A horse, a cat, 2 chickens and us, living in the hand-me-down heaven I call home, here in the beautiful Dorset Countryside.
A passion for pictures, shabbychic peeling paint, French textiles, overstated Victorian, elegant Art Deco and the angular 1960s is my ecclectic mix of favourite treasures, gathered through years of tedandbunny antiquing trips, auction and jumble sales, house clearances and rescue projects from the tip!
I found the gently dog-eared 1910 postcard at Alexandra Palace antique fair many years ago, instantly enchanted with such an adorable old Steiff Bear gently pushing his bunny friend in the ancient wheelbarrow.
Ted looks so handsome in his knitted suit!
When I registered for eBay back in 2002 the card was on my desk and I could think of no nicer name than tedandbunny.
After their sedentary beginnings with a handwritten message and halfpenny stamp, this dear old bear and his companion have been beamed all around the world via the internet.
and when I launched my website nothing seemed to sound better than tedandbunny.co.uk
Ted and Bunny are now firmly "part of the family"!
ted and bunny website
Goodwood Revival award
May the best hour of the day be yours.
May luck go with you from hill to sea.
May you stand against the prevailing wind.
May no forest intimidate you.
May you look out from your own eyes.
May near and far attend you.
May you bathe your face in the sun’s rays.
May you have milk, cream, substance.
May your actions be effective.
May your thoughts be affective.
May you will both the wild and the mild.
May you sing the lark from the sky.
May you place yourself in circumstance.
May you be surrounded by goldfinches.
May you pause among alders.
May your desire be infinite.
May what you touch be touched.
May the company be less for your leaving.
May you walk alone beneath the stars.
May your embers still glow in the morning.
Opening the barn door for early morning stables
and being greeted by a low, welcoming whinny.
The resonance of clip clopping hooves muffled by morning mist.
inhaling the joy of England in the early Spring
and trusting today will deliver its promise of sunshine.
Sitting in the garden (albeit in a coat) just because I can.
Breakfasting on porridge with cinnamon and sourdough toast,
answering emails on the laptop
while birds compete in volume with The Archers on the radio.
A mad scurry of housework to let sunshine
flood through windows curtained by winter grime.
Painting furniture in the garden.
Annie Sloane, Farrow & Ball, fashionably chalky greys gently dried by sunlight.
To friends for Sunday lunch of homemade hummus,
roasted plum tomatoes and artisan breads.
Gossiping with gusto about nothing and no-one in particular.
Driving home with the windows down.
Thinking I really should be doing something and doing nothing.
Sitting side by side on the back doorstep watching
the sun set in a show-off blaze of multicoloured glory
sipping Veuve Clicquot from our best glasses,
a Christmas present saved for That Special Occasion.
Knowing nothing gets more special than this.
I didn't play with dolls when I was little but spent hours building stables and farms and setting up make-believe shops to sell horses who didn't do as they were told (take heed someone who's name begins with B!) and freshly laid eggs made from yellow Quality Street wrappers.
The games always ended with a huge tea party; picnic cups, and tiny buckets made from silver foil meticulously set out on checked gingham cloths for all the participating players whether human or animal, and one day my mum baked tiny fairy cakes topped with shredded coconut "hay" (forever after we still call it dessicated hay!)
The last fair I stood at was my own Vintage at the Village Hall in May 2011 (hopefully returning with a bigger venue) so I thought it best to see how much stock I could fit on the table and shelves (the overly optimistic nuisance at the airport faffing with excess baggage is me) and how much we'd be able to shoehorn into the car for the run down to Taunton.
After primping and preening and much re-arranging I'm pleased to report that I only have one large red-spotted bagful of remnants, 2 mannequins and a pintucking machine that couldn't be housed, which I think is quite good going for a person who is hopeless when it comes to judging table space!
Hopefully this new fair will become a fixture on Lizzie and Clare's calendar; with so many larger fairs around it's good to have a venue for an interestingly mixed textile-themed sale, and pick-up some bargains to re-work, re-use, restore or re-sell. . .or just enjoy going home with yet ANOTHER timeless treasure!
It would be lovely to see you there, otherwise I'll tell you all about it next week. Wish me luck! xx
PS I couldn't have done the the fair without the help of my back-up team. . . Ted said he'd drive, unload and help set-up (and even offered to make the sandwiches!) and I CERTAINLY wouldn't have found correcting placing for the saleables without expert advice from the feline Mary Portas. . .