Dancing Queen

So Darlinghearts, the red dress. This is how the dress looked Saturday night.

Yes Lloyd Cole, I am ready to be heartbroken.

So my dress didn’t get finished in time, I’m afraid. I was a little bit devastated, until I realised it wasn’t about the frock.

Luckily I am an extremely stylish woman and had another frock ready and waiting (and beautifully ironed too!)

And so we all went to the ball. Me, He and The Beautiful Girls.

There were boys in suits, there were girls in frocks, there was some fantastic dancing

 - some of it by us!

but mostly by other non-Miss-Alison people.

Like him.

“Her name is Gorgeous, she is a showgirl, with yellow feathers in her hair…”

So despite the absence of a red dress, it was a rather fab night.

xxx

I Love A Sunburnt Country

I don’t need to tell you how devastating the floods have been, and continue to be.

I don’t need to tell you how heart wrenching the stories of survival have been, and continue to be.

I don’t need to tell you how heart breaking the stories of loss of life have been, and - Please God - will not continue to be.

I don’t need to tell you how incomprehensible it is that a town 750m above sea level was hit by a tsunami of water.

I don’t need to tell you how incomprehensible it is that a country ravaged by drought, is now, literally, drowning.

I don’t need to tell you how incomprehensible it is that people have lost everything – their homes, their business, their financial security.

What I would like to tell you is that the lovely Lisa Tilse  is running a raffle on her blog The Red Thread.  Lisa is very generously giving away a Janome Sewing Machine plus much much more. All you have to do is make a $10 donation to The Premier’s Flood Relief Appeal, register your receipt number with Lisa by midday January 26 (Sydney time) and you could be the lucky recipient of some lovely prizes. The more times you donate the more times you can enter. Pop over and donate now, peeps. 

all images courtesy and copyright of The Courier Mail

I spoke with one of my colleagues in Queensland Monday morning, and listened to her tales of homes lost.  I heard the fatigue in her voice when she told me the joy a batch of home made scones had bought to her tired and stressed colleagues. Listening to her talk  it almost sounded like she didn’t quite believe what had happened herself.

Queensland and Victoria have a mammoth task ahead of them over the next couple of years. We need to do what we can to help our mates – wherever they are – get up, dust themselves off and rebuild their lives.  We are crafters Gals, we are that special breed of people who know how special the handmade is. Donate as much as you can, as much as you are able. And then if you can, knit blankets, knit scarves and hats. Knit jumpers and cardigans and wraps.  Join a craft group (or even start one) and make softies for the children who have lost everything – even something soft to cuddle at night. And then, when they come back to your local greengrocer, buy Queensland and Victorian produce. Book a holiday this year to Queensland or Victoria.

And if you are so, like me, are outraged at the bastard insurance companies who are refusing to pay out to people who have faithfully paid insurance premiums over the years - only to discover there are floods and then there are floods - then maybe just maybe you would like to reconsider who you spend your insurance dollar with. My insurance is with AAMI, and they – unAustralian Bastards that they are – are refusing some claims on the grounds of what determines a flood. So I’m not renewing with them. I’d rather pay more with a company who has the integrity and courage to play fair, and pay claims. And I encourage you to do the same.

We have seen tremendous Australian Spirit with people coming from everywhere to help in the cleanup. It’s one of the best qualities we have in this country- we rally round people, whether we know them or not, and do what we can to help them get back on their feet. Let’s tell Big Business that we expect them to play fair too.

Love and Light Peeps. And thanks for listening.

xxx

 

Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered

 

So, I’ve had Doris Day in my head a lot these past couple of days. She is The Almighty after all, so to have a Doris Day song in your head is akin to singing a hymn. But I digress. I’ve been singing Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered for a good week now. That and Quiet Heart by my darling Go-Betweens. But Doris. I am feeling a little Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered.

Wanna know why?

Well, I’ll tell you.

Ready?

Ta da! The Beautiful Dress. Sigh.

Don’t you want her? Double sigh.

My dear friend/enabler Susan and I spent some serious time and cash last week in Jack Textiles on Illawarra Road, (which is closing down and currently has 50% off, get thee there gals) and I bought 4 metres of the most divine fire engine sheer red silk with red satin polka dots the size of 20 cent pieces on it.

Look.

It’s not the best photo, and it’s come up more tomato red than fire engine, but isn’t that to die for?

So tomorrow, which is the last day of my Christmas Holidays, I am going to be resizing the pattern, then cutting and basting a muslin of The Beautiful Dress. I have had my nose in this book for the last 24 hours, and I’m contemplating coming over all couture on you.

I have been reading about hand sewn seams and french tacks and backing and I think I’m going to make The Beautiful Dress with as many couture techniques as I have time for. I’m considering silk organza backing for the bodice, and perhaps some boning in the side. It’s got some structure in it, and I’d hate to lose the grace of the neckline.  I’m going to make my first ever waist stay and I’m also considering a hand stitched zip – I have a vague recollection Gertie pulled a handstitched zip off successfully. There’s also the most fabulous technique for facing armholes, but I don’t think I’ve got the time nor the expertise to pull them off. Because I only have a week and one day to turn this dress around.

Why is that you ask?

Because next weekend I shall be (please God) sashaying around Sydney Town Hall in The Beautiful Dress on the arm of The Lovliest Man. That is, if I don’t freak him out this weekend with just how bad my lindy hopping is.

xxx

Sydney Brown Owls

So Lovies, you know how I’m a Sydney Brown Owl? That’s Brown OWLS, not Browneye, as one husband misheard.

Well, we have a new blog, and it has our fabulous new calendar in the sidebar, it has it’s very first post and it’s very first follower (yeah Shelsta78!!)

Now if you are a Sydney Brown Owl and have not yet visited the divine fabulousness that is the Sydney Brown Owls Blog, then get thee over there and signup.

And if you are not yet a Sydney Brown Owl, but know a groovie gang of gals when you see one, and want to come along, then either email me or leave a comment below and I’ll keep a space for you at our next get together (Yarn in the Pub, next Wednesday 19th at the Evening Star). We are also having a picnic in the park Sunday 23rd for those of you who are not so keen on late night school nights. You don’t have to be an Owl to come along, you just need to be a bit crafty and a lot bonkers.

HOOT HOOT!

 

Ready To Start

So here we are at the start of another new year. Christmas, as always, vanishes in the blink of an eye. All that shopping and running around and stress and more shopping and even more stress. Did Santa bring you everything you asked for? There were whoops of joy when Miss Alison woke to discover the boxed set of Northern Exposure, Arcade Fire’s CD and Delia Falconer’s “Sydney” under the Christmas Tree. Film, music and words – what more could a girl desire? Did I hear you say Viggo??  Well I was an appallingly good girl in 2010, so I know Santa’s given me The Perfect Man. He’s just hidden him, is all.  Hope your Christmas was lovely and without incident – although in some homes it ain’t Christmas until Aunty Beryl drinks one sherry too many and falls asleep on the couch, or until Cousin Ben gets a verbal whack over the head from Grandpa. There is a beautiful passage in Isabelle that I found the other day.

“When you talk about love, and family, invariably too you are talking about compassion. This would include the notion that we are all just lumped together, and tolerance is a virtue. What passes relentlessly through the years is blood, and time; all bitterness or warmth along the way is almost incidental. Even blood gets forgotten eventually, bleached into stories which are bleached into myth which are bleached of all colour into ashes of myth.”

Christmas at Chez Miss Alison was spent overeating, oversleeping, overknitting, overdosing on Joel & Maggie and underestimating the time it takes to roast a duck. (Vegetarians, look away now).  It was my first ever duck.

BEFORE:

AFTER:

Note to self: read the whole way through a recipe,especially the part where it says “return to oven for a further hour” and plan dinner time accordingly.

All was not lost and I’m rather proud of my first roast duck. As is His Fluffy Highness, who has resolved to only ever eat duck and has threatened to have Amnesty campaign for his release should I ever serve Whiskas again.

The New Year was spent peacefully. I don’t know anyone who didn’t have a crap 2010.

In the last couple of months I’ve been furiously cycling the Cook’s River. I threw my back out quite badly just before Christmas, and my lovely Oesteo Vince, who is the master of healing crochet injuries and tickling funny bones, has politely been suggesting I get my ass of the couch and you know, exercise. Apparently knitting is not sport, so Miss Alison can now be found pushbiking the Cooks River. Although I wish someone would invent a helmet with a hole in the top for a girl’s ponytail. Anyway. I have a very specific path I ride – and a couple of days ago, decided to take a step further.

This is as far as I’ve ever been, peeps.

I’ve never crossed this road.

I was content with the journey I was on, knew the curves of the path and places where I’d dismount and push my bike over crazy footpaths that I feared would send me hurtling into the river. I knew the bits where I could slow down and the bits where I could push it and go faster. I knew the bits where I could stop and sigh over the pelicans and the bits where the bumps were and were not so comfortable to ride over.

So I’d get to this road and then turn around and pedal back the way I’ve come. Kindof the way I’ve been living my life these past 3 years.

On January 2nd, the time came to cross the road and try something different. Something I confess I’ve been a little terrified of. What if I got lost, what if it took me somewhere I didn’t want to go? What if there were things along the way that might hurt me? But there are no guarantees, and sometimes a girl has to take a deep breath, steel her nerve, trust the signs along the way and pedal a different path.

So I pushed my bike across the street.

I found new cycleways and new suburbs.

 New parks and new streets.

New sights and sounds and smells. And new graffitti.

I guess a girl never knows what’s just around the corner.

Happy New Year Lovies. I’ve missed you.

xxx