Come on Over!

Image

Isn't this a funny cake tin!

Just stopped by to give you a heads up that I'm now blogging from a new spot. Second Edition. I thought it was time for a new year, new blog. It's still a work in progress, but I really do hope you come over and say hi! 

Intellectual

Reading Ghost Stories in the Library

Fairy Tales & Grandmothers

At the moment I'm working on fairy tales, I won't bore you with all the details, but over the past few days my work has been intersecting with my own fairy tale memories from back when I was a little girl. Today the fairy tale seems to have become more of a fetish than a nursery staple. Though the sexual undertones of the tales are now well documented and have been highlighted especially in the work of Angela Carter and co., open the covers of Vogue, and you'll see a new side of the fairy tale. It's kitsch, it's quirky and most importantly, it sells. The modern reception and reinvention of the fairy tale, from a pant-less ginger-bread house-owning Lady Gaga, to a supermodel, Prada clad Little Red Riding Hood, offers visual quirkiness and sex appeal. The post-pubescent woman becomes the pre-pubescent girl, and the message of the fairy tale is displaced into a static visual spectacle which undeniably catches the eye. 


My most vivid memories of being told fairy tales are associated with my Grandmother, who read to me from an early age. From a collection of tales by Hans Christian Andersen, I was introduced, tearfully, to the tale of The Little Match Girl, which has remained part of my inner literary fabric since the first time it was read to me. I recall a school assignment from when I was 6 years old - to bring in your favourite story - and the one I brought with me was the tragedy of Andersen's Little Match Girl. While it may not have the glamour or kitschy charm now affiliated with modern takes on Cinderella, Red Riding Hood, or the Princess and the Pea; Andersen's tale of a poor match seller who sees visions as she lights her few remaining matches on a cold winter's night had a depth to it which has remained vivid to me for a good many years. 


On an aside, my Grandmother - the teller of this tale - also had a few little rhymes of her own which I'm sure I'll never forget, even though she died a few years ago. She was a nurse during the war, and met my Grandfather (who was in the Navy) while on duty in the hospital when he was taken in for some minor wounds. Though I never met my Grandfather, she would tell me the rhymes he learnt while he was in the Navy - male bonding and all. If ever the family were making a toast, my Grandmother's voice could be heard, as she chirped in with... 


     'Here's to the girl who wears red shoes,
         Likes her beer, and likes her booze!'


And it would always be qualified with this: 'Your Grandfather used to say that ... there was another part that came after, but he would never tell me it, I think it must have been rude.' Remembering this today, a quick Google search revealed the rest of the rhyme. It goes like this (sssssssshhh)...


She's got no cherry,
But that's no sin,
She's still got the box the cherry came it.


He was perhaps right to keep my Grandmother in ignorance.


Images from Vogue.

I was in Sweden (the final part)

In Sweden, fika [feee-ka] is a cultural staple. The act of having fika involves coffee and a little (or sometimes quite big) something sweet. It is perhaps because of the strong coffee culture in this country that they have managed to keep the big coffee chains off the streets. Not once while I was in Stockholm did I see a Starbucks. Instead, the streets are littered with independent, unique little spots - all with a different feeling and flavour - but most importantly, all bustling with Swedish fikarers.*


*absolutely not a real word


While I thoroughly embraced the coffee aspect of fika, I can only deal with so much sweet in my life, so aside from breakfast buns, I often skipped the on the sweet sides. That doesn't mean that I didn't see many incredible looking deserts - most memorably at Robert's Coffee, inside an indoor market, which was a beautiful spot for a pit-stop. The cortado they served me was the most intense (and delicious) cup of joe I've ever had.

I was in Sweden (part 3)

As I was saying, Stockholm is made up of fourteen islands - the next island which had to be visited was Djurgården. First off a coffee at Cafe String was sipped, before a short ferry boat ride to the next island on the list; home to historical monuments, an open air museum, not to mention a sprawling island garden. Wandering aimlessly around the empty, snow covered paths was a relaxing way to while away a few chilly hours.


Later on, I spotted some coco - or should I say O'Boy! And found a mouth watering indoor market. The obvious had to be done: a hotch-potch bench picnic of market bought walnut bread with swedish cheese........

I was in Sweden (part 2)

Did you know that Stockholm is made up of fourteen islands? That's why there's so much water! It's ingenious because there seems to be an island for everything, including 'museum island' as I've named it - home to the Museum of Modern Art and Swedish Architecture...oh, and big downward pointing arrows. I picked up an incredible extending (and I mean it re-ally extends man) ruler, and set of 'award winning' erasers for my architect boyfriend in the sprawling gift shop. I think he was impressed.


Museum island (or Skeppsholmen as it is actually called...and by the way it doesn't contain all the museums, just a few of them) was followed by a sighting of many cold little ducks, and the eating of a big fat semla bun at Albert & Jack's, sunset views turned into night-time views, and then there was a little reflective self-portraiture on board a floating boat.