At the same time I developed a fascination with the minute. Maybe because I was the oldest and therefore always the biggest, small worlds always entranced. Tiny cottages made from cardboard and fruit crates using the rudimentary woodwork skills taught to me by my father. Tiny dolls, some commercial, but many homemade, lived in these creations all over the house (which must have driven my very tidy mother crazy) and were carried around in pockets. The smallest sea shells and flowers, feathers and pebbles. I envied like mad the girl across the road, of German/Dutch parentage, who had dolls house items never seen in this country ...and she a tomboy!Sadly time passed and I grew up and as in Corinthians "When I was a child, I spoke and thought and reasoned as a child. But when I grew up, I put away childish things" which included my desire to have my own dolls house.
Life went on and I had my own home and family, but the longing to experience Enid Blyton's England didn't pass and along with that was an unfulfilled desire for an adult dollshouse. So . . . now as I approach 50 the time has come. I may not get to Britain in real time, but the internet has brought it to me and I am combining my two dreams into a half timbered thatched dolls house set in the late 40s.
What a great introduction Christine!
ReplyDeleteI just discovered your blog and I'll be following your process of building your dream dolls house closely.
I'll look forward to see how it all progresses.
Kind regards, Vicky (Denmark)
Lovely! I am excited to follow your journey even if I am a bit late to the party. I'll catch up over the next few days.
ReplyDeleteI'm so glad you found my blog and in turn I found yours. I am enchanted by it.
Hugs
Susan
Hi Susan, Thank you for your comment,I hadn't realised you had replied until today and I am now beaming. Of course by now you know how much I love your blog in return! :)
ReplyDelete