisterstuck pens in a leather wallet - a fountain pen and a ballpoint pen. These are shamefully expensive but classic, elegant and beautifully engineered to work faultlessly. The ballpoint was the best pen I ever had and about 2 weeks ago I lost it. I was using it in Sainsbury's to cross stuff off the shopping list and didn't have enough hands to put it back in the leather wallet. So I either put it in the pocket of the coat I was wearing or just dropped it into my handbag with a mental note to fish it out when I got home. Of course, I forgot to do this and I didn't realise it was missing from the wallet until a couple of days ago. Cue much frantic searching through every pocket of every coat, turning handbag inside out, searching inside of car. Nothing. Gone. I asked at Sainsburys today if a gold and black pen had been handed in but it hadn't. I didn't know what to tell TLH but eventually plucked up the courage. "But that was a gift from me!" was his reply. Which didn't help assuage how badly I felt because I KNEW THAT!!! And it's not as if I'm one of those people who loses stuff - my house may look like a tip but I know pretty much where everything is. I'm now looking on eBay to try and replace it but then you run the risk of it not being genuine.

4. TLH's Health

I know he won't want me to go into details here but suffice it to say that, mid-October, TLH suddenly and inexplicably developed an unsightly (although not serious) condition that has slowly spread. This is a worry in itself as we can't work out what has caused it - our diet hasn't changed and I'm using the same washing detergent as always. I've provided various unguents and salves but it doesn't seem to be clearing up. He could go to the GP but all they'll do is prescribe something with steroids in and, if we're lucky, request a blood test. Which might, I suppose, help symptomatically but won't address the underlying cause. I've been going to a traditional Chinese medicine practitioner since 1991 and he's always my first port-of-call for anything like this, and what TLH has is eminently suitable for treatment this way. But TLH was brought up in a household that would give the Christian Scientists a run for their money in its level of scepticism for any kind of medical personnel (until it became absolutely necessary), and that's conventional medicine we're talking about here. Anything involving needles, herbs or spinal manipulation is to be dismissed out of hand. Never mind that it's a medical system that's existed for several thousands of years and is used by a country with the largest population in the world. I've offered to take TLH and sit in with him, but I don't get a response other than not having the time for a brief GP's appointment never mind a half hour drive to an appointment that is likely to take at least an hour. And while this is true (he's busy with work at the moment), it's still deeply frustrating. I'm wondering how long it will take until he's decided he's had enough and is willing to try anything. Which is a shame because I can't help feeling it might have cleared up a lot quicker if we'd gone sooner. I only want what's best for him but, you know.....

5. Budapest

A close family member is going to have elective surgery in Budapest. She's 72-years old and knows what she wants. I've agreed to go along for the fortnight it will all take and act as her nurse/babysitter/cook/minder while she's recovering. I mean, she's paying for everything, all the accommodation and both our flights out there, plus all the food so I'm getting it for free BUT I have to spend the first four days there on my own while she's in the clinic (don't suggest my going out there four days later - it's too complicated to work out, trust me) and I'm leaving TLH and 'his affliction' at home. He'll have to cope with all that on his own as well as doing all his own cooking etc. (which, in an ideal world, I'd be thrilled at not having to cook but I'm still going to be cooking albeit a few thousand miles away). It's actually bittersweet, this having to go to Budapest thing. I am quite looking forward to going but it's a long time to be away from TLH and the cats - the longest we will have been parted in 15 years, in fact. Plus I'm going to miss the local bonfire for the second year in a row, and I LOVE a big bonfire, especially as the one in our village has the most spectacular fireworks display, best enjoyed by starting the evening in a local pub, then buying a burning torch and joining the procession to the field where the torches are flung into the huge pile of branches and pallets to the accompaniment of the sound of the local brass band and the smell of frying onions from the burger van. Then getting a stiff neck from craning it upwards while thousands of pounds' worth of rocket-propelled explosives rattle the windows and dust the sky with multicoloured stars. And I shall miss it all.

6. Craft Fair while I'm away

Slap bang in the middle of when I'm away there's going to be a craft fair that I've booked to do. TLH has very kindly said that he would do it for me but this means that I have to ensure that everything is packed properly and he knows where everything is before I leave, which is in 4 days time. So that's something else I've got to think about and make sure everything's where it should be.

7. Parents-in-law

TLH's mum and dad are 85 and 95 years old respectively. Time is catching up on them and TLH and I, plus his sister, have come to the decision that we need to be more proactive in looking after them. TLH is going to visit them the first weekend I'm away to help around the house, go shopping, do household chores, fix stuff, that sort of thing. I fully suspect that we'll end up alternating with TLH's sister in going to visit every other weekend, so that there's always someone there at least once a week. The trouble is they live 166 miles and 3 hours drive away from us. It's a worry having to consider how we can make their lives more comfortable considering how fiercely independent they both are and it will take massive amounts of persuasion in order for them to accept any kind of outside home help (which would ease the pressure on TLH and his sister).

Well, I think that's enough to be getting on with. I feel a bit better for offloading and props to y'all if you managed to read this far without shouting and screaming at the screen (which I deserve, frankly). There's some other stuff too, to do with my own parents' monetary situation, the old girl who runs the stables where I used to ride, how the neighbours view the state of my back garden, the major, major, major operation that one of my closest friends will undergo at the end of November, the fact that I've not seen my brother and his wife for several months now, even though she's heavily pregnant, blah, blah, blah, yada, yada, yada.

But that's enough for now.

Just so you know there is good stuff in my life as well, and that I'm not about to open a vein just yet, the red Japanese Maple has finally come to its senses and is starting to change colour:


I coveted a multicoloured chandelier for our bedroom which has now gone up:


I realised that I didn't put up a picture of the landing upstairs after we'd finished painting it. One of the walls was painted in Dusted Damson, the other in that pale beige colour that I've forgotten the name of. I also put one of those fabulously minimalistic Scandinavian clocks on the wall above the stairwell. It's all looking very lovely as long as you ignore the fact that we still don't have carpet yet on the landing or the stairs, but that will come:


After the apocalyptic weather of yesterday, today was gloriously sunny and blue-skyed and I thought my purple callicarpus berries looked especially fine against such a beautiful backdrop:


And we have a small colony of ladybirds overwintering in our bathroom. It's almost like having your own live nature programme going on above your head while you wee. The number of bugs in the colony varies from day to day, but it's usually between 7 and 12, and their configuration changes regularly. Sometimes they're in a long line, sometimes in a big pile, all on top of each other. I've been trying to find out what they eat (it's their larvae in the spring and summer that eat all the aphids) but to no avail, otherwise I could do my best to provide it for them - any ideas? Anyway, here they are as at lunchtime today:



I might be able to update my blog from Budapest but I won't know until I try. I know I'm not the most prolific of bloggers but if you don't hear from me until the end of November, you'll know it's 'cos I've been out of contact. Hopefully. On the other hand, as I say to TLH when I go out to do the weekly shop, "I'm off out now. If I don't come back, avenge my death."


*UPDATE* I asked TLH if he'd read today's whinge and he said he had. "Just a minute", he said and rushed off out of the kitchen somewhere. He returned almost immediately. "Here you are, have this," he said, "I don't use it" and pressed into my hand his own Mont Blanc Meisterstuck ballpoint pen. My eyes filled up with the thought of such generosity. I did protest so we agreed it would be 'an extended loan' until the borrowers return my missing pen. He's so lovely and I'm going to miss him terribly. I don't deserve him...

Crafting Beauty

The very lovely Frances wrote a blog post the other day about visiting the Japan Society in New York to see an exhibition by a Japanese 'national treasure', the textile artist Serizawa Keisuke. (Over here, in the UK, we may decide amongst ourselves that, say, Stephen Fry or Alan Bennett is a national treasure, but in Japan, it can be made official).

Her post reminded me of an exhibition that I visited at the British Museum in July 2007 which was running at the same time as the Chinese Terracotta Warriors one. But this one was actually more impressive and awe-inspiring. It was called 'Crafting Beauty in Modern Japan' and I have rarely come away from an exhibition wishing I could have just nicked most of the exhibits to keep for my very own.

Items from 8 categories were displayed - ceramics, textiles, lacquer, metal, wood & bamboo, dolls, cut metal foil and glass. The quality was absolutely breath-taking and just, well, perfect. Each of the items on display were works of art as well as being completely functional (apart from the dolls which didn't actually do anything for me - guess I'm not a doll person although I could appreciate the skill in creating them. Those I wouldn't have nicked). The artists are all classed as modern 'national treasures' and are revered as such.

Each item (well, the ones I liked) could have been put on a plinth individually and had a gallery all to itself, to just be admired. So the overall effect of having so many items of this quality all in one room was almost overpowering. They even caused complete strangers to converse about how beautiful it all was (i.e., I found myself discussing some particularly exquisite ceramics with someone) and if you know anything about the English, you'll know we just don't do that sort of thing.

So, I want to know, do we create such fabulous masterpieces in this country? And if so, who are they? If not, why not? I'm aware that the Japanese have a more deeply held cultural appreciation for simple objects beautifully created, but do we?

I'm probably breaking all kinds of copyright rules here but I've scanned in a few pictures of some of the items that made me catch my breath. There are unashamedly more pictures of ceramics below than any other medium, because I liked them the best (click on any of the pictures to make them bigger). If you're interested in getting hold of a copy of the catalogue, you can get one from Amazon. I would highly recommend it as there are many more pictures in it than I'll show here.

This is a masterful example of using coloured glazes.

I loved the colour and the crackle glaze effect of this bowl.

This is a modern interpretation of a more primitive style of vessel used exclusively for drinking tea. I imagine the texture of the thick rough glaze must form an integral part of the ceremony.

This is a fabulous thing - it's notoriously difficult to make a spherical vessel but to then get just the very top layer of the clay to crack and fissure, to make it look like thousands of tiny lengths of cotton thread have been adhered to the surface, is just extraordinary.

This is a bowl that has been made from clay that has been marbled into layers before being formed into a bowl. But notice how the layers all remain perfectly uniform to each other. This bowl cannot have been made on a wheel because the layers would swirl - so how was it made? I have no idea....

As mentioned, there were textiles there, mostly kimono designs, and they were all lovely but this one blew me away. This design has been tie-dyed. I'll just let that sink in for a second before I repeat - TIE-DYED! Click on this picture for a closer look and then compare it to your memories of your own primary school tie-dyed t-shirts, and marvel at the skill shown here.

This was my favourite item in the whole exhibition. A wooden box that has been lacquered but just look at it. It's unbelievably tactile - not to mention smooth, shiny and red, red, red.

I need to go and lie down now - I'm all overcome with object-lust.....

From Sweden with love...

The Lovely Husband has been away on business for three days in Sweden. I've been quite jealous because I really really want to go to Scandinavia - Norway for the fjords, wooden churches and Vikings; Sweden for the, er, Vikings; Denmark for the Iron Age villages and, um, Vikings; Finland for the reindeer; Iceland (does Iceland count as being in Scandinavia?) for the glaciers and volcanoes; all of it for the Northern Lights.

He went to a place called Karlskrona which is on the coast, roughly on the same longitude as Vienna and latitude as Sunderland. He said there were lots of little islands visible from the port but that the town itself, given that it's got some sort of world heritage status, wasn't as pretty as he'd been hoping. But, never mind, he's now been to Sweden and I haven't.

To cheer me up he brought me a couple of presents - something sleek and elegant, oozing Scandinavian design, perhaps? In brushed stainless steel if not in silver?

You'd be wrong.

Now, I'm not being ungrateful because, frankly, by the time you've been married to each other as long as we have, any gift is welcome, especially one where I haven't provided exact details of what to get, where to get it and how much it would cost.

So what did I get?

A jar of Lingonberry jam. Wrapped in a pair of dirty socks for protection. Yum.

And a bar of chocolate. But not just any old chocolate, oh no. I got a bar of this:

And, you know what? I couldn't actually have asked for more perfect gifts. I love The Lovely Husband hundreds because he still knows how to make me laugh.

Welcome home, babe - me and the two-and-a-half cats all missed you...

Autumnwatch update

The yellow Japanese Maple at the end of my bridge is doing it's psychedelic autumn thing, as promised. The pictures show progress throughout October.




We're not going to talk about the red one. It's in disgrace until it bucks its ideas up.