Crimson & Clover

Behind the Curtain in my Backyard

Photo by Gwen King on Unsplash

It’s February, it’s freezing and I am fed up; actually, I find that I am angry.

So many precious hours in recent times - it’s getting on for years now — are being routinely soured by a steady stream of toxic news that I can do very little to alter.

Yes, think globally act locally is still my mantra of choice, but sometimes this feels like an exercise in futility. And this, (futility I mean) is not a feeling that I can ever make friends with.

To try and dispel this gloom with a bang, I presented D. with the prospect of an unusual outing. Not exactly a highbrow date-night but on Sunday we put our winter gear on and attended a special showing at our little local theatre.

A Three Stooges Extravaganza night.

D. was crabbily dubious about this at first (and who can blame him, I know) but I was able to win him over with the sheer zaniness of the concept and as I pointed out, how refreshing it would be to see three guys on screen at least admitting they’re stooges …

I will concede too that some of the comedic “material” may not have stood the test of time (nyuk, nyuk, nyuk!) but there were still some pretty fabulous one liners. And watching Moe nimbly making pancakes by using a dry cleaning pant-press as a griddle was a particular highlight. (As a child I often shed tears for the lovable Curly who was always getting everything wrong and endlessly in trouble. Fun Stooge Fact: Curly was also - in real life - an avid dog lover, a kind man and was known to have sheltered/owned/openly adored hundreds of rescue dogs in his short lifetime).

‘Curly’ (real name Jerome Lester Horwitz) seen here with 2 of his dogs

So we did have a much needed laugh (the crying kind) and even perfected our Three Stooges’ noise repertoire (woo-wooo-wooo-woooo!) in the car on the way home.

Both of these things were something that, like most people, we had not done in a very long time.

But there was something else too, As we waited for the show to start, I suddenly had a flashback that I have not experienced in over 50 years.

My father’s job in the steel industry often meant that he had access to items scored from demolitions and he once brought home a heavy sinking bundle of red crushed velvet. It turned out to be the giant curtain from an old theatre and he’d immediately seen the potential for our soon-to-be “picture window” which had also been recently liberated from a shoe store. (And subsequently, quickly collected by my dad.)

My mother, who had always made it widely known that she couldn’t sew, narrowed her eyes and felt the fabric doubtfully. I watched as she whooshed the curtain out in our back garden like a giant tablecloth, till the grass was completely replaced by crimson, a dramatic and sumptuous transformation. I stood at the door fascinated and impressed by this new, weird landscape, as she crept patiently along on her knees, drawing lines with thick chalk then folding, cutting and dividing.

There were lots of scraps left and although I hinted loudly for a long, slim column of a dress like The Supremes would wear or even plushy bell-bottoms (this was the Sixties!) strangely, my mother gently reminded me once again that she could not sew.

Once the finished drapes were installed they were truly spectacular. Now freshly washed and aired, the rich material gleamed before pooling in soft red pleats on the floor. I was still delighted with the little bag of off-cuts I was given and immediately set about fashioning three tiny velvet ballgowns with lace trim for my favourite Troll-dolls who suddenly acquired a rather unfortunate Moulin Rouge vibe.

(Side note, I am sure it says a great deal about me as a child that I had no interest in Barbies or indeed any other ‘popular’ dolls and instead preferred to lose myself in play with these cheerful quirky Trolls almost daily. My mum found them a bit off-putting but she did knit a divine mohair boa for one of them when they had to attend a formal event, nonetheless.)

One of the remaining cast members still lives on my desk to this day!

Funny though, I can still remember the feeling of that velvet fabric in my hands, the excitement to make something, anything, with it; it’s exactly the same “sparkle” that I sometimes still access today whenever I manage to lasso that elusive feeling of hope, anticipation, wonder or curiosity and the notion that something good is about-to-be.

I miss that feeling — and I am not about to give it up.

Other microscopic “sparkles” from my week:

• Watched a Bollywood film for the first time in ages - always a mood lifter especially with the ridiculously handsome Shah Rukh Khan

• Found an excellent source for making my own Ras El Hanout and hope to make this happen on a sheet pan meal next week! A pilgrimage to the health food store for super fresh spices will need to happen

• Discovered an exciting new pianist to research via CBC radio (gosh, remember radio!?) Bruce Liu but he was playing Chopin, so too moving to listen to whilst driving as I tend to weep. Made a note and followed up!

• My first efforts at growing an African violet from a single leaf may be a success story after many (many) weeks of waiting. This was very important to me since one of my older violets was showing signs of ill health and had once belonged to D’s late mother, I was very upset. I did however manage to salvage one leaf and after setting up an oxygen tent cum greenhouse with a ziplock bag back in October, tried to encourage a root. Today I see three or four tiny green fists stretching upwards so there is now hope for a new plant!

• Looking forward to the always clever Sally Wainwright’s (excellent Brit writer/creator of the gritty ‘Happy Valley’ and many others) ‘Riot Women’ about a midlife Punk Rock band comprised of menopausal women. Best Line: “And you thought The Clash was angry …”

• Quote from one of my all-time favourite books, Jane Eyre: “I would always rather be happy than dignified.” I thought it best to get this in, after admitting to a night with ‘The Three Stooges’ lol! P.S. Received an annotated version of Jane for my birthday and excited to begin.

• Late-to-the-Party-but-Homemade Christmas cake was unveiled and sampled this week: moist, French brandy-infused and topped with a crown of tender yellow marzipan. Extremely cheering with piping hot strong cups of tea. Repeat as necessary. (Definitely not one of those dry, crumbly cakes with only one cherry that is still being grimly passed around at family gatherings …)

  

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