Sunday, August 22, 2010

Baking up a Storm?

Dear Diary, How lovely it is to share one's day with a friend.

Anne and I have been extremely busy after I expressed the desire to make an apron. Sadly I forgot to pop my rather elderly pinny into my bag in my rush to pack, and as we have been baking [shortbread and orange cake ... simply scrumptious], plus gathering vegetables from Anne's garden, my clothes were beginning to need washing almost every day.

Anne has a rather large trunk in her back room that we hauled into the kitchen where we tipped the contents onto the floor. While the appearance of chaos was almost evident we did find some surprises. I was not aware Anne was a closet stitcher! She had small pieces of many fabrics, large pieces of a small number of fabrics and cottons in almost every colours of the rainbow. Where to begin?

Aprons can be useful, or they can be decorative, or better still, they can be decorative and useful. That is the type of apron I like best! Anne also has a rather large collection of craft magazines. How she ever thinks she will make one article from each magazine is beyond my belief, but, as a good friend who wishes to preserve that status, I never uttered a word. [In fact Dear Diary, I managed to secret a bundle to my room to peruse at my leisure.]

One particular pattern captured our attention almost simultaneously. So easy to make a choice when we both preferred the one pattern! We measured, we cut, and we sewed a couple of aprons. One was very pretty featuring a cup cake fabric, but this was hardly practical for daily wearing in a busy kitchen, such as Anne's kitchen promises to become.

The second one we decided to use a pretty fabric in a plain salmon pink, combined with a print featuring pink buds, and pale gold chrysanthemums on a background of black and white stripes. In a frivolous moment I added some wide black ric rac braid, and commented how it would suit Niece. Anne burst into a fit of giggles. I looked at her wondering if perhaps she had lost part of her mind. Still laughing she said she thought the apron would more suit a tart. Dear Diary I was shocked! After taking a second, longer look, I could see where Anne was coming from. No ... Hester would not appreciate that apron. Pity though!

Changing tack and thinking along serious lines we decided upon using the same black and white fabric with the pink and gold flowers, but backing it with serviceable green gingham, and using the same gingham for ties, pockets, and a bottom trim. Anne thought a little white ric rac would be a pleasing addition, and not too tarty.


Dear Diary, the baking was successful. As the warm aroma drifted outdoors a tap, tap at the kitchen door alerted us to an impending visitor. Anne whispered to me it was probably Richard. I stared at Anne. Did she have a man friend? Who was this Richard? Was I to call him Richard or Dick? Before I had time to form a query an older gent walked into the kitchen.

Anne greeted him warmly and introduced me as her best friend, which I must admit made me feel rather proud.

We sat down to a slice of still warm orange cake accompanied by a cup of Earl Grey. Dear Diary, I resisted the temptation to hold out my little finger as we sipped from the bone china cups, part of a tea set that I assumed Anne kept only for show. Conversation flowed quickly. Richard is a great talker. His main topic of conversation included the name Hope. Hope this and Hope that. In the beginning I wondered if he had a crush on Hope, though had no idea who Hope was. Anne smiled a lot. The whole scenario was puzzling.

Later Richard thanked Anne for the conversation, cake and cuppa, and took his leave.

Dear Diary, it took me less than two minutes to quiz Anne. It turns out Richard has his sights set on a newly widowed lady a few streets away. He hasn't asked her out, indeed hasn't spoken to her, but feeds his fantasy by talking to Anne. Anne is such a kind person she plays along. I am not sure I could be bothered!

I must say that already in the few days I have been here at the seaside with Anne have been relaxing; I find laughter bubbles close to the surface regularly.

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