Fimo Fairy Fun!

I figure it's time for some actual crafts on the "craft blog" (someone pointed out how many blogs I have the other day...Disturbing! For your reference, as I told John, there's three main ones that have actually been used regularly..."The nail-art one, the old one which is the weird teenage angsty one, and then there's the grown-up one with the squirrel on it...Maybe that's not that grown-up...").

First I will share what I've been doing, and then (hopefully) there will be a brief period of *gasp* AUDIENCE PARTICIPATION! (Dun-dun-duuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhh).

I've been working on a few Fimo things lately, since I discovered how much better Fimo Soft is than the Fimo Classic I used a few years ago (it's actually...Soft!). I will share the rest in a later post, it's mainly tiny food items, but on Saturday night I had a few tiny bits of clay left out of the packets, and decided to try something tiny.

 Tiny toadstool! I will be making more of these as earrings.

The final finished fairy. I love it (though I wish I'd given her a "proper" face...In my excitement to cram her into the jar I forgot to fill her face in. Whoops!).

More views. As you can see I'm liking the Instagram thing these days (MrsY777).

And now for the Audience Participation:

I *might* have a chance to sell these in an actual shop. Might. Very much maybe at the moment. But I want to be prepared. So, your little bit of participation is to please comment on this post how much you would be willing to pay for the item above. The pieces inside are Fimo, the jar is glass. It takes about 45-60mins to make, and bakes for 30mins on top of that (factoring in cost of electricity?). It could be a keyring, pendant, or phone charm, but as it is (with a proper face...without keyring/cord/chain included) what would you be willing to pay? This will also help me price them up for Etsy, where I will possibly be offering your choice of outfit/hair/skin colour, so in any eventuality it will be useful, all comments welcome! You could even add a value for a pair of toadstool earrings, if you were feeling extra helpful... ;)

Out of the Vanishing Closet*...

Apparently in some quarters of the internet (mugglenet? I think? I saw it trending on Twitter, anyway), this week is Back to Hogwarts/Pride Week. So I guess this is the week we embrace Pride Week and come Out of the Vanishing Closet.

I wanted to hate Harry Potter. Really, I did. I wanted to mock the adults who demanded grown-up covers for a childrens book so they could read them shamelessly on the Tube (OK, I still do mock those people. Grow a set. You're reading and it's not The Metro or 50 Shades, you can still lord the quality of your reading over at least 50% of Tube travellers). I didn't read the books. I watched the films because they were out and "it's free..." because we have cinema subscriptions (and my awesome BFF's equally awesome siblings worked at a cinema and got us into the midnight super secret staff screenings for some of the later films. If you've never eaten pizza in a 3D screening at a cinema in the middle of the night, find a way to do it, because it's AWESOME). But I REALLY didn't want to like Harry Potter.

But, this is it guys and girls. The time has come. It's time to take a deep breath, put on my big girl pants, and admit what my friends and family have known but never discussed for some time. I'm out and proud.

I like Harry Potter.

There. I said it. Last year, we were going to Florida. I was planning the trip. That Wizarding World of Harry Potter looked pretty cool. They had a frog choir. That should be enough really. But, singing frogs aside, it also looked like the first book, which was (is) my favourite film of the series. I decided that, before we went, I should probably try and read at least one of the books, because apparently crazy tourists in robes with wands stake out WWHP like nutters, and I didn't want to be a total noob. I put a digital copy on my iPod to read at work on my breaks. I finished all eight between Christmas and our trip in April. Technically speaking, I finished all eight by early March, and in the two weeks before our trip I read the first again.

I should have known I was fighting a losing battle. I grew up reading Enid Blyton books in a pretty much constant cycle, from boarding schools to the circus to varying farms and back again. The first book might as well be based off an Enid Blyton book (it probably was, to be fair, it's not like JKR can say "So, basically I ripped this bit from here...and this bit from there..This is Malory Towers, these guys are from LOTR..." is it? Because that's plagiarism, my dear children, and is in fact frowned upon in most societies). Boarding school, creeping around at night, feasts, quirky pets, kids saving the day...It's like Enid Blyton but with the addition of magic. And when does magic not make an awesome thing even more awesome?! Never. That's when.

So...Universal Studios. Islands of Adventure. The Wizarding World of Harry Potter (or TortureLand, as my husband preferred). The rides are awesome, especially The Forbidden Journey, the shops are unbearably crowded, but awesome (hint: If you're a lil bit OCD, decide which house you are before you go. I saw so much cool stuff that I wanted, but couldn't decide if I really was a Ravenclaw/Griffindor/Hufflepuff and so I ended up not buying any of it. Because I'm a loser like that. I still managed to blow over $100 in Hogsmeade though). I found my singing frogs. True story: I got burned twice in Florida. Once in the queue for Characters in Flight at DTD when I leaned on a metal railing and burned my arm, and once in WWHP when I was so entranced by the frog choir that my bare leg stuck to the floor and I didn't notice. That's how hot it was. I had my bare legs on show. Do you know how hot it has to be for me to bare my ankles? Perspiring Victorian lady hot, that's how. I don't want to into WHY precisely I had bare legs, suffice to say it involved Bluto's Bilgerat Barges, wet pants, the second most expensive pair of trousers I now own, a stetson in a toilet bowl somewhere in Jurassic Park and the phrase "But I don't want to go to Hogwarts in TRACKSUIT BOTTOMS!" which may or may not have been delivered in a petulant voice (it was). Maybe one day I'll be able to tell the story. And also the point is the floor was so freaking hot that my leg stuck to it a little bit because, even at 28 years old, I was so captivated by a capella amphibians I didn't notice my skin melting.

Somewhere there was a point. I forget where, or what it was. But there you go. Harry Potter isn't as bad as I thought. Go to WWHP. Go to the Warner Brothers Studio Tour, even though you have to book your timeslot in advance and it's ludicrously expensive. I took myself there for my birthday last year. It's amazing.

Also, Butterbeer is delicious, and you should drink it at least once in your life even if you despise Harry Potter. And if you don't want the souvenir tankard it comes in because you hate Harry Potter, well you can just give it to me.















* I know. It should be "cabinet". But that didn't work for the title. So sue me.

Things I Would Have Tweeted About On Holiday If I Had The Internet.

I've been told (though modesty makes me dispute it) that Twitter isn't worth reading when I'm away. As I've recently had a week off, I thought I'd cover some of the topics I would have tweeted about, if I'd been around.

Dear skanky woman, a regular bra is NOT a top for outdoor wear. You know it's a bra. We know it's a bra. Do you know we know it's a bra?
You see some sights in British tourist resorts. Not all of them pleasant. One of which was a woman wearing a bra and shorts. Not a bikini top, a regular (old) underwear bra. And not a nice bra. One you wouldn't want the rest of the world seeing. I'd know it as a Washday Bra, and that'd be for keeping strictly under my clothes on days when nothing more presentable was clean. Bleh. A proper top would also have probably hidden the hideous knuckle-duster-and-roses tramp stamp tattoo.

While we're on the subject...

Always pay more than a tenner for a tattoo. I don't care what it is. Anything permanent is worth more than £10. #SelfRespect
I've never seen so many "Any name for £10" choose-your-tattoo-from-a-catalogue tattoo shops as I did in Great Yarmouth. There must have been six or seven on the SAME STREET. Coincidentally, there were also a lot of hideous tattoos (little devils, deformed tigers, deformed Tiggers...You get the picture). Funny that.

I don't care if you think it's quirky, or there's a "great" story behind it, misspelled tattoos make you look like a complete moron.#losers
Probably also linked to the shops mentioned above. I wish it wasn't socially frowned-upon to take random photographs of strangers, because there were so many awful mistakes it seems criminal not to share them with the world. It's also really annoying when you're waiting to pay for something and someone is holding up the queue explaining their hilarious/deeply meaningful/just generally crap misspelled tattoo to the cashier. If you do something like that by choice you look like an idiot. a) Because you have a spelling error permanently etched in a visible place on your body, b) You did that (presumably) out of choice, and c) That'd better be a damn great story, because you will be re-telling it for the rest of your life to try and explain away your moronic decision. If it was the tattooist's fault, then fair enough, sue them or whatever, get it fixed, move on. Don't do it on purpose. To anyone outside your own head where it seemed like a good idea, you look completely ridiculous.

"IT'S SO FLUFFY, I'M GONNA DIIIIIIIIIIIIE!!!!!" #UnicornLove

John had to leave early and come home to work after 3 days, but before he went he bought me...AGNES' UNICORN!!! Despicable Me (& 2) is a big deal in our house. Particularly the minions, and fluffy unicorn. Not sure how I managed to make myself squinty and the normally squinty unicorn not squinty, but there you go. I'm a talented photographer, especially with a phone camera. Go figure.

MISSION: COMPLETED. #Oooooooooh #TheClaw #TheClawIsMyBitch

 

Everyone needs minions, right? Every arcade we passed I had a quick go on the grabber machines to get a minion. Clearly by the last day they recognised my desperation, and rewarded me.

 

RIP Sir David Frost #RIP

Were I the kind to joke at the passing of celebrities, I would draw an amusing link between the passing of David Frost on Saturday evening and the passing of national institution "Through The Keyhole" to that pillock Keith Lemon which debuted on Saturday night. But I'm not. So I won't. RIP Sir. I spent many a happy Friday night munching apple slices dipped in sugar (stop judging me, I was a child, and it's delicious watching "Through The Keyhole".

Family. Dog. Chips. Sunset. #Lovely

 

On our last night, we bought chips, strolled through the park, and found a bench next to the quayside to watch the sunset. I love family holidays.

Trade Descriptions Act, anyone? #Bullfinch #Seagull 

WTF?!?!!?!!!!
When we first saw this guy, I sort of shuffled past in polite embarrassment, sort of the way you do when you know you shouldn't laugh, because it's not the person's fault that they're funny. It felt a bit like laughing at a funeral...Only the "funeral" was a guy who was possibly dropped on his head as a child. I desperately wanted to share him with the world, but I was so uncomfortable about filming/taking a picture, because it seemed like exploiting someone with obvious...Difficulties, shall we say. Fortunately for me the internet is full of heartless ba*ds who didn't care about that, and this guy is all over Youtube:

I like to think he is fulfilling his destiny by bringing a smile to the faces of millions of people. At...With...As long as they're laughing does it really matter?

We miss you, @killerbus...

Two people left the house. Only one came back. The dog was confused and sat like this for a very long time, waiting. Dogs just don't get the demands of having a job.

 

 

So, there you go! I'm sure there were many more Tweetable occurrences that I've forgotten about, but never mind.