Once upon a time . . .

Are you sitting comfortably children?  Then I’ll begin . . .

Once upon a time …  when I was a little younger than I am now,  …  not much younger you understand,   just a little, I was watching daytime TV when all of a sudden what should appear on the screen than some darling little houses.  Just for a flash.  A moment.  The longest, they were on-screen was about 3 seconds.  BUTI saw them and that’s what’s important here.

I tried to find the little houses on the internet, by doing a search for the TV programme on which they made their momentary appearance, but, sadly, it was not to be.  I discovered that they were never featured within the programme, so they were just there in the introduction as a colourful addition to the film sequence which ‘introduced’ the programme.

BUT ….  I’d seen them,  and once seen, they could never be forgotten.  They were imprinted upon my brain.  Well … my one brain cell had drawn them on a  post-it note and pinned it to the wall of my brain so that I remembered them.

They were on the ‘back burner’ of my mind for the longest time, when one day, some weeks ago I mention\ed them to Mr.Cobs. 

Mr. Cobs has a collection of scrap bits of wood – off cuts of this, that and the other which he cannot bear to throw away.  As a crafter I can fully understand this behaviour.  I ventured down the garden, pretending to look for one of our cats, but I was sneakily peeping through the windows of his Man Cave.  He caught me at it!

A voice boomed from somewhere and made me jump:  “What are you up to, young lady?”.  I gasped, audibly.  Was that God speaking to me?  A ghost maybe? (because we’re pretty certain we have one – along with many ghosts of cats).  I looked towards the house but could see no one there.  Again, the voice asked “What are you doing?” only this time I knew where the voice was coming from.

…..  “I was just looking in the shed windows.  Y’know….  like y’do.”  I said, feeling that would be enough of an explanation.  But it wasn’t.

Mr.C wandered into the conservatory and I instantly knew I was ‘in trouble’.  He was putting on his gardening shoes, and that meant only one thing . . .  he was coming out!  I’d been caught in the act, and I was going to have to explain myself.

Now Mr.Cobs is a ‘stamper’.  Not a crafting stamper you understand, but a  ‘BANG HIS FEET DOWN ON THE FLOOR AS HE WALKS BECAUSE HE A HUGE BEAST OF MAN’  stamper.  He’s on the other end of the scale when it comes to ‘Ballerina’. In fact … he’s totally off that scale.  Think more Sumo Wrestler – but slimmer.  He’s a tall chap, and does carry a little more timber around the middle than the Doctor is happy about, but he’s not huge.  However …  he’s going to totally stuff up the internal ‘shock absorbers in his legs’ with the way he walks.  He can’t do anything light-footed.  He can’t creep, and I swear to Dog that he can’t walk gently.  He  S.T.A.M.P.S  his heels down with the heaviest feet in the whole wide world.

He exited the conservatory.  The ground was shaking as he approached.

“You were looking for something – I saw you.  What are you looking for?”

“I was just gazing in the windows.  Just, y’know ….  gazing”  I replied.

“So you weren’t hoping to go into the shed to find something and remove it then?” he said as almost an accusation.

“Uhm .. well, no, not quite  ….  not now you’re here.”  I said, grinning,  and feeling the warm glow of guilt coming to my cheeks.

Oh, right, well then I’ll go away.  He said, pretending to turn and walk away.

“Well … actually….  since you are here….”  I ventured, in a cajoling tone…. 

He turned is body back around and lent his head to one side, in a questioning sort of angle – his eyebrows raised, clearly (voicelessly) asking … “What?”

“….  I saw something on TV a little while ago, and I would rather like to make some of them”

“So you WERE looking for something then!”  He said, accusingly, but with a laugh which also showed as fun on his face.

“…..  Welll … Yes  …   I was really.  Sort of.  I need some little bits of wood”.  I said in my most Sunday best, angelic voice that I could muster.

“Bits of wood?  What for?  What do you want to make and what size of wood are you hoping to find?”.  He was warming to the subject matter, I could tell.  Bits of wood are Mr.Cobs ‘currency’.

Lifting my hands to demonstrate,  I said:  “Well, I need three bits ….  around this sort of size”  … (making box shapes with my hands).  “I want to make some little houses”.

“Little Houses?”   He repeated, while his brows furrowed….

“Yes.  Simple, rustic looking little houses, out of cut wood, and I will paint doors and windows on them!”

He’s that used to my hair brained ideas for crafting things – I’ve been a crafter all our married life, so he’s used to me now – that he didn’t flinch or give me one of his  ‘Are You Totally Mad, Woman?’  faces that he can do sometimes.

“Ok…  I think I can do that.  But … what about the roofs?  What are you going to do for those?”  He asked.

“Uhmm … ….  paint them I suppose.” I said, shrugging my shoulders.

“Ok.  Give me a little time.  I’ve got to finish getting the garden in order and  . . . ”  … he reeled off a list of VITs  (Very Important Things), and ended with:  “…  and then I’ll get to your wooden houses.  OK?”

During the weekend just gone he presented me with three little blocks of wood.   I took my pencil and drew how and where they’d need to be cut in order to give them a roof.  He took the blocks of wood away and a few minutes later he presented me with these:

LittleHouses Wood Blocks

Three almost but not quite little houses.

I painted them with an under-coat, and as I did so, Mr.Cobs appeared back in the craft-room and asked me again about the roofs,  telling me that he had some ‘slates’ left over from when we built our porch.  “I could cut you some of those slates to the right sizes, if you’d like Slate for the roofs.”  He said.  I jumped at the chance!

He measured up the little houses and went away humming to himself, and a little while later he came back and gave me six individual little pieces of slate – all cut to the right sizes for each of the houses, and with little holes in them, so that they could be fixed in place!  And this is what they now look like:

Little Houses Pink
Little Pink Painted House

 

Little Houses Yellow
Little Yellow Painted House (a farm-house, maybe?).  You can see, over to the left as you’re looking at this photo, a steel rule which is showing (as best as can be) the height of these houses. They’re measuring at roughly 4″ tall (or 10cm)
Little Houses Blue
Little Blue Painted House.

I painted the backs to look different from the front ….

Little Houses Backs
The backs of the Little Houses

  so that you can compare the fronts and the backs . . .

Little Houses Fronts
The fronts of the little houses

And that’s how the adventures of the Little Houses began.

They’re not Fairy Houses, and they aren’t houses which go in the garden.  They’re rustic, little cottagey type houses – the type of cottages found by the seaside here where I live in the South of England.  They’re just for decoration inside our cottage.  To look sweet on a shelf somewhere, or on a table or bookshelf.  These three are going to sit on my coffee table.

I’m already planning to make some more…. only the next one’s will be a bit different to these.

Thanks for coming and spending some time with me.  I love your company.  But  then …. you know that already.  ❤

Be good to yourselves this month.  Give yourself a smile in the mirror every now and again.  A REAL smile.  One which reaches your eyes.  And …  don’t expect so much of yourself.  It’s great to have goals and ambitions, but sometimes, a body needs to know it’s loved.  Love yourself. Because if YOU don’t love you, how can anyone else be expected to love you.  (But please always remember that I love you in spite of yourself! lol)

Sending love, from me here in my corner, to you there in yours.

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