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Dydh da diworth Kernow
Tue 14-Sep-10
11:41 am
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Toffeeapple
North Bucks

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Ooh, you little tease Danny! 

I'll try that again!

Tue 14-Sep-10
6:20 pm
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JoannaS
Latvia

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brightspark said:

Joanna, that is fascinating stuff. Is it something one can do in school, do you think?

Is the bamboo mat a specialised piece of equipment for this purpose?

I guess it has to be 100% wool, too, otherwise the heat will have no effect - ?

 


 

I have done the craft with 3 year olds, only we made felt balls or beads if they ended up a bit more oval than round. The bamboo mat is either a cut down beach mat or a table mat - nothing more sophisticated than that and a great use of a mat that is starting to fall apart and does not look presentable. Just stitch over the bits that are starting to disintegrate with the sewing machine to hold it together.

The wool is easy to get hold of from places like this, or even sometimes directly from farms as the fleece is worth practically nothing these days anyway but then it would need washing and carding first. The wool that is ready carded comes in rolls and you just tease out the bits by grabbing the very end and pulling gently, if you try and pull the hard it won't as it is too strong (it makes sense when you try it) cheers

Tue 14-Sep-10
6:22 pm
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JoannaS
Latvia

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I see Kate answered the question in 3 sentences what it took me two paragraphs to write whistle.

Danny and MOS, well what can I say? The mind boggles and I would rather it didn't eeek

Tue 14-Sep-10
9:55 pm
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MOS
Cannock Chase

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AH !! boggling now there is a word to investigate ,let me think whistle................................devil

sit down with a cupa and the urge will subside

Tue 14-Sep-10
10:20 pm
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brightspark
Wilts

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MOS, 'boggling' - isn't that what you've been doing since you came back from France????

big_laugh    big_laugh    big_laugh

Women are like tea bags. . .
you never know how strong they are
until they're in hot water.
- Eleanor Roosevelt -
Tue 14-Sep-10
10:24 pm
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danast
Argyll, Scotland

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wave  Good one BS   big_laughbig_laughbig_laughbig_laugh  Very clever.

Old teachers never die, they just lose their class

Tue 14-Sep-10
10:28 pm
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brightspark
Wilts

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where does that word come from, I wonder !!!!!!!! confused

Women are like tea bags. . .
you never know how strong they are
until they're in hot water.
- Eleanor Roosevelt -
Wed 15-Sep-10
4:57 am
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Danny
Scarborough, England
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The mind boggles.

But does the boggle mind?

eeek

medicine medicine

Never knowingly underfed

Wed 15-Sep-10
7:58 am
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MOS
Cannock Chase

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brightspark said:

MOS, 'boggling' - isn't that what you've been doing since you came back from France????

big_laugh    big_laugh    big_laugh


 

No BS i think you are mixing that up with rambling ,on;y a slight difference but boggling takes some brains devilwhistlebig_laughbig_laughdohsteamrunawayteacant find a doodar for slice of cake but i usualy have one after a cupa ,so just imagine a slice (HERE) a big one mind ,with lashings of cream big_laugh MOS

sit down with a cupa and the urge will subside

Wed 15-Sep-10
10:24 am
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brightspark
Wilts

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MOS, I was thinking more of bathroom - bog-gling .......... whistle  whistle

Sorry, MOS - it was late last night !!!! big_laugh  big_laugh

brightsparklystuff

(Oh, I can't find a cake icon either - shame!)

Women are like tea bags. . .
you never know how strong they are
until they're in hot water.
- Eleanor Roosevelt -
Tue 11-Jan-11
4:56 pm
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maggenpie
Cornwall, UK

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Ok, if you're new here, please, please, please ignore the previous few posts! big_laugh big_laugh big_laugh

If you're sitting comfortably I'll tell you a tale about Dear Pidge. Pidgey was the first pigeon to come to us, a tiny baby separated from his parents and in need of hand rearing. Just a town pigeon, but as he grew it became obvious he'd got some good breeding in him. He became a fine bird, big and proud as only a cock pigeon can be. He was also a big softy, and devoted to my son. For a long time Pidge lived in the house with us, as devoted as a dog. He'd sit with us in the evening, cooing so happily and so loudly that he'd get told off for drowning out the tv.

At first we couldn't get him to fly at all. We took him out for walks with the dogs, but he wouldn't fly away. My son tried to get him to fly by taking him down the path, throwing him into the air then running away. It became a game, boy running, bird flying, in a race to get back to the back door first. Over and over they'd do it, it was the best game of the summer.

Pidgey's domain was our back garden and our end of terrace roof. He never perched on another house and he guarded his territory from all comers. In the garden he'd go for our ankles, and had constant battles with the drake, Sweet Little Mr E. Mister thought the garden was his, and he'd chase after Pidge. Up the path they'd go, as fast as their little legs would carry them, until, at the last moment Pidge would do a vertical take off up the wall, leaving Mister to crash into the wall, beak in the dirt, tail in the air. Poor Mister, embarrassed and angry, shown up in front of Duckley, oh dear. He fell for it every time.

Pidge employed the same tactic with lorries and buses. He'd challenge them as they drove down the hill. He'd fly straight at them then quickly whip straight up the windscreen and away. He never stopped hoping they would chicken out first.

We gave Pidge a nest box in the shed where he happily brooded his clutch of golf balls for many years. Eventually though, at the age of seven, he got restless. He started to fly further afield, looking for a mate. He was a fine bird, a desirable mate, but he couldn't persuade a female to come home with him. So in the end he had to leave us. He visited a few times, but we never found out where he'd gone to live.

He was a great character, greatly missed, and remembered with huge affection. Dear of him. peace

 

Never assume anything - except an occasional air of intelligence.

Tue 11-Jan-11
5:04 pm
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Toffeeapple
North Bucks

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Ahh...what a lovely story Ruthie, beautifully told too.  I can just imagine poor Mr E's embarassment.

I'll try that again!

Tue 11-Jan-11
7:16 pm
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danast
Argyll, Scotland

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wave I just love the stories of your menagerie  Ruth.  Thank you.  Pidge sounds like he was a real character.

Old teachers never die, they just lose their class

Sun 6-Feb-11
8:13 pm
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Danny
Scarborough, England
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What a brilliant story, Ruthie. I was smiling all the way though it.

Sad at the end, but that's the way of it I suppose.

You are a brilliant writer of tales. I would love to be given a book of your "non-human friends" stories. Reckon it would be a big, big hit.

Never knowingly underfed

Sun 6-Feb-11
10:29 pm
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paperman
Saxmundham, Suffolk

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Ruthie, lovely story. Some years back we spent a summer during the school holiday sailing along the south coast and were adopted by a pidgeon, actually he was most likely a homing pidgeon as he had a ring and he landed on the boat when we were somewhere near mid channel virtually exhausted. We fed and watered him and he left trade marks all over the decking which frankly I moaned about no end but he stayed with us until we were entering the Solent which meant that he had been with us for a couple of days, three nights. Each morning I went on deck expecting him to be gone but no, there he was making quite a racket - we fed him on muesli and water which we thought was probably the closest we could offer to a proper diet. We named him Freddie Pidgeon and as we entered the Solent he took off towards Chichester, it was around 7:30 in the morning, quite unannounced and was gone but he is still, some 20 years or more later, occasionally the subject of discussion when we sit around talking as families do. And there are entries in our boat log to witness his visit, the kids (all adults now) were very sad and we had to explain to them that he was now well enough to finally make his way home. The grumpy old man in me was glad that he would not be leaving anymore trade marks, but I did miss him and sometimes wonder if he got home OK.

I have reached an age where my train of thought often leaves the station without me...

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