Trouble in paradise

It's nothing short of a miracle that I actually got this post written and published - albeit with a day's delay - as its creation caused me blood, sweat and quite a lot of tears. The first week of February wasn't one I wanted to relive in a hurry. In normal circumstances - whatever they are - the week is punctuated by our wedding anniversary on the 4th. If we'd lamented the difference with last year's Silver Wedding celebrations spent roaming around Bruges, little did we know that worse was to come and that from now on the week would be forever marred by the loss of our fur-baby on the 6th.

So, what to do? I never had the intention of ignoring what happened, but at the same time, I didn't want it to be the post's main focus. After all, I already paid tribute to our girl in a previous post. Two weeks on, the pain is still there, but it's no longer heart-wrenching, scar tissue slowly but surely covering the fissures in our hearts.

In the end, I thought the best thing to do was to plunge right in, and see where that got me. 

Let's start with that Monday, which the calendar indicated was the 1st of February. 

Before driving off to the office, Jos told me he was a bit worried about Phoebe, as she hadn't eaten yet and seemed to be having a bit of an off-day. Nothing too unusual, as Her Grumpiness certainly did have her moods, so when Jos texted me mid-morning to tell me she had eaten a few morsels and had been for a foray into the garden, we put it down to one of those.

On Tuesday she seemed to be more or less back to her normal self, which was a relief, although she still wasn't eating very much, nor was she very active.

It was another damp and dismal day, at odds with the temperature which had once again crept up to about 10°C.

In order to add a bright spark to the day, my wardrobe decided that purples and pinks, with a generous dollop of orange, were on the menu.

A Think Twice € 2 sales bargain at the tail end of 2019, this pussy-bow frock won me over with its funky print, combining stripes and chevrons in various shades of purple and a dash of white with accent diamonds in pink and burnt orange. It was from the latter that I took my lead for my opaques and cardigan, to which I pinned an enamelled peacock feathers brooch.

The dress's pussy-bow was kept in check with a pink-hearted brooch. At my waist, a recently charity shopped wide purple leather belt with a gold-tone and leather buckle. My purple mohair beret and burgundy vintage boots came out to play at well, even if only to step out into the garden for the obligatory outfit photos.

Although I couldn't have told you off the top of my head, my journal insists I wasn't idle that day. Apparently, I washed a batch of face masks, dusted the upstairs rooms, cleaned Sunday’s dried mud off my snow boots and caught up with blogland. 

This still left some time to read a couple of pages in my latest book. Sarah Winman's debut novel, When God Was a Rabbit (2011) is a compelling read, beautifully written and at times quite funny. In spite of the worry of this week, I managed to laugh out loud more than once.

And then it was Thursday. Phoebe was still off her food, but as she didn't say no to tuna or treats, Jos called the vet who agreed it was a good idea to try and give her some regular cat food instead of the diet food she'd been living on for 7 years. We were relieved to see she devoured the seafood variety Jos brought back from the supermarket, polishing off most of the sachet over the course of the day.

It was a sunny day for once and as the temperature continued to be a mild-ish 10°C, I plucked this plum coloured midi dress from my wardrobe. Liberally printed with Paisley motifs and exotic blooms, it was bought brand new, snapped up in the January sales in 2019. Its fabric is a lightweight polyester blend, so it needed a three-quarter sleeve t-shirt layered underneath, as well as a cardigan worn on top.

Both the belt and the beret are old Think Twice finds, while the beaded necklace was charity shopped. The brooch was bought from the Brooch Lady at an antiques fair in the Autumn of 2017.

The Nordic style cardigan is H&M by way of a charity shop not all too long ago. It did come with a couple of issues, as I soon noticed a couple of loose stitches in its knit. And although I wasn't averse to its buttons, their dangling nature made the cardigan look all wonky when closed. This annoyed me no end, so my first job of the day was replacing them with flat ones from my stash of vintage buttons.

After lunch, we debated whether to go for a walk, but neither of us felt like it so, while Jos returned the car to the garage, I walked into the village, purchasing a couple of essentials at the drugstore.

My outerwear consisted of my green fur collared jacket and pink frilly scarf. My green wedge-heeled lace-up ankle boots made their maiden voyage. You can catch a glimpse of my bright pink ankle socks intentionally peeking out for contrast!

Back at home, I cleaned all the hairbrushes, and then proceeded to clean the two top shelves and their contents of the camera display cabinet, which lives in our hallway.

A daunting and fiddly task, so I left the two bottom shelves for another day. Due to circumstances, this day only came two weeks later ...

The folding cameras on display on the top shelves are the oldest in our collection, dating from the 1910s and 1920s. In fact, our collection was sparked by the one in the middle, which we found in an antiques shop in Bradford-on-Avon in 1996. 

The couple in the photograph are my maternal grandparents taken on their wedding day in 1934. When we were clearing the parental home, we came across the glass slide, meant for projection by magic lantern. Already having various prints of the photograph in my collection, I instantly recognized its subject matter, thus preventing it from ending up in the thrash. 

On the bottom right is a curiosity. The box reading Fanal Blitz contains sachets of "flash powder" which, when ignited, produced a bright flash that could be captured on film. Early photography wasn't without its perils!

The second shelf mainly contains so-called box cameras dating from the 1930s to the 1950s, from the very basic all-black boxes to the Kodak Brownie Model I, which was introduced in 1957 (below, left).

The "twin-lens" Brownie reflex on the right dates from the late 1940s.

That night, although she was eagerly awaiting them, Phoebe seemed to have problems eating her treats, which led us to suspect she might have an infected tooth or something similar. However, due to the fact that she was generally acting out of sorts, and that her belly seemed to be quite bloated, even if she was a bit chubby at the best of times, we had the niggling feeling that all was not well.

We called the vet first thing on Friday morning and an appointment was made for Saturday in the early afternoon. We'd both slept very badly that night, and I was in sore need of what Sheila is calling Clothing as Armour.

My recently charity shopped blue Tweed skirt was begging for an outing, and after a pleasurable rummage in my wardrobe - anything to put my mind off things - I opted for this black floral beauty of a blouse. It was yet another old Think Twice find and I have reason to suspect that it might have started life as a dress. 

I wore it on top of the skirt rather than tucked in, adding a squidgy, pale blue belt with a rectangular buckle at my waist.  A blue t-shirt was layered underneath, and I pinned a red floral fabric flower corsage among the meadow of blooms. A final accessory was added in the form of a red glass beaded necklace.

I wore a beret and opaques in different shades of blue. At my feet, the floral textured suede Tamaris ankle boots I found at Oxfam the other week.

Anything to put our minds off things so, after making sure that Phoebe was comfortable, we escaped the house for an hour or so, going for a wee rummage in our local charity shop.

The summer top is another King Louie find, while the candy striped finely knit dress is by posh Belgian label Caroline Biss. The dresses on their website retail at € 200 plus, so surely the € 6,50 I paid for it was money well spent.

My way to the till took me through the rail of coats and jackets. As I've got far too many of those already, I usually put my blinkers on, but I was nevertheless drawn to a flash of mustard yellow among all the boring neutrals.

Now, tell me, how would I have been able to withstand its double collar and sleeve cuffs? It's by Spanish brand Cortefiel and it has ... pockets!

For obvious reasons, no photos were taken on Saturday. When the time was there and we had to put Phoebe into her carrier, I just knew this was it.  Nevertheless, after Jos called me about 45 minutes later and we agreed on what had to be done, I howled like I've never done before in my life.

We just had to let the world know and we were both very touched by all the words of comfort, both from our real life and our virtual friends and acquaintances. 

It started snowing in the evening, carpeting our world with a comfort blanket of snow flakes.

We'd stayed up late on Saturday and even watched part 2 of The Pembrokeshire Murders which, surprisingly, was able to temporarily transport us away from our sorrows.

Waking up to a house which felt weirdly empty on Sunday morning was a bit of  a blow to the solar plexus, although we felt remarkably refreshed after a good night's sleep. 

Saturday's torrent of tears had dried up, leaving me sore-eyed, and phonecalls with both my sister and my friend and ex-colleague Kris did me the world of good.

It goes without saying that I got dressed up - Clothing as Armour, remember - and even managed not to look too sad in the outfit photos we made outside in the snow.

The eagle-eyed among you might recognize the dress, which I retrieved from the flea market boxes.

Admittedly, the black and white necklace I was wearing does disappear a bit among the dress's funky print. I wore cobalt blue opaques and a ditto long-line cardigan, to which I pinned a white knitted flower corsage. A burgundy woolly beret and, of course, my snow boots, completed my outfit.

And so we have come to the end of the week and it's with a sigh of relief that I'm typing these final words. So glad to have this over with!

I'll be back with a sunnier outlook in a couple of days. Do stay safe, sane and sensational!

And life goes on

I've been hunkering down in a world hushed by snow, digesting my sadness in bite-sized chunks. And I'm doing surprisingly well, really, all things considered.  Day by day the pain is losing its jagged edges. I've just passed a whole day without shedding a single tear, although it still doesn't take much to choke me up. 

We're trying to establish new routines to replace the old ones which involved our beloved fur-baby, but we keep seeing her out of the corner of our eyes, and I can often hear her phantom-snoring behind me while I'm typing away. We find ourselves rattling around Dove Cottage's rooms, where her absence echoes and bounces off the walls.

Lagging behind with my blog means that she was still very much with us in the days I am writing about in this post and it's weird to think how blissfully unaware we were of what was to come. 

Picking up where I left off, let's start with what I was wearing on Friday the 22nd of January.

The temperature, which had climbed into the low double figures in the preceding days, had taken a bit of a dive, but at 7°C it was still slightly too warm for this vintage wool-blend dress. With its vibrant watercolour print, its abundance of pinks joined by steel blue, sage green, yellow and red, it was love at first sight at a charity shop many years ago.

It came with a self fabric belt with a transluscent pink plastic buckle but, as you're probably used to by now, I preferred wearing it with a contrasting belt from my stash, from which I picked this moss green suede one. More green appears in the turban hat my brooch lady is proudly wearing.

Shades of purple were added too, a darker hue for my necklace and a lighter, lavender one for my cardigan. To the latter, I pinned two floral hair clips in lieu of a brooch.

After our usual weekday fruit & yoghurt breakfast, Jos was off to the newsagents for our and our elderly neighbour's daily paper. Meanwhile, I repaired the ripped lining of a pocket in one of my Winter coats as well as a small snag in my Nordic style cardigan.

Then the lure of the charity shops proved once again too strong, so we drove down to the big three-floored one in Duffel, where we went our separate ways.

The clothing department had apparently just been restocked and the rails were bulging with stuff so it will not come as a surprise that I didn't leave empty handed.

One of the first things that caught my eye was the flower patterned cross-body bag, which I was delighted to discover was made from cork (top right and bottom left). 

I also found the tiny and slightly tacky souvenir brooch from Holland, containing all the usual suspects: a typical Dutch clog with a windmill design, filled with a miniature bunch of tulips!

The blouse, with its William Morris style pattern, is by Barbour, a fact I only discovered back at home. Although its label had been removed, I found the name proudly displayed on its buttons!

But that, obviously, wasn't all. The next day, Saturday, I dressed up in all the rest of Friday's finds.

The amazing pair of palazzo trousers was hiding among the skirts. In addition it was put into the rail's XL segment by mistake and it was only because of its sprinkling of flowers that I pulled it out. Further investigation determined that not only was it completely lined, it had pockets too! No brainer!

A bright green light-weight jumper was lacking in my wardrobe, so that came home as well. As did the slubbed long-line cardigan with its mix of colours, the black woven belt with its round two-tone buckle, and the chunky red necklace! 

The day's weather went from bad to worse as the day progressed. It had been grey all morning and by early afternoon it started to rain, the dampness making it feel much chillier than the 5°C indicated by the thermometer.

Dusting the treasure filled Tomado shelving unit in our bedroom, I took down the Art Nouveau style family tree photo frames, which had been standing empty ever since I found them at a flea market back in January 2017. When I showed it on the blog all of four years ago, I mentioned that it would soon be filled with old family photos. The champion of procrastination, I am!

On the very top, my great-grandmother Aloysia, whom I never met since she died in 1946. She is a bit of a mystery and we believe that she may have been at least half Dutch. 

The row below her has my maternal grandmother Bertha, whom I once honoured with a post of her own. Next to her, her husband Alphonse. They both passed away in the 1970s. 

Finally, on the bottom row, are my Mum, Alice and my Dad, another Alphonse, Fons or Fonny for short. Both are not longer with us either, as they passed away with 15 years between them, my Mum in August 2001 and my Dad in the same month in 2016. 

There, much better, isn't it? The rest of the shelving unit's contents might be the subject of a future post. A show-and-tell, so to speak, does make you look at things with fresh eyes and appreciate them all over again.

With no let-up in the rain, I settled myself on the couch and continued reading the book I'd just started. A recent charity shop find, I was enticed by the Maggie O' Farrell reference but, although it was a good read, it didn't reach Maggie's heights at all. Initially, there were traces of  Lynne Reid Banks' The L-Shaped Room too, but seeing that the latter is one of my favourite books, it once again did not quite live up to expectations.

Sunday rolled along and brought bright Winter sunshine with her. The thermometer was still stuck at 5°C but didn't feel quite as chilly with the sun's rays warming, if not our bodies, then certainly the cockles of our hearts.

My own internal thermostat, cranked on high as a result of the menopause, has lately cooled down enough for me to start wearing jumpers again.  I'd originally consigned this King Louie cardigan to the flea market boxes as I'd mistakenly washed it at too high a temperature, but I took it out again and it turned out to be fine once I'd stretched it by putting my arms through its sleeves.  It's a bit shorter than before, but I think I can live with that. 

I pinned a pearly brooch at my neck, and wore a necklace of blue and green beads, some of them wearing jumpers of their own! They tie in with the colours in the floral pattern of my vintage skirt, which was an old Think Twice find. To create a more elongated silhouette, I added a sea-green belt at my waist. 

The sun streaming in through our front door's glas panel and fanlight brought Spring vibes to Dove Cottage's dining room. I'd just put on a fresh tablecloth, a vintage one I found at Think Twice in October 2016. Just look at that happiness inducing print of Summer flowers on a deep blue background! 

I went a bit mad with my camera and snapped some odds and ends and hidden corners in Dove Cottage's dining room and hallway. The glass lampshade hanging in the latter is a family heirloom from Jos's childhood home.

The small cabinet with its glass door and side panels was a charity shop find, and the treasures residing inside also deserve a closer look in a future post.

Here's our dining room again, taken from the other side. The doorway to the right leads to our kitchen. In front of the window, which offers a view into the passageway leading beside the kitchen, you can catch a glimpse of Phoebe's scratching post. She was an avid post scratcher and demolished several of them during her lifetime. It's been relegated to the basement for the time being. 

More details, from top left: a vintage spice cabinet hanging, perhaps incongruously, in our hallway, a Christmas ornament featuring a glass deer which we keep out all year, a green glass vanity set bought at a car boot sale in Cardigan, and a doily-an-button wall hanging, a handmade gift from my lovely friend Lynn.

By the time I'd finished taking photos, all traces of sunshine had gone, leaving the usual dismal grey January day in its wake.

I spent the rest of the day reading and rummaging, starting a bag of charity shop donations. I even went through my flea market boxes, adding some non-vintage items to the bag. But as usual, those boxes proved to be a danger zone, as these two dresses went straight back into my wardrobe. Oh well, in my defence, I have already worn the one on the right in the meantime.

I'll leave you now in the usual way, urging you to stay safe, sane and fabulous! I can't believe it has been almost a years since this has become our standard way of parting ...

A cat-shaped hole in our hearts

This post was originally scheduled to be published on Saturday. In fact, it was all but written when tragedy struck. Yesterday, sadly, and very unexpectedly, we had to say goodbye to our beloved little black monster, Phoebe. We are utterly heartbroken and left with a huge cat-shaped hole in our hearts. The pain is still very raw and I'm still red-eyed from crying non-stop yesterday.

Phoebe had been acting a bit lethargic lately and since the beginning of the week she was clearly off her food. Since having been diagnosed with a bladder stone 7 years ago, she'd been on a diet, and we initially suspected she was bored with being served the same old food day after day. A similar thing happened with our previous cat, and as Phoebe was still enthusiastic about her Dreamies and gladly accepted our offers of a saucer of tuna or chicken, we called the vet who suggested switching to regular cat food for a couple of days. We did and she started eating at once. Problem solved, or so we thought.

However, she remained lethargic, and the smallest thing seemed to take her a lot of effort. Then we noticed that her belly had started bloating considerably. An appointment at the vet's was made for Saturday. She was supposed to have blood tests, but when the vet spotted Phoebe's belly, which she soon determined was full of fluids, our suspicions were confirmed that things were very wrong indeed. The fluids were either caused by a virus or by a tumour, both of which would be incurable. The decision to let her go was made with our heads while our hearts cried bitter tears.

Phoebe 2008-2021

But life goes on, so in spite of everything, I decided to leave the rest of my post as it was originally intended, even if its tone is somewhat at odds with the recent happenings.

At the end of my previous post, I left you with a garden magically transformed into a Winter wonderland.  The snow's visit was a fleeting one. It didn't even stay for dinner as it started thawing almost straight away so that by Sunday morning, the 17th of January, hardly a trace of it was left.

After a night filled with weird dreams - they'd virtually stopped but have lately started again - I was delighted to wake up to a bright day, the January sun only diffused by a light veil of innocent clouds.

I had a blog post to write in readiness for that night's publication so, after our usual Sunday breakfast of bacon and eggs, I traipsed upstairs and started typing like mad. With that task out of the way, we had a lunch of bread and cheese, during which we discussed plans for the afternoon.

Oh the suspense!

In the meantime, why don't I show you what I was wearing that day?

The starting point of my outfit was a black button-through vintage dress with a patchwork pattern in hues of rusts and browns, with a dash of white thrown in for good measure.

For contrast, I used turquoise for my accessories, which included a textured leather belt, one of my vintage beaded necklaces and a silver-tone brooch with a centre stone threaded with ochre. It almost goes without saying that my opaques were a bright turquoise as well! My wide-collared cardigan, its colour tying in with the rusts in my dress's print, was added for warmth.

The red flower in my hair is real and belongs to our still exuberantly flowering red Geranium. The poor thing almost got trampled beneath my feet. I picked it up and put in my hair where it stubbornly managed to stay put all through our outfit photo session.

Jos's weather app said it would remain dry for the rest of the day, so we dressed up warmly and drove to our neighbouring village for a walk. Our ultimate destination was Hof ter Linden, a domain surrounding a Neoclassical manor house. 

Like the sculpture park, it is somewhere I have taken you several times before, the first time in the early Autumn of 2016, shortly after my Dad passed away. The walk we did back then was in his honour, as the woodlands surrounding the manor house - known locally as the castle - were part of his playground when he was a young boy during the Second World War.

Initially, I wasn’t in the mood at all. I was cold in spite of my Princess coat, turban hat and chunky knit scarf, especially as I'd forgotten to bring gloves. Not surprisingly, this being a sunlit Sunday, it was reasonably crowded in the avenue leading up to the castle courtyard. The paths beyond it were quite muddy which made them hard to negotiate, but once we'd taken the first hurdle, the Sunday strollers had dwindled to a handful of hardy ones, which is when I started to enjoy myself.

We proceeded to circle the lake which lies at the back of the castle and which, unhindered by exuberant foliage at this time of year, offered plenty of photo opportunities.

Victims of storms past lay slain, having toppled face first into the shallow waters at the edge of the lake, adding an otherworldly presence to its perfect stillness. Clouds had gathered to add further menace.

At one point, the quiet was pierced by the shrieking of birds whose silhouettes could be seen flitting from branch to branch high up in the canopy directly above us.

Once back at the castle, the layer of clouds shifted, revealing a canvas of bright blue in which white, powder puff clouds floated, propelled along by a gentle breeze.

Brilliant sunshine warmed up body and soul in equal measure.  The resident sphinxes and lions seemed to be stretching their limbs and tilting their heads heavenwards to bask in the sun's soothing rays.

I'm so glad we made the effort, we sighed to each other once or twice. All traces of the Sunday blues had evaporated and the last of the cobwebs removed from the furthest corners of our souls.

We were ready for another week and after skipping Monday's office day - a grey and dismal affair as befits Blue Monday - we had now arrived on Tuesday.

Once again, we woke up to the rain lashing against our bedroom window. This rather solved my dilemma of whether to walk into the village to run an errand. 

Instead, after a morning's pottering, washing my hair and fiddling with collages for the blog, we went for a charity shop rummage after lunch.

My outfit of the day consisted of a bottle green faux suede midi skirt picked up in last year's Winter sale, which I combined with a recently charity shopped vintage pussy bow blouse. The blouse's bow was fastened with a vintage scarf clip. I'm sure the belt does not need any introduction as it, and its two siblings, are habitués of the blog.

We drove down to the pop-up charity shop on the outskirts of Lier again where, after negotiating the car park's muddy puddles, I spent a happy half-an-hour or so browsing for treasures.

My hunt for jumpers was rewarded with this orange one, and what are the odds of finding a matching groovilicious maxi skirt in the same shop?

Trawling the rails of tops, my eyes alighted on this vintage psychedelic polyester shirt in hues of purples and pinks, and a modern long-sleeved top with a floral print in similar hues.

I thought both looked a treat combined with my grey woollen Paisley patterned skirt, which is long overdue an outing.

And it's clear I'm on a boot roll, as yet again I was in luck and found a pair of blue Western style mid-calf boots!

After taking the hurdle of Wednesday's office day - a grey, rainy and windy day - we made it to Thursday and the start of another 4-day weekend.

The stormy weather had subsided overnight, leaving us with a dry day for a change and a moderately mild temperature of 11°C.

It had been a while - my blog says February 2020 - since I wore this green ombre effect vintage dress, with its neat row of pleats and pussy bow. 

I usually wear it with pink so my raspberry pink opaques were the obvious choice. Looking back, it turns out that this was the only similarity with last year's outfit.

Again, I secured the pussy bow with one of my scarf clips, this time opting for a floral one featuring pink roses, a pre-blog flea market find.

Instead of taking the easy way out and add more pink, I opted for a burgundy belt with a massive buckle and a plaid patterned King Louie cardigan (charity shopped, obviously) in rose red and grey. To this, I pinned a pale pink flower corsage.

After breakfast, I ran the errand I postponed on Tuesday, buying shampoo and a selection of hair clips to deal with the Corona hair. It's been three months since my last haircut - four since my last colour - and it is simply driving me nuts. 

The rest of the day was once again filled with aimless pottering. I have taken both Beate's and Vix's advice to heart and have been trying to start my non-office days with a plan. Unfortunately this all went out of the window again with Phoebe being so poorly.

So, that was it for now. I'll be lying low for a couple of days, trying to come to terms with our loss.

I'm missing our little monster more than words can say.