Total Art Soul - for artists

Last Christmas - gosh that sound so long ago; I hummed and hawed about either dragging our artificial but ever so realistic 7' tree from down the loft, to take up its usual position in the living room, pretty much blocking the bottom half of the room, OR buying a real one. A proper fir tree in all its needle splendour. The garden centre assistant somehow managed to convince me "you don't need a 'non-drop' tree, just look after it properly and it'll be fine"!  SO, we man-handled it out of the car and into the living room and attempted to place it in the special clamp/water container also purchased. Having almost creased ourselves manoeuvring said tree, crashing into the book-case and getting spiked with the needles several times, it was placed and looked fantastic. "The true smell of Christmas" commented my Husband! I dressed the tree with our 9 year old son and da-daaa! clicked on the lights. Gasps of oooh and arrrr, and hardly a needle shed. I glimpsed down at my arms and hands to see  nettle-type wealds appearing; not itchy, but vividly there.

You've got to admit though, it was worth all the faff!

Move on to January 2nd 2011 .  .  .

As we were taking off the decorations and most of the lights; it became very evident that despite constantly topping up with water, the tree had really started to droop and had shed needles in abundance! I could not take off the remaining lights - so helpful husband took over. We figured that the only way to take the tree out of the house would be to exit via the patio doors, a mere couple of step away. At this point there was still water in the base of the stand - not for a lot longer however. As it was being dragged unceremoniously through the door, all the water escaped, the voile curtain track got pulled down and the needles took over the whole of the bottom end of the living room .  .  .

As you can see, it was a shambles. Me to husband "you have every permission to say I told you so, even though you didn't"  and hysterical laughter ensued as I tried to work out how the hell I was going to clear up!

Here is the first hoover full of needles -

The tree has left the building

Note to self, drag the artificial tree down the loft next year Kath ! !

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Somewhat late into Autumn now, but a reminder of this beautiful season in a couple of verses. My favourite time of year; especially glorious this year.

See some fantastic pictures here

Bleary-eyed blueness nudges through;

Teases away October haze.

Gently dries sparkles of dew,

Pin-points spun-webs' silken maze.

Replaces fog duveting the land,

Reluctant to let it go, as if disturbed

In sleep, to let it yield.

Trees, shiver down their leaves;

Tumbling acrobats, from hued display

In colours magical, they weave;

Cascading from each trembling branch:

Their welcome now outstayed;

And rest in littered earthy mass:

No memory now of where they played.

 

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Listen here to:     Three Little Maids from School

When I was a little girl, me and my sister loved to sing this well known version of 'Three Little Maids', with our Grandma. She used to know it off by heart and put in all the actions.

A while ago now, I thought that it might be fun to alter the lyrics to fit with my ever approaching middle age! This well known piece from the operetta The Mikado, just seemed to fit perfectly with 3 grumpy old women!

It goes something like this - and does actually fit pretty well . . .

 

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Three grumpy old wom-en are we

Mis-rable as we can be

Filled to the brim with H-R-T

H--R--T!

Everything's an effort it's true,

Can't touch my toes, how 'bout you?

I never could -

So, tell me what's new!

Grumpy old women are we.

Chorus:

Grumpy old women,

Moods all vary.

Poor old hubbie's very wary.

All of our hormones

In a quan-drary!

Grumpy old women are we,

Grumpy old women are we!

v2

Nothing worth watching on TV

Same old junk so why should we

Even pay our licence fee!

Grumpy old women are we.

v3

Went to my G.P. the other day.

Same old problem! What did he say?

Keep taking the tablets and

Go away!

Grumpy old women are we.

Grumpy old women

Not so sprightly.

Grumpy old women don;t DO politely!

And a hot flush soaks thru' your nightie!

Grumpy old women are we!

Grumpy old women - are we!

 

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