Battle of Arnhem +80

 'If in the years to come, you meet a man who says, "I was at Arnhem", raise your hat and buy him a drink.' War correspondent Alan Wood - 1944

80 years today, British and Polish paratroopers were 'jumping into hell'.

9 days later, they had been destroyed.
Of 10,000 men who had landed, 8,000 were killed, wounded or captured. The 1st British Airborne Division never saw combat again (though sections of it did).

Hundreds of men were left behind, hiding in German occupied territory. They were sheltered by the Dutch Underground, and many were rescued by MI9 and the Dutch Resistance. Others (astonishingly) made their own way out.

"In all my years as a soldier, I have never seen men fight so hard."
Wilhelm Bittrich, SS Commander, commenting on the British Paratroopers at Arnhem - September 1944

In 1969, the Parachute Regiment suggested to the Dutch people that the annual commemoration at Oosterbeek Cemetery should end, because enough time had passed to allow it to fade.
The Dutch were so absolutely and vocally opposed to that, it continues to this day, with locals and schoolchildren laying flowers on the graves of those lost.

My Grandad was at Arnhem.

Richmond Castle, Sunday Recipes

 Part two of the food we made at Richmond Castle

Garlic Soup

The herbs are all fresh, but if you can't get the fresh herbs you can use dried.  The olive oil can be extra virgin, but as it's for frying, I wouldn't worry about it too much - you could also use a rapeseed or sunflower oil.
The carrots I use are heritage varieties (depending on what it available - coloured varieties that taste very slightly different from normal carrots), but you can use just normal carrots.
The vegetable stock is from stock cubes or stock pots, but absolutely use fresh or home-made if you prefer.

Garlic, sliced
Shallots, finely chopped
Carrots
Double cream
Vegetable stock
Parsley, chopped
Thyme, chopped
Sea salt
Olive oil

Pan roast the garlic in olive oil, add the onions to brown slightly.

Put vegetable stock in a pot, and add the garlic, onions and carrots. Cook till tender.

Season to taste and add the herbs. Add the cream, and check the seasoning.

Pea Salad

The tins and frozen peas and beans are what I'm using at the event - any combination of fresh, frozen or tinned is fine, just make sure they're cooked to tender and cooled before you start.
The peas should be more petit pois kind if you can get them, because medieval people would have had the smaller 'field peas' not the modern marrowfat peas we have now.
When mixing the oil and vinegar, you want about three parts oil to one part vinegar.
I like to use Aspall's vinegar, because it's vegan, and I don't have to worry about sulphites (which is an allergen in most vinegars).  Also, it's just better than most.  You can also use verjus in place of the vinegar.

Tinned chick peas, drained
Frozen broad beans, defrosted
Tinned peas, drained
Fresh mint, chopped
Fresh chives, chopped
Fresh parsley, chopped
Olive oil
Cider vinegar
Sea salt
Black pepper

Drain and rinse the tinned veg.

Check whether the broad beans need to be cooked, if so, pre cook till tender and allow to cool.

Slightly squash the chickpeas and beans (not too much, we're going for different textures, not hummus).

Chop the herbs and mix into the beans. (I use my hands, a spoon is also ok.)

Sprinkle over salt and pepper to taste.

Mix together the oil and vinegar and sprinkle over.

Pancakes

These are not pancakes in the sense we mean in Britain (like crepes).  They're also not pancakes in the sense they mean in America (they're basically drop scones).
The closest thing to these pancakes that we have today is doughnuts.  If you've ever had fresh doughnuts from a van - that's what these are like.
This recipe does have quantities on it, which I use as a rough guide.  You can increase or decrease the amount as you wish, as long as you keep the ratio broadly the same.  
We have a coeliac, as I mentioned earlier, so I'm using gluten free flour - normal plain flour is fine too (plain because it's the yeast that does the work).  If using wheat, you can leave out the xanthan gum.  
The yeast I use is Allinson's Easy Bake dried yeast, because it's both really simple to use, and it's gluten free.
When I say 'deep fry', I don't use a deep fat fryer, I use a frying pan, but I do make sure there's a good pool of oil about 1-1.5cm deep.

Milk (750ml)
Yeast (1 tsp)
Egg whites (x6)
Plain flour (420g)
(Xanthan gum (1 tsp) - omit if not using gluten free flour)
Vegetable oil (something neutral with a highish smoke point, so rapeseed, or sunflower, etc) 

Sugar
Salt

Warm the milk slightly and dissolve the yeast into it.

Beat the egg whites, then mix the egg whites and the flour.  (If using the xanthan gum, add it to the flour.)

Add the yeast and milk to the mix a little at a time, beating till smooth.

'Deep fry' a dollop at a time, turn when lightly browned, and then drain.  (NB - they do not need to be perfect rounds - stray strands will crisp up nicely, just be sure to remove any burned bits.)

Sprinkle with a little sugar and some salt.

Elder sauce

This is a really easy fruit sauce.
I use foraged elderberries and blackberries. 
The blueberries are pretending to be our native British bilberries (or blaeberries), which are not grown commercially (I don't have any growing near me, so I can't forage them).  They're so closely related that they're effectively the same plant, but blaeberries are a bit smaller.

But the cool part about this fruit sauce is that you can use any fruit you want - I've even made it with apples and pears.
You can also use as much or as little of the sugar or honey as you like.

Elderberries
Blackberries
Blueberries (pretending to be blaeberries)
Brown sugar (or honey)
Water
(Sea salt)

Put the fruit in a small pan, with enough water to cover, and some sugar, to taste (or you can use honey).

Bring to the boil  and simmer till the fruit cooks down to a jammy consistency - add water if it boils dry, and give it a good mix every now and then.

Shortly before it's ready, check the flavour, and add more sugar / honey if it needs it, and a small pinch of salt.


Disclaimers -
If you're going to pick the yourself, make absolutely sure you know what you have before you eat it.  Check with multiple sources, books, websites (ideally not apps), Facebook groups, etc. 

Elderberries must be cooked before being eaten, because of the amygdalin that may be present that can convert to cyanide in your gut (cooking neutralises it).  Don't be scared by the word 'cyanide' - it's the same chemical present in apple seeds.

If you're pregnant or breastfeeding, skip the elderberries - there's no evidence that they're harmful, but equally no evidence that they're safe either.
Likewise, if you have any gastro-intestinal issues, best avoid, just to be safe.
And check drug interaction if you're taking medications - it's known that it can make certain drugs less effective.
Avoid if you have severe hayfever or allergic rhinitis.

Finally, I'm in the UK, where all our Elder trees are Sambucus Nigra, or the European Elder, and all are edible.  There are closely related members of the Sambucus family of plants in other parts of the world that have fruits that are toxic.  Make sure you know what you have before you consume it.

Pears in Brandy

Another simple one that's basically just a one pot simmer everything together dish.

Be aware, there may be alcohol in this dish after cooking (the brandy).


Pears, peeled, cored, and quartered
Water
Brandy
Honey
Brown sugar 
Galangal paste
Cinnamon, ground
Cloves, ground
Sea salt

Cook the pears in water, a little brandy and a very little sugar or honey.

Keep an eye on them, and if they boil dry before they're tender, top it up.

Once the pears are cooked to tender, remove them and set them aside.

Mix the honey, remaining brandy, and spices in another pot, and heat into a syrup - allow it to boil.

Serve with the sauce poured over the pears, and sprinkle a very little sea salt.

Prince Biskit

A simple medieval biscuit.  The original recipe says that the ingredients should be beaten together for one hour - it can be done in a food processor in a modern kitchen - just keep going till it won't mix any more.
I've included the xanthan gum in the recipe, which I've added because I'm using gluten free flour.  If you use normal wheat flour, this isn't needed.


Plain flour (500g)
Brown sugar (500g)
5 eggs
Caraway seeds (approx 6 table spoonsful)
Rosewater (approx 2 tablespoonsful)
(Xanthan gum, 1 teaspoon)

Beat together the ingredients.

Put spoonsful onto a baking sheet (spread out in case they spread)

Bake for 15 - 25 minutes at 160C.

Dandelion and Burdock

Dandelion and burdock has a much longer history than most people realise.  It started out as a fresh kind of mead.  That is, it was made and drunk within a couple of weeks, not left to mature and build the alcohol content.
This recipe may contain a little alcohol, because the alcohol is a by-product of the fermentation of the yeast, but it won't be that high.  If you want to know exactly how much you end up with, you can test it using a hydrometer and do the calculations to figure it out.
I use bottled mineral water to make this, but you can use ordinary tap water that's been left for a few days to allow any chlorine to evaporate (it won't work with chlorinated water, because the chlorine will kill the microbes).
The honey I use is Rowse brand ordinary runny honey, and their 'Dark and Rich' honey.
If you can't get fresh dandelion and burdock roots (and remember, if picking your own, be 100% certain it is what you think it is), you can buy dried, cut roots online - the burdock is often sold as 'burdock tea', and the dandelion as 'dandelion coffee'.  Just make sure it's only the root with nothing added.

The yeast I use is nothing special - ordinary Allinson's easy bake dried yeast.  It's gluten free, so I know I'm safe.  Any bread, beer or champagne yeast will do the job though.

4L water
Honey (approx 680g)
Burdock root, 150g
Dandelion root, 50g
Juice of one small lime
2.5 teaspoons dry yeast

Put the water in a large pan, with the dandelion root and the burdock root.  Bring to the boil and let it simmer for at least half an hour (steeping it longer will just increase the strength, like a tea).

Take it off the heat and allow it to cool.

Take a few spoonsful of the dandelion and burdock tea, and add it into the honey to make the honey more liquid and easier to mix in, then add it to the pan.  Add the lime juice too.

Strain the liquid into another big pan, or fermenting pot, so you get rid of all the bits of dandelion and burdock (they can now be discarded).  

Mix the dried yeast with a little warm (just above skin temperature) water, and let it stand for 10-15 minutes.  When it's started to foam, add it all into the pot, and mix it in.

Cover the pot loosely, and let it stand - ideally for a few days, but over night as a minimum.

Then you can decant it into bottles.  
NB - when you decant it, do NOT tighten the lid.  Ordinary bottles are fine (I clean then reuse the plastic water bottles that the water came in), but the yeast is still active, so if you tighten the lid, the bottle may explode.  The same goes for any bottle or container that does not have an air release cap on it.  
Check the bottle twice a day for the next week or so.  It will be ready to drink in a week or two.

(Note as this is a fresh mead, it is not be left to mature - as a result, the mead may still be cloudy after a week or two.  It won't have time to clarify, which happens after the microbes in the yeast die back, and the alcohol content increases.  The mead may still be cloudy.  This is perfectly safe to drink, and will not do you any harm - it's just the yeast in the mead.)

Richmond Castle Saturday Recipes

This is part one of two posts...

So, as well as being a costumer I do the cooking for my re-enactment group, Conquest.

We're doing an event at Richmond Castle this weekend, so I thought I'd share the recipes.

Please be aware these are much in the vein of actual medieval recipes, which don't contain ingredient quantities - though I try to write them with the items in the largest amount first.

Beef Stuffed with Lamb

Talk to your butcher to get a cut that will stand up to both being bashed, and being rolled and cooked relatively quickly.
Because the other ingredients (lamb, etc) are already cooked, you can cook the beef to your preference.  Just make sure it's cooked to a safe temperature - I use a meat thermometer to check on camp (which I really recommend, even in a home kitchen, they're really useful), but you can do it by hand or by poking with a skewer. 

Beef steaks, about 1.5cm or 2cm thick, (or a piece of beef that you cut up)
Minced lamb or minced mutton
Onion, very finely chopped
Cinnamon, ground
Pepper, ground, black
Ginger, ground
Nutmeg, ground
Cloves, ground
Sea salt
Vegetable oil

Lay the slices of beef on a chopping board. Cover with a clean cloth (in a modern kitchen, put between two pieces of cling film or paper parchment) and flatten slightly with a rolling pin or similar.

Fry off  the onion in a little vegetable oil till it softens.  Add the spices, including a little salt.  Add the minced lamb or mutton straight away, and fry till it's cooked through and slightly browned.  Drain the lamb / mutton.

Put a dollop of the lamb/mutton mix onto the beef, and spread out. Leave a gap without the lamb/mutton on at the end. 
Roll up the beef and tie securely with string.

Roll up the beef, and tie into place securely with string.

Either pan fry the rolls,  or gently roast on skewer gently until cooked.  (In a modern kitchen you can also cook it in an oven, about 180 till it cooks through, or you can cook it on a barbecue.)

To serve remove the string and slice.

Funges

When buying mushrooms, don't just get one kind.  Supermarkets have loads of different kinds these days.  At the weekend, I'll be using a combination of normal white closed cup mushrooms, chestnut mushrooms, portobellini mushrooms, oyster mushrooms, and woodland mushrooms.  There's no need to peel the mushrooms, but obviously they should be washed.
The other mushrooms can be cut into large chunks (quarters or sixths, half if they're small), but for the oyster mushrooms, just tear them by hand.
For the mushroom stock I just use Knorr 'stock pots', but you can make your own if you prefer. 
There is no salt in the recipe because of the soy sauce, which should be added to taste.  The soy sauce is a replacement for a medieval fermented sauce called 'murri', which as far as I know, nobody has so far managed to recreate.  At least not safely.

Mushrooms, assorted, chopped
Mushroom stock
Leeks, finely sliced
Soy sauce, light
Cloves, ground 
Pepper, ground, black
Vegetable oil

Fry off the leeks and mushrooms.

Add the stock, cloves, pepper and soy sauce.

And then one of my favourite phrases from medieval recipes, 'cook it until it is done'.

Cucumber salad

You can dispense with the allium flowers and cucumber flowers if you can't get them - in the UK, I use westlandsuk.co.uk - if you omit the allium, I'd suggest adding in some chopped chives.
The galangal paste can be replaced with minced or grated fresh galangal if you prefer - I find the paste easier to get (though you can usually get fresh from The Spice Shop).
The garlic can be crushed in a garlic press in a modern kitchen (we don't have one in the group kitchen, because they didn't exist yet).  You could also use garlic paste.  If using jarlic, you'd probably need to do more chopping as it won't be fine enough.
For the cucumbers, cut them into four along the length (assuming normal size), then cut each piece into strips.  You can peel them if you prefer - or you can use them skin-on - your personal preference is fine.

Cucumbers, peeled and cut into strips
Fresh mint, chopped
Cucumber flowers
Allium flowers
Galangal paste
Garlic, minced 
Sea salt
Olive oil, ideally extra virgin

Mix garlic, galangal, salt, mint, and oil together.  (Put the other ingredients in a small pot and add a spoonful of the oil to get it started, then add more.)  Let stand to allow flavours to blend.

Arrange the cucumber and in a bowl, and coat with oil.

Add the flowers over the top

Rosehip Pudding

At the weekend, I'm using modern plant Elmlea (fake cream) to handle a lactose intolerance, but the standard recipe calls for double cream.  We whisk this lightly by hand, using a bunch of wooden skewers, to comply with modern food hygiene standards - medieval people would have used a birch whisk (made from twigs that had been stripped of their bark, and tied together at one end).  It's easier to thicken it if you let it come to room temperature first - this may not be a concern if using a modern whisk.
The xanthan gum is a replacement for a wheat starch, which you would cook in a solution with water, then add to the cream.  (We have a coeliac member, so I'm compromising.)  Because the xanthan gum doesn't need to be heated to thicken, we can skip that step.
The violet petals are a dressing - you could use any edible flower, including rose petal if in season, or candied petals if out of season.
The honey is added for flavour, not sweetness - you could also used a little dark brown sugar - not too much, we don't want the pudding to be too sweet.
The sugar added at the end is cut straight from the block.  The sugar can be bought as jaggery from Asian shops, but if you can't get it, sprinkle some normal brown sugar on top (not too much).

Double cream (plant Elmlea) - whisked
Rosehip syrup
Dark honey
Violet petals
Xanthan gum
Saffron
Cone sugar (jaggery)
Water (tiny bit)

Add warm water to saffron and let it sit (not loads, a couple of table spoonsful). 

Whisk the cream (or 'cream') till it thickens.

Add the saffron liquid and strands, gradually, to a couple of tea spoonsful of xanthan gum, stirring all the time to avoid lumping.
Add the rosehip syrup and the honey to the saffron liquid.
Mix the rosehip mixture into the cream (or 'cream').

Put it all in a serving dish, sprinkle with the rose petals, and some flaked sugar.

Eggs in Rosewater

This is a very... odd... dish.  It's like Turkish delight flavoured eggs.
The original recipe says to use just rosewater, but I've found that using half rosewater and half plain water is plenty strong enough.  Feel free to try it with just rosewater if you like.
Effectively what this is is eggs, separated, and just poached in rosewater.  Keeping the eggs separate is quite easy, as long as you don't break the yolk.

Egg yolks
Rosewater
Water
Cinnamon
Brown sugar

Put rosewater and water in small cauldron, about 50/50.

Mix some cinnamon and sugar together, and set aside.

When the water/rosewater is boiling (or at least hot), separate the yolks from the whites, and drop them into the water, without breaking the yolk and trying to keep them separate.

Let them cook till the yolks harden.  You're going for hard boiled egg consistency.

To serve, remove from the water, put on a serving dish, and sprinkle with the sugar and cinnamon mix.

Cardamom Cakes

These are medieval cakes - not necessarily the modern fluffy and light cake that we're used to - and not as sweet.

Plain flour (300g)
Butter (230g)
Brown sugar (200g)
Currants (150g)
1 whole egg, beaten
Juice of half a lime
10 cardamom pods, crushed

Cream the butter and sugar, then add in the beaten egg.

Mix in the other ingredients, and knead till well incorporated.  

Let the dough rest for about an hour (yes, dough, not batter).  Meanwhile, pre heat the oven to about 180C.

Form the dough into small rounds, about 2.5cm across or so, and place on a greased or lined baking tray.  Bake for around 10 minutes till they're firm.  They should not be particularly browned.

Allow to cool.

Dandelion and Burdock

Please see Sunday's recipe post, so I don't have to type it all out twice *grin*.

 

In April 1944, a ship that would eventually be known as Landfall floated out of a shipyard on the Tyne.
Her official name at the time was HM LCT 7074. She was a landing craft, one of many, for tanks and motorised vehicles, and she'd soon be part of history.

Late in May of 1944, a couple were married. George was in the army. June was a WAAF. They had lettuce and tomato sandwiches and Brown Ale to celebrate.

A week later, George was waiting his turn to leave his landing craft, watching his friends mown down in front of him.

In early June 1944, Maureen Sweeney worked at a weather station in neutral Ireland, with her future husband, Ted. Despite Ireland's neutrality, they continued to take weather readings in County Mayo, the first part of northern Europe to see the real weather, and send them over to London via the Irish Met Office.

The weather had been good in May, and Americans forecast that it would continue into June. The RAF, (perhaps being more familiar with a British summer), weren't so sure.

On the 2^nd - 3^rd of June, Ms Sweeney submitted a routine report – that there was a storm coming in. On the 4^th of June she got a phone call, not a normal event, from a woman with an English accent, asking her to check the figures again. They did, and there was a storm coming in.

Operation Neptune would be postponed by 24 hours.

When the 6^th June finally arrived, the storm had passed.

And then began the biggest invasion by land, sea, and air that the world has ever seen.

First came 23,000 airborne troops.
156,000 infantry (by the end of June, 900,000).
196,000 naval personnel.
7,000 ships.

And more than 12,000 aircraft (and their crews).

On that day, now forever known as D-Day, Britain, America, France, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, Czechoslovakia, Poland, Netherlands, Belgium, Norway, Greece, South Africa, Southern Rhodesia, Denmark, and Luxembourg stood up to the might of Nazi Germany, who had swept across Europe and northern Africa, and said NO.

We should all know the rest of the bigger story. 20,000 men died in that invasion (on both sides). We must never forget it.

But the little stories...

Maureen and Ted only found out in 1956 how important their contribution had been. Eisenhower, when asked by John F Kennedy what he thought gave the Allies the edge on D-Day, replied that we had better meteorologists.
Maureen was awarded a medal in 2021 by the US Congress - she lived to be 100 years old, and died last year (2023).

Maureen and Ted Sweeney

George and June both survived the war, and spent 53 years together, till June died in the late 90s. George continued to live in the North East of England, and was awarded the Legion d'Honneur at St Nick's Cathedral for his actions on D-Day. He eventually moved south to become a Chelsea Pensioner, where he died in 2020, aged 98.

George Skipper

And that wee boat... HM LCT 7074 was decommissioned after the war. She became a floating nightclub in Liverpool, before being bought by a trust for restoration. They went bust, and she sank in her dock.
Years went by.
Then the National Museum of the Royal Navy got involved. It took over 100 dives, and nearly £1m (via a lottery grant), but she was refloated and transported to Portsmouth, where she was fully restored.
She's now on permanent display at the D Day Story museum in Southsea.
She is the last 'Landing Craft, Tank' in Britain.

Landing Craft, Tank, 7074

I decided to write this because the little stories are slowly passing out of living memory. We have the last few survivors with us – they're old. Obvs, if you were 18 in 1944, and you're still with us, you're now 98.

But they're the important ones. Every person involved, every ship, every aircraft, had a story.
.
And also because we still owe a debt to every one of them for what they did. My Grandparents' generation truly were awe inspiring, not only for their actions during the war, but for what they did when they got back – the UN, the ECHR, the ICC, the NHS... doing their best to make sure we wouldn't have to live what they did.

As that generation fades away, we must remember their stories for them.

 

I want to thank everybody who has been so very kind, and very patient with me for the last few weeks.

I'm back at work now, having taken some time, and am very slowly starting to get organised. In the meantime, I wrote this last week, in memory of my boy.

Magnus Cat, berator of cabinet ministers, flooder of bathrooms, jumper from roofs, and the cat who saved my life, has gone.

Mags wandered into our lives one day in early summer of 2006.

He appeared in the back garden, healthy, but skinny. And hungry. We fed him in the garden for a few months – he'd appear twice a day, and we'd give him food, and off he'd go on his way.

Eventually, the weather started to get a bit chillier, and we started to worry about what might happen to this sweet wee 'Friend' when winter set in. So I convinced him to come and eat inside, and then one day, I shut the back door on him. We did all the stuff you're meant to do – asking around if anybody had lost a cat, putting a note on a collar we put on him, checking local ads, etc.

The vet said he was about 10 months old, and that he'd likely been dumped because he was 'no longer cute and kitteny'. Also he was also a bit of a handful. Actually, a lot of a handful.
Think a base jumper but without a parachute, and in cat form.

A 5.5 kilo black and white tornado.

He would jump from the top of the wardrobe onto the bed in the middle of the night – usually onto my stomach.
He regularly jumped onto the kitchen roof, because he worked out I could hear his meows from the top floor, and that I'd come and let him in and give him food.
He jumped onto next door's kitchen roof, just cos he could, and so panicked our neighbours that they pulled him in through their window and let him out the back door (I saw the whole thing – he could get back the way he went, he was just being dramatic).
He would balance along the tops of doors, and give me a near heart attack by suddenly meowing at me when I didn't know he was up there.
He'd come and wake me up in the morning by walking on my head, and somehow always putting his foot in my eye socket (it was a perfect fit).
If that didn't get me up, he'd pull my eyelid open with one paw, and peer at me.
He knew how to turn on our taps in the bathroom – he also once flooded the bathroom and the dining room below it by doing so while we were out.
He shouted at a cabinet minister during lockdown (via teams).
When the other cats were freaking out about fireworks, he'd open one eye, as if to say 'oh will you shut up, children', then go back to sleep.

From that day I kidnapped him, he came home every single night except one. That was because he was at the emergency vet, having a 3” blade of grass extracted from his nose.

Mags did everything on his terms.

He liked people, but he would not take any of their crap. You wanted to pick him up – fine, but you'd pay for it.
If he didn't want to do something, he wasn't doing it – and he was strong enough and determined enough to make sure you couldn't make him. To be able to handle Mags, you had to have a stubborn streak wider than his.
Even when he was dying, he had very firm ideas about whether you'd be handling him or not (I still have the scratches to prove it).
He loved other cats, but didn't take any of their crap – they stepped out of line, they got their ears boxed, but then he'd curl up and snuggle with them every night.

Learning that my Mags was dying was the worst news possible, and it was very hard. I nursed him almost round the clock for the weeks he had left, and he left us last week.
On his last day, he had chicken parfait and real cream for brunch, and went out in the garden one last time, and felt the sun on his fur.
Then in the afternoon, he went to sleep in my arms, in front of the fire, listening to the sound of bird song.

He's been my best friend for 17 years. My heart is broken.

Magnus.
2005 – 15.02.2023, 4pm

Thank you my wee boy. Thank you.

Studio Movingness

You might not be aware (I didn't shout that loudly, was too busy), but I had to move out of my lovely studio in The Art House, so that they could redo the ceilings. 
(Long drawn out story involving them not being done properly first time round, a building company gone bust, and the High Court...)

They had to put scaffolding up to reach my nice high ceiling, so I got booted out for the duration.
That was back in August (offhand), and I've been split between two smaller studios ever since, working in one, and storing stuff in the other. 
Which was somewhat chaotic, because the floor space in the two little studios didn't really match the floor space in my bigger studio, so the one used for storage was crammed with stuff (literally, just stuff... stuff everywhere), and the one I was working from was a bit of a tight squeeze for the cutting table and the sewing table to both fit.

But now I can move back in!  And the ceiling does now look spiffing - and apparently this time it's properly done, so no more cracky flaky paint!!

Replastered and repainted ceiling.  (Taken with the light off so it's not just glared out.)

This is what my studio looked like for the duration (my actual studio, not the ones I was working / storing stuff in).  Yay.

I did have a slight hitch when I couldn't move out of the working studio, because they put scaffolding up outside ahead of schedule, so my 'moving back window' disappeared. 
Though the most 'interesting' part of that was the day they'd put the scaffolding up while I was in there working while wearing noise cancelling headphones, and came out to discover scaffolding going straight across the door, at chest height.  (After I shimmied and crawled out, I went and reported to the office, and the lovely buildings manager had them shift it first thing the next morning.)
But it was strange being met with this on opening the door (that door on the left of the second picture - that's my temporary working studio, that is) :

BUT.... (drumroll, for drama), I'm now back in my own studio, and have handed the keys back in to the temporary studios!  Hurrah!!  (This post has taken me a couple of days to write, during breaks between shifting stuff.)

The hitch being (there's always a hitch) that my own studio looks like this:

 

Pickle, the purple millinery mascot is hiding, because it's all just too much for him...

So...  Nice to be back in my own studio, with my nice glazed doors and less traffic noise...  But oh my lord, the tidying (argh).

So that's what I'm off to get back to.  MORE tidying and sorting and putting away.  

Oh, and I'm told that in the rest of the building, the flooring has to be covered with an epoxy, because the scaffolders scratched it.  That'll be happening in the next few weeks.  Thankful to say I won't have to move again for it, since they took extra care on my parquet floor, though the floor going directly up to my door will have to be done.

Nana

My Nana, and me.

I'd like to introduce you to my Nana.

Her name was Trudie Lough. She was (and is) the bedrock that my whole life is built on.

She died 25 years ago tonight.

She was as close as I got to a real mother, and she was the strongest, and kindest, woman I've ever known, so I'd like to share some of her life with you. It's mostly a series of anecdotes she told me over the years.

She was born Gertrude Foster in Scarborough, on the Yorkshire coast, in 1920. She never knew her father. He disappeared from the family when she was young, having drained the family finances.
As a little girl, my Nana spent a lot of time at the beach, and danced and acted – one of my great grandmother's friends was Charles Laughton's mother.

Nana was always one of those annoying girls who could see a film on Friday night, knock up a copy of what the star was wearing on Saturday, then wear it on Saturday night. Eventually, it was natural that she became an apprentice tailoress.

Her mother became sick when Nana was still a teenager, and with all the family money gone, they had to take in laundry, including the Dr's shirts, to pay the medical bills. She finally lost her mother when she was 16. Her mother was 48 years old.

On her mother's death, Nana had to leave their rented rooms. Her job wasn't enough to pay the rent on her own, and her brother (Ronnie, two years older) had already joined the army.

She packed up her things in her trunk, including the books she and her mother had won as school prizes, and the oil paintings of her mother as a girl, and her grandmother, and moved in with the family of her best friend. All her life she considered them as her second family. She always called her friend's parents Mom and Pop Hume.

Eventually, Nana got a job in service as a trainee cook, and graduated to cook in her own right. She moved to London, and got engaged.
Then the Second World War started. Her fiancé joined the navy, and the family she was with decamped from London and moved to Hitchin in Hertfordshire.

In 1940 or 41, her fiancé, whose name she never told me, was killed. His ship had been somewhere near the coast of Italy, (or possibly between Spain and Italy), when it was sunk.

One day, while still with the family in Hitchin, she apparently became despondent because her brother, who she had not seen in several years, had one day of leave in Liverpool. The man of the house liked to hang around the kitchen, because he always had as a boy (his wife didn't approve). He asked Nana why she was so sad, and Nana explained she couldn't afford to go to see her brother, even if the leave had coincided with her day off. Her boss gave her the day off. He also gave her the money to get the train to Liverpool to see Ronnie. On that trip, she met a friend of Ronnie's, a tall thin soldier who also had a day of leave. He was called George.

She left the family she'd worked for, because she'd been called up to work in a munitions factory. Her walk home from the factory involved crossing a field, with a style, in the blackout. She heard somebody coming up behind her as she got to the style, and a man tried to grab her. She stabbed him in – er – a delicate place, with the tip of her umbrella. It was the same umbrella she had when I knew her, and it was sharp – that will have hurt a lot!

Nana and George got engaged. They had the wedding all planned. The church was booked, friends and Mom and Pop Hume donated their rations and got hold of some eggs for a cake, another friend had got a worn out parachute on the black market for a dress. George's leave was cancelled.

He managed to get a short leave a few months later, at hardly any notice, and they got married in a registry office – George in battledress, and Nana in a dark blue suit. Three months later, George jumped into Arnhem.

George always said he 'got out without a scratch', which he attributed to the good luck charm of my Nana's photo in his pocket. He wasn't killed, wounded or captured, so he became one of the survivors, known as evaders, who had to escape from occupied Europe. I don't know the story of how he did, but he made it home safely (lucky for me, since I called him Granda).

After the war, Nana found herself in the north east, and by 1951, with three kids under 7, and married to a fireman (Grandad). She wasn't content with that though, because through the 50s and 60s, she and Grandad fostered around a dozen other kids for varying lengths of time.
She used to take in animal waifs and strays too - she couldn't resist, hence my childhood preventing the cats chasing the budgies, and preventing the dog chasing the cats...

She also had double pneumonia three times and a major thyroid condition, but the woman was a force of nature, and nothing kept her down long.

Till in 1977, Grandad died, at 57, from lung cancer, and she never got over it. She couldn't even bear to hear his name. Little over a decade later, her youngest son, my Dad, died at 37. And four years later, without warning, at 9.02pm, she just stopped breathing. And everything I'd ever known was gone in front of my eyes

I try not to think of her that night though.

I remember us sitting by the fire watching Fred Astaire films together; of her cooking – baking with her, and her making mushy peas using tablets of bicarbonate of soda; of her teaching me to sew and forcing me to unpick it **again**; of the horror stories she told me about nearly sewing through her finger, as she was teaching me to machine sew using the same machine; of her taking me to Newcastle every Tuesday (pension day); of her teaching me to read, and taking me to the library every week; of how she used to tell me 'no you can't do that, because it's not appropriate, dear'; of her taking me to the beach; of her reading while she watched TV, and knowing exactly what was happening in the book and the show; of her dressing me up as Shirley Temple, because she always wanted a daughter of her own, and I happened to have natural blonde ringlet curls; of playing her Bing Crosby 78s; of how she had a summer wardrobe and a winter wardrobe, and they got swapped over every autumn and spring; of how her hat and coat ALWAYS matched; of us doing the Polka and the Charleston together round the kitchen like mad things...

It's hard to think it's been 25 years since I saw her last. In some ways it feels like yesterday; in others it feels like knowing her was a dream that never really happened.

So, Trudie Lough, 24.10.1920 – 29.8.1992, this is how I'll remember you, coat and hat matching, shoes matching collar... and with Grandad.

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Website, and competition good news...

Firstly, certain people will be happy to hear that The Great Website Rebuild has begun.

A while ago now the website got corrupted.   I repaired it as best as I could given the time I had available - but it isn't really up to par, and it needs rebuilding desperately.  I do web stuff around sewing, at weekends, in the evenings, and on trains, on days off, etc, so it will take me a while... but I've broken the first blank page!

Secondly, a while ago now, I entered a competition with the Heritage Crafts Association, on something of  a whim, and at almost the very last minute.
And (girly squeal! and childlike bounce!) I came in the top three!!!   Of a national competition!!!!!

You had to submit four pictures of work in progress, and four of completed pieces - here are my pics of the completed stuff:

And my 'in progress shots...

Happy New Year!!

I'm not officially back at work until next week, (and am not that web-present at the moment, as my laptop is still at the menders), but wanted to briefly say 'Happy New Year' to everybody!

As you'll have seen, if you've read the rest of my blog, 2013 was rough for me, but Ill be starting out on 2014 on Monday with lots of hope for it being much better.  Thank you to everybody who's been kind to me during the horrible times!

And a piece of good news I had at my HNC graduation, when I looked in my little certificate folder - I did graduate with a distinction for my hats after all.  *HUGE grin*!!

A thank you.

A very quick post to say a big thank you to Jenna Odie, of Cute Kids Designs, who featured my machine embroidered black bull livery badge on her blog, Buy Handmade British.

http://buyhandmadebritish.blogspot.co.uk/2012/09/guess-theme-22.html


This is the badge featured:

 

My Nana

This has been a really difficult day for me. I wasn't sure I should post this, but I've accomplished b***** all else today, so I thought I may as well.


My Nana was the closest thing I ever had to a real mother.

She brought me up and took care of me all my life. 

She was kind, gentle, never laid a hand on me. She taught me to read, to cook, to sew, to dance, taught me that all people were equal, and gave me an incredibly strong morality. 

She lived through the Great Depression, World War Two, took care of her mother until she died (when Nana was 16), had pleurisy, had pneumonia four times, took care of her husband (my Grandad) when he was dying from lung cancer, raised three children of her own, a score of foster kids, and me.

Then without warning, when she was 71, and I was 17, I saw her die suddenly. One minute she was talking to me, and the next she was dead.

That was 20 years ago tonight (at about 9.02pm BST).



So I just want to say, in this post that has absolutely nothing to do with sewing, or with my work, if you love somebody, even if you don't always get on, talk to them. Tell them you love them. Give them a hug. spend some time together. Because it takes just one second for them to be gone forever.


And I love you Nana, and miss you forever.

My Nana and Grandad - Gertrude and George Lough

Festival of History (Kelmarsh, or Kelswamp?)

In theory I was meant to have my stall at English Heritage's Festival of History at Kelmarsh Hall this weekend just gone.

Well, I was there, and my stall was there - unfortunately most of the stuff was never unpacked from the plastic boxes I left it in after unloading our van on Friday night.

For on Friday night, at around 11.30pm or 12am, an (unforecast) rain that I can only describe as 'Biblical' hit us.  I lay awake in bed listening to it pouring, and getting heavier, and heavier, and heavier,  And just when you thought it could get no heavier, it did.

As it turned out, almost a months worth of rain fell in a few hours.  We awoke to find the ground our tent was on to be sodden, but not too bad.  Then I got a 'knock' on the tent door from Mr Griffin, letting me know that the event was off, and that if we needed any help, to give them a shout, and if I wanted to open that was fine too.

I went off to see my friends (in my re-enactment group, Conquest), to find a large fast flowing stream running through half of the camp, and several friends' tents.  Fortunately, a sort of 'Blitz spirit' pervaded the whole site, and everybody pitched in and helped everybody else.  The weather improved, meaning that the exits that were at first flooded (trapping us onsite for a while) cleared, and the site was slowly cleared - we got off home at around 4pm.    Sadly, by the time we left it was warm and sunny, and the water was draining away at a rapid pace.

From my point of view, the weekend wasn't a total washout - I got a couple of nice orders, and handed out a load of hat-related business cards in the beer tent, and wandering round the assorted streams and lakes on Saturday.

The staff onsite, both English Heritage and event staff, and the site staff from the Estate were wonderful, and couldn't do enough to help anyone having problems (we played the new game of 'towed by the tractor' three times)!  And I'm now off to find some new wellies - although waders may have been more useful in some parts of the site at the weekend.  Waterproof boots are fab - till you wade into water deeper than them to help a friend, and it pours in over the top and gets trapped - because they're waterproof... 

There was no way anybody could have predicted it - just one of those things you have to allow for when doing events outdoors!

Modern Vehicle Pennants

My most recent work - a set of five vehicle pennants (aka flags).

This was a private commission for an officer of the Grenadier Guards (of the British Army) who is currently serving in Afghanistan.

There are four smaller pennants, and one larger.  All are machine embroidered, onto linen fabric, and are triple stitched for strength.

Forgive the fact that the pictures are not the best ever - due to time constraints I had to photograph the flags on my phone (bad planning on my part - dead camera battery!).

My plan is to re-embroider the crown and the rose as a sample that I can photograph to show the detail, so watch this space!

"What have we done?"

'What have we done?' - the question repeatedly asked by Mary Portas in her Channel 4 series 'Mary's Bottom Line'.  I watched all three episodes back to back on 4OD this morning, while I was hand sewing.  And I have to confess it really got to me.

As I was sitting, in Britain, hand sewing my English wool and Irish linen with my British thread and British needle.

Not only the parts where Mary Portas was talking about her teenage years (she lost both parents, aged 16 and 18 respectively), that could be expected to choke me up (I also lost my whole family before I was 18).  But the desperation of the people in a run down area who were trying to find work, but couldn't, and the idea that they were on the scrap heap before they had begun.  One 20 year old (who as it turned out, has a natural ability with a sewing machine) whose parents never had jobs, and who had borrowed a suit from a friend for the interview, because he was determined that he wouldn't be like that, and that his young son would grow up with a father who went out to work "like a proper man".  And the woman who said that before getting the job, she'd thought she was coming to the end of her life.  At 34.

All this in an area that a few decades ago was a key centre of the British textile industry.

 Of course, the deeply stupid thing is that we - you and I - are the ones responsible.  In our insatiable demand to be able to buy more, more, more, more, instead of good quality products that last, at a reasonable price.  In our idiotic belief that 'value' and 'cheapness' are the same thing, we've killed town after town, and left people utterly desolate.

It isn't just about those people though.  It's about us.  Our economy is currently bouncing along the bottom of a valley.  We may go into recession again.  But we seem to think that it's a good idea to send the money that we earn out of our country, and into other countries.  I'm not talking about foreign aid here - that's a completely different discussion (and I believe that foreign aid proves we're part of the world) - I'm talking about the fiver you have in your pocket, the tenner in your purse.  That money could create jobs for people here, in the UK.  And those people would then have money to spend, and that would create more jobs, and so the cycle continues, and suddenly, our economy doesn't look so bad after all.

You may be asking me what on earth this has to do with a costumer, but I make clothes.  I may not work in a factory, or produce thousands of garments in a week, but I'm a textile worker.  And I'm a textile worker confronted at all turns with cheap, poor quality imports from overseas.  Even in the highly specialised area in which I work,  the stupidity that we've all displayed for the last few decades is evident.  (This is not me moaning about that, by the way - I get enough work - but I have no doubt that sooner or later there will be British craftsmen and women put out of business over the issue.)

This is before you even get into arguments about conditions in overseas factories - some of which are very good - some involve the chaining of workers to their machines 36 hours a day, and the beating and torture of children.

The programme is available to watch here for a few more days / weeks http://www.channel4.com/programmes/marys-bottom-line/4od#3302761

The knickers are sold through ASOS, Boots, Liberty, M&S, House of Fraser, John Lewis, and Selfridges, when they're in stock.  They're selling out all over the place, and being wait-listed - which I think is absolutely fantastic!  Updates are here: http://www.maryportas.com/news/2012/03/29/kinky-knickers-stock-update/



In order for the trainee machinists to hang onto their jobs, the brand needs  to sell 100,000 pairs of Kinky Knickers per year.  So I think the choice is easy - next time I need to refresh my knicker drawer, I'll be buying British, even if it costs a few quid more - at £10 per pair it's worth every penny.

Hats made for cost of materials.

Turning myself into a complete liar, after my last 'won't be around for a while' post....

Anybody who has read any of the below will know that I'm now studying for an HNC in Millinery, at Leeds College of  Art.

'Yeah, so', you may think....

Well, I feel that I need to make some more hats than I strictly have to for the course - call it practise, experience, portfolio building, whatever you want, I need to make more!  'Yeah, so', again...

Well, I'm now offering to make a certain number of hats for just the cost of the materials.  (I'm thinking three at the moment, but that may change.)  They can be modern, historical, whatever - the only thing I'll request is not what's known as "cut and sew" (i.e. not a dressmaker type sewn hat made from fabric).  That's purely because I already know how to do that, so what's to practise!?  So fur felt, wool felt, straw, sinamay, feathers, a mixture, a blocked fabric, etc, etc.   Male or female.  I'll discuss materials costs upfront, so no nasty surprises, and will provide a written costing sheet detailing them all.  And for this one-off time, I'm prepared to work completely for free, (to build my portfolio).  So anybody taking me up on the offer will pay for all the materials, but only the materials.

The hats I make will be one-offs, and unique (providing nobody were to choose a uniform hat, in which case they won't be, because such is the nature of uniforms, obviously).

So, anybody who's interested, get in touch with me at debbie@deborahloughcostumes.com, or through my facebook page http://www.facebook.com/pages/Deborah-Lough/123277781105753

If more than three people are interested, I'll draw names from a hat at the end of TORM weekend.

Debbie

PS, an extra not - if there are offcuts from the materials, it's up to the person I'm making th hat for whether they want them or not.  Only fair if they're paying!

I may not be writing that much on this blog for the next few weeks...

I'm in the manic run up to the re-enactor's market now (TORM), so will have my head down working, and trying to keep up with college work, too.

As part of the new brief I got from college last week, I've set up another blog (an experiment in the recording of and expanding on research) - I'll be writing on that, because it's homework!  You can read that here http://debbieloughmillinery.blogspot.com/


And other news is that my latest hat has now been all packed up and sent of to competition (I reallt don't think I stand a chance, because everybody else's hats were stunning.  Really stunning!

My hat has two two-tone blocked shapes (blocked then sewn together), and one fully sewn shape - all of which is wrapped round by electroluminescent wire (aka glo-wire - the same stuff that glo sticks are made from).