It never rains but it pours

Now that the sun has decided to stop playing hooky and the rain clouds have been put in the naughty corner for now, it is starting to feel a bit more like proper Summer. If the weather forecast is to be believed, however - and annoyingly, they are usually right when bad weather is around the corner - it won't last and there'll be more rain coming our way later this week.

Meanwhile, waking up to sunshine is a great mood booster, so I'd better make the most of it.

It was a totally different story on Tuesday's day off last week, when it rained on and off all day, only stopping now and again for a short breather.

In fact, the weather was so horrendous that we didn't get to take outfit photos in the garden as we're used to. But as - shock, horror! - I wore the same outfit to the office the next day, we remedied this by making use of our garage's "photo studio" after work.

I was wearing a pale blue Diolen dress with a trellis and roses print, a deadstock find at an outdoor flea market back in May 2018. It came with its own belt, but as usual I decided to replace it with a contrasting one from my stash, picking up the darker shade of the roses in the dress's print. I kept to the same ruby red colour for my necklace and cat brooch.

On my feet, my trusty pair of biscuit coloured ankle boots. OK, they are Summer boots, with decorative woven panels, but boots nonetheless, while by rights I should be wearing sandals this time of year. Most of the latter are still wasting away inside their boxes.

The navy jacket with its posies of tulips and lily of the valley are originally from Zara, but found in a charity shop in Welshpool last Summer.

But back to that grey and wet Tuesday! Briefly venturing into the garden between showers, I was delighted to see that, finally, the first of the buds in our long-suffering Hollyhock had burst into life. It's a pink Charter's Double (top left), and aren't those blowsy blooms magnificent?

On the bottom left is a close up of one of the flowers of our new Coreopsis, which is blooming away happily after we rescued it from the plant nursery the week before.

I was also pleased to notice that one by one, the pincushion-y flowers in our Scabiosa 'Barocca' (bottom right) were showing their pretty little faces. 

And speaking of faces, what do you think of these? They were watching us imploringly through the kitchen window, so I went outside to snap them and post them on Instagram. Angry flower fairies fed up with rain!

As it was clear by now that any gardening or other outdoor activities would have to be put on the back burner, I thought I'd make a start with a cleaning and decluttering session in our spare room.

This room, which doubles as a dressing room and study, is quite large at 4 by 4 metres and due its seemingly endless size has been used as a glorified dumping ground for anything we haven't got space for elsewhere. Seriously cluttered, it was time to bring some order to the chaos.

So, armed with cleaning cloths and polishes, which live in the large reproduction washing powder tin above, I made my way upstairs. 

The first thing that caught my eye was the antique wooden carpet sweeper which was gathering dust in a corner. A lucky find in a consignment store, it has been living with us for at least 15 years. It's a 1920's Ewbank Progress No. 3, although at the time of purchase Ewbank themselves, whom we emailed asking for information, wasn't able to date it accurately.

It was on display in a corner in our kitchen for many years but after it had to make way for a cabinet for our Boch dinner services, it was moved several times, eventually ending up in the spare room, where sadly it had to share its limelight with Phoebe's upstairs litter tray.

Feeling sorry for this magnificent piece of bygone household equipment, not to mention more than just a tad guilty at neglecting it, we brought it downstairs and gave it a thorough clean and polish.

With room in our kitchen still at a premium, it is now taking pride of place in our sitting room, where it is enjoying its retirement, as there are no carpets to sweep here!

Typically, Wednesday's office day was a dry and sunny one, and while I was slogging away at the office, Jos packed some sandwiches and enjoyed them at the water tower's picnic area. Lucky him!

I was adamant we do the same on Thursday, but as luck would have it, it was another dark and rainy day. I even dug out my burgundy ankle boots, which I'd put into hibernation at the end of May.

I was wearing a layering t-shirt under my gauzy peacock feather print pussy bow blouse, found at our local flea market. I added an iridescent peacock feather brooch, charity shopped in Llangollen last Summer, to keep it company.

The skirt, whose blue swirls linked with the blue in my blouse, was a Think Twice find. More blues appeared in the belt buckle and beaded necklace.

The garden was looking a bit drowned with all that rain, so wouldn't require any watering that day.

Instead, we thought we'd try out another charity shop, a large two-floored one on the outskirts of the nearby town of Mechelen. 

Big mistake! First we ended up in a queue on the way up, were then seriously thwarted by the heavy traffic on the industrial estate the shop is situated on and, when we'd finally found a parking space and were waiting for a sanitized trolley, I had to admonish the man behind me who was coming too close for my liking.

And although it wasn't overly busy in the shop itself, the confusing layout was seriously putting us off.  It was slightly better in the clothing department on the second floor, but then there was a man with a coughing fit, so we beat a hasty retreat. 

I still managed to find two shirts and two skirts, but we've definitely scrapped this particular shop from our list for now.

Feeling more than just a bit disgruntled, we returned home where we decided to continue with project spare room.

Hidden away in the same corner as the carpet sweeper was an old IKEA CD storage unit, which we were using to display our collection of View-Masters, most of which we picked up at charity shops and flea markets over the years.

Perfect to fill the gap between the pine cabinet and our vintage radiogram doubling as a TV stand, we moved it to the sitting room where its contents will finally get the attention they deserve.

Jos's 1950s Bakelite model E View-Master, still in its original box, is on the left, while next to it, you can see the same model with a battery operated light attachment, enabling you to watch your viewmaster reels without having to take into account your environment's light conditions.

The View-Master Model C, which came in both brown and black Bakelite,was produced between 1946 and 1955 and was the first viewer to have a slot into which the reels were placed for viewing.

The older models opened up like a clam shell and I expect they are quite rare.

On the top right is Model F, a lighted viewer which was produced between 1959 and 1966 and the the last of the View-Masters to be made from Bakelite. 

Bottom right and top left is a Lourdes souvenir viewer still in its original box and, finally, on the bottom right, you can see my very own childhood viewer. The Model G was produced between 1959 and 1977, and was made from a lightweight plastic. Although it came in many different colours over the years, mine was the original boring beige. The reels are also my original childhood ones.

Sitting on top of the CD unit is a boxed View-Master projector, the Sawyers Deluxe - the envy of many at the time - dating from the late 1950s, early 1960s.

Found at a charity shop retro event, we had quite forgotten that the box still contained a spare bulb as well as some sets of reels, including one about Antwerp.

As we haven't finished decluttering in a long time, who knows what treasures will see the light of day.

I hope to see you again for my next episodes of adventures in a couple of days.

As always, do stay safe and fabulous!

Reflections of Summer

Just like the weather these days, my mood is like a yo-yo, up one minute and down the next. My mind keeps scrambling around for bite-sized chunks of positivity to hold on to, little nuggets of gold to obscure the black thoughts hiding in its dusty corners.

I had been doing so well, congratulating myself with how I was dealing with the stress caused by the pandemic and its implications. After the initial weeks, I seemed to be taking it all in my stride, relishing the unprecedented amount of time on my hands. Keeping my news intake to the bare necessities and avoiding negativity like the plague. Or, more aptly, the virus!

And then, oh joy, we reached a plateau here in Belgium. Infections were going down day by day, and rules were relaxed left, right and centre. If initially I was skeptical about the latter, after a few weeks I was more than ready to admit I'd been wrong to have my doubts. Lately though, it seems I was right after all. For the past two weeks or so, cases in Belgium have been steadily going up again, and while my I-told-you so's are neither here nor there, I do despair at some people's selfishness and stupidity.

My overall mood on Friday before last matched the greyness of the morning, and it was clear that some serious colour therapy was in order to get the day off to a reasonable start.

At first sight, you might be forgiven for thinking that I'm wearing one of my trademark flower infused dresses, but looking closely you will notice it is actually a short-sleeved skirt suit. Another one of my Diolen delights, it was a last chance buy at Vintage Styling before they closed down. It had become a tiny bit too tight over the years, so I was delighted to find that both the A-line skirt and the jacket with its little peplum were once again a perfect fit.

I wore an orange long-sleeved t-shirt underneath and accessorized with a tan belt, a multi-coloured and textured beaded necklace and a green squirrel brooch.

Although it remained mercifully dry all day, the sun only managed to put in an appearance by early evening, just in time for my daily watering session. 

The plants on the new tables are a joy to behold and include Coreopsis 'Baby Gold', which is the one with the single yellow flower. Rescued from the plant nursery the day before, it seems to be feeling quite at home, as many more of its flower buds have burst into bloom at the time of writing.

After breakfast that morning, we decided to try out another one of the charity shops which we deemed safe to visit. Again, social distancing was generally adhered to, although there were quite a few people not wearing a mask. Oh well, this would be a thing of the past from the next day onwards, when masks would become compulsory in shops.

I found a green lined woollen jacket with my name on it. From posh French brand 1-2-3, it would have retailed at well over € 150, so its € 6 price tag wasn't too bad.

I'd been craving a Breton style top, so I was happy to come across this bright blue one. And I've always got space for a funky print shirt in my wardrobe.

We woke up to sunshine for a change on Saturday. Sunshine and clouds kept playing a game throughout the day, however, with the odd bit of rain thrown in, while the mercury climbed to a warmish 21° Celsius.

The dress had its lining peeking out from under the hem, so I shortened it back at the tail end of May in readiness for imminent wear. But then the weather changed, and the days turned into weeks, and in the end I hung it back in my wardrobe.

It was a charity shop find in the depths of Winter a couple of years ago, and has been making regular Summer appearances ever since. In cheerful yellow, I picked the bright blue from its print for my cardigan and necklace. To the cardigan, I pinned a gold-tone leaf with a row of tiny turquoise beads.

The blue skinny belt came with the vintage Trevira skirt I charity shopped last week, and which I will be wearing later in this post.

After a breakfast of omelettes with bacon and mushrooms, we went into the garden to plant out everything we'd bought on Thursday, adding several plants to the Clematis border and elsewhere.

Clockwise from top left are some of our new arrivals, including Sea Holly (Eryngium), Stokesia, Malva and a peach coloured Achillea. A week on, and all are doing well, even though the Achillea has some slight slug damage.  

I also planted Potentilla 'Miss Willmott' in the rock garden, next to the abundantly flowering Gaillardia. It is the plant in front of the stone sun ornament and will have saucer-like pink flowers in late Summer.

In the meantime, Jos picked a whole colander (just under 1 kg) of white currants and made another batch of jam. It started clouding over and drizzling while he was sitting outside painstakingly removing the stalks and had only just finished in time before the precipitation developed into a full-blown shower.

A bout of cabin fever made us venture outside Dove Cottage's confines on Sunday morning. 

It was sunny with the odd patch of puffy clouds and forecasted highs in the low twenties. The perfect weather, in fact, for a stroll through one of Antwerp's most enchanting parks, which effortlessly combines art and nature: Middelheim.

If you ever find yourself in Antwerp, this certainly is a must-visit, as it is not just your run-of-the-mill park, but incorporates an open air museum of sculpture.

As it's only a 15-minute or so drive for us, we visit it regularly throughout the year, so those of you who have been following my blog for a while might remember some of my previous posts about this amazing park.

This time, we approached the park from the eastern entrance, where one of the first sights that greet you, after the iconic entrance itself (see here), is what looks like a building under construction, but is actually another work of art, The Passage of the Hours, by Portuguese artist Pedro Cabrita Reis.

One of its unfinished brick walls was perfect for showing you my outfit, which was built around the vintage Trevira skirt I found at a charity shop earlier that week.

Except for the shoes - my trusted Clarks Cloudsteppers - the belt, and perhaps the flower corsage pinned to my jacket, all other elements of my outfit were second hand, and either charity shop or flea market finds.

Strange as it may sound, no sooner had we entered the park itself than we started walking into the direction of the exit. Not because we'd changed our minds, I'll have you know, we just wanted to explore a part of the park which lies on the other side of the road. 

This area is called Middelheim-Laag (or Low) and constitutes the northern part of the park.

Exiting via the main entrance we crossed the leafy lane separating the two halves and entered alongside of the charming little kiosk on the top left, which goes under the romantic name of Aubette.

From there, we followed a winding lane towards and around a glimmering pool, into a part of the park where works of art seem to play tricks with your mind.

We sat down on a bench near the formal Hortiflora garden, which used to be part of the neighbouring Nachtegalen Park (Nightingale Park) and was incorporated into the Middelheim museum in 2012.

Note to self: bring trowel on your next visit and come at a quiet time to dig up one of the elusive Kniphofias!

While we were having a breather on that bench, we could hear strange sounds emanating from the open-plan exhibition pavillion to our left. 

Closer investigation revealed that this was a work of art called Birdcalls by artist Louise Lawler. In this work, the names of twenty-nine well-known artists have been sounded out into bird calls. Using her own voice, Lawler has transformed each artist’s first and last name into nuanced bird calls, ranging from a shrill squawk to a manic chatter. Very disconcerting, especially when you were standing inside the pavillion.

From here, we walked back to the other side of the park which we crossed once again to rejoin our car. 

There were several of these benches (top right), each requiring a different number of steps to take. Jos tried one out, and it's certainly not as easy as it looks.

But then again, hardly anything is what it seems these days.

The joys of July

Oh devious July, why do you keep playing these games with us? Worse than April you are, with your fickleness and stale April showers. Are those the only tricks you have up your sleeve, I wonder. I am  craving a string of balmy Summer days, a gentle breeze carrying the scents of gardens in full bloom, and only the lightest of showers, preferably overnight.

But no, as if we haven't been taunted enough by that horrible pandemic, you are adding insult to injury with your out-of-sync Autumnal weather. Enough is enough!

A sunny morning it was on Tuesday before last, but with enough of a chill to wear a cardi over my short-sleeved dress. Vertically striped in navy on white, the dress has the added bonus of a generous sprinkling of red and pink flowers. These seem to be drifting down towards the hem, where they are joined by navy ones and a layer of green leaves.

While Jos was doing the twice-weekly food shop, I walked into the village to pick up our ration of free face mask filters at the village hall. At this time of year, the village would normally be a hive of frenetic activity as a result of a fair, but as this was cancelled due to obvious reasons, all was quiet. It was quiet at the village hall too, as it turned out they were closed due to the ... non-existing fair! I wasn't the only one fuming inwardly at finding the doors firmly locked.

But I did get to admire the fabulous front garden of the vicarage. Well, we do not actually have vicars or vicarages here in Belgium, but this is its equivalent, I presume. Whatever the case, that front garden is glorious and whoever designed and planted it definitely earns my approval.

Bees were a-buzzing, both here and in our own little patch where, in spite of being spoiled for choice, they are often making a literal bee-line for one and the same flower, sometimes buzzing angrily at each other. There's more than enough for all of you, so no need to fight, you guys. Easy does it!

The Echinacea seems to be a magnet for all kinds of butterflies, and there must be quite a few chocoholics among the bevy of bees, as they appear to have taken a particular liking to our Chocolate Cosmos (Cosmos atrosanguineus). Monarda or Bergamot is another firm favourite with the buzzy creatures.

After lunch, I pottered around the garden while Jos was going on his second mission of the day: picking up our new car from the garage. As already hinted a week or two ago, we'd been thinking of buying a new car. Taking advantage of the huge discount offered by the car dealership on their current stock, we took the plunge and traded our faithful Ford Fiesta for a newer model.

As it looked set to remain dry, we took her for a little drive to the Art Deco water tower in a neighbouring village, the perfect decor for her first state portraits.

Built in 1938, the water tower was bought by the council in 2008 and turned into a viewpoint in 2012.

There was nobody else around, so we climbed the scary steps inside the steel structure tacked onto the tower, towards the viewing platform on the top.

The low, squat building, which is merely ten meters in height, might seem remarkably low for a water tower. However, it was built on the highest point of the area's clay formation, forty meters above sea level, which allowed it to fully function as a water tower.

The view is breathtaking, and on a clear day, the top of the Atomium in Brussels, about 30 kilometers away, can be spotted. This day, however, wasn't one of them so, instead, we took in the surrounding landscape. Originally scarred by centuries of clay extraction, it is now slowly but surely being reclaimed by nature.

The still working clay pit immediately below is a lone survivor of the once flourishing brick making industry.

It was a blustery day, the wind chasing away the lurking rain clouds as well as attempting to make off with my lightweight floral scarf.

A vintage pink floral Trevira jacket - a gift from Vix - was added on top of the cardigan, and was accessorized with a white vinyl belt and a dusky pink flower corsage.

There's a small picnic garden with some benches next to the tower, with steps climbing up to a semi-circular walkway offering a view of the landscape for vertigo sufferers and those not nimble enough to climb all the way up to platform. The garden is flanked by a bank of ornamental grasses which acts as a windbreak, making it perfect for picnics and outfit photos alike.

Wednesday was another office day on which heavy showers were rife. These briefly diminished to a drizzle during lunch break, which I took advantage of by paying a short visit to one of Antwerp's hidden architectural gems, which happens to be just a stone's throw from my office.

The building is question is the Handelsbeurs or former Stock Exchange building, which first opened in 1531 and was the first Stock Exchange in Europe. 

Having stood empty for 22 years, it has recently reopened after long and intensive renovations.

The main hall of the building has been turned into a covered courtyard where people can enjoy a bite to eat or stop by for a drink. The area can also be used for events. On the first floor the former trading rooms have been converted into facilities for meetings and exhibitions.

As this was a spur of the moment visit, I was unprepared and only had my phone's camera at my disposal which, frankly speaking, was inadequate to capture the grandeur of the place.

My visit brought back some happy memories, though, as I've been to more than a few gigs and parties here back in the late 70's and early '80s.

I'm planning on paying a return visit with my proper camera. Perhaps by then the first floor galleries, which were now closed to the general public for an exhibition, can be accessed.

Thursday was another grey and dismal day but thankfully the rain, which had been persistent overnight, had virtually stopped by morning.

The dullness of the day needed to be lifted by a bright frock, my choice of the day being this textured polyester one which has an orange abstract print on a pale peachy background. It is further enhanced by orange buttons as well as a massive collar and fake pocket tabs. 

I think it came with a matching belt, but I preferred using a navy leather one from my stash. Further accessories featured navy as well: a necklace of sculpted plastic discs, spotty and stripy bangles and a floral brooch, which has navy, yellow and red flowers on a purple background.

The overnight showers had studded our garden with sparkling raindrops. These were neatly caught by the saucer-like Nasturtium leaves, which have finally decided to do what I sowed them for in the first place, which is climbing the wood pile and wall next to our bench.

A baby Aquilegia had nestled itself in a marble-filled pot. Time to harvest the rest of the seed pods, which I sprinkled around liberally. As if they aren't self-seeding like mad anyway.

After lunch, we pointed our car into the direction of a local open-air plant nursery, in the hope of finding some Kniphofias a.k.a. red hot pokers, as these weren't available at our usual garden centre.

There weren't any here either, and the nursery, which we used to visit on a regular basis many years ago, was an overall disappointment. Still we took pity on a handful of sorry looking perennials which were going cheap.

On our way back, we passed a small, out of the way charity shop, which was one of our regular haunts before lockdown. We've never known it to be busy, and this time was no exception, so we stopped for a browse.

I found an unworn vintage Trevira skirt, which will make an appearance in my next post. There was a box full of deadstock opaques in various colours, from which I made a selection. Who knows I might need them sooner than expected if Summer continues to have its wicked ways.

Our final purchase was this cheerfully striped Thermos flask for our collection, which I was able to photograph during a rare sunny moment in the garden.

So, that was it for now. I'll be back with the next episode in a couple of days. In the meantime, I am counting on you all to stay safe, sane and as positive as possible. I'll keep my side of the bargain, and do the same.