Ivory figures

79. Japanese entertainers

ivory, 4 cm high.

I handed over my father's collection of ivories to my nephew several years ago and then saw this beautiful little object in an art gallery while Peter was looking for something else. The man's toe is broken. I had picked the piece up by the clear perspex base, thinking that the figures were attached, but no, they were not, and the figures went flying, so the missing  toe is down to my own clumsiness. I was delighted to buy this ivory and bring it home, it is a pleasure to put in the palm of my hand and study closely, each small detail of the patterned clothing, the ribbons beneath the chin. My father would have enjoyed this object and my buying it feels like a continuation. Our daughters are the same, the younger tells me, "we don't do tidy, Mum, we're too fond of stuff."

Street cries of London

78. Street cries of London figurines

8cm high.

Some time before the luxury of having a hamper delivered from Fortnum and Mason, produce could be bought on the streets of London from the many sellers, each with their own distinctive call.  They are a popular subject matter for small figurines such as these.

Hamper

77. Fortnum and Mason wicker hamper.

On the morning of Christmas Eve a few years ago a courier struggled up the garden path with a large present for me. Oh, joy - it was a hamper from Fortnum and Mason, absolutely packed with goodies! The family and their partners were arriving later that day so I opened the hamper on the kitchen floor and examined the contents. There was everything that a hostess could wish for to add to her celebratory meals. 

We were feasting all week!

The hamper has been re-stocked and taken on various outings since then, the F&M logo adding a bit of style to happy occasions!

Nativity set

75. Pottery nativity set

We bought this nativity set many years ago, in the week before Christmas, from a pottery in the narrow streets around Palma cathedral. Its simplicity is charming, the sheep made from just a squidge of clay with four nails for legs.

Several years after having bought it my parents took our elder daughter to Majorca to recouperate from a serious illness. She was ten years old and insisted on an expedition to the pottery, although she could not remember exactly where it was. My parents told me later that it took a lot of finding!

They bought this black and white Spanish bull to add to our nativity set.

76. Boxer dog.

And because my own childhood had been spent with a faithful boxer dog as companion my father bought me this dog as a momento, (although Bruce was a brindle boxer and an altogether more solid character!)

Hungarian rack

74. Hungarian rack.

When we moved to our present house we did the usual thing of re-arranging several walls and doorways. When the chaos was over we bought the house a present of this Hungarian shelf and rack. It hangs in a space created by the removal of a door.

It has a wonderful patina of age, with the date 1882 barely discernible in the faded paintwork. The decorative flowers and patterns will once have been bright and colourful.

The importer who was selling to us asked if we wanted him to do some restoration work on the piece.

"NO" was our immediate and horrified response.

This practical object  has a celebratory feel and was probably made as a wedding gift. Now it celebrates a happy retirement. It is barely visible beneath a collection of coats and hats, dog leads and umbrellas.

Darning mushroom

73. Darning mushroom.

I inherited this sycamore darning mushroom from my mother-in-law. She was a demon knitter and the only female in a household of males. She knitted socks and jumpers, scarves, hats and gloves. Her husband and sons must have given her handiwork quite a bashing because the surface of the mushroom is pitted from years of use. It is a satisfyingly practical object, the wood is light and comfortable in the hand, far superior to the ugly plastic mushroom that I used before inheriting this.

I was taught to patch and darn at school, a place described as being for 'young ladies'. What do 'young ladies' care about patching and darning? Very little, I can tell you! We had to practise these skills on small squares of fabric. How pointless and time-consuming it seemed. I was marked 0.5 out of 10 for all my effort.

My heart still sinks when I discover a small hole and know that I shall have to get out the darning mushroom and set to work.

Embroidery

72. "Bella in Heaven"

silk embroidery by Janet Haigh.

I was brought up in a household that always included one or two dogs, but I married a man who quite definitely did not want to share his home with one, so that was the end of that. But when my father died, at the start of the new millennium, shortly followed by his faithful old spaniel, I was bereft. The only solution was to buy a dog of my own. Bella came from a breeder further down the dale, and for me, at least, it was love at first sight.

Love poem.

I have a new love.

Her greeting melts my heart.

Doe eyes, kohl-rimmed and gentle

her presence in our house experimental.

"Besotted," says my husband,

and he's right.

He'll not be charmed without a subtle fight

of wagging tail and wriggling with delight.

"That bloody dog," he says

of mud across the floor

and hairs on clothes 

and half chewed bones.

But I am charmed,

and every little chore is worth it

for my own first dog,

fox terrier,

whom I just adore.

Bella met an untimely death, chasing a cockerel across the road. I was heartbroken. My friend Janet, the owner of two wire-haired fox terriers, dyed a large square of silk into beautiful colours. She embroidered Bella, complete with a pair of wings, in the centre of this silk heaven. Her inspiration came from the Bedlington terrier paintings of Craigie Aitchison.

I felt that Bella looked lost in so much space (how rude of me) and Janet, wonderful friend that she is, let me mutilate the silk by cutting it down to make a dainty icon of her work.

This embroidery is precious to me for many reasons.

Bella in Heaven

When Bella died I cried

while Janet stitched my little dog with wings

and dyed a piece of silk bright green

for heaven.

There she stood, with matchstick legs and neat brown head

waiting to play in her silk heaven, generously large,

a gift of sympathy and love.

But in this space she looked too much alone

and so I asked, "Please can I cut her heaven down?"

Now my small dog stands square in her own patch,

the boundaries marked out in wood and gold,

happy in heaven, never growing old.