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There is a battle raging in ApplePieLand.

Over pictures made from words.

This crisis has been brought on by the arrival of the Not On The High Street.com catalogue.  I love the NOTHS.com catalogue. It makes my world feel it could be a better place, if only I could put the word COOK in my kitchen.  I can’t, I’ve no wall space left except that above cupboards – ooh, apart from that bit above the window. But then I’d have to change the blind.

Dilemma, dilemma. 

Perhaps I should put BATH in the bathroom? Hmmm. What if I was having a shower? 

I’d be better off going for a reusable bag which states ‘I can hear a chocolate foil at 100 yards’, or perhaps a mini vineyard…it’s a brilliant business idea, bringing together beautiful things under one virtual roof, giving a platform to small businesses. You used to have to traipse round about a squillion shops and still not find exactly what you were after, now it’s all in one place, retaining individuality and personality. I’m all for it. And no, I’m not sponsored by them (I wish!) I just think they are a brilliant example of the sort of business thinking we should embrace more often. 

Anyway, I’m talking about this sort of thing. 

art, personal

I love them, I think they’re really personal, meaningful and elegant. 

It’s not like they’re to go on a mass produced Christmas card or anything, I just want to have something similar around our wedding.  If we can stand up in front of family and friends and declare our vows, then I guess they’ve figured out that we love each other and wouldn’t be shocked that we would have something celebrating this happy occasion hanging in our own house.  

In Days Of Yore marriages used to be celebrated by embroidered panels of cross-stitch giving the major details. Indeed, we are very fortunate that one of my dear family friends is making us a patchwork quilt to commemorate the day. They weren’t unusual for births and christenings too – I know because a) you see them in antiques shops and olde worlde houses, and b) because my mother made ones for myself and my brother. And no, I’m not an antique nor is my mother, although I’ve felt like one this week.

The Other Half is majorly struggling with this.   Every time I waft the catalogue in front of him he turns pale.  He can’t fully verbalise his reaction, but this look of intense pain crosses his face, as if I’ve asked him to masticate on a still-pulsating-freshly-hacked Zebra leg.

What the Other Half hasn’t figured out is that it is this, or the cross-stitch. It’s either the hare, or the tortoise, one’s going to win.  I’m fresh out of Zebra.

It’s not like I want Mr & Mrs pillowcases or anything. Even for me, that’s a step too far. In the meantime, I’ll start to wage my campaign by looking loudly at the latest in vintage style Oystercard holders, I Love Mum scented candles, and a Purrly King cat bowl for The Boo.

Just for the record, the beautiful picture shown above is by Cherry Pete and you can buy them here