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Raisins at 30000 feet

This entry comes with a big BIG dollop of sorryness. I dearly wanted to be vigilant with my blogging when I started Rockhoppers, and I guess getting 5 months in and writing pretty much every week isn’t bad. But unfortunately life went bonkers 2 weeks ago and blogging went to the back of my head, and here’s why…

(NB – for the record, these aren’t excuses, but explanations…Honest…)

Firstly, we took our 1 year old for a long weekend in Scotland. (Random, but true). Recommendation for any other crazy parents contemplating the insane endeavour of taking a wriggling 1 year old on a plane? Raisins. And enough of ’em to sink a battle ship. Our little one was so busy scoffing, he didn’t have time to worry about the fact he was 30000 up in the air in a very confined space. (However, a word of caution; what goes in , must come out…).

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After the heady heights of the spontaneous weekend away, we were then thrown into dealing with said child getting chicken pox. Or some other nasty, blister forming disease – not quite sure what it is, but whatever it turns out to be, it’s looks angry. A tad unfortunate that we unwittingly took the incubating bug up to Edinburgh, not only potentially infecting our hosts but also all the other passengers on the plane; but hey ho – share and share alike I say. (Hope this little indiscretion doesn’t prove to be some pivotal turning point in the Scottish independence question?!).

And now the final explanation; whilst dealing with a pickled littl’un, we’ve been getting all geared up for the beginning of the craft fair season! (Woohoo! Bring it ON!). It’s time to shake out our tablecloths, brush off our shelving units and get on the road to craft fair giddiness. We already have 6 fairs booked in for the next few months, and frankly, we can’t wait. I love our online business, and it genuinely gives me so much pleasure selling Devon & Cornwall’s finest designs to customers all over the planet, but nothing replaces nattering to people about the items in person. So first up with at Diverse Events Easter Show in Saltash, Cornwall on 12th April.

So come along and see us sometime in 2014 – we love seeing you lot.

(PS – We promise we’re pox free).

 

 

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Here comes the sun…doodle doodle…here comes the sun, and I say – it’s alright…

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Need I say more?

I do? Oh, OK then.

This weekend’s brief cemeo appearance from that big ball of burning fire in the sky has left the RT team, like many others I suspect, positievly hungry for summer. As ol’ George Harrison quite rightly croons – Little Darling, it’s been a long, wet, lonely winter… (or something to that effect) – and, Little Darling, it does most certainly feel like years since it’s been here. But here it was this weekend and, like most of the rest of the population lucky enough to see temperatures over 12 degrees – we were packing up the car and heading to the beach before you could say “unseasonably mild”.

And it’s times like this that I realise how incredibly lucky we are to live in such a stunning part of the world. Like other Westcountry kids, I grew up with the luxury of only ever being 15 minutes away from a beach, and some of my strongest memories are from family holidays by the sea – whether it was basking in the sunshine or shivering under a blanket, the beach was a constant fixture in our lives. And on Sunday I got to take my little man for his second trip to the beach, where we enjoyed a glorious walk at Bigbury with the hound, and then a brief sit down on the rocks for him to have his afternoon snack (the little’un, not the pooch). It was a beautifully warm afternoon, not a cloud in the sky, and everyone on the beach was smiling. Memories are, indeed, made of this, and I sincerely hope come rain or shine, growing up by the sea will be something mini-RT comes to treasure as much as I do.

So lets hear it for the summer 2014 – sandcastles, ice creams, surfing, rockpooling (naturally), jam packed coolboxes and sandy sandwiches, much needed windbreaks, paddling, snorkelling, falling asleep with our sunglasses on and washing sand out our hair for days… It’s going to be awesome.

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Rockpool on the road…

Evening Rockhoppers!

Tonight’s blog will be short, sweet, and a little bit all over the place, but hell – lets see if we can pull it together by the end…

So I’ve spent most of the last week back on the craft fair trail for 2014. We maxed out on fairs in the run up to Christmas, and had a splendid time, but now we need to get over the winter blues and get back out there for the spring. I’ve already booked in fairs for April, May and (randomly) November, but our aim is to do at least one per month, across the length and breadth of this fair region of ours. Now – here in lies part of the problem; when you’re new to the scene as we are, booking a craft fair is a bit like walking up to a prospective partner in a bar; they may look good on the outside (snappy dresser, nice hair, not wearing white socks), but delve a little deeper and before you know it, you’re sitting in a freezing church hall next to some ol’ dear who crochets her own toilet paper.

(OK, so my metaphor may be a little muddled, but hopefully you get the gist).

And don’t think it doesn’t happen! Luckily the RT team have so far managed to side step most land mines when it comes to disastrous fairs, but even we experienced one occasion when we travelled over 60 miles only to sit in a venue for 8 hours with just a handful of customers. And this was a fair that, on the outside, seemed like the George Clooney of fairs – nothing to suggest the Baldrick of an event which lurked underneath…

Anyway – punts have been taken, caution has (to some degree) been thrown to the wind, and we’ve booked some more dates and venues in the calendar. Keep an eye on our home page for more details, but needless to say we’re hitting the road big style in 2014. And hey – it’s a numbers game: you kiss enough craft fairs, you’re bound to find your prince… (or something like that).

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Back of the net…

Woo0hoooooo! The accompaniment to writing this week’s blog is the dulcet tones of Drew Savage on Radio Devon – yep, I’m listening to the Argyle commentary on the radio and we’re currently 4-0 up, away to Fleetwood. (Come on you Greens – play offs here we come!! LET’S BE ‘AVING YA!!!!!).

Ah-hem. Apologies for that brief Delia moment. It’s just that Argyle winning by that margin isn’t a common occurrence – one has to celebrate smugly when one can when one follows the Greens.

Anyway – back to the world of Rockpool Trading. It’s been a busy week! (When is it not?!). Following on from welcoming the fabulous Home Threads into the RT fold with their gorgeous range of shoulder bags (made exclusively for us, doncha know), I’m jolly excited about our latest product, due to hit the shelves this week. Hold on to your hats – Rockpool is dipping it’s toe into the vast world of art work! And what better way than by welcoming our newest crafter, Kirsty M from Lanivet in Cornwall, to the gang? This lovely laydee is a very talented soul, not to mention incredibly patient; each of her beautiful paper-cut designs is painstakingly drawn and cut by hand. I’m in constant awe of the talent and commitment of our crafters, and when I see all the hard work that goes into making their products it spurs me on even more to build a business that supports and promotes their wares. It’s a topsy turvy world where some crummy, poorly made products get lots of publicity because they’re sold in large, high street chains, whereas crafters have to jump up and down and wave their arms just to get their beautiful, original and well made products seen. Still – if we can provide another outlet for these talented types, whilst bigging up the fabulous South West at the same time, we’ll have achieved our goal.

And speaking of goals, the final whistle has been blown and that’s 3 points to the Mighty Greens. Altogether now! Westcountry…la-la-la…Westcountry…la-la-la…

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Message from the Westcountry to the Mainland…

Can you read me…Over…?

Message reads:

FOR GOODNESS SAKE INVEST IN OUR INFRASTRUCTURE (stop) – IT’S AWFULLY QUIET DOWN HERE (stop).

On this cold, rainy miserable evening, this rather chilly Plymothian is sat listening to the Proclaimers and drinking a glass of wine, wondering if I could indeed walk 500 miles (and then 500 more) to reach the heady heights of “up north” (aka Bristol and beyond…).

You would have had to have lived in a cave with earmuffs on this last week to not know what I’m talking about – the devastating storms that have hit the UK have been all over the media, particularly the pictures of the beautiful coastal train line running through Dawlish, or at least where the beautiful train line used to be – half of it is now hanging precariously a few feet above the water. Whilst it’s a blessing that no one (as far as I know) has been seriously injured (or worse) by the damage, the focus has now shifted and the devastating effect the complete lack of transport infrastructure into the Westcountry is going to have on local businesses is becoming apparent. Plymouth and Cornwall have, quite literally, been cut off from the rest of the UK in terms of rail links, which leaves us 2 options: road (the lack of a motorway west of Exeter leaves us at the mercy of the rather optimistically named “Devon Expressway”) and air (which has been significantly affected by the closure of Plymouth airport – now we rely on the reduced service at Newquay, or, the extremely expensive flights from Exeter – and in any event, that’s now only any good if you have a car…).

And devastating really isn’t too strong a word – tourism really is the life blood of the Westcountry. The head bod at the Plymouth Chamber of Commerce has estimated a loss of over £500 million to the South West’s economy as a result of the newly amphibious train line. Which begs the question: why has no one ever considered the implications of this before, or if they have, why weren’t they taken seriously? As anyone who has tried to catch a train heading for Penzance on the Friday before a Bank Holiday weekend and ended up sitting in the loo in order to get a seat can attest – they come in their tens of thousands to the region. Business, pleasure, relaxation, stimulation, culture, kicking back or zoning out – they come and they spend. I shudder to think what will happen if the train line is not up and running by the Easter weekend.

And getting out of Devon & Cornwall is proving almost as difficult. I was due to attend a meeting in Reading in March, and it has now become apparent that my best option is to drive from Plymouth to Newquay, fly from Newquay to Gatwick and get the train from Gatwick to Reading. (Quite literally, Trains, Planes and Automobiles).

So – to sum up. I dare say that one of the reasons so many of us love the South West is it’s remoteness, it’s quiet, laid back pace of life. But whilst we may occasionally tut at the tourists when we can’t get a seat in our Local on a Saturday night, we need them like a cream tea needs jam, like a pasty needs a pint and 2 indigestion tablets. Lets hope the Grockles don’t stay away too long – we miss them when they’re gone.

 

 

 

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The merits of communal dining…

First of all – Happy 2014 one and all! Having said that, it is 5th January, so it’s waaaay too late to be bothering with all that palava. I’m sure most of us by this stage have made resolutions, broken resolutions, re-made more realistic resolutions and started counting the days until the next bank holiday weekend. (Just me? Oh, OK then…). Christmas at RT Towers was quiet and fairly uneventful. Mini-RT loved the wrapping paper and labels as much as what was actually inside – as expected, and I actually managed to get dinner on the table by mid-afternoon – which most certainly not expected.

In an effort to combat the post-New Year blues (and because we didn’t eat enough during the previous week), the hubby and I went for dinner at The Riverford Field Kitchen near Buckfastleigh in Devon last night – and oh my word, what an unusual night it was… The food was absolutely amazing, and incredibly reasonably priced, but that wasn’t what was unusual – the out-of-the-ordinary element to the evening was that Riverford have you sitting at communal tables; so when we arrived we were seated with 2 other couples, who also didn’t know each other. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have an ominous sinking feeling about the whole evening – my past experience of striking up conversations with strangers has not been entirely successful, not least because I tend to laugh when I’m nervous or when I can’t actually hear what the other person is saying – with some unfortunate consequences. But I was to be proved wrong! Not only were our dinner companions very friendly, but they were really interesting (one of them was an Oscar winning sound engineer – I kid you not!), and it got me thinking – maybe Riverford were on to something? If we’d have sat at our own little 2 seater table, OK Mr RT and I would have had a perfectly lovely evening, but we would invariably have ended up chatting about one or more of the following topics: mini-RT, the state of the spare room / loft / utility area, when we were going to start doing some proper exercise, and what we would do if we won the lottery. All worthy and productive avenues of conversation, but pretty much what we talk about over dinner at home. Whereas being thrown into a table of strangers (not literally) meant we had to ask questions and take an interest in something outside our little universe. And yes, it helped that our table were full of very interesting people, but still – we wouldn’t have discussed post-Oscar parties or the overpopulation of Holland if it had just been the two of us…

But anyway – a truly fab evening was had by all and the food, as I said, was out of this world. As a local success story, we love Riverford anyway, but that aside, we’d heartily recommend the whole experience to anyone looking for an evening with a twist. Plus the desserts have to be seen to be believed – think hubby and I had better get back to that exercise conversation…

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From here to maternity…

Evening all.

Sigh. It is with a heavy heart that I type this evening, as the dreaded circled date on the calendar, which I’ve been trying to ignore, is nigh; the last day of my maternity leave. The return to my day job looms large and, like most new mums, I’d quite happily stay in this lovely bubble of sitting in my PJs, eating cake and playing with the little’un, until he’s 18. Sadly, the bank manager seems to have a different opinion, so I’m re-joining the world of work (office based work that is, not Rockpool work – that’s 365 days a year, and definitely not a chore!) and my little pal is off to have wonderful times with his Grannies. Humph.

As a result, I’ve been in a bit of a reflective mood this weekend, and have been thinking of all the wonderful experiences we’ve had since January, made possible in no small part to the fabulous part of the world we live in, and all the brilliant stuff we have right on our doorstep. So here we go – 10 excellent maternity leave experiences in 11 months…

1. Giving birth in Derriford Hospital, Plymouth. OK, it was painful, and long, and exhasting and messy. But still overwealmingly brilliant.

2. A slight come down after the last one this one, but a fond memory nonetheless: attending a lovely wedding at Northcote Manor Hotel in North Devon, and having to stop at the Tesco’s in Crediton on the way home because our 4 week old baby needed changing. Urgently. Thank goodness for public changing facilities – my husband took off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves, and I kicked off my heels – this nappy needed some serious attention…

3. A lovely lunch at Charlies Coffee House in Charlstown, just outside St Austell. This place has cake TO DIE FOR. And when you’ve had no sleep and are feeding round the clock, wedges of cake the size of iron doorstops are not only appreciated, but necessary. Lovely place, lovely people.

4. Little’un’s first beach experience – a rather chilly walk along Port Wrinkle beach in South East Cornwall. (Obviously he didn’t walk – we did. He got carried in a rather snuggly sling). The beach is defintely going to become a big part of his life in the years to come, but unfortuantely he mostly slept through this first trip, being only 8 weeks old. Honestly.

5. A bit of tennis fever in June when we joined some mummy and baby friends to watch Wimbledon on the big screen in Plymouth City Centre. Gorgeous day, gorgeous friends, gorgeous city.

6. Sprog’s second trip too the beach: Bigbury near Kingsbridge, South Devon. At nearly 6 months old, he was a lot more interested in everything the beach has to offer. And obviously every grain of sand needed close scrutiny…

7. Enjoying the sunshine and giving mini-RT a taste of some fresh water swimming, at Plymouth Tinside Lido. A truely stunning view – can’t recommend this enough. (In summer. Wouldn’t recommend it in winter…).

8. A visit to the National Marine Aquarium in Plymouth – littl’un loved the fishes and seemed completely oblivious to the sharks. What it is to be young and fearless.

9. A day trip to Mount Edgcumbe, East Cornwall for a picnic and walk along the beach with the extended RT family. Bloomin’ freezing, but lovely nonetheless, and fab views back across the Tamar to Plymouth. I was taken there lots when I was a kid, so it was lovely to keep the tradition going.

10. And so we’re up to date: last Friday afternoon, when the whole RT team went for a scrummy lunch at Ruby Burgers in Exeter. An ultra-cool diner experience, with monster milkshakes (see pic) and beautiful burgers. Mini-RT is now big enough to sit in a highchair, grab all the cutlery and throw it on the floor, but no one seemed to mind. We love.

Hey ho – I guess nothing lasts forever and so we’re on to the next phase. We’ll just have to save those wicked Westcountry days for the weekends.

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The Elusive Super-Crafter

First of all, apologies for a slightly tardy blog entry this week. Last night during the usual post mini-RT bedtime / pre-Strictly results blog slot, I was flaked on the sofa after travelling to and from Hampshire in one day to pick up a third hand Punto. Anything I would have written would have been ramblings about needing rest and / or chocolate and / or a head massage.

Anyway, it wasn’t just the Sunday jaunt up the M5 which floored me; on Saturday Rockpool started its Christmas craft fair campaign at the “Crikey! It’s Vintage” fair at the Thistle Hotel in Exeter. It was a veritable vintage extravaganza with more than victory rolls, full skirts and red lipstick than you could shake a stick at. The whole event was a roaring success and was a blast for customers and stallholders alike. On the RT front, we kicked off the Christmas season in style, and had a whale of a time nattering to customers as well as helping some particularly well organised folk start their Xmas shopping. (Always happy to help).

One thing which always surprises me when we take RT on the road is the number of people who ask me “Ooooh, did you make all this yourself?”. Now, bear in mind that on the RT stall we have ceramics, jewellery, glassware, appliqué cushions, oilcloth handbags, crotched cafetierre cosies and wooden Christmas tree decorations, to name but a few. Even after hunting the South West for the best suppliers for the site, I’ve yet to meet the talented individual who could cover all of these disciplines, especially to a standard good enough to be let lose on the public…! Hey ho – one day I might find this super-crafter, proficient in everything from weaving to whittling, and when I do I’ll be sure to blog about them.

Still, in the meantime – here’s a picture (hopefully – if I’ve worked out how to post a picture correctly) from Saturday’s event. Looking forward to the next fair at Crocadon in Cornwall on 1st December. Hopefully by then I would have worked out how to fit all the stock in the back of a Punto…

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OMG this is terrifying…

Right – I’ve spent the last hour fiddling with my widgets and I really need to just stop fussing and start writing. So here goes…

Hello World! Greetings from a very rainy South West – apparently soon to be the epicentre of the worst storm since the “Michael Fish Clanger” of 1987. It’s Sunday evening, the time of the week I’m hereafter setting aside as “Rockhoppers” hour (just before the Strictly / X Factor / Homeland marathon begins). My business is 2 years old today, so I’m celebrating by finally getting round to one of our early goals – writing a blog about the goings on at RT, life in the South West and whatever else takes my fancy along the way. Basically, it’s a chance to rave about what I love, rant about what I hate, and ramble on about everything in between, with the very lose parameters that it’ll be about local stuff. (“Local” being our glorious corner of the UK – Devon and Cornwall).

And 2 years to achieve an objective is pretty good for those of us living by DMT (“‘Drekley Mean Time”). It’s this manana attitude that makes the Westcountry so fabulous. Why bust your guts today when there’s plenty of time tomorrow, and after all there’s a wave to be caught, a beach to be stomped along in the rain or a cream tea / pasty / pint to be consumed? That’s not to say I haven’t been working blinkin’ hard on RT for the last 2 years, (not to mention holding down a pretty busy day job, getting married and, oh yes, giving birth and rearing a child); it’s just there are a number of beautiful, crazy ideas Mr RT and I had when we first started up the website, which we still haven’t got round to yet. But never mind – there’s always tomorrow and maybe that’s what’s so exciting about embarking on your own business venture – the thought of what it will be in another year / 3 years / 10 years time if you keep battering away at it. And I’m nothing if not stubborn, so I hope to be writing this blog on 27th October 2014, hopefully launching some of our early-days RT ideas – that is if we haven’t been wandering along too many beaches or eating too many cream teas…

(PS – Big thanks to the wonderful Gail Vencker for the blog name! A talented crafter, a Westcountry lover and now a blog-name-thinker-upper…).