Blogging Challege : Day 1 – Blog Name

Originally posted in Swinging With Babies , this blogging challenge (which, in turn, came from is going to help me on the days when my brain is not working very well and I can’t think of anything to write, photograph or blog about.  Which is often, these days, let’s be honest.


So, today’s topic : My Blog’s Name.  Why did I call this blog The Paper Wallflower?  Well, mostly, because the name “The Speckled Egg” was taken, ha ha.  Truly.  I wanted The Speckled Egg as my blog name.  I’m always using eggs (or, at least, pictures of) in my
card-making, and speckled eggs are very popular as a design element/feature, but the name was taken, by a few different blogs, so I moved on.

I obviously favour paper above all other crafty mediums – I use it for card-making and collaging, drawing, painting, journaling, writing etc, so having “paper” in my blog title seemed a given.  Then, I was going to incorporate my favourite flower – violets – into the name but couldn’t make it work, and I didn’t want to have just my name, Violet Annie, as the main heading.  So, I chose a wallflower.  It seemed fitting – I am horribly socially anxious, the absolute prime example of a wallflower (if anyone is sitting on the outskirts of a dance, not dancing, it is me) and the title seemed to work.

So that’s pretty much it.  Not a very exciting story, but there you are 🙂  I’m happy enough with it, as a blog name.  It will do!  I guess I’m stuck with it now anyway.

I should, at this point, while we’re on the topic of names, confess that my real name is not Violet Annie.  It’s my business-if-I-had-a-business name.  It’s actually my Grandmother’s name and, as violets are my favourite flower, I pinched it for my own devices.  I don’t think it’s a great idea to have your real name out there on the internet for all to see.  Even though, in reality, I’m sure it’s easy enough to find.

My Grandmother was an amazing lady – she lived with us for the last 15 or so years of her life, after she emigrated at 80, until she was 95.  No dementia or any real health issues, she was a character alright.  Loving in her own way and, despite being a tad cantankerous at times, she was very grateful for everything we did for her.  My Mum had quite a tough time with her, some days – she wasn’t always easy to deal with – and we all had to care for and look after her on a daily basis.  She was fairly independent, right up until the end, and didn’t ask for much except company and her blessed smokes (sigh…you can’t tell someone who is 95 years old that smoking is bad for them).

I will always remember her last night on this Earth.  She had taken ill in the day (respiratory problems, not surprisingly) and was in hospital.  Mum and I went to visit her in the evening (she’d only been admitted that morning, and was doing quite well, all things considered) and she was sitting up in bed, eating her dinner (pumpkin soup – her favourite) and complaining about the nurses.  She was calm and not frightened or distressed (a huge blessing for my Mum – she didn’t want to leave her if she was upset) and talked about coming home the next day.

But there was no next day for her.  At around 2am, we received a call from our GP.  Nanna had passed away, very peacefully, in her sleep.  The doctors and nurses were all a bit shocked – they had not expected her to go so quickly, although she was not expected to come out of hospital any time soon.  I really believe her spirit just decided it was time to go.  She was warm, her belly full and we were all safe.

So, I guess this blog is dedicated to my Nan.  I hope she is proud of it and me.  She was a mad crafter – knitting was her thing – and so I think she would have liked seeing all the things I make.  One of my favourite memories of her was when she asked me to help her make my Mum a medal.  It still makes my Mum and I teary, even now.  This little tin-foil-covered cardboard medal, with Nan’s writing on it, saying thank you for everything Mum did for her.  That says LOVE right there.  It couldn’t be more valuable if it was made from solid gold.

Have a good day everyone.




You know you’re getting old when…

You know you’re getting old when…

I am feeling my age today.  Or, at least, feeling the age that 40 used to be.  You know when you were a kid and 40 seemed so OLD.  Like, way past over the hill.  Old.  Well, that is how I am feeling today.  I haven’t been 100% well-feeling for the last week or so and am just feeling fat and fed up and forty.  Which, I reiterate, is not old.  But today it feels it.  Wow, that’s a lot of “feels” all in one paragraph…

Someone mentioned a song in the charts today and I had no idea what they were talking about.  Hadn’t even heard of the singer.  I used to be all up in the music scene.  I knew who was who and what was what.  Now, I’d be lucky to be able to name half of the artists in the top 40.  Which makes me feel old.  Because I swore blind I would never be one of those old fuddy-duddies who dissed new music and only listened to music from their own era.  But I am becoming that way.  I cling to the fact that I like and appreciate Lady Gaga – as soon as I start not understanding or liking her, I am in trouble and may as well order myself a Zimmer Frame.

Signs I am one step away from the old people’s home

As I was having physio this week, I looked up at my very attractive-but-far-too-young-for-me physiotherapist, noticing he had a couple of days’ worth of stubble on his face.  I almost reached up to stroke his face and comment that he looked handsome.  Which would have been inappropriate and weird.  Worse still was the fact that the action was almost like maternal  affection, rather than a romantic / flirtatious gesture.

I am in bed before 10.30 most nights.

I prefer staying in than going out.

I have started to remark (a lot) that music on the radio “these days” is “rubbish”.

I have trouble understanding advertising.

The other night, at my cousin’s rowdy 40th Birthday party, I was standing in a corner drinking a cup of tea, wishing someone would turn the music down.

I have started calling people in their twenties “kids”.

I don’t know half of the celebrities that appear in magazines.

I have the beginnings of a bunion.

The cold weather makes me ache.

I have a fine collection of hot water bottles.  And use them.

I am doing a lot of squinting when trying to read things.  My arms are no longer long enough to hold objects far enough from my face to read them accurately.

When my nephews and nieces ask me how old I am and I tell them “Old”, they believe me.

I don’t know the names of any of the One Direction dudes or what they sing.

I think Miley Cyrus has lost the plot and needs a good talking to. And some clothes.

I am fighting a losing battle with the strands of grey in my hair.

I wonder where manners and good grammar have disappeared to.

*     *     *

At the end of the day, I am NOT old.  And if I am, well then, I am lucky to be so.  Not everyone gets the chance.  But today, I would like to feel just a little younger, a little less creaky and be able to sing along with at least half of the top ten songs in the charts.  And not turn the volume down.

Hope you are all feeling young and spritely today.  If not, join me in a cup of tea and quick Nanna-nap and start again tomorrow.