How do you spell….

One rainy day in early Summer, I spent an evening decorating plain wooden clothes pegs, intending to use them for a multitude of crafts, and wrote about it here.  With a box of brightly coloured, perky pegs leftover, I was looking for ideas for how to use them and stumbled across this brilliant idea for creating a spelling game.  As Harry is starting to recognise numbers, letters and enticing words (usually those relating to food or toys…), it seemed the perfect time to make him his own set of letters and words ready to practice his budding skills.

I decorated wooden pegs with scraps of gift wrap and washi tape, using double-sided tape to secure the gift wrap in place.  I had a box of these wooden letters tucked away in my craft cupboard, but you could write the letters directly onto the pegs, or use rub on transfers instead.  All you need to end up with is a set of pegs with different letters on.  You can make an alphabet, but I found it was easier to start with the words themselves and work back to see what letters I’d need and how many of them – ‘m’s and ‘d’s come up a lot, whereas some other letters are hardly used at all.

I designed and printed out a couple of sheets with words I knew would be instantly recognisable to Harry and fun to spell.  Because my wooden letters are all in capitals and I want Harry to recognise lower case too, I wrote the words out underneath so he can see how letters change in different settings.

I cut these up and laminated them by slipping several in a laminating sheet with space around them to cut between the words

Put them together with the pegs and hey-presto, you have a spelling game!  I found a storage box to keep these in, and my intention is to keep adding longer and more interesting words as Harry’s skills improve.  This is a great game to make because it can be as simple as using a pen to write letters on pegs, through to this more elaborate and decorative set – a lovely thing to make for a grandchild, perhaps, or for an older sibling to help you make for a younger one – not least because everyone can use a spelling refresher once in a while!

The Unparalleled Nonpareil



You’ve got to admire the French when it comes to matters of the kitchen, or rather, les affairs du cuisine.  Not only are they world-renowned for their culinary outputs and inventions, they also possess just the right amount of Gallic confidence to name their creations in such a way that the world regards them with appropriate gravitas and awe.  And so, this little piece of chocolate magic, adorned with sprinkles, is known as the nonpareil; literally, a treat without parallel, supreme to everything else.  And who could disagree? Not me and Harry that’s for sure.  If a British person had devised the nonpareil, they would have named it, with hesitant and apologetic disclaimers, the Chocolate-I-Flung-Together-From-Some-Bits-and-Pieces-in-the-Cupboard, and it would have faded into unfashionability very quickly.  Instead, the nonpareil thrives as a gorgeous and simple treat, and the perfect gift for chocoholics.

To make these you’ll need:

  • Dark or milk chocolate (kids prefer milk, whereas bittersweet chocolate with >70% cocoa solids works best for grown-up, after dinner treats
  • 1/2 tsp of cooking fat for every 8oz of chocolate used; this is optional but helps to release the disks and keep them smooth
  • Sprinkles; any kind, any colour!

Simply melt your chocolate & fat together using a double-bowl on the hob or the microwave, then drop teaspoons onto a baking sheet or (even better if you have it) a silicon macaroon sheet with shallow indents, like we used below.  Use the back of your teaspoon to make flat rounds, and leave to set for about 15 minutes.

Sprinkle the still-gooey chocolate liberally with your candy sprinkles or other topping, then pop them in the fridge for 30 mins to set hard.  Use a palette knife to pop them off the baking sheet, or peel them from the silicon mat (either way this is very easy), and then allow approx. 1hr for collecting all the random sprinkles which have shot off into corners of the kitchen during this stage.  Admire your beauties, fend off attack from hungry household members, and decide whether they are too precious to give away.  If not, you could box them up like ours (below), or stack and roll them up in a pretty cellophane tube, tied at each end.

These are kitchen magic in that they are one of the simplest things you can make, but one of the loveliest to look at and the most fun for little people to make and eat. Yes, it can be a little messy, but hey – life is short, right?

Flea Market Foraging

I had a magical day last week when the rest of the world was at work and Harry was in nursery and I could pack up the car and head to the coast at Brighton for a few hours of mooching around vintage markets and architectural antiques barns – heaven.  Brighton has a very unique vibe and is a mecca for artists, craftspeople and alternative lifestyles; you’d struggle to find a McDonalds but if you’re looking for a vegan, gluten-free falafel with wheatgrass juice you’ll be spoilt for choice. The Lanes near the seafront is a twisty, windy area stuffed with one-off shops and galleries, and some very cool homeware stores.  I bravely resisted the urge to burn my credit card until I came to a huge and rambling vintage shop called Snoopers Paradise which hosts lots of different antique and second-hand dealers.  I set myself a max. budget of £70 ($110) and here’s what ended up coming home with me…

This vintage flag cost just a few pounds and I bought it thinking it would be great in the garden for future boy-activities like the building of camps and adventure games; perhaps it would mark home vs enemy territory, be hung from the top of a play castle or be waved triumphantly as the victory pendant of the winning side… but now I’m very taken with it where it is, dangling from a stair rail in my office; we’ll just have to fight over it later.

The sea-green tin trunk weighs hardly anything (though it didn’t feel like it by the time I’d manhandled it to the car…), and would make a great blanket box for the end of a bed.  I’m thinking of the smallest bedroom at the top of our house, which has a hideaway feel to it, and is a cosy, calming space.  It’s next on our project list for redecoration and this chest will probably be the basis for the colour palette I use.  I thought about stencilling letters on it, but the more I look at it the more I’m inclined to leave it alone; all views on this welcome!

This old printers tray (above) would originally have held fonts for typesetting, and will make great quirky storage.  I can’t decide whether to wall-mount it in Harry’s playroom to store the ever-increasing number of small character figures he is accumulating, and which are forever getting lost down the sofa / in pockets / in the car never to be seen again…

…Or whether to use it as flat tray storage for my miscellany of embellishments, findings, glitters and magpie-like collections, per below.

Finally, one last small purchase was this dusty old pocket book guide to birds eggs, from the time when it was perfectly acceptable to spend weekends rummaging around in birds nests and collecting eggs to bring home and label.  I’m thinking I will use some of the beautiful tonal watercolour plates for future Easter cards and home decorations, or maybe simply create a miniature framed collection to hang on the wall.

I only get to do this about twice  year (which is just as well, given the amount of eclectic junk I drag home each time…), but it’s one of the things I love, and definitely a case of the journey – the rummaging, speculating, pondering and pouncing – being as much fun as the destination itself.

Whizz-Popping Lemony Cupcakes!



This weekend we had a party to go to; a back garden festival for kids on what turned out to be the hottest day of the year so far.  The kids stayed cool by shedding their clothes at the door and heading straight for the paddling pool; we watched from the shade and provided periodic gasps of awe and praise for their splashy, athletic endeavours.  My contribution to the communal feast was these zingy cupcakes, which I adapted from a basic Hummingbird Bakery recipe.  With a zesty lemon kick, whipped frosting and a sprinkling of explode-on-your-tongue popping candy, they are about as light and summery as cakes can be – and no matter how hot the weather, there’s always a place for cake…

Ingredients (makes 12 cupcakes):

  • 120g plain flour
  • 150g caster sugar
  • 1.5 tsp baking powder
  • 2 tblsp grated lemon zest
  • 40g unsalted butter, softened
  • 120ml whole milk
  • 1 egg

Set the oven to 170c/325f and set to work; place your dry ingredients, zest and butter in a mixer and beat together until sandy in texture, then add in the milk, before following with the egg.  Mix for a further couple of minutes until the mixture is smooth then spoon into cupcake cases, filling them about 2/3 full. Place in the oven for 20-25 minutes until they look like these (below), and in the meantime prepare your frosting…

Whizz-popping lemony frosting:

  • 250g icing sugar
  • 80g unsalted butter, softened
  • 1 tsp Sicilian lemon extract or organic lemon flavouring
  • 25ml whole milk
  • curls of lemon zest for decoration
  • jar of popping candy. Mine was from here.

Beat together the sugar, butter and lemon extract, until fully mixed, then slowly add the milk.  Turn up your mixer to a high speed and beat for around 5mins until the frosting is super-smooth and light.  When the cakes are fully cooled, pipe the frosting onto each and allow to settle for a few minutes before adding the final touches..

I made these simple cake flags using my home printer, coloured paper, cocktail sticks and double-sided tape; place one in each cake and add a couple of swirls of lemon zest (make long strokes with your zester or grater to achieve this).  Finally, add a generous sprinkle of popping candy over the top; as it comes into contact with the cake it will crackle a little (it responds to any moisture), but there’ll still be plenty of pop left for the first mouthful of cake sometime later; if you listen closely enough you can hear it fizz…

Wallpaper Waistcoats

I’ve got a bit of a thing at the moment for paper clothing.  Not to actually wear, of course – the memory of those giant disposable paper knickers they hand you as you wince your way out of the maternity hospital is still far too vivid for that. No, I’m thinking of the fragile beauty of works like these, and even the current trend for origami dresses which is spreading across Pinterest faster than a bush fire in Summer.

So when I opened a cupboard last week and was hit by a cascade of rolled up wallpaper offcuts and samples we’ve been collecting for our home makeover, I decided to have a go myself, and knocked up this natty waistcoat to hang decoratively on Harry’s wall – albeit safely out of reach.  It took a couple of hours from sketching out the template to glueing on the last button; I describe all the steps below and will attach my hand-drawn template this weekend for download if you fancy having a go yourself.  A great way of doing this is to simply draw around a favourite item of clothing and use that as a rough paper pattern for crafting.  Simple girls dresses would look beautiful made out of wallpaper, kraft paper or sturdy gift wrap, especially if trimmed in leftover ribbon – a gallery of my favourites from across the web can be found at the bottom for inspiration!



To make my paper waistcoat I used…

1. Leftover wallpaper (this is a slightly textured, iridescent print we used as an accent on a feature wall), or wallpaper samples procured illicitly from your local DIY store. 2. A contrast paper for the ‘lining’ and pocket cuffs; I used a cheap map-of-the-world wall chart; I buy a few at a time and use them for all kind of projects. 3. Ribbons for edging, or use bias binding for an even simpler, pre-folded alternative. 4. Suitable glue and sharp scissors and finally 5. Buttons! Anything goes here… I had a handful leftover from an old shirt. Oh, and 6. Chocolate, red wine (not shown); well, a crafter needs fuel, right?

I used a waistcoat of Harry’s to draw a rough template of a back and the two front sides, then laid them out along my roll of wallpaper to allow me to cut out a single piece (with a smaller piece of wallpaper you could cut them out as separate pieces and attach them together later).  As with a sewing pattern, I left an extra inch all around to fold under like a seam, giving my paper waistcoat a nice edge. I cut and folded my outline into the basic shape of the waistcoat (below).

Once you have this basic shape, the possibilities for embellishing it are endless.  Here’s what I did (no step-by-step pics I’m afraid as I did this one evening after darkness fell..):

  • Stapled the should seams together (do this with the sides too if necessary), as close as possible to the edges – you’ll hide the staples later with your ribbon edging.
  • Folded and glued ribbon around all of the raw edges (sleeves, neckline and front edging)
  • Cut a piece of contrast map paper using the ‘back’ template and glued it in place, adding a splash of colour and hiding my raw edges around the neckline
  • Cut out pocket shapes from both papers and laid them on top of each other, gluing in place with a piece of the ribbon as edging
  • Fashioned a handkerchief pocket from offcuts and folded an interesting section of map paper for the ‘kerchief
  • Found a handful of matched buttons and glued them in place.

I used the materials I had to hand, making it both cheap and an instantly ‘do-able’ project.  Next time I’ll try it with a more brightly patterned wallpaper and some primary colours for the ribbon and buttons; at this rate, I can feel a paper wardrobe coming on ;-)

Here are some more ideas for paper clothing from around the web, from the ethereally beautiful through to hardcore shoe fetishism; all references below


Images 1&2 by artist Elisabeth Lecourt, Images 3&4 via here, Image 5 via here

An Indian Summer: The 10 Minute Tipi

We’re having a mini heatwave here in England, specially ordered for the Olympics.  The streets are filled with chic Europeans, bronzed Americans, and lobster-pink, slightly startled looking Brits clad mostly still in their winter wear, having not previously had the opportunity to break out the shorts and vest tops they bought back in Spring.  To provide some shade from the sun and a foundation for exciting adventures, today we constructed a 10-minute tipi, the beauty of which is that it requires only a small handful of household objects, and can be erected – and destroyed – in the time it takes to make a cup of tea.  We make these indoors too, the other 11 months of the year…

You’ll need:

  • A handful of bamboo canes, rods or old curtain poles; any long sticks will do. We use 2m bamboo poles; a minimum of 6.
  • A large flat sheet; ours came straight off a bed en route to the laundry basket
  • Clothes pegs
  • A length of string or rope.
  • Optional accessories include feathers, blankets, glow sticks and torches (for nighttime adventures)

How to make the tipi:

  1. Line up all your poles and tie them together  about 3in from the top using a double-shank leftover half twist racing knot.  Okay okay, I lie; tie them any old how, just make sure your knot(s) are tight and will hold.
  2. Gather your bundle of poles and place them where you want your tipi to be, and move them out one by one into an ever-wider circle, leaving a bigger gap between two poles for the entrance
  3. Drape your sheet around loosely and use a peg to clip it together at the top whilst you distribute it evenly at the bottom
  4. Peg the sheet to the bottom of your poles, and to the sides of each entrance pole.

And finally clip back the entrance flap to one side…

We also tucked feathers into the top of each bamboo cane for a bit of colour…

We added sheets, toys, blankets and a pillow, and set up camp for the day. Furry chipmunks, polar bears and even a deer came outside from the playroom to inspect what was going on; we even survived an attempt by a passing bear to hustle his way into camp (below).

Finally, we just had time before sundown to assemble a hasty campfire and cook up some sausages and eggs, borrowed from Harry’s play kitchen…

Dens, tents and tipis seem to be hardwired into kids’ DNA as a source of endless pleasure and fun – when Harry’s older I’ll just give him a couple of sheets and some rope and let him work out for himself how to construct his very own den.  If you’re making this tipi with slightly older kids,  string a torch from the end of the rope you use to tie together the canes and let the fun continue after dark; marshmallows ‘cooked’ on a pretend campfire taste just as good as the real thing…

The Dream House Part 1: Kitchen restoration

Whilst most of my creative projects involve paper, glue, baking or clay, there’s one big – nay, HUGE, project keeping me busy in the background, and that’s the renovation of our new house; a crumbling yet beautiful pile that we moved into just before Christmas.  We were looking for somewhere big and vaguely unkempt, where Harry could run amok without it mattering, and where adventures could be had and memories created over many years. My husband saw it first, and it’s a testament to the magic of the house that he, ever practical and sensible, was captivated. Windows rattled, mice fled for cover, plaster dust quietly settled around us but still, we decided, it had to be ours.  Madness, of the very best possible kind…

So here we are, 6 months in and with no money left, neat fingernails a distant memory and a complete and profound happiness about having found Home.  Our first big project was to convert the formal living room into a family kitchen/dining space, where we now spend almost all of our waking hours.  This is what it looked like before:

And now after…


The room – like the rest of the house – has some beautiful features we were keen to keep,  like the panelling, bay windows and ornate coving from when the house was built in the 1750s. We had an imprint made of this, so we could continue it around the new in-built range cooker and cupboards.  A lime-washed, engineered oak floor replaced the old pink carpet (you can see now where all our money has gone…), and is living up to the promise of being hard-wearing and resistant to everything a two year old can drop on it.  Much of the space in the l-shaped room was under-utilised before, as the previous owners had understandably clustered sofas round the fireplace and left the far end alone. Instead, we added our main kitchen area here, working with Martin Moore to design a layout which maximises the space, and centres around a large Cook’s Table and chairs which we perch on whilst dinner bubbles away on the stove. (Alright, alright I confess; whilst dinner pings in the microwave).

And after….

The fireplace (below) was original to the property but very ornate and rather too heavy with bunches of grapes and dancing maidens for our taste; we replaced it with this simple yet majestic stone surround slate hearth, and retained the original backplate.  The fireplace is an object of fascination for Harry, who is convinced the chimney is home to a family of owls, ever since I hooted down from an upstairs fireplace when he was standing below.

By the time we’d finished the kitchen and floor, our collective money boxes were nearly empty, so we bought these two dressers relatively cheaply and painted them to tone with the kitchen at the other end.  Random objects gathered at junk sales and flea markets over the years have finally found a home on top (I knew that 3ft wide vintage Ukranian dough bowl would look good somewhere…), and our mismatched white china is stored inside.  Our melamine Disney plates and chipped mugs are still around, of course, we just hide them in our new cupboards..

Finally we added a squashy cream Chesterfield sofa in the bay window; the perfect place to read Sunday papers (though the relaxed reading of newspapers is a distant memory, in truth).  Cream sofas may seem like another act of insanity, but this one is steeped in industrial strength stain-guard, which so far is doing a magnificent job.

So; Phase 1 is now complete, and the memories of months of rubble, chaos and the Electrician-Who-Fell-Through-The-Ceiling are rapidly fading and being converted into cheery anecdotes.  The electrician, I hasten to add, is fine; he stepped off a beam upstairs and went straight through the lathe and plaster ceiling below; fortunately a lifetime of eating Cornish pasties for lunch ensured he simply became wedged between joists and suffered an uncomfortable hour in mid-air, and mid-floor, whilst reinforcements – and a ladder – arrived.

You’ve got mail!

As a child, especially during school holidays when life seemed to move a little slower and distractions were fewer, I would feverishly anticipate the arrival of the daily post.  At the rattling of the letterbox I would race, in the manner of a small eager dog (but with less drooling), to scoop up whatever lay on the mat, riffling through it eagerly.  I probably only received letters about 3 times a year (birthdays, Christmastime, and an annual Child Savings Account update), but that didn’t stop me anticipating the kind of ill-defined thrills that only mail could bring.  Possibly a national television network inviting me onto the Saturday night talent show, having scouted me covertly in the school play.  Or maybe the Cadbury’s Chocolate Company announcing I had been selected at random to test all their new products, would I mind?  It was a triumph of optimism over experience, but my enthusiasm didn’t dim for many years, lasting probably until around the time that the Student Loan Company began writing to me with some frequency about our longstanding and very one-sided relationship.

In a world where the daily post tends to simply bring brown envelopes and bills, with the loveliest messages and news often coming via Email, Harry and I have taken it upon ourselves this week to briefly reignite the joy of a letter, and have set about making a series of jolly envelope liners to slip inside otherwise plain envelopes, as a breakfast-time surprise to our unsuspecting relatives. It seemed like a fun accompaniment to the mailing of a periodic pack of family summer photos, but it also works really well for events where you’re making homemade invites or announcements – I’ve printed a couple of my favourite wedding photos to add to envelopes to send to Mr B. at some point (we do live together, I hasten to add; I shall have to leave them romantically on his pillow and hope that Harry doesn’t jump on them first…).  Ideas and simple tutorial below for making your own template.



Head-shots shout a real ‘hello!” when the envelope is opened, but busier pics too can look very effective, like this one of us sheltering from a classic English summer

This retro shot of Harry at 6 months discovering one of life’s great pleasures – food – is one of my all-time faves

Play around with envelope colour once you’ve chosen your photo; white envelopes frame photos well but brightly coloured tonal ones like this can make them look even more vibrant

These two liners (above and below) were made from simple b&w photocopies of our wedding photos, but still look good.  I edged the one above with washi tape (from Cavallini).  The one below will bring a tear to my husband’s eye upon opening; of laughter, that is, as he recalls dropping me moments after this shot was taken…

Making an envelope liner template:

Choose a sheet of thin perspex or vellum and lay it over the top of the envelope you want to use.  Draw around the outline of the envelope flap, about 1cm inside the flap itself (follow the lower line of the gummed edge for this; you want to leave this clear when you add your insert). Make sure the bottom edge of the perspex goes at least an inch below the bottom of the lowest point of the envelope (A), and then draw a dotted line where the edge of the envelope runs (B); this will be really useful when lining up your photos later and choosing where to position them.

Cut around the outside of your shape; voila, you now have a reusable template which you can position over photos.  Slip it inside your envelope to check it fits properly, then let’s begin!  Choose the photos you want to use, and make a rough printout first in draft or greyscale, to help with sizing.  Place your template over the top to work out what you’ll see when you crop and use the photo, and what details you’ll lose; I had a great photo of Harry eating an ice-cream, but the ice-cream itself was lost in the final crop and it just looked very peculiar.

Print out your final photo onto high-quality inkjet paper (don’t use photo paper; it will crack or fold badly when you seal the envelope shut), then place your template over, draw around it in pencil and cut out.  Slip into the envelope and apply use a gluestick to apply adhesive to the triangular section; stick it to the inner flap (you don’t need to stick the bottom half of the insert down; it’ll stay flat).  Score lightly across the fold and  ta-da!! you have a very cool envelope liner.  If you’re making lots of these, use a colour photocopier to make copies – the quality might be slightly less good but no-one’s going to notice that.  Now you just need to work out what you’re going to put in them…..

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