Oh boy, do I have soap!
Despite the need to get rid of STUFF before the move, I was desperate to do something creative yesterday. I had packed up some of the Green Witch equipment and was checking the oils and butters for their Use By dates when I realised that I could "reset" some of those dates by making soap. That way, nothing would be wasted and I wouldn't have to dump a whole bottle of Rice Bran Oil (for example) just because it would be out of date by the end of the month.
So....I soaped.
I made a Hot Process "Keen Cook's" Soap, with pumice, coffee grounds and citrus oils; this is great for removing strong smells like fish, onion or garlic from your hands when you have finished preparing these foods - and my sister-in-law likes to use it on her back and her feet!
I then made my "Lemon Sherbet" soap with May Chang and Lemon essential oils - great for brightening up the day when used in my morning shower. I even did an "in the pot" swirl with this one.
Next, I made Kevin's favourite "Bay Rum" soap - I usually do this with a line of cocoa running through the middle, but Kevin requested a plain one this time round and as I only make it for him, I did so. I also used the sheep moulds that my soap-buddy Elaine sold me, and made some "BaaaRum" ones too *groan*.
The last soap of the day was a new one - using rice bran oil, palm and coconut and adding some oatmeal to make a scrubby bar, fragranced with rosemary and lemon essential oils. I'll be interested to see what the soap made from this blend of base oils is like - I haven't made this recipe before.
All soaps are now ready to be cut into bars and set to cure.
And I have got that "itch" out of my system and am ready to tackle the attic (well, almost ready).
Friday 27 June 2014
Tuesday 24 June 2014
Getting ready to move...........
and wondering where on earth all of my craft materials are going to go!
Believe me, I am the epitome of "Who dies with the most (insert appropriate object here), wins". I couldn't resist a wool sale or a fabric sale and any "Fest", be it fibre, wool or craft-based was my idea of heaven. Oh, and don't get me started on my soap supplies and essential oil stash!
This is all very well, when one is living in a big three-bedroom house with a husband and four cats. There is plenty of storage (big attic), plenty of space to make into a sewing/spinning/weaving craft studio. However, in a few short weeks, we are moving to a cottage in Devon, which is beautiful, but small. Really small. As in "two bedrooms, a small sitting room, a dining/kitchen" small.
So there is clearly a problem - what do I keep, what do I try to sell, what do I give away?
It ought to be simple, but as I survey the gorgeous Shetland fleece that I have just scoured, ready to be carded, I know that there is no way that I can get rid of it. I also have fleece and tops ready to spin - definitely keeping that, along with the natural dye kit that one of the girls gave me for Christmas and the maslin pan that I bought specifically to use as the dye vat for the spun yarn.
Then there is the fabric - a collection of beautiful wools and silks - nope, they are staying, along with yarns that I bought in Italy, Germany and Alaska as "useful holiday souvenirs".
This then brings me to the UFOs - the unfinished objects (mostly knitted items) started with huge excitement and then back-burnered for any number of reasons.
Finally, there are all the raw materials and the equipment associated with my artisan soap, bath and skincare business, Green Witch Crafts, also back-burnered when we put the house on the market.
I know that from October this year, I am going to be devoting the majority of my time to two Open University Level 2 courses. By taking on two courses, I will be a full-time student and there will be little time to spend on crafts and none at all for Green Witch Crafts. And I suppose that I should let someone else have the pleasure of using the yarns and materials but I know that I will never be in a position to buy them again.
So the plan is................vacuum bags for the fleece, wool, yarns and fabrics. As for the rest, well, I'm still thinking about that!
Believe me, I am the epitome of "Who dies with the most (insert appropriate object here), wins". I couldn't resist a wool sale or a fabric sale and any "Fest", be it fibre, wool or craft-based was my idea of heaven. Oh, and don't get me started on my soap supplies and essential oil stash!
This is all very well, when one is living in a big three-bedroom house with a husband and four cats. There is plenty of storage (big attic), plenty of space to make into a sewing/spinning/weaving craft studio. However, in a few short weeks, we are moving to a cottage in Devon, which is beautiful, but small. Really small. As in "two bedrooms, a small sitting room, a dining/kitchen" small.
So there is clearly a problem - what do I keep, what do I try to sell, what do I give away?
It ought to be simple, but as I survey the gorgeous Shetland fleece that I have just scoured, ready to be carded, I know that there is no way that I can get rid of it. I also have fleece and tops ready to spin - definitely keeping that, along with the natural dye kit that one of the girls gave me for Christmas and the maslin pan that I bought specifically to use as the dye vat for the spun yarn.
Then there is the fabric - a collection of beautiful wools and silks - nope, they are staying, along with yarns that I bought in Italy, Germany and Alaska as "useful holiday souvenirs".
This then brings me to the UFOs - the unfinished objects (mostly knitted items) started with huge excitement and then back-burnered for any number of reasons.
Finally, there are all the raw materials and the equipment associated with my artisan soap, bath and skincare business, Green Witch Crafts, also back-burnered when we put the house on the market.
I know that from October this year, I am going to be devoting the majority of my time to two Open University Level 2 courses. By taking on two courses, I will be a full-time student and there will be little time to spend on crafts and none at all for Green Witch Crafts. And I suppose that I should let someone else have the pleasure of using the yarns and materials but I know that I will never be in a position to buy them again.
So the plan is................vacuum bags for the fleece, wool, yarns and fabrics. As for the rest, well, I'm still thinking about that!
Tuesday 3 June 2014
Until the clouds part............
My darling mother died in hospital in South Africa on Friday 30th May - she was 88 years old and immigrated to South Africa when she was 78.
In recent years, her hearing had deteriorated, though she refused to consider a hearing aid because "it would make me look old" but this meant that our telephone conversations were all but impossible and with the financial difficulties that Kevin and I were experiencing, the notion of flying out to spend time with her could never be contemplated.
She LOVED her life in South Africa; her pension from British Airways and her State Pension went far further than they would have done in the U.K. and the weather meant that the arthritis that plagued her back in England bothered her far less in the warmth of her adopted country. The medical care that she received was second to none, albeit that she had to pay for it, and the little house that she bought, with its pretty rose-filled garden, was easy to run and care for.
She had visited my brother in South Africa often and even went out to Tanzania when he was flying there but after my brother's daughter was born, Mum decided that she wanted to move there permanently. Africa had found its way into her heart and soul, and like so many other people, she yearned to return.
I was heartbroken. Somehow I knew that I would never see her again.
I missed our phone calls - we usually spoke at least twice a week and sometimes more often and I missed being able to drive over to her house at Leatherhead to see her but how could I deny her the chance to spend time with her only grandchild?
At first, she would write; then she would send emails, but as time went on and her hands became more arthritic, even the emails stopped. Her hearing loss meant that phone calls were frustrating for both of us and (in the end) terribly upsetting for her.
So when Mum finally passed away last week, part of me felt that I had lost her long before.
My brother, who returned to the U.K. almost three years ago with my sister-in-law and niece, is in South Africa at the moment dealing with all the things that you have to deal with following a death. David, who became an honorary son to Mum and was her carer, companion and friend, is as bereft as we are - perhaps even more so because I think he really believed that Mum would recover from this latest illness as she had done so many times before.
Mum, you did exactly what you wanted to do. You had the courage to leave England and settle in another country at a time in your life when others are looking at retirement homes and you lived more in those ten years than some people do in their entire lives.
I haven't cried yet - not properly. I know that it will catch me when I least expect it - a piece of music, a line of poetry, something will bring it back to me that Mum is gone from the world.
And then I remember, that it is only until the clouds part, until a new dawn breaks, and we will be together again.
Love you, Mum.
In recent years, her hearing had deteriorated, though she refused to consider a hearing aid because "it would make me look old" but this meant that our telephone conversations were all but impossible and with the financial difficulties that Kevin and I were experiencing, the notion of flying out to spend time with her could never be contemplated.
She LOVED her life in South Africa; her pension from British Airways and her State Pension went far further than they would have done in the U.K. and the weather meant that the arthritis that plagued her back in England bothered her far less in the warmth of her adopted country. The medical care that she received was second to none, albeit that she had to pay for it, and the little house that she bought, with its pretty rose-filled garden, was easy to run and care for.
She had visited my brother in South Africa often and even went out to Tanzania when he was flying there but after my brother's daughter was born, Mum decided that she wanted to move there permanently. Africa had found its way into her heart and soul, and like so many other people, she yearned to return.
I was heartbroken. Somehow I knew that I would never see her again.
I missed our phone calls - we usually spoke at least twice a week and sometimes more often and I missed being able to drive over to her house at Leatherhead to see her but how could I deny her the chance to spend time with her only grandchild?
At first, she would write; then she would send emails, but as time went on and her hands became more arthritic, even the emails stopped. Her hearing loss meant that phone calls were frustrating for both of us and (in the end) terribly upsetting for her.
So when Mum finally passed away last week, part of me felt that I had lost her long before.
My brother, who returned to the U.K. almost three years ago with my sister-in-law and niece, is in South Africa at the moment dealing with all the things that you have to deal with following a death. David, who became an honorary son to Mum and was her carer, companion and friend, is as bereft as we are - perhaps even more so because I think he really believed that Mum would recover from this latest illness as she had done so many times before.
Mum, you did exactly what you wanted to do. You had the courage to leave England and settle in another country at a time in your life when others are looking at retirement homes and you lived more in those ten years than some people do in their entire lives.
I haven't cried yet - not properly. I know that it will catch me when I least expect it - a piece of music, a line of poetry, something will bring it back to me that Mum is gone from the world.
And then I remember, that it is only until the clouds part, until a new dawn breaks, and we will be together again.
Love you, Mum.
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