Old Crochet, Tatting and Embroidery Pattern Books

My mum taught me to knit and crochet when I was young. And back in the late sixties, early seventies crochet because a useful craft, because crocheted dresses and smocks were very much in fashion. Somewhere among my vast quantities of books (every room in this house has books in it!) there are my mum's old Stitchcraft Pattern Books - she used to buy the magazine, and had them bound together. Just glancing at them takes me back to a more innocent but - for me, anyway - very happy time. My mum could knit, embroider, sew and crochet and the clothes she made for me back then, some of which I still have tucked away, were the envy of all my friends. In fact I wore the pink crocheted smock (below) which she made for me back in the very early 70s, to a 1960s party only a couple of years ago!

 

Sometimes, I'll find a bundle of old pattern books at the bottom of a box of vintage linens and I'm currently listing some of these in three lots, in The Scottish Home on eBay. Some of them are instructions for tatting, which I find very pretty, but still don't know how to do. Many of them are for crochet doilies, edgings, gorgeous filet crochet trims for tablecloths - I recognise some of the patterns from various items of old linen and lace which I have listed over the years. And some of them are wonderful survivals from the 1930s,  paper transfers for all kinds of embroideries, including instructions for Mountmellick embroidery.

The ads at the back of these booklets are fabulous. 'Every lady knows the pleasure derived from the making of dainty underwear, the embroidery of which is enhanced by using Briggs Trousseau Pure Silk, for fine embroidery on underclothing,' says one. How times have changed! There are ads for Old Bleach linens from Ireland, 'bleached by the sun' and for wool from Templeton's Mill in Ayr, sadly long gone.

I love ephemera such as these - they are the kind of things that transport you straight back to the past. You can read as many history books as you like, but nothing beats the immediacy of these booklets that recreate so vividly a world we have lost.
 

House Martins

I've been looking out for them for a little while now, although it's still quite early, for Scotland. We said goodbye to the house martins that congregated in the village, way back in September. It's always a sad day when the last one leaves, because it's a sure sign that winter is on its way. And then we forgot about them, and fed the robins and sparrows and most of all the jackdaws that populate our chimneys right through the winter. I love these birds - they seem to be such characters, such individuals, as I watch them out of my bathroom window! Perhaps they appreciate the central heating. Smoke doesn't seem to bother them, and they have been replenishing their nests for some months now. But round about now, we generally remember the swallows and the house martins and hope they make it back again. Then a friend said that the swallows and martins were on Arran and I thought it wouldn't be too long before they were back here, too.

Sitting out in the garden tonight, drinking a glass of wine with relatives, we saw the first of them, three or four, those characteristic shapes silhouetted against the sky. More will come. And soon. There is the remains of last year's nest, on our gable end, and the fiery little sparrows have not yet commandeered it. So we're hoping that the house martins hurry up, that soon we'll see them swooping past, that they will build here again. They're lucky birds, you see. Or that's what we believe. It's a lucky house that shelters them. And we're always glad when they choose our house for their summer season!

Our Cottage Garden - Angelica and Rhubarb Fool.



Have spent the week struggling to divide my time between work and gardening. Not that gardening isn't work - just that it isn't paid work, or even potentially paid work. But our large cottage garden is just at that point in the year where it all suddenly starts to get away from us- and since were away last week, it's doubly urgent to try to get on top of the ground elder (hollow laugh) before it gets on top of everything else.
It's the time of year when the angelica starts to grow with a vengeance. It's also the time of year when I promise myself that I will candy some stems before they get too 'woody' - but so far, I haven't done it. Maybe this will be the year. I'm a bit haphazard in my country pursuits. I love making things, but the need to earn a living does rather get in the way of my attempts to float about the garden with sunhat and trug, looking elegant and gathering my own produce in the manner of those illustrated magazine articles or television programmes that make country life seem so enticing.
You can see the fresh green leaves in among the tulips and hyacinths, and a fair mixture of weeds, in the picture. A friend from England gave me an angelica plant a few years ago, and now it self seeds at the bottom of the garden. I let it grow where it wants, just pulling up the odd plant when it gets too prolific. It smells wonderful, good enough to eat, and forms a very beautiful plant - tall and stately with enormous seed heads which I cut and use in flower displays. Last summer, when we had our village 'open gardens' event, it was the big talking point among the steady stream of visitors - hardly anyone knew what it was, which makes me think it might not be very common up here in Scotland. It certainly likes our garden though.
The big clump of rhubarb alongside the angelica is also growing at a rate of knots. I made a luscious rhubarb fool yesterday, cooking the rhubarb in the slow cooker with brown sugar and some chunks of crystallised ginger, draining off most of the juice and making it into extra syrup, with a bit more sugar, (Nigella suggests adding this to champagne. I may give it a go with Prosecco since we don't quite run to champagne yet) and then folding the fruit and ginger through a mixture of whipped cream and Greek yoghurt. You have to chill it, preferably overnight. Not exactly low calorie, but delicious!
Whenever my late mum served up something from the garden, even if it was only one vegetable in a whole meal, my dear late dad, who loved his garden, loved to grow fruit and vegetables of all kinds, would heave a sigh of satisfaction and say 'Everything home grown then?'
This lunch time, my husband ate a mouthful of rhubarb fool.
'Mmm,' he said. 'Everything home grown then?'

An Old North Country - English - Home (just for a change!)

Just back from a week in England, reminding myself of how many of my roots are still firmly embedded in the North Country. We had a couple of nights in very comfortable self catering accommodation in a small and highly picturesque Cumbrian village called Orton, but it was when we were walking through the village that we saw the above fascinating house and barn. The first time we saw it was at twilight on a misty, murky night, and it looked exceedingly ghostly. The next morning, however, the sun came out, and I could take some pictures. The date above the door reads 1604, but the house looks Elizabethan and I suspect that the date records some kind of rebuilding or alteration. This is Orton Old Hall, (as opposed to the Jacobean Orton Hall, which was where we were staying) better known as Petty Hall, after one of the families which fell heir to it, some time in the 1600s. The building is stunningly beautiful - even the glass in the windows looks as if it might date from 1604 or earlier!

Later that day, we discovered this waterfall, about mid way between Appleby and Orton. Driving across open moorland, between the two places, we paused to breathe in fresh air. The sky above the moorland was loud with skylarks - a bird I don't hear too often these days, even in the part of rural Scotland where we live. It reminded me of all those days with my mum and dad, when I was a little girl, spent walking and picnicking on the Yorkshire moors, not a million miles from this place. If I could ever bring myself to leave Scotland, I think it would only be to go back to Yorkshire or somewhere nearby. Somehow, the North Country always feels like home.

A Wonderful Victorian Beaded Crinoline Shawl

I'm about to list this wonderful Victorian 'crinoline' shawl in my eBay shop, The Scottish Home, but it's been a joy to have it in my possession for a little while - and yet again a learning experience for somebody with an interest in textiles. It's a huge shawl, but the pattern is designed to be folded in half, and then made into a triangle, so that it looks lovely when worn and the two areas of dense embroidery and beading show up to best advantage. (For some reason, the fringe doesn't quite fit in with this, or perhaps I'm folding it wrongly!)
The fabric is fine, soft wool, dense black, although it looks a little grey in these pictures. The embroidery is exquisite, and looks like the fine Chinese embroidery you get on those wonderful Cantonese shawls, which may well be the case - perhaps made for the export market. And among the embroidery is lots of beautiful black beading, jet beads? That's what they look like, but I can't be sure.
I assumed at first that this was a 'mourning' shawl, since the Victorians wore their mourning for a very long time after bereavement - but in fact, black itself was fashionable in Victorian times, so this may simply have been viewed as the very classy and expensive shawl it undoubtedly is. The fashion for black in part originated with Queen Victoria who spent most of her long life in mourning for poor Albert, but the knock on effect of this was that ladies wanted to imitate her!
This is a beautiful textile though and -  apart from a small scattering of moth holes in one little area - it is in almost perfect condition. You could wear it on any fashionable evening occasion and guarantee that nobody else will have one like it!

Vintage Textiles for Spring and Summer

Yesterday, here in South West Scotland, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and my washing line was festooned with nice, white, newly laundered damask tablecloths and napkins. Today there are great soft lumps of snow falling in a steady stream, it's cold, wet, dark and spring seems a long way off. Typical of Scotland, at this time of year.

However, yesterday gave me a bit of a push - after a February hiatus, while I worked away steadily at a final draft of a novel called The Amber Heart, which is finally with my agent, and which you can read a bit about here - and I reactivated my eBay Shop, the Scottish Home, and revamped it for spring. My plan is to add linens, in particular, pretty steadily now - I've been stockpiling them a bit and have some lovely tablecloths and napkins waiting to be listed.

All of which has made me think about spring, summer and picnics. Our lovely friends, John and Brenda Kevan, who are - among many other talents - wedding photographers, always have wonderfully civilized picnics. Brenda is a designer with flair, and she loves to 'set the scene' with textiles and brightly coloured picnic ware. In summer, weather permitting, she serves meals in a gorgeous 'outdoor room', a little courtyard at the back of her period house, and again, she manages to mix old textiles and antique and vintage dining ware with modern pieces and with candles and candle lamps, to create a truly enchanting atmosphere.

I often think that some of my antique and vintage textiles are very suitable for outdoor living - brightly embroidered linen tablecloths from the 1950s, vivid checks on linen and cotton from the 1960s, or even older linen supper tablecloths - all of them are reasonably priced, easily laundered, very forgiving, and excellent for picnics or al fresco lunches. Somehow, dressing the picnic table or the outdoor dining room  in this way seems to make the food taste even better.

Saint Patrick, Banishing the Snakes from Ireland

My very talented husband, artist Alan Lees, has just completed the above picture of Saint Patrick banishing the snakes from Ireland. This one took a very long time to complete, with a number of changes along the way, but I have to say that I think this is his best yet - I just love it! It's a very large canvas in acrylics and my photograph doesn't really do full justice to the vibrant colours, and the sheen on the gold, on his robe, his belt and his staff.

At the moment, the plan is to have this properly photographed, and then to make canvas prints, and satin finish poster prints from it, in various sizes, as well as some postcards, so that it can be shared, worldwide. We don't plan to sell the original just yet!  The big canvas prints would be suitable for schools and churches, although to be honest, I would be quite happy to live with this picture of an early Celtic saint forever. I don't know quite why, but I just love this picture - I love the strength of the saint - I love the greens of the Irish landscape, and the foxgloves and clumps of thrift, as well as Croagh Patrick and the shadowy little church in the background. I'll blog about it again, as soon as the various prints are available.

An Unusual Scottish Linen Damask Tablecloth

This week, in my eBay shop, I'm listing a beautiful and very unusual linen damask tablecloth - a big rectangle which is woven with all kinds of Scottish scenes and motifs. I'm not sure if it was made in Ulster for the Scottish market, or in Scotland itself. The design is amazing, with lots of 'roundels' containing Holyrood Palace, The Old Brig o' Doon, at Alloway in Ayrshire, Dunfermline Abbey and so on, as well as various Lions Rampant, thistles, heather and the 'bluebells of Scotland' which aren't what the English call bluebells at all, but instead are the pretty harebells that flower later in the summer, when the heather and ling are just coming into bloom, making a lovely contrast with them. The design is incredibly complicated and pretty - the names of some of these places are even woven into the cloth. It would make a wonderful talking point at any Scottish event.

I Love Tulips

I don't know about you, but I just love tulips - real life, brightly coloured tulips, especially those big blousy parrot tulips in strange colours and patterns. I have an old rectangular tulip vase in blue delft, with holes in the lid to take these once very precious blooms, and I still take a lot of pleasure from using it, even today, when tulips aren't quite so costly as they once were. But I also love tulips in textile design and once you start looking for them, you seem to see them everywhere. Here's a nice Scottish example I found myself listing in my eBay shop earlier today. This is a piece of very old crochet lace, which is actually an edging for a tablecloth. I suspect it may have been used but carefully removed, when the linen centre wore out. Or maybe it was never used at all, but made and put away - it has some small pieces of discolouration, but stored textiles often do acquire these nasty little marks unless you put them away very clean and dry and carefully wrapped in white acid free tissue. Laundering has already helped, and will probably help some more, but the work itself is lovely - as you can see from the picture above - with lots of stylised, deco tulips - a bit reminiscent of our very own Charles Rennie Mackintosh  - and how those shapes lend themselves to that design! I'm hoping somebody buys this, restores it - and makes a wonderful tablecloth out of it.

Is Spring Coming? Well, the Snowdrops are here!

 

I've always loved snowdrops, but I had no idea until quite recently that there were so many varieties or that the rarer kind could make so very much money.  Single bulbs, seemingly, can sell on eBay for more than £200! There have been comparisons with the eighteenth century Tulip Fever.

Scotland's gardens are rich in snowdrops and there are 'snowdrop festivals' all over the country. There are winter flowering snowdrops and summer flowering snowdrops and everything in between. Culzean Castle is our local snowdrop haven. You can wander for miles, and enjoy the sight of masses of these lovely little flowers, among the sheltered woodlands, along the shore. Later, they give place to wood anemones, daffodils and then bluebells and violets and primroses. Tantalising even to write it. Having had an appallingly icy November and December with plenty of real snow, we're now experiencing much milder, wetter weather. Long may it continue. It seems to have encouraged the birds to start staking out their territories, and the many bulbs I planted last autumn, in the pots outside the window, to poke their heads out - and a few brave snowdrops to start blooming. We do wonder, though, if we have seen the last of the snow. We doubt it. How could we be so lucky. And our venerable old apple tree at the bottom of the garden never ventures a blossom or a leaf before May!

All of this, though, goes to explain why I much prefer January and February to November. November is the wrong side of the year and thoroughly depressing. After all the Christmas decorations are cleared away for another year, I always go out and buy some spring flowers, pots of hyacinths (which tend to be 'half price' in our Supermarkets after Christmas) and primulas and narcissi, as well as bunches of early tulips - possibly my favourite flower of all time. And here in Scotland, by the end of January, you notice a very definite lengthening of the days, which is always good for the soul!

It's time, as well, for me to reactivate my eBay shop. I didn't do much over Christmas, having too much other writing - and entertaining - to do. But there's something about the sight of those white snowdrops, and the sight of all that lovely, clean, white linen, piling up in my cupboard, that makes me want to get started again!

A Very Merry Christmas!

It is cold here and getting colder. But we seem to be more or less ready for Christmas, and we're a week early. Which is just as well since wearing my other hat as a fiction writer, I have a good many edits and revisions to do before 5th January. So as well as socialising, and meeting old friends, I'm going to batten down the hatches, drink a little mulled wine, eat some Christmas food ....and write. That's the plan, anyway.
But before I do, let me tell you about our Christmas tree. We always have a real tree, but this year, in the UK, the price of Christmas trees has risen beyond belief. Still, I can't bring myself to go for an artificial tree. My dear dad would probably come back and haunt me. So last week we wandered around the big stores in a state of shock, until we spotted the little handwritten ad in our local shop. Late afternoon saw me in wellies, tramping through a muddy, icy field, in the wake of a young man wielding a chain saw. Don't worry. This was nothing illicit. He has his own small plantation. We chose our tree and - rather sadly - watched as he cut it down. It was a little uneven. 'The horses got to that side,' he said. But that was fine, because it stands against the wall beautifully. It was sad, and somehow magical. After all, the trees you see in the big stores have all been cut down too, probably cut down and transported for many miles. And we always recycle. So, sad and Christmassy and magical. All tree-buying should be like this: the sound of rooks congregating, a cold, angry, wintry sunset, skeletal trees, and the lights of the ancient farmhouse burning through the gathering dark.
Now, the tree stands in our cool conservatory, in all its glory. Outside the garden pond is frozen and the blackbirds are making the most of the remaining grapes, the ones we didn't cut but left to sustain the birds through the winter. Even the 'burn' is frozen. All the same...

A Merry Christmas to all customers and readers of The Scottish Home, and a very happy 2011!

More Embroidered Tablecloths

I came across another batch of wonderful but sadly neglected old embroidered tablecloths the other week. It always saddens me that these are so generally undervalued, but at least with the fashion for all things retro and vintage, they have been given a new lease of life. There's nothing quite so comforting on a winter's afternoon, as a table, set for tea, preferably with some home made cakes - all served from delicate porcelain cups, on a lovely, old, hand embroidered tablecloth. This one is so beautifully made that the flowers look three dimensional.

St Kessog of Loch Lomond

Above is my husband Alan's most recent picture - of St Kessog, an early Celtic Saint, who may well have been the patron saint of Scotland, before Andrew was accorded that honour.


There are several versions of the story of St Kessog. One is that he was born into the royal family of Munster, in approximately 460 AD, and even as a child was associated with miracles. Other versions of the tale have Kessog born in Strathclyde, and travelling to Ireland, to study, before returning to Scotland. But since, at that time, the two peoples were so closely inter-related, and since there was a great deal of travelling between the two places, it perhaps doesn’t matter that we will never know for sure. He was believed to be a disciple of St Patrick, was tutored by St Malachoi and it is certain that at some point he was sent to Strathclyde, as a missionary, coming to Luss on the shores of Loch Lomond, at the beginning of the sixth century.

The Celtic Church of that time was quite austere and its holy men believed in living the simple life, in tune with the natural world and the changing seasons. Kessog, although an important man in the early church, was no exception. Tradition says that he built his ‘cell’ on the beautiful and peaceful island of Inchtavannoch (Monk's Island), opposite Luss. Nothing remains of St. Kessog's original buildings, although we can assume that they were very simple – possibly circular beehive huts in the manner of Skellig Michael in Ireland. Ruins found on the island are those of a later monastic building with an ancient graveyard.

The name Luss means herb or plant, and there would probably have been rich grazing around here on the sheltered and fertile shores of the loch, so it would have been a good base. Kessog would, however, have travelled throughout the region, on his missionary work, and there are many ancient names, associated with him, including a Kessock Hill, near Inverness. He was eventually killed at Bandry, just to the south of Luss, between 520 and 530, which would have meant that he had reached rather a great age for that time and place! The legends and stories say that a Pictish chief paid men to murder him. He was said to have been killed on the druid's new year (March 25th) near an ancient druid site, which means that his death may have had political overtones, especially if he were – as seems likely – a strong and successful missionary, whom people loved. The site of his death used to be marked by a cairn, although it has disappeared over the years, as have the few relics directly associated with him.

We know that, as a bishop of the early church, Kessog would have had a crozier, as a mark of his office. This was passed down to the Colquhoun family, who were known as the ‘guardians’ of St Kessog, and may even have been blood relations of the saint, but it has disappeared, over time. It may have been hidden or destroyed during the troubles between the Macgregors and the Colquhouns in the early 1600s

Kessog would also have had a bell with which he would have called his people to prayer. This would almost certainly have been the traditional celtic ‘square’ handbell (such as Mungo would have used, in Glasgow, and which is now on that city’s coat of arms). There is some evidence that Kessog’s bell survived until the seventeenth century when it was sold and subsequently lost.

The painting depicts him as being both strong and kindly, which he must have been, to live for so long, and to attract so many followers to Christianity. He is holding both his crozier, as a mark of his office, and his bell, He wears the traditional celtic saffron-dyed tunic, and a rich purple wool cloak, which would also have been a sign of his office. The Celts were known to be good at making this dye, but it was difficult and expensive to produce, and would have been a mark of the status of the wearer. Nevertheless, Kessog is quite simply dressed, in tunic and leather brogues, as befits the plain man he undoubtedly was. He wears a small sword, partly since this would have been a practical necessity, at the time, and partly as a sign of his name, which means ‘Short Sword.’ He is also known as ‘the soldier saint’ and is the patron saint of soldiers. Behind him is Ben Lomond, and an outcrop of his island, with the heron in the background . This bird was a celtic symbol of individuality, patience, solitude and independence, all of which seem to be suitable symbols of Kessog himself.

This is the first in a planned series of pictures of saints - if you're interested in commissioning a picture for your church or school, please contact us through this blog.

Paradise Lost

Over the years, on the Scottish Home, I have blogged extensively about The Isle of Gigha which - for me at least - was like a little piece of paradise. Some years ago, I wrote a history of the island and its inhabitants, God's Islanders, which was very nicely published in hardback by Birlinn. We visited the place just about every year, usually staying in the same little cottage, down by the seashore and, when the island was the subject of what was then the biggest community buyout in British history, we were very happy to make our small contribution to the island economy. The book was, of course, a labour of love. It was never ever going to be a project to make me rich, nor did it, but I adored the island, so the time was never wasted.
Over the years, 'our' little cottage, Ferry Croft One, had become a bit shabby, while the price had crept up, but we didn't mind. We didn't mind the slightly faded decor, or the large burn mark on the kitchen floor where some careless visitor had set a pan down, the shabby furniture, the chipped paintwork, or the fact that the bathroom window opened all by itself, the shower was a bit dodgy and the bathroom tended to be icy, even in summer. We loved the little house, loved being on Gigha, and looked forward to our visits.
Last May, we arrived, to find that Ferry Croft One had been very nicely refurbished. It was a bit like finding that the Fairy Godmother had waved a magic wand in our absense, and we had a very happy week on the island. Which was just as well, because, as it turns out, it will probably be our very last visit to Gigha after an association lasting some forty years for my husband, some twenty five years for me .
We paid £385 for the week, which was a rise on previous years, but still seemed reasonable enough especially in view of the refurbishment. Much as we love it, this is by no means luxury accommodation. The cottage is open-plan, with a mezzanine containing two single beds. There is a smallish double sofa bed, downstairs, and the kitchen is part of the living room. There is a tiny hallway and a  bathroom, with a shower over the bath. It will, therefore, sleep four, but only if you know each other very well . We have visited it with close family and on one occasion with a close friend, but there is no possibility of privacy (except in the bathroom!) and it is essentially a two person cottage, with room for young kids or grannies. Still, we were very comfortable there and appreciated the new decor, furniture, bedding, etc so, a few months ago, I went online to book a week for next spring. I thought I might get some intensive writing done. I actually considered booking a couple of weeks. Except that the cost is now £485 for the same week, rising to £610 in summer. A quick search online reveals that this is very much at the high end of the market for such a small cottage in Scotland. We could rent an almost comparable cottage on Arran, sleeping two, for £285 at the same time of year. For £400 we could have a two bedroomed luxury barn conversion on Coll and take some friends with us, without living in each other's pockets for a week.
I wrote to the Trust, expressing my concern and, while I was at it, wondered if it might be possible for the hotel to stock my book, since it isn't for sale anywhere on the island.
 'We appreciate that our prices are not low, but the community is in a difficult position...' the management team replied.
As, of course, are we all, especially those of us who work in the arts. But this does beg a vital question: shouldn't the need to maintain self catering accommodation to a reasonable standard be 'built in' to the business model? Why should the customer have to pay a vastly increased price, not for luxuries but simply for the standard of comfort and cleanliness one would expect as a matter of course?
The management team finished by informing me that they would be more than happy to have 'your published book about Gigha on sale at the hotel as we do encourage sales of merchandise. We would normally look for a percentage of the sale of the item and this is currently 40% of the sale price.'
I've replied, briefly, pointing out that when I say that we can't afford to stay on Gigha, that is exactly what I mean. There is no longer any accommodation on the island that is both affordable and acceptable and I can only assume that they are after a different class of visitor. 
I've also pointed out that whether or not my 'piece of merchandise' is on sale on Gigha makes no difference whatsoever to me at this stage. And any negotiation about percentages must be between them and my publisher. My suggestion - which I doubt if they will be following up on - was entirely for the benefit of the island. Ironically, while all this was going on, I had a very nice email from the Trust's administrator, asking for some help with a piece of historical research which she wishes to undertake for the island. Well, it was kind of her to ask me, the research is very worthwhile, and none of this is her fault. All the same, I don't think I'll be doing it, somehow!

Still Laundering

Sometimes it feels a little like living in a laundry here, especially when there has been a sudden influx of textiles. I seem to have been washing things for weeks which is probably because I have. This morning we had the first real sharp frost of the season, here in the West of Scotland, and the grass is still crisp underfoot. The car would have to be scraped if I was going out this morning. (I'm hoping it will have thawed out by this afternoon!) But the sun is shining now, and I've been pegging laundry out already, because - so somebody once told me - a little frost is excellent for whitening old linens. This is definitely the case. And they smell very fresh when they come in as well!

Laundering Old Linens - An Update and a New Product Range from Ariel

I've been trying out Ariel's new stain removing powder over the past week or so. I must confess that in the past I've always used Vanish on my old linens, with a great deal of success, and force of habit generally means that you stick with one product. However, my initial impressions of Ariel's new product are rather good, with one small exception, which I'll detail in due course!
I buy most of my antique and vintage linens at auction, in large mixed lots, generally from house clearances, so preparing them for sale is a long and time-consuming process. First of all the boxes must be sorted (this is the exciting bit!) so that you know exactly what you've got, which items need light laundering, which need more serious attention, which are so delicate that they need special care, and which items can be recycled back to the saleroom, or the local charity shop because they don't quite fit into my online shop.
Once washed, of course, they have to be dried (preferably outside in the fresh Scottish air - but winter makes this a bit difficult!) ironed with our big industrial steam iron (my husband is a dab hand at that, and quite enjoys doing it) checked for faults, and then stored away with lavender to deter the moths.
Many of the linens, especially table linens, have been stored away complete with original tea stains, or have crease lines along hundred year old folds, so some of them demand very careful laundering. At the same time, linen is a very forgiving textile, and you can wash it at quite high temperatures, and can also use whitening products that you would be very reluctant to use on more delicate pieces.
I normally pre-treat the worst marks with a stain removing gel, which I leave on for a little while, and then wash on a long 60 degree wash - the one usually marked cottons. (I  never boil anything - I think a boil wash is too harsh for old textiles of any kind.) For this I will use an in-wash whitener such as Vanish or - more recently - Ariel along with my usual non-bio detergent. For this process, I have found the new Ariel stain removers to be very effective, although I must confess that a sheet with a horrible, old, yellow sellotape mark (it had been in its original packaging, which, over fifty years, had left a deposit on the sheet itself) took a couple of washes and the application of gel to remove, so it wasn't instant, by any means! However, I was impressed enough to go out and buy a bottle of the gel stain remover, and used it to wash three large, old, and rather badly marked damask tablecloths, again on a long 60 degree wash, with detergent, and the gel poured onto the top of the linen in the machine, as directed. It worked very well indeed, and these tablecloths are, so far as I can see (they are hanging out on the line in the sunshine, even as I type this) bright white and very fresh.
The only problem, however, was with the bottle itself. It is a large bottle and the big screw-on clear plastic top is used to measure out the liquid and pour it into the machine. Because it is a screw-on top it has a rather narrow neck, and the bottle itself is in quite a soft plastic. Twice now, I have found myself with the 'gel' (which is actually more of a liquid than a gel, in my book, being quite runny) splashing out over my fingers, the floor and the laundry basket. And the second time, I was aware of the problem and it still happened. So, 9/10 for the product and 3/10 for the packaging of the gel, folks!
Will I use it again? I probably will. And where two products are equally effective, price becomes very important.
What I haven't yet experimented with is soaking. Many of my old textiles are so badly marked and so very delicate, that the only way to deal with them is to soak them in a weak solution of stain remover in lukewarm water, sometimes over a number of days, changing the water, very gently, and handling them as little as possible. I rinse them in the bath with the shower head, rather than pulling at the delicate fibres, and finally, I give them a very gentle wash in soap solution, rinse them well, with fabric conditioner in the last rinse and dry them flat. I haven't yet tried Ariel in this way, but I'll be experimenting over the next couple of weeks, and will let you know how it goes!

Old Linens, Vintage Furs and a Wee Grouse

We drove home from Great Western Auctions, in Glasgow, at the weekend, with three boxes of old linens and - incidentally, because I was really after the tablecloths - a few truly vintage furs. Now I'd be the first to admit that I'm not keen on real fur. Or at least, I always prefer to see it being worn by its original owner. Mind you, many years ago, when I lived in Finland, I could understand the value of a fur coat and - most certainly - of a fur hat. 45 degrees below is pretty cold. You stick to metal at that temperature. And the huge fur hats that almost everyone wore in winter suddenly seemed completely practical. Since then, though, any fur I've worn has definitely been of the fake variety. However, my box of very old furs turned out to be so beautiful that I'm going to have to sell them on. Because fur is very much 'on trend' this season, and if people do want to wear it, I think it's better that they wear something very old, very beautifully made, recycled - and from a non-threatened species. The box contained a gorgeous mink jacket, an equally gorgeous mink coat - both of them beautifully lined, and stitched with an elegant monogram - a slightly less gorgeous calfskin jacket and an evening stole in what I think is musquash. Furs do tend to arouse irrational feelings, and I often wonder if those who post so vociferously online about them are vegans who never wear leather of any sort. I suspect most of them aren't. But as I say - I don't wear fur either.  So perhaps I'm a hypocrite!
But that isn't my 'wee grouse'.
Here at the Scottish Home, we buy most of our old linens at auction - boxes of old tablecloths and many other items, all crammed together, most of them very grubby with age, with the teastains and fold marks still on them. Then, we sort them, treat them, launder them (sometimes twice!) and iron them. We photograph them and list them online. And when they have been bought, we package them in acid free tissue, sometimes with a little lavender bag, for good measure, and post them in nice white padded envelopes. Most of them can be used straight from the package. Only occasionally, when something is very special, perhaps in its original box, do we sell it as it is.  In short, we aren't just recycling - we are treating these things with the respect they deserve, and rehoming them! 
So what is my wee grouse?
Well, I'm afraid it's with other dealers! I often find myself browsing around antique markets, looking for stock. Sometimes, I'll find stalls with lovely well-cared-for linens and lace. But much more often, there will be boxes and bags of vintage tablecloths, doilies, napkins, bedlinen, etc, all heaped together, often under a table, or spilling out of drawers, and occasionally being trampled on the floor. Somebody has bought them at auction, and now is re-selling. Which is what dealers do. It's what we do! But these people don't really care for the items in question. Well, they care just enough to price them up. So if you check for a price tag, you'll find that it's rather high!  Which may well be the worth of the item. But only, I think, if you have taken the trouble to add a little value, in the shape of some TLC yourself. Maybe it shouldn't irritate me - but it does. I think most of all, it pains me to see these lovely items still being treated as a vague mass of clutter. They deserve better than that. I know, because I handle such things - and appreciate them - every day!

Caledon Villa - A Very Beautiful Home!

I met Ode Krige online, as a customer of my Scottish Home store - we clearly share a passion for all things antique and vintage! She was kind enough to send me some photographs of her collection, in situ, in her lovely old guest house: Caledon Villa. I thought I'd like to share some of these images with my readers - they are so beautiful - and it's lovely to see how old and treasured European items can be mixed and matched with, for example, the vivid Ardmore pottery, made in South Africa. I wasn't familiar with these ceramics - but aren't they wonderful?

And here's what Ode has to say about the guest house:


 'Caledon Villa Guest House, built in 1910, is situated in the historic heart of Stellenbosch, near Cape Town, South Africa.

We pride ourselves in the personal care of our guests and invite them to share in the cultural heritage of an old Afrikaans family. Existing exhibitions include family heirlooms, an anthropological section with African beadwork and a porcelain and doll collection from Eastern Germany. Apart from being a university town near Cape Town. Stellenbosch is known for its special ambience and scenic Cape Dutch houses in the winelands. Worth a special visit!'

A Victorian Tartan Wool Shawl

This is a 150 year old Scottish crinoline shawl with a genuine West of Scotland provenance, in a very subtle, slightly faded, green and purple tartan. Sadly, it's also full of moth holes, but it's a fascinating reminder of a previous fashion craze! I don't know what the tartan is - have tried to search for it, but with no success. The craze for tartan began in the early 1800s, with Walter Scott's deliberate romanticising of the Highlands, but these tartan shawls became very fashionable when Victoria was at the height of her obsession with all things Scottish (including her Highland servant John Brown!) These huge crinoline shawls were for warm outdoor use, when the crinoline hooped skirt was also in fashion, i.e. about the mid nineteenth century, so this is a rare and interesting survival.

Adding a Little Value

I love my old linen and lace. Can get excited, just rummaging through boxes of old textiles, wondering what I'm going to find next. I was thinking about this only the other day when I visited an antique centre, not a million miles from here. It's a huge warehouse of a place, with various dealers renting space. Some of them have their goods beautifully arranged, labelled and properly priced, but others seem content to use this simply as storage space, with everything more or less dumped haphazardly in whatever area they are renting - furniture, architectural antiques, textiles. I got quite cross about the textiles in particular, and here's the reason why. People don't know how to treat it with love.
When I buy a box of old linen and lace, I sort through it all, as soon as possible. This preliminary 'sort' will let me know what I want to keep and what I don't. There will be a very few things that are damaged beyond hope of repair. There will be a few more things that may be of use to somebody but not to me. These will be put back into the saleroom at some point or - more often - donated to my local charity shop. The rest - the majority of items -  will be sorted out according to their uses: tablecloths, bedlinen, 'small stuff' such as lace edgings, hankies, doilies and so on. Next comes careful laundering. This is important because the dust harms delicate fibres and I like to get rid of it as soon as possible. Some things will have to be soaked, some washed carefully by hand,  some can go straight into the machine. I never use a boil wash, but I'll launder robust linen tablecloths on a long 60 degree wash, with a proprietory stain remover of some kind. Other items, fragile silk and wool, I will simply store carefully in acid free tissue, away from bright sunlight, with lavender to freshen them up. I have a huge old linen cupboard, which I clear out occasionally. It's amazing how often you can forget what is lurking at the bottom of a shelf - I found two stunning antique mixed lace cloths, carefully folded away, the other day. I had bought them a few years ago and forgotten all about them!
After the laundering and drying - outside in the fresh Scottish air if possible - comes the ironing, with a commercial pressurised steam iron, and - where appropriate - some spray starch. Believe it or not this is my husband's job, and he makes a very good job of it too. It is also at this stage that faults can be checked and noted, although no matter how closely you examine something, there will always be one or two that 'get away' which is why, when I'm selling online, I always offer a refund if a customer is disappointed.
Now all of this certainly 'adds value' - but I honestly don't do it just for that reason. I do it because I, myself, value these lovely pieces of old needlework. I like to think of the people - usually women - who made them, who devoted time and trouble to them. To me, these things are precious, and should be treated as such.
Which leads me back to that antique centre. What was really distressing, for me, was to find - in some areas at least - boxes and bags of rather lovely old textiles, simply abandoned to cold and dust. Linen tablecloths with fine crochet edgings, flung in a heap, with the dust of years still on them.  But with astonishingly high prices all the same - too high, sadly, for something so obviously unappreciated and unloved. If you are going to get into this business, you have to love that you deal in. Otherwise, how can you possibly enjoy selling it to somebody else?