5 Tips on Placing Antiques in the Home

This week, The Scottish Home is delighted to introduce a guest post contributed by London Interior Designer Greg Kinsella. We find these tips fascinating, since it's a sad fact that too many of us impulsively buy wonderful antique or vintage items, but are then not entirely sure how best to display them in our homes!


There are certain rules of thumb you can employ for placing antiques in your home so that they exude just the right amount of charm without being pretentious or over-bearing. Here are 5 tips to help you make the most of your treasured collections:

1. Grouping

Any savvy merchandiser will tell you that placing an odd number of similar pieces of collectible antiques in a display will create the most appealing arrangement. So when arranging items on a shelf, follow this rule to draw the eye. Also you want to be sure not to group items of different genres together. In other words, it is better to have a shelf just for your glass antiques and come up with a different way to display antiques of another material or style.


2. Furniture Placement

To create a specific sense of an particular era, you can make theme placements for your antique furniture that feature a certain style in a room. For instance, if you have a collection of furnishings from a certain era, put them all in the same area and add any knick-knacks that match that time period in the same area, especially lamps and artwork.


3. Colours

When you paint the rooms containing your antiques, try to paint at least one wall the same color tone as your displays and furnishings. For pottery and earthware collections, choose a soft beige or brick red hue that will accent their natural colors If you are working with items like French provincial furniture, consider using a soft yellow or cinnamon color to highlight the decorative inlays and hardware features.


4. Mixing Vintage with Modern

Don't be shy about adding a few antique pieces to your ultra-modern rooms. The contrast between the old and the new accents your antiques and softens the stark effect which often results from the clean, modern lines of contemporary room designs.


5. Lighting

If your beautiful antique collection is not well lit, it runs the risk of not being noticed. Use embedded lights in display cases that eliminate shadows and have different watt bulbs for various items. Also consider overhead lighting fixtures or recessed ceiling spotlights to accent antique artwork or furniture groupings. A pair of vintage lamps strategically placed in your groupings can be used to add splashes of light to accent your most valued collections

More Bonnie Old Blankets

There is nothing quite like an old Scottish pure wool blanket for warmth, beauty and comfort. Most of the examples I come across here in Ayrshire are from the now defunct Skeldon Mill on the bonnie banks of the River Doon - and I've blogged about these on The Scottish Home before. But blanket weaving was widespread in Scotland and occasionally I come across other lovely examples. Just last week, I found two splendid soft woollen blankets with the label 'Lammermuir', registered in Scotland and Canada. I haven't been able to find out anything more about this presumably old blanket mill, although there is a new company - Pride of Lammermuir - in the foothills of the Lammermuir Hills, making the most beautiful traditional woven textiles.

People used to acquire these as wedding presents - some of them seem to have been put away and saved 'for best' and never used, which is a shame, since these are the most forgiving of textiles, and can usually be washed, even in a machine.

They look fabulous used as throws on a couch, or chair, or to dress a bed - or on children's beds. You have to be careful that a child with sensitive skin doesn't react to the wool, but I've found these blankets to be so soft that it's seldom a problem. Sadly, here in Scotland, these vintage blankets are so often thoughtlessly cut up for 'dog blankets' which seems like a crime to me.

In the old days, most village weavers would have woven their own blankets which were then taken to be treated at a 'waulk mill'. You can often see this term in placenames, especially in Southern Scotland, and in fact we have the remains of an old waulk mill just outside this village - and documentary evidence that the landowner, up in his big house, would sometimes have been paid rents in 'good woollen blankets'. Given the nature of our winters, they would have been very welcome indeed!

Lovely Old Buttons, Lovely Old Box

A little while ago, I found this lovely box of linen covered buttons, among various old linens at auction.

I just love the name of these - 'The Iris Box of Superior Buttons, containing an assortment of the most useful sizes.' These must be Victorian or Edwardian - the kind of buttons that you often find on the back of pillowcases, or sometimes on old nighties. There's something incredibly engaging about the design of these surviving items of packaging - they sometimes seem to retain a flavour of the period more than the items themselves - perhaps because it is so rare to find them in good condition!

Ardkinglas Gardens

To reach this wonderful hillside garden you have to negotiate the famous (or should that be infamous) Rest And Be Thankful. The entrance is well signposted, just before you round the head of Loch Fyne - where you can visit the famous Oyster Bar, if you want to sample some first class seafood! For those with less deep pockets, however, right next to the Oyster Bar is a little garden centre, The Tree Shop, with an excellent cafe where you can get freshly made sandwiches, home baking and a very good cup of coffee. You can also buy plants, shrubs and some rare trees, grown at Ardkinglas, on the other side of the loch. This is a hillside garden, so you need to be reasonably fit to negotiate the many steps, but the pinetum, where you can see champion trees like these, is more accessible. The formidable Scottish midges were having a field day when we went a couple of weeks ago, so be sure to bring some insect repellent. They don't actually like me, for some reason, and only bite me when nothing more succulent is available. I'm delighted about this, but it does nothing to help my companions, especially my husband, who is always mercilessly attacked. The gardens themselves are beautiful and the trees, including the tallest tree in the UK, Abies Grandis, are absolutely wonderful. There's something humbling about standing beneath one of these giants, and gazing up among the dizzying branches. These are monumental trees, trees with personality - well worth a small diversion, if you find yourself heading west from Loch Lomond.

A Rare Old Scots Lowland Plaid

I've only ever come across one of these before - most of them have been so well used that they don't survive or are cut up for dog blankets - but I sourced this here in Ayrshire, which seems fitting, since it's exactly the kind of thing poet Robert Burns might have worn. It actually looks rather as though he DID wear it, as well, since it has so many holes, and has been darned so often over the years! It is a traditional hand woven woollen, lowland Scots plaid, in cream and black check - very large indeed at 42 inches by 120 inches. It's what Burns meant when he spoke of rolling a lassie 'in his plaidie' and seemingly Jean Armour noticed him because he wore his plaid differently from the other lads, as well as tying his hair in a fashionable way - a stylish young man, our Rab!

Often, when I'm handling an old textile, I find myself really wishing that they could talk. Well, they do talk, in a way. Each piece has its own story and it's possible to do your research, and to find out something about that history. Also, wearing my other hat, as a writer, I always find myself imagining what the tale of each individual textile might be. But sometimes it would be very nice to know exactly what went on - who wove this, and where, who wore it, where he lived, what he looked like...

Meanwhile, another bit of news. I'm trying to persuade a friend who is a wonderful interior designer, with a real flair for these things, to do the occasional guest post on upcycling with old textiles. She has more brilliant ideas than anyone else I know, so watch this space for more possibilities.

Dragonfly

Hearing a terrible commotion in our conservatory yesterday, a sort of demented clattering noise, we went in to find a huge insect trying to find a way out. With a little patience, we managed to usher it gently towards the open door - but I must admit it was alarming because it was just so big! As my son observed, it looked about the size of a bat when it was flying about. It was a dragonfly, and large even by dragonfly standards. Once outside, it rested for a while on the wall, obviously recovering from the trauma and I managed to take a picture. We've looked it up and think that it must be a 'golden ringed' dragonfly which is the biggest British species. I have seen these before, but usually up in the hills. I'm now wondering if the larva hatched in our pond, or if it came from elsewhere in the village. Dragonflies have short, beautiful lives, and are said to be very lucky. The Japanese believe that they are harbingers of new light, and joy, while in many cultures they are said to herald prosperity! Let's hope so!

Textures and textiles.

Part of the charm of the gardens at Castle Kennedy lies in the succession of viewpoints - like the one on the left. There really is nothing quite like the light in the West of Scotland, and perhaps this is especially true in spring-time and early summer. There's a stillness and clarity about the days that I've seen nowhere else (unless like today, of course, when it has been raining all day!) and that in turn seems to emphasise the rich textures and colours of this landscape. I often think there must be some kind of correspondence between my love of old textiles, my interest in the old gardens, and the colours and textures of the Scottish countryside - and my desire to write about all of these in some form or other. They DO come together quite often, mostly in my fiction, I suppose. I still don't write very much poetry these days, although I did return to it for a brief spell - but it isn't where I'm most comfortable. If I could choose what to do with my time, I think I would spend most of my days writing novels, and short stories, with the occasional play, just to keep me on my toes! But I know that textiles and textures will always inspire me, whatever I write, fiction or fact.

Castle Kennedy

This time last weekend, we were coming home from a spectacularly wonderful day spent at Castle Kennedy, not far from Stranraer. I don't know why we haven't visited these gardens before, but I can recommend them. And - fortuitously - we arrived at precisely the right time of year, since the rhodies and azaleas were at their very best.

There is something soothing about this garden that is immensely appealing - perhaps it's the fact that every vista is so beautiful, and perhaps that the pathways are all of soft grass, which makes the walking very easy. All I can say is that it was one of the best days out I have had for some time - and I want to go back again as soon as possible. Not only that, but they were having a plant sale too - irresistible!

Old Irish Crochet Lace in Silk

This is another amazing find from the bottom of a box of very old and beautiful linen and lace but at first I didn't recognise it for what it is! Most of the Irish Crochet Lace which I have come across until now has been made in very fine cotton - but this seemed quite different, flimsy and silky. I soon realised that it was made in ultra fine silk thread - which probably indicates that it is older than usual - an Irish Crochet collar, made, with wonderful skill, in imitation of Italian Gros Point needlelace. But crochet it is - and there are shamrocks and roses among the flowers, which are so characteristic of this lovely old form of Irish lace. This looks as though it may have sat on top of a dress - it could be worn either way, with the point at the front or the back. It may well be Victorian. I think I'd be inclined to frame it up and simply admire it!

Dressmaking Samplers

I found these pieces of textile, carefully wrapped up in a small paper bag at the bottom of a box full of absolutely wonderful old linen and lace. And just at first, I wondered what on earth they could be! Because I had never seen anything like them before. They looked, at first glance, like parts of a garment, because they had buttonholes, buttons, pintucks, frills and darts. But when you looked more closely, you couldn't imagine what on earth that garment might be. One of them had a date - 1894 - embroidered on it in tiny red cross stitches, with sets of initials. One was in fine cotton, and one in flannel, with the work in blue thread. Every little piece of needlework was slightly different, and all of it very skilled. And then it struck me - these must be samplers of dressmaking - i.e. useful - needlework! I suppose the children of those who were reasonably well off might do conventional embroidered samplers, while the children of those who would be expected to make their living as seamstresses, might produce these 'useful needlework' samplers, so that they would know how to make garments of all kinds. Isn't that interesting? I find these pieces incredibly moving - I've never come across anything like them before and I'm amazed by how difficult it has been to find references to anything similar online. I wonder if they may have been made in so called industrial schools? Certainly, somebody took the immense trouble to keep them safe for over 100 years. So they deserve to be appreciated, and perhaps added to a collection of samplers.

My Gorgeous Chinese Five Clawed Dragon

I've blogged before about the enchantment of buying boxes of old textiles at auction, and then bringing them home to find out exactly what I've got. I spend plenty of time looking through these boxes on viewing day, especially when I think the price might be high, so I have to judge how much I want to spend without indulging in 'auction fever'. But every now and then, I bring something home and realise that - not only have I got a lovely collection - but I've come across something that I really want to keep. This happened to me yesterday, with what, at first glance, seemed like a nice but not especially unusual collection of old linen, lace and embroidery. I bid on it, bought it, and carried it home. Last night, I sat down to sort through it. It soon became clear that there were some wonderfully fine linens, smooth and cool - this old bleached Irish linen can feel like silk - with embroidery, cutwork and fine crochet edging. There was a little linen bag full of lace, including a piece of something so miraculously fine that I've never come across it before, but suspect it may be Alencon lace from France. There were a couple of unusual 'samplers' not the usual cross-stitch affairs, but late nineteenth century dressmaking samplers, presumably to teach young girls useful skills, like darts, buttonholes, frills, seams, cuffs etc.

And there was the dragon.

Isn't he gorgeous?

He is, I believe, a Chinese, Five Clawed Dragon, immensely lucky and - in spite of his fierce appearance - a Very Good Thing. He is in three dimensional, padded, couched, metal thread embroidery on red silk - a bit worn and damaged in places - with another two dragons above the main man.

I believe this was a Taoist altar frontal, but if anyone knows better, please do let me know. I adore Chinese and Japanese embroideries, but I have to say that they are not my speciality. I would really love to be able to make them my speciality, to research them and to find out much much more about them! Meanwhile, I think I'm going to have to keep my lovely dragon for the moment. I'll sell everything else in the box and see if I can afford him. But he needs a little restoration and preservation, so we'll just have to see.

Time Shift - Irish Crochet and Bel Broid Lingerie

Occasionally, as I've said before on this blog, I come across fascinating things in the bottom of boxes of old linen bought at auction. A couple of weeks ago, I unearthed another of these objects which open a whole world of other interesting references, material for yet more novels and short stories (which I can't find enough time to write although I'm working on it!)
This one is a delicate antique nightie, which I think dates from before the 1920s. My first thought was that it might be French, but it has pretty and undeniably Irish crochet inserts on the bodice and on the little sleeves. It is in some ultra fine, soft, light white material which I think may be old fashioned 'cambric' - a simple, long garment, with the most beautiful whitework embroidery. I can't remember when I last saw such a pretty piece of lingerie. There is a tiny blue label sewn in at the bottom hem, which reads 'Bel Broid Lingerie' and this gave me the clue I needed to find its origin. I found the following on a genealogy site:

Rose Gallagher was born about 1877. She died on 24 March 1941. She is buried at Monaghan, Ireland. Rose and her husband Charles had a factory "The Bel-broid" located in Mill Street, Monaghan, which manufactured hand embroidered linens and lingerie. They operated two embroidery factories, one in Monaghan and one just across the border in Northern Ireland.

So this infinitely stylish garment, which had been stored away in some Scottish linen cupboard for heaven knows how many years, originated in a small factory in Monaghan, in Ireland. The writer and historian in me immediately wanted to know more, much more. But that's one piece of research that will have to be filed away for a little while, since I have so much other writing on hand at the moment, including revising about 120,000 words of fiction before the end of April. But all the same, I may go back to this one. Who was Rose Gallagher? Why did she open the factory, and who were the women who worked there? I'd love to know more. So if anyone out there does know more, perhaps they could let me know, via this blog!

Gorgous Embroidered Tablecloths for Spring

I must confess to having a really soft spot for those gorgeous little embroidered tablecloths that so many women seemed to make back in the 1940s and 50s. My dear late mum was one of them, and I still have several of them, beautifully embroidered by her like a little link to my own past. I also have piles of her old Stitchcraft magazines, and browsing through them from time to time, I'm a child again, back at home, with my mum, trying to decide on her next project. Even thinking about it gives me a strange combination of pleasure and sadness! All of which means that when I find a box of beautifully embroidered old linen at auction, as I did last week, I'm disproportionately ecstatic. People who don't have the same passion can never quite understand it, but even my husband, who mostly irons this stuff, was moved to say 'hey - these are so beautifully embroidered. I couldn't tell the front from the back!'
There's an example here, with flowers and butterflies embroidered on linen - all the flowers of late spring and summer in Scotland, honeysuckle, wild roses and many others - exquisite.
I believe, as well, that these little cloths are bang on trend if the country lifestyle magazines are to be believed here in the UK. Sophie Dahl, who begins a new cookery series, on UK television this week, has a fondness for embroidered tablecloths and I can think of nothing nicer, to celebrate Easter, than a proper teatime spread, with cupcakes, dainty sandwiches, and real tea served in china cups - all on these prettily embroidered tablecloths. OK, so we're 'playing at the fifties' a bit! But it's a harmless pleasure, so why not?

An Antique Scottish Sampler

Found a lovely and obviously very old Scottish sampler at auction the other day. From the format, I would judge that it was made in the early 1800s, and by a very young girl at that. There is, sadly, no date on this one, but close examination reveals the name Mary Young, of Ayr and there are also other initials, perhaps her parents and siblings. There is a flowering tree, in the typically Scots 'strawberry' pattern and a number of birds including robins, as well as some small, but rather stately looking homes. The whole thing is faded but charming and when you think that this is a piece of needlework which may have survived for almost 200 years, and perhaps dates from a time when this cottage where we are living was actually under construction - well, it becomes all the more marvellous. Part of the reason why I love textiles so much - such an intimate connection with the past!

Introducing the Sewing Box Toys

Once upon a time, there was a family of toys. They were very very old and a bit grubby and more than a little the worse for wear, which was strange, because they had been living in a sewing box together, quite happily, for many years. But nobody had thought to stitch them, or help them in any way.

There was a big ted with a flat face, a smiley mouth and only one eye. There was a little ted with googly eyes, and black ears. There was a very very small ted with no eyes. There was a fluffy rabbit, with a green ribbon round his neck. And there was the penguin.

What were their names? I'm not sure yet.

Wait for the next thrilling installment to find out!

A Very Strange Printed Linen Textile

I came across this very strange and lovely textile at auction the other day - and, of course, came home with it afterwards. I'm currently listing it in my eBay shop, here. At first glance I thought it was Chinese, then, looking more closely, I saw that the figures and motifs were all Mediaeval European, with a slightly Scandinavian, Arts and Crafts feel. And then - examining it even more closely - I went back to my original opinion that this might well be an old Chinese textile, but made for the European market. It is quite narrow, about 37 inches wide, obviously handwoven, heavy linen. I can think of a dozen or more uses for it - it is so lovely - and there is quite a lot of it, between three and four metres, so it could be used to cover chairs, or as a small curtain or even - my favourite - as a feature wall hanging. The colours look as if they are natural vegetable dyes, so they have a wonderful subtlety. The scenes are charming. The man in the close-up, with his cauldron, looks rather as though he is holding a handbag in his left hand, but I don't suppose that's what was intended! It never fails to surprise and enchant me that - no matter how long I spend looking at various textiles - I so often come across something I have never ever seen before and can't quite identify.

Queen Victoria, In Memoriam

I often buy things at auction, usually lots of linen, from house clearances. These can be quite expensive, especially when the boxes contain lovely old lace and pretty tablecloths. These boxes are brought home, and sorted out. It can be tremendously exciting, searching through these heaps of textiles properly, wondering what might lie buried at the bottom. Usually it's yet another tablecloth or pillowcase or a heap of tiny tablemats.

Just occasionally though, you find something fascinating - and this happened to me last week, when I was sorting through a box of gorgeous old linen. Tucked into the bottom of the box was a circular linen envelope with the word Doyleys embroidered across it. That in itself was interesting, since we now tend to spell the word Doily - not that we use many of them on our dressing tables or cake stands these days!

But folded neatly into the linen envelope was a large cream silk handkerchief, and when I opened it out, I found that it was a memorial handkerchief for Queen Victoria. I had seen jubilee hankies, but not one that commemorated her death! It has a quote from Tennyson, who I believe was a great favourite with her - and a portrait of the Old Queen. She's not very pretty, but it is certainly a face full of character!

The Loose Change Project

So here's how it works. Large Viking-like son has finally moved out of his student flat, having hung on for an extra eighteen months in Glasgow, paying extortionate amounts of council tax and working first as a kitchen porter (the Ibrox experience was, so he tells me, indescribable, but character building)and then as a Quality Assurance Technician for the video games industry, for a super company called Absolute Quality. After that, he had a three month contract with Rockstar North, in the same QA role, and is currently working on another short QA contract, somewhere in deepest, darkest Cheshire. All of it on minimum wage or thereabouts. I miss him. I spend quite a bit of time in Glasgow on various writing projects, and I am so used to meeting up with him for the occasional cup of coffee or bite of lunch that the city seems sad without him. I particularly hate passing the Starbucks at the Charing Cross end of Sauchiehall Street where we have drunk many a latte together, tried to set the world to rights - and tried to think of of ways of making money. I'm a writer. The Viking wants to work creatively in the video games industry. Between us we have a lot of talent, but almost no cash. The Viking runs his own 'magazine' blog all about the video games industry, at http://passion4games.typepad.com and has thoughts of turning it into a business. I soldier away on Blogger, writing about writing at http://wordarts.blogspot.com - and also writing about textiles, interiors, Scottish History, here on the Scottish Home.

Anyway, when the Viking and his girlfriend finally emptied his room, in the latest flat, where he had been living for some two and a half years, and when we had found out just how many plastic boxes can be crammed into the back of a Honda Jazz (nine, plus assorted carriers and a large black adjustable office chair from PC World, if you want to know) we also found a big bag full of loose change. Whenever the Viking had found his pockets too heavy, he had emptied them. The weight of it all suggested that he had been doing this for the two and a half years he had spent in this flat, plus the year he had spent in the previous flat as well. In the event, when counted and recounted, it amounted to £26.00. And when much of it is in pennies, that's a lot of loose change.

I took it to the bank in a heap of little plastic coin bags and got it changed into notes. And I had a moment of inspiration.

As a full time writer, frankly, times are hard. It is increasingly difficult to earn anything like a living from the creative written word. So over the past few years, I have built a small online business, buying and selling antiques, mostly textiles: the Scottish and Irish textiles of all kinds that are my passion. It makes no fortunes either, but at least I have a certain amount of control over it. If I list items on eBay, they usually sell. And I know what I'm looking for, and what people love to collect.

And so, with the Viking's loose change in my pocket, I set out to find something which I could buy for £26.00 - but which I thought might make a decent profit. It's a bit like our own personal Bargain Hunt (a popular UK television programme!) The aim is going to be to buy and sell for a whole year - and to see exactly what sum of money we can turn our 'loose change' into. Meanwhile, I plan to write about it here, on the Scottish Home. I'll write about the hunt for bargains, the research, the objects we find along the way, their history and provenance - and the profits or losses we might make. It promises to be a bumpy ride. But I suspect it might also be absolutely fascinating! Stick with us, and see!

Gorgeous Old French Toile de Jouy

A couple of years ago, holidaying with inlaws in their apartment in the South of France, we were browsing around the French equivalent of a Car Boot Sale - a Vide Grenier, or 'Empty Attic' sale. It was here that I found some pieces of old fabric stuffed into a big wooden chest (or 'kist' as they are called in Scotland!) The stallholder had obviously cleared a large old house, if the contents of his stall were anything to go by. I'll post pictures of the other textile later. I rather think it's older than this one, very beautiful, a fascinating pattern. But this one is an old and rather beautiful Toile de Jouy with incredibly detailed rural scenes. There isn't a massive amount of it - although there is certainly enough to make some lovely cushion covers or perhaps a small throw. At the moment, I'm so curious about it, its age and where it came from, that I'm a bit loathe to sell it, so I keep it carefully wrapped in tissue paper, and sweetened with lavender, while I try to find out a bit more about it. If you recognise it, do let me know.

Old Scottish Blankets from Skeldon Mills, Ayrshire

I can't remember when I came across my first Skeldon blanket, here in Ayrshire, but I have been collecting them, dealing in them, and sometimes just using them myself, ever since. Frankly, throughout this cold winter, they have been and continue to be an absolute godsend! I source them in a variety of places, including charity shops, antique markets, boot sales and - recently - at auction, where I found myself paying rather too much for a pair of gorgeous unused blankets, still in their original packaging. There was only one drawback which was that they had been stored among smokers, and consequently smelled strongly of kippers! I will be washing them - but that is one of the benefits of these wonderful textiles. They can be washed and they come up quite beautifully - soft, fluffy and fresh.

The old Skeldon Mills were situated down on the bonnie banks of the River Doon, close to Hollybush. We have friends who live nearby, and a pretty little cairn marks the spot where the old Skeldon Village once stood. Sadly - and although the mills and village had stood on this beautiful spot for more than 100 years, first as an oatmeal mill, and then as a woollen mill, the village was demolished by the landowner some time in the nineteen sixties. Some of the mill buildings survive, as storage space for a business, but the village itself was razed to the ground. I'm told that the doorkeys of the lost cottages are buried beneath the cairn, in a memorial garden on the site. I would like to think that something similar could not happen nowadays - but, frankly, I'm all too sure it could!

You'll find more about the history of the site here. I've been hunting for a photograph or picture of the old village - but can't find one, which is both amazing and sad! The blankets remain - although as usual with textiles, they tend to be undervalued in the place where they were once made, and I have found far too many people cutting them up for dog blankets. Much as I like dogs, Skeldon blankets are much too precious for Fido or Rover to sleep on. Even when they are a little worn, or marked, they are wonderfully warm and soft. I've given slightly damaged blankets to friends to use on boats or in caravans, since they wash so well. But the good quality survivors - and there are quite a lot of them - make fabulous throws on chairs, couches or beds. The creaminess of the wool has to be seen to be believed, and they come with a variety of lovely stripes: pink, blue, yellow or green, as well as occasional specimens that have pink and blue checks. People used to acquire them as wedding presents - but all too often seemed to store them away and never use them! Their loss is our gain.

Camphor, Smoke, Moths and other Problems

Have bought a variety of interesting, and - on the whole - very beautiful vintage blankets this week, and will soon be listing them in my eBay shop, The Scottish Home. But most of them, although new, and in their original packaging, have had to be washed, because they had obviously been stored in various houses where people smoked. Not only was the cellophane a strange yellow colour, but all these lovely, unused, albeit sixty year old, woollen blankets, stank of cigarette smoke - they were kippered! I doubt if there is anything more disappointing than coming home with some wonderful old textile, to find it saturated with the scent of somebody's old ciggies. It's fine when you're dealing with linens or woollens, which can easily be washed. And all my blankets now smell wonderful. But it's terrible when- as has occasionally happened to me in the past - you find some lovely old embroidered picture, or Cantonese silk shawl - something you can't possibly wash - and you get it home to find that it smells of smoke. Textile conservators must have a way of dealing with this, but it isn't something that you can deal with in a domestic setting.

My other intractable problem, last year, was to buy a box of old quilts and coverlets - only to discover that they were permeated with such a strong smell of camphor that they were utterly unusable. Even driving home with them in the car was a bit of an ordeal. I don't think it can have been mothballs - too strong. I suspect they had been stored in a powerful camphorwood wardrobe or chest for many years. The linens that came in the same box, had to be washed several times, at high temperatures, and then hung out on the line, before the smell disappeared. But in the box were several very pretty bedcovers, made in some early man made fibre - and they simply would not respond to washing at all. I hung them on the line, and went away for a week. It rained on them. I came back, rinsed and dried them - and the pungent smell of camphor filled the house. I figured, eventually, that with these manmade fibres, the camphor molecules had somehow bonded with the textile molecules (but, of course, I'm no chemist!) and the coverlets were doomed to smell horribly of camphor for all eternity. So I got rid of them.

I got to thinking afterwards, how these Victorian gentlemen, in their tweeds, or ladies in their fur coats and capes, which were - of course - stored in the same kind of camphorwood, to deter moths, must have gone around absolutely stinking of this somewhat toxic substance. Not at all nice, although perhaps if everyone smelled like that, nobody noticed!

Which leads me to moth deterrence. Lavender is pretty good, and I find I use a lot of it: lavender bags, dried lavender, strong lavender essential oil (which smells almost medicinal, but very nice) and sprays. Better than camphor any day!

An Old Scottish Village

Nice old image of a Scottish village from the early 1900s. The interesting thing is that this one has - in close-up anyway - rather a lot of figures in it, especially children who would probably be recognisable to their offspring. I suppose there's even a chance that some of them may still be going strong!

The Burn in the Snow

Last of the snow, I think and I don't know whether to be glad or sad. It's melting, making horrible puddles on the ice and thudding down onto the conservatory roof.

More snow is forecast for the West of Scotland, but I suspect it will be our usual wet sleety stuff. The birds seem very pleased about it all though, cavorting about the garden!
The burn that runs through the centre of the village was particularly beautiful yesterday - went out for a brisk walk in the middle of the day and took some pictures.

More snow - and an account from 1815.

Woke yesterday to a village covered in snow. This is the longest cold spell I can remember here. It is very beautiful, but causing vast problems throughout the UK. It is also hugely expensive in terms of fuel and cancelled journeys - and it has been going on for weeks now. However, while the man made global warming sceptics vie with the man made global warming enthusiasts over reasons why (and this is not the place to go into arguments for and against in any detail, nor am I qualified to do so) - there is something to be said for the historical perspective. Some years ago, an elderly lady in the village showed me a copy of the old village schoolmaster's 'Commonplace Book' which she had rescued from a bonfire. You can read about it in more detail here.


I remembered this yesterday, because when I first read it, it crossed my mind that I had never seen such weather in December, in this village - the most we normally see is the odd snow shower in January or February, which quickly melts. So here's what our 'dominie' wrote in his account of the Great Snow, in 1815.

“December 15th Stormy day, wind from the west and sleet showers in the forenoon and hail showers towards the evening making the ground gray immediately after the shower but almost melted before next shower.

16th The ground covered with snow about 4 inches deep, snow showers frequently during the day which covered the earth about 7 inches deep. I shovelled the doors twice this day. Wind NW

17th More snow during last night. I shovelled the doors a third time, also Sunday morning, the snow this day about 10 inches deep, in general the weather being always since the snow fell at first, quite calm. Some blades of snow in the evening, hard frost, wind North.

20th I rose about 9 o’clock this morning. There is a strong wind from NE with a very thick snow and drift which continued until the evening incessantly when the snow ceased but the wind continued to drift only what snow fell during the day and the preceding night as the snow that had fallen previous to that was saddened with the nature of the thaw, the hares were only beginning to look out as yet but plenty of partridges this evening is just to my mind. (Not sure what he meant by that last paragraph but I quote it verbatim!)

21st Beautiful day, keen frost, wind NE I never saw so deep a snow in general though I have seen much greater weather.

22nd Keen frost in the evening and during night, strong sound from the linn but clear sky and hard frost and wind NE.

23rd Windy with sleet and rain from the south, rained this whole day incessantly. Wind South.

Not a pleasant December then - much like last month, and I'll bet it continued into January. No central heating to temper the frosts either. This was a time when outdoor curling was a regular occurrence in South West Scotland - again, something that we haven't seen for years - but are certainly seeing now.

All of which is interesting, isn't it?

A Happy New Year!

... to all our readers, from the frozen South West of Scotland. Last night, the temperature was ten below, and - in spite of being invited to an excellent party - we elected to stay put. Alan has arthritis and couldn't negotiate the bridge over the burn which is like a mini Cresta Run and has been, since well before Christmas. No sign of a thaw either. Although the house was reasonably warm you could feel the temperature dropping and dropping. We had a splendid Hogmanay, all the same, just the two of us (the youngsters having left for Edinburgh) - warm fire, candles, drinks, and ancient variety stars on STV. This year, STV's offering was like a parody of itself - you would have thought it was all a spoof, reading the listings - but the old film clips turned out to be as enchanting as such things usually are. Music Hall lingered long in Scotland, still does in the pantomimes, and the programme recording all this was wonderfully cheesy. When we found ourselves chorusing forgotten names in unison, we realised that we were enjoying ourselves very much indeed.

Today, it's so cold that I keep expecting to see the White Witch's sleigh trundling along the village street. This is incredibly unusual here. We almost never have snow and normally, when we do, it melts very quickly. Now, it's too solid even to make a snowman and reminds me of the two years I spent working in Finland when I was a young woman. Our local council, South Ayrshire, seems to have run out of grit. At any rate, none of the side roads, even in the county town of Ayr, seem to have been gritted and people keep having accidents. I suspect they budgetted for grit in anticipation of the 'warmest winter ever' - the tabloids had been running the usual stories about primroses blooming in November - every year without fail these appear - and this year the council believed them. Or perhaps they couldn't afford to stock up on grit. Now we're stuck with the coldest snap I can remember in all my years of living here, it seems set to continue well into the New Year and there's not a thing we can do about it. Except get out the Ayrshire blankets, the whisky macs (one part whisky to two parts Crabbie's Green Ginger - it HAS to be Crabbie's) and sit it out.

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.