Christmas Ted

This is one of my favourite teds. He's very old, and - as you can see - a bit fragile, but immensely loveable.

He does feel the cold a bit, however, hence the blanket and the woolly scarf. Got to look after our venerable old bears ...

Christmas Trees

I have to have a real Christmas tree. I'm certain it's because my dear, late, Polish dad wouldn't have an artificial tree in the house. I would rather have a few pine boughs in a vase than a plastic tree. My husband, on the other hand, isn't particularly bothered, though he is willing to trail around after me while I look for exactly the right tree. Preferably one that doesn't cost a small fortune. This year, we visited Homebase and B & Q before finally finding what we were after in Dobbie's. The thing that irritated me about the first two stores was that almost all their trees were in nets already, and there was absolutely nobody about who could be asked to unwrap them, so that I could look at them. Call me old fashioned, but I'm not going to spend £20 - £25 without having a good look at what I'm buying. I've since compared notes with a friend from the North of England, and she has had the same problem. The stores are getting lazy. In Dobbie's on the other hand - where the trees were no more expensive - there were two obliging young people on hand, to show off the trees, net them up, and make sure you had help loading them into your car. Good for them.

Alan had been insisting that we needed a narrower tree this year. He has a point. At various times over the holiday season, we have a number of visitors and the tree is in danger of being knocked over in the rush. But the one he confessed he would have brought home himself looked as if it had been put through a shredder. I told him that if he had come home with it, I would have cried. What we eventually bought is something called a Lodge Pole Pine - an elegant, umbrella shaped tree. I confess to a few misgivings of the ecological variety, but then I'm aware that even these trees need to be thinned out! It is a truly beautiful Christmas tree and now that it is trimmed, I'm even happier. Oh and it smells lovely too.

Laundering your linens for Christmas

- or - perhaps more to the point -laundering your linens after Christmas, when somebody has spilled a glass or a bottle of red wine, or when your lovely damask tablecloth is a warzone of turkey fat, squashed sprouts and Christmas pudding stains.
Actually, the old linen damask cloths can be very forgiving, as I've found over the years. It's possible to persuade even fifty year old stains to fade. I favour a UK product called Vanish. For most immediate marks, you can simply add some to your wash, and launder in the usual way - though for linens, I've also found that a hot, but not boiling, cotton wash is best. A boil wash is supposedly possible, but I've always found it a bit too harsh and it will result in creases that are very hard to get out.
There are other versions of the same product on the market which will allow you to target localised stains - you spray on, and then leave for a little while before washing. For the worst cases, I soak in a solution of the same product, and change the water occasionally, before washing in the machine in the usual way. The trick is to make sure that the tablecloths are well rinsed - which a machine will probably take care of for you! And handle them very carefully when they are wet.
I don't starch the cloths for storage - the starch goes a bit sour, and doesn't seem to do the cloths a lot of good - but for special occasions, I will use a spray starch as I'm ironing.
Frost is good for whitening these old linens, as is sunshine. Outdoor air - if you can peg them outside in the old fashioned way - will freshen them. And I'm told that, in big houses, the damask banqueting cloths were stored wound around broom handles, so that they wouldn't be creased.
Anything more delicate - of course - has to be handled with extreme care. When in doubt, please do ask the experts. If you decide that you must launder old lacy cloths (and the dust and dirt can be very damaging) then please don't wring them, or use chemicals. Use a dedicated soap solution of some sort, and rinse them with warm water from a shower head. Gently, gently. Dry flat between soft towels, press (gently again!) on the wrong side, preferably with some kind of cotton cloth on top - and store away from sunlight in acid free tissue paper. I wash almost everything, because I have a great many textiles through my hands, and many of them are, literally, filthy with age and dust. But I have had one or two disasters. Very few though. Handle everything with care, think before you act, remember that old dyes are probably not colourfast and will most likely run - and watch out for candlewax! You can press most of it off with a hot iron, with blotting paper underneath, but it will still leave marks. Best to sit your candles on a Christmas plate or tray of some sort!

New Christmas Picture - Glasgow in the Forties.

Our Christmas Card for this year is called 'Hope' - and it's a scene from Glasgow, in the immediate post war period. I love the picture - the original is in acrylics, on canvas board - and think that this new, complex, vibrant and yet intimate style is Alan's best yet. There's nothing sentimental about this, and yet it is at once nostalgic, heart warming and moving.

A Gorgeous Madeira Tablecloth

This is one of the nicest old Madeira tablecloths I have ever seen - and certainly one of the largest. It has scalloped edges, and the most fabulous Madeira needlework and embroidery all over - including these amazingly detailed 'cornucopia' panels in all four corners, and lots of dense floral cutwork, as well as many 'bridges'. It must have taken weeks, if not months, to complete. There is also the most beautiful colour variation in the embroidery, random, but obviously intentional, from brown to cream. The work is almost as beautiful on the reverse as it is on the top side. Although it is very old - it came in an auction lot of extremely good (and expensive!) antique linens, which had obviously come from a special collection - it is in superb condition. It was, I think, professionally laundered, many many years ago, and then put away as the precious item it undoubtedly was and still is. Sometimes a piece of linen comes along that has been so beautifully laundered, that you can't bear to wash it again, even though you suspect it might be a bit dusty. It's almost impossible to get this kind of finish with domestic equipment! Given its age, it actually smells quite fresh. Can't imagine anyone serving food on this, though! But what a statement it would make, on a large dining table.

A Pipe, A Dream and an Ice Cream

Just added another gorgeous new picture by Alan to our online gallery - A Pipe, A Dream and an Ice Cream. I'm particularly fond of this one and wouldn't mind living with it forever, but on the other hand, I rather hope it sells instantly - we could do with the money! I've added a detail since the 'dream' in the photograph isn't too clear - the little boy is actually looking at a distant yacht, sailing on the horizon. Don't know quite why I like this one so much - perhaps because it's such a lovely illustration of that magical relationship between grandparents and a grandchild, perhaps because the people are so pleasantly plump. And perhaps because the sea is so evocative of those occasional West of Scotland days when things are calm and dreamy and the light is so beautiful. Whatever the reason, I think this is one of Alan's nicest pictures so far.

A 1950s Arrow 'Supermarket' Doll

I know all about the doll on the left because she was mine. Once upon a time, I thought she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, but sadly, I was never really a 'doll' person. Teddies - now they're a different matter, and I would never ever sell my lovely old Teddy Tubby and Teddy Robinson. They are two of my most precious possessions. I've added to the collection over the years and will blog about them in future! But although I was very fond of this doll, I didn't love her with the same intensity. And I'm currently selling her on eBay, in an effort to find her a better home. She is interesting though - an 'Arrow' supermarket doll from the late 1950s - and I suspect she may even predate Barbie by a year or so, but she is certainly a similar type. These 'supermarket' dolls were inexpensive, well made dolls which, in the USA, could be purchased in supermarkets. She has a little lozenge shape with an arrow on the back of her neck, and the number 15. I'm not sure how my parents acquired her in Leeds, which was where we were living at the time, because she arrived from Santa one Christmas in the late 1950s when I was a little girl. And I can't now remember what clothes she wore, because they disappeared many years ago, but I do remember that I christened her Rose.

She has a hard plastic body and a soft plastic head. She is very tall indeed and she has rooted blonde hair, blue eyes with black lashes, a very curvy figure with an impossibly slender waist and long long legs, with feet designed to wear high heeled shoes. She has both finger and toenails painted, and even has eyeliner on her big blue eyes. She is articulated at the waist which swivels but not at the knees, so she can only sit down with her legs stretched out in front.

When I rediscovered her, she had been stored away in a tea-chest and - sadly - a mouse had nibbled her little nose. He must have found her unpalatable, because the damage is only small! I also cut her fringe - probably thinking it might grow back. (All little girls do this at some time or another with their dolls!) It would be nice to see her dressed again in appropriate 1950s/early 60s clothing, and I've thought about it over the years, but have never managed to clothe her, mainly because - although I love textiles and vintage clothes, sell them and write about them - I'm not a particularly good seamstress. So, regretfully, I'm looking for a new home for her, and am currently listing her in my eBay store. Where else would you find a doll with full provenance - and one owned by a real life writer, at that!

Hidden Treasures

Happiness is an unsuspected paisley shawl. And it's not just a good line for a poem either! Let me explain.

Last week, I bought a couple of boxes of old linen at auction. Even after so many years of buying things at auction, there is still nothing quite so thrilling as sorting through a big box and wondering what you are going to find there. Of course on viewing day - if you're wise - you have a good rummage, but sometimes the boxes are big, and stuffed with items, some of them in less than clean condition - marked with teastains or even mould, because people have a habit of putting things away while they are not especially clean, or even still damp from a cursory wash - and then forgetting about them for the next fifty years. Part of our job, as dealers in old textiles, is the careful laundering of precious items. Or knowing when not to launder at all, but to freshen up a little and leave things as they are, for the experts to deal with if they wish. If I were a better seamstress, I might do repairs, but I'm not and I don't - again, I leave that to the experts.

Last week, I staggered home with just such a box of not-very-fresh old linen, and had the extreme pleasure of sorting through it and finding a number of interesting pieces. But somewhere in the middle of the carton was one of those re-sealable plastic bags that people use for storing woollies, and in it was what looked like one of those coarse 'dust sheets' that DIY stores sell for home decorating. Now when I'm sorting through a box of old linen, like this, I have a 'charity shop' bag ready and into it I put all the smaller bits and pieces which are in reasonable condition, but which I don't want to either sell or to keep. I lifted this plastic bag and thought 'hmm, charity shop'. I hadn't opened it in the saleroom, because it was very firmly fastened, and I already knew I wanted to bid on the box. But a wee voice whispered in my ear 'don't be daft, open it and see what it is!'

Which was just as well, because when I unzipped the plastic, and unfolded the linen cloth inside, what emerged, like a butterfly from a chrysalis, was a vibrant printed paisley shawl - silk gauze, summer weight, light as a feather and stunningly beautiful! At some time, a few years ago, somebody had very carefully stored it away - but what she hadn't done was label the bag. So when - presumably - her house had been cleared (and it's a sad task for relatives, I know - I've done it myself) nobody had realised what was lurking beneath the plastic. How could they? It had simply been lumped in with all the other linens. What makes me shudder is that this gorgeous 150 year old textile might have finished up in a skip. It's safe now, and it will eventually go to somebody who will love it as much as I do. But it's an object lesson in not getting complacent - when you are buying at auction you quite literally never know what might be lurking at the bottom of the box!

Millport, Bicycles and Art at the Garrison

Just back from a weekend spent at Millport, on the Isle of Cumbrae where Alan was demonstrating painting in the newly refurbished Garrison. We were staying with our old friends the Mapes - of bicycle rental fame. Over the years, it seemed impossible to visit this lovely little Clyde island without hiring a bike and cycling round - always from Mapes of Millport. They had the toy and joke shop too - and it was always a favourite with the kids who visited - still is, I'm sure. The business is now run by Frank and Anne's son. When our son was little, we generally found ourselves doing this on the last day of the summer holidays - ice creams, fish and chips, the crocodile rock and a long but mercifully flat cycle ride ten miles round the perimeter of the island. It was a special treat and now, visits to the island are imbued with a kind of nostalgia that has, I'm sure, a lot to do with those long, lost and lovely summers. I was never glad to see the end of the summer holidays - they always came much too soon for me! And I can never hear Abba's wonderful 'Slipping Through My Fingers'

What happened to those wonderful adventures

The places I had planned for us to go

Well some of that we did but most we didn't

And why, I just don't know

without thinking of Cumbrae - which was, at least, one of the things we did.

Alan had a good weekend too - considering that on sunday the weather was as appalling as a wild day in December - and consequently visitors were few and far between - the people who did make it to the Garrison were certainly appreciative of his slightly strange, vividly naive works of art - lots of praise, which is certainly welcome, especially when the reception from the art establishment is sometimes less than congratulatory.

Vintage Fashion: a Touch of Deja Vu

Not quite Scottish this - but certainly relevant to all things vintage! I was clearing out some old papers the other day and came across a wonderful (and pristine) issue of Honey and Vanity Fair magazine from 1972. It makes fascinating reading, not least for how similar media obsessions are then, and now. ('For lovelier nails, smooth away ugly cuticles.' 'We don't promise any overnight miracle cures for spots and pimples.' 'Soften yourself all over with baby oil' ...)

Even more interesting to me, though - since I'm pretty obsessive myself, where vintage fashion is concerned - is the undoubted fact that you could take just about all the clothes and (if you were young enough!) wear them without anyone batting an eyelid. This row of coloured tights and shoes for instance. Did I topple off shoes like that? Well I'm pretty sure I did. But do they look particularly dated? Don't think so. As for the coats, the wonderful 'coats Garbo would be proud to wear' - I'd be quite happy to find them in my wardrobe even now.

Actually, I've got two even older pieces in my wardrobe and I do wear them quite often. One is a Dereta tweed coat from the sixties which would have looked impossibly middle aged to me back then, when I was a girl, but now just looks stylish and slightly quirky. The other - also from the sixties - is my favourite: a beautifully cut, pale, pure wool coat with a curly lamb collar. It looks exactly like something Samantha would wear in those later episodes of Bewitched. It fascinates me to watch how the fashions change through the episodes of that series - since it spans that time during the sixties when everything, including fashion, underwent such profound changes. I paid about £10.00 for it in a charity shop and whenever I wear it people ask me where I managed to find it.

The other thing that interests me about this old issue of Honey is the amount of text it contains. There are wonderful images, for sure, but there is also a great deal of reading in it: blocks of text that editors of magazines aimed at young women - which Honey undoubtedly was - would almost certainly shun nowadays, on the grounds that their readers couldn't cope with it. And perhaps they couldn't. There are two decent pieces of fiction as well - a short story and a serial. It is, though, the ephemeral things that take you back with heartrending clarity: the ads for everything from Christy's lanolin facepacks to Mary Quant astringent. Nostalgia, thy name is surely advertising!

Drumlanrig

Wonderful visit to Drumlanrig Castle in Dumfries and Galloway a few days ago. Hard to say which was more beautiful - the house or the gardens. The house is open only during the summer although I believe tours can be arranged at other times. The house is full of unexpected delights - like the ancient leather wallcovering, and the needlework said to have been done by Mary Queen of Scots. Mind you - if all the pieces of needlework said to have been done by the unfortunate Queen of Scots were to be laid end to end, they would stretch a considerable distance! - however, this one is fabulously authentic and the castle is a likely enough home for it, with all the family's royal associations.

Drumlanrig is also full of fine artworks, the most renowned of which is probably Rembrandt's 'Old Woman Reading' which is well displayed and lit. You can see it here. According to the guide, opinion divides as to whether she looks faintly sinister or marvellously restful. I'm of the latter opinion - there is something soothing and reassuring about this old lady, so absorbed in her book - a picture that you want to stand and gaze at for a very long time. One other thing that struck me: it was so lovely to see this picture in a domestic setting, however grand! It was a reminder that such artworks were not, in the main, intended to be hung in galleries, surrounded by other pictures, and certainly not surrounded by labels telling us what we ought to think about them. The castle tour was excellent value for money - the gardens were beautiful, so were the little craft and food shops in the courtyard, there were plenty of picnic tables (but if you're taking a picnic, do buy your fresh sausage rolls in the food shop at the castle!) and as a bonus, the cycle museum was unexpectedly enthralling - who would have thought that bicycles could be so fascinating?

Expanding the Scottish Home

For some time now I've been writing two blogs: Wordarts is all about the business of writing and The Scottish Home is loosely linked with my online store of the same name, mainly dealing in the antique textiles I love, but also with other items including artworks and antiquarian books, many of them with a Scottish or Irish provenance. I've also been making the occasional contribution to a fascinating magazine blog about video games: passion4games .

Over the past few months, however, it has become clear that I'm spreading myself much too thinly and the result is - inevitably - that I'm not doing anything very well. And that includes blogging! Perhaps even more importantly, I find that I'm spending far too much time writing about writing, and not half enough time doing the actual creating - and that's not good for somebody who, first and foremost, likes to think of herself as a writer of fiction.

I've spent a few days taking stock, making notes but above all thinking. And the results of all that thinking are that I'm planning to cut down, consolidate and organise my time better.

I'll be taking a break from Wordarts for a little while, although I'll still be making the occasional contribution to passion4games, because that whole area of video game development, with all its implications for creativity, interests me enormously.

For roughly half the week, I'll be working on The Scottish Home, expanding my antiques business in various new directions. I have a few fledgling plans for sourcing interior design statement pieces, and tackling the newly fashionable idea of 'upcycling' - i.e. recycling with style. The freelance life being what it is, we've been doing that in this particular Scottish home for years!

This blog will be expanded to reflect these new interests, although most of my posts will retain a very definite sense of Scotland. I don't write much about Golf and Whisky (neither of which I have any aversion to, especially not a good island malt!) but I also think there is more to Scotland than those two attractions. And more to textiles than tartan. And more even to tartan than you might believe!

When I'm not working in, for and with the Scottish Home, for the other half of the week, I'll be finishing a new collection of short stories and writing a new piece of historical fiction. Not all my creative writing is set in Scotland of course, but even when it isn't, I often find that artefacts, things which people have possessed and loved, things which people have perhaps even made or embellished themselves, can play an important part in the stories I tell. I find myself weaving them in, just as fascinating designs can be woven into - or printed on - the old paisley shawls that are another of my passions!

Logan Gardens

We drove south yesterday, to visit Logan Gardens in Galloway. This smallish botanical garden is one of my favourite places, full of plants which - almost anywhere else in the UK - would have to be grown under glass, but which flourish here in this wonderfully warm corner of Scotland. True to form - although the weather forecast was fairly horrible, and we set off in wind and driving rain - by the time we had reached Cairnryan, the skies had lightened. Stranraer was sunny and the gardens themselves were basking in warmth under blue skies. It stayed like that for the rest of the day. Logan Gardens are small enough to be accessible, but varied enough to be fascinating. For me though, it is the trees, the Eucalyptus that flourish here, that are a marvel. I could revisit them again and again - and probably will.

Tissue Issues

Interesting observation today, about how easily business is lost. Because I post vintage linens all the time, I try to wrap them in good quality acid free tissue paper. For some years now, I have been buying my packs of tissue online from Lakeland. At the same time, I would always find myself buying 'something else' - usually a treat for me: good quality vanilla essence, a little box of Brodie's chocolates (the best chocolates in the world!) or a kitchen gadget.
Today, with tissue paper running low, I went to the Lakeland site to find that they no longer stock it! I've emailed them to ask why, and if they plan to reintroduce it. But meanwhile, of course, I had a look at eBay, to find somebody supplying larger quantities of what looks like excellent quality sheets of acid free tissue - at a slightly cheaper price. I've promptly ordered them. If they live up to expectations, I'll be buying from them in future. If they don't, then there are plenty of other options on the site. And of course, I doubt if I will be buying my little Lakeland 'treats' in the future, since the main reason for going to the site no longer exists, and - times are hard! Besides, I can buy lovely gadgets in my local T K Maxx for a fraction of the price.
I doubt, of course, if my defection will worry a company as big and prestigious as Lakeland. All the same - they should consider that I'll spread the word, that if you multiply me by a number of other customers, who may encounter similar problems - sooner or later, it will begin to show on their bottom line.
Customers are hard to win and extremely easy to lose. We are a fickle lot out here.

Apologies for Long Silence

The Scottish Home is back! So much has been going on in terms of work and family life for me, over the past few weeks, that blogging has been the very last thing on my mind. My propensity for writing lists spiralled out of control, and involved the creation of a Mega List, but at last I seem to be getting on top of things, before they comprehensively get on top of me! Meanwhile, over the past few weeks, I have acquired - from various sources, including the South of France, as well as here in Scotland - a great deal of truly wonderful old linen. Some of it is whitework, and some of it is gorgeous colourful embroidery. Some of these little tablecloths in Irish Linen and bright colours are so beautifully embroidered that they could almost be framed up. Yet they are hard wearing and forgiving. You can use them and wash them and they still look lovely - although bear in mind that direct sunlight will certainly fade these spectacular colours.

Some of the linen had been well cared for, some of it was quite new, but had obviously been stored away in an attic or similar for sixty or seventy years and was consequently discoloured, while some of it was in a dreadful state, with mould spots etc. When you get a piece of old linen that is so discoloured, it becomes a case of 'kill or cure' - I soaked a huge old damask for about a week in a solution of Vanish and water, changing the water occasionally, then washing it twice and hanging it outside to dry. To my surprise, even the mould spots have disappeared, leaving only a few faint marks. This is not, of course, to be tried on anything precious or delicate, and you should ALWAYS consult an expert, when in doubt. But when a piece of inexpensive table or bedlinen is so defaced that the alternative is to make it into a dustsheet, then you might as well experiment with modern stain removers, sunshine, or - in winter - frost! You might be pleasantly surprised.

Is This Any Way to Treat a Sculpture?

Some years ago, my woodcarver husband, Alan Lees, was commissioned to make a life size carving of Tam o' Shanter and Meg the Mare. It was duly installed, with great ceremony, in the Tam O' Shanter Experience in Alloway. Almost from the day it was installed, however, the staff of the shop seem to have treated it as a dreadful inconvenience. Perhaps it was put in the wrong place - that wasn't our fault. Sculptors make statues to commission and generally put them where they are told!
But it has now become one of the most beautiful and expensive display stands in the history of the world. Whenever I have set foot in the centre over the past years, it is to find the statue surrounded by what can only be described (for want of a ruder word) as miff maff. As somebody remarked of this picture, the tartan napkins are surely the ultimate insult for poor old Tam.
Not only that, but when my husband, who carved this piece over some six months of blood, sweat and tears, sets foot inside the place, he is treated as some kind of pariah, with borderline rudeness. They have never promoted the statue, never used it in any of their publicity, never asked him to come and do any maintenance on it (it needs a little refurbishment) never expressed anything but complete and utter distaste for it and for the artist who made it.
The public, on the other hand, love it. If it was used as it was intended, people should have been able to get up close to it, have photographs taken, touch it and stroke it (wood is nothing if not tactile) and generally interact with it. They have done what they can - the horse's nose has a lovely patina, as has it's big bum, which has obviously been patted a good deal. But the horrible clutter means that people seldom can get up close. We have had people coming to this house, Australians, Americans of course, literally raging about it - but of course there's nothing we can do.
Now, the old Tam o' Shanter Experience is due for demolition. There is some talk of the statue going to Prestwick Airport - which would be good. There's plenty of room for it. But it will be hard to move (it is cemented in place) and it will need a certain amount of renovation. We have deep misgivings. Nobody has contacted Alan about it for months, and we wonder just exactly what will become of it when the centre is demolished round it.

Ayrshire Fiddle Orchestra

Went to a concert by the Ayrshire Fiddle Orchestra, in our village hall last night. In one sense it was a typical village event of the kind that we don't seem to have half enough of these days. When I first moved here in 1980, the whole village year was punctuated by one get together or another - the bonfire, the Christmas craft fair, the daffodil tea, the wine tasting, the gala day, the Minister's garden party... Far too many of them have fallen victim to health and safety regulations, or lack of interest or both. But last night was different. The village hall was full of familiar faces. There was a brilliant concert by a lovely group of talented young people, there was a raffle, and then tea and home baking at the end. It was a real pleasure, it was a genuine rural get-together and it doesn't happen often enough these days. We are well aware that our local council would like any possible excuse to close our village hall, but it is one of the few resources left to us. And the fact that last night it was full to capacity only goes to prove the truth of the 'if you build it they will come' maxim. Lay on some good entertainment, publicise it properly, spread the word, provide a pleasant evening out, reasonably close to home - and a surprising number of people will tear themselves away from the television, come out - and socialise.

Burns on the Solway in the Scottish Review

I've just written a piece for the Scottish Review about Brow Well on the Solway, which probably counts as one of the least known places with which Robert Burns was associated. This isn't surprising, since he spent the last few weeks of his life there, desperately ill and horribly worried about his wife, who was heavily pregnant, and about the possibility of being sued for money he didn't have. As soon as he was dead, however, the great and the good of Dumfries came out to mourn him - and pestered poor Jean for pieces of manuscript, written in his own hand: disgraceful but not entirely unexpected behaviour. You can't help thinking that exactly the same kind of thing would happen nowadays.
Anyway, this part of the Solway Coast is bleakly beautiful and I find myself returning to it again and again in my writing.
Meanwhile, the same issue contains an elegantly acid piece about Swine Flu panic. If you're into Scotland, and all things Scottish, why not sign up to receive regular online issues of the magazine?

An Old Scots Mohair Blanket from Newton Stewart

I recently came across this lovely old mohair blanket or throw, made in Cree Mills, in Newton Stewart - possibly in the 1950s or 60s although it's impossible to be sure. These old Galloway woollen mills closed in 1986 having been active for most of the century. They replaced a much older cotton mill on the same site, on the banks of the River Cree. People had told me about these wonderful old textiles in the past - how soft and light and fluffy they were, how warm, how stylish. But I hadn't seen one until this turned up. It was a little stale, having been stored, so I washed it, carefully. It's huge, and utterly gorgeous and I wish - in these somewhat straitened times - that somebody would start making more of these fabulous throws and blankets in Scotland again. I use old Ayrshire blankets all winter in this house - nothing quite so cosy against the drafts. I also put a couple of beautiful sixty year old Yorkshire blankets over our couches for the winter - leather can be chilly, but old wool with subtly colourful designs, transforms them. This vibrant and cosy Scottish throw is really a winter item - but I can imagine that it would make an excellent picnic blanket or a comfortable throw on a futon, or spare bed.

Tulips

If I had to pick a favourite flower, other than roses, which kind of goes without saying, it would have to be tulips. I adore them and find the season all too brief. Earlier this year, my good friend (and ace interior designer) Brenda Kevan arrived with a huge bowl of tulips - the bulbs just sprouting. That's them, the gorgeous pink and white ones on the left, massed on one of our garden tables, with some smaller purple blooms and a mixture of scarlet parrots and pale pink tulips which I bought at Ayr Flower Show last year, and which Alan planted late in the year, when I hadn't got round to doing it and he thought I never would! They've been steadily flowering for a couple of weeks now and I find the colours - which seem to me so close to those found in old textiles - truly inspirational.