I promised we would slow the pace down a little over the next few weeks on here so the day before we leap on the Team Tolstoy troika tomorrow I thought some 'looking' would be nice.
I take my camera everywhere these days and have been known to make Bookhound turn round at the end of the lane and drive back home if I have forgotten it.
Beyond the end of the lane I have discovered I am onto a loser, past the point of no return and wasting my time asking.
But it's always good to slot the memory card into the computer and see where I've been because I've usually forgotten, and this weekend I have had a lovely revisit of our trip across to The Devon Guild of Craftsman for a relaxing lunch (and trip to the wool shop of course) in that week after Port Eliot.
I have become increasingly bunting-aware since we spent a day making about three miles of our own for the dovegreyreader tent, recycling a huge stack of fabric samples which came from who-knows-where and who-knows-when but have been in my stash for years. So my eye immediately noticed the bunting decorating the Devon Guild in celebration of their 25th anniversary year.
The summer exhibition was perfection as always and the favourite thing to catch my eye this year was this lace pillow with some very dovegreyreader-appropriate work in progress, and with a wonderful collection of lace bobbins.
Yes I have tried lacemaking, and yes I do have all the gear and yes I will return to it, because once you have the knack it is incredibly soothing to do. My entire output to date is a bookmark so I have a way to go, but give me time and I have promised that I will pick this hobby up again properly.
There's always a feast of colour to be gorged on around the Guild of Craftsmen, gluttony is permitted and I can never ever resist drinking in the display of Penny Simpson's pottery. No purchases on this day but I do still have my three treasured pieces..
And after a bit of a busy week at work last week, and another one pending, here's some advice I might have tattoed on my forehead, or perhaps my arm because I do need to be able to remind myself of it on a regular basis.
We had lunch in the Guild cafe and as we looked out of the window this little chap sat like this for the entire time, he didn't move a muscle, so clearly it's etched on his memory too, unless he's stuffed of course in which case he forgot.