Font Sunday: Alice in Dreamland

I have been wondering whether to share these photos or not.

Today I joined in with the Design Museum's Font Sunday (on Twitter but also Pinterest) and I loved seeing so many different book covers, and sharing some of the ones on my shelves. I did a post on Font Sunday last year when the subject was tea tins, and I've posted about book covers here, here, and here. Today's Font Sunday was hosted by Penguin.

When I worked at Penguin's sister company ten years ago, we had charity book sales a few times a year, and we were like kids in a sweet shop. We waited for the email to say the book sale was open, and raced down the stairs to battle for Penguin Classics, children's audio books, and £20 cookery books that we could buy for £2.

One of the books I bought remained on a shelf or packed in a box for nine years. Every so often I would take it out, consider unwrapping it from its shrink wrap, but fearfully put it away again. It was a Penguin "Design Your Own Cover" edition of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland - I loved the idea of designing the cover for a book I adore so much, but the pressure was too great. What if my design was terrible? I wouldn't be able to change it and I'd be stuck with it.

The solution came once I knew I wasn't going to keep the book; I was going to design the cover and then give it as a present. It's back to front, really - surely that would put me under more pressure to design a "perfect" cover? Somehow it didn't work like that, and it took the pressure off.

It was quite special to finally unwrap this beautiful book, with its blank cover save for the Penguin logo in the corner.

I had a few ideas for the cover, and thought I would be safe and draw the queen finding her white roses painted red, but then I thought of Dreamland in Margate. If you've never heard of it (and if you're not from the south east of England it's quite likely you haven't), Dreamland is a theme park in Kent. We went there on a school trip in 1991, and I can't really remember much about the park. I'm fairly sure we were slightly disappointed that it didn't seem as big as Chessington or Alton Towers, but we were kids and it was a day off school, so we were happy. Our clothes were awful - I was talking to a friend about this recently, and we both can't bear the thought of sharing photos from the 90s because our clothes (and NHS glasses) were so bad. Neons were a big thing...I'm sure we all wore neon pink or yellow on this school trip. And we definitely sang The Shoop Shoop Song on the coach.

It was harder to draw this than the queen and roses picture - that felt more intuitive and a bit wilder, whereas this felt structured - straight lines and perspective aren't my forte. I was pleased with it in the end, even if it is a bit wonky. And I'm pleased I bought a neon pink pencil - I knew it would come in useful!

Oh, and I really love rabbits. I have not shared enough rabbit photos on here - that needs to change.

Shakespeare 400: The (in)Complete Walk

After I posted yesterday's Shakespeare musings (which had several typos that have now been corrected!), I got the train to London Bridge and met my friend who was trying to negotiate his way down to Southwark Cathedral. We walked along the river, and came across the first of many screens showing short scenes from Shakespeare's plays. This was Timon of Athens, and we were surprised that we had a good view - we expected it to be much more crowded. I apologise for the generally fuzzy quality of these photos - I only used the camera on my phone and I was pretty hasty.

As we got to the underpass, the crowd got bigger. Everyone was watching Twelfth Night apart from a handful of people who were trying to squeeze past. I pitied anyone who'd arranged to meet friends in Wagamama, not knowing what was going on today.

We went round the back streets and saw the site of the original Globe. It's one thing I love about London - it's so big and so steeped in history, you can often see things you'd never noticed before. Neither of us had noticed this before.

We went to the original Rose Theatre, where Shakespeare first put on his plays. After it had been developed in the 1500s, other theatres were built in the surrounding area, and the Rose Theatre declined in popularity and shut down (I worry the same thing will happen to the Bromley Empire cinema when the new multiplex is completed on the other side of town). They are raising money to preserve the theatre's history and develop it as a visitor attraction. They have open days every Saturday and put on performances at other times.

We saw Suzanne Marie perform Henry VI part I Act V scene III. She was captivating, but the intimate setting meant you could see nearby audience members' responses. There were two young children at the front who were nervous of her intensity and stifled giggles at her wailing. I liked their honest reactions. Then we saw Frank McHugh and Ellie Mason play a spellbinding and sexy Macbeth and Lady Macbeth in Act I scene VII, when (spoiler alert!) he wonders if he is really prepared to kill Duncan, but his wife mocks his doubting. Personally, I hear her words differently from how they were perhaps intended. For me:

Lady Macbeth:  ...I have given suck, and know

How tender ’tis to love the babe that milks me.

I would, while it was smiling in my face,

Have plucked my nipple from his boneless gums

And dashed the brains out, had I so sworn as you

Have done to this.

isn't a sign that she was born the devil incarnate (a phrase from Titus Andronicus, fact fans!), but a woman who experienced a horrific loss that has eaten up her soul. I've just done a bit of research and have found Jude Kelly's production that considers just this.

We needed tea afterwards, and went to the cafe at Shakespeare's Globe theatre, where there was standing room only. We people-watched while we drank - it was during the interval of Hamlet, but even so, I don't think we've ever seen The Globe so heaving during the day. It was brilliant.

There were several people outside carrying a white or red rose. Not sure who was giving them out, but presumably something to do with The War of the Roses, the Houses of York and Lancaster, and St George's Day or Shakespeare's history plays? Anyhow, a lot of people decided to leave their rose on the gates of The Globe, which was a beautiful sight.

We carried on walking and watching the short films that formed The Complete Walk. Unfortunately many of the screens outside Tate Modern weren't working, so we missed out on Julius Caesar, As You Like It, and Henry V. But we saw Hamlet!

At this point I became a bit of a wuss re: the cold. I had dressed warmly, but didn't wear gloves (it's the end of April! Midsummer is two months away!) and despite keeping my hands in my pockets, I was starting to feel uncomfortably cold. We headed back towards Borough, and joined this huge crowd watching Othello. "It's like a football match," said my friend. We didn't attempt to navigate through the crowd, but went up and down the stairs to Southwark Bridge instead.

And finally, this was a lovely end to the day - Elbow in Measure for Measure making the crowd laugh outside the FT building. It was the end to my day, anyway; after my friend and I had something to eat at Borough Market, he headed back to join the queue for returns at The Globe. I went home and warmed up with a coffee!

Elbow: If it please your honour, I am the poor Duke's constable, and my

name is Elbow; I do lean upon justice, sir, and do bring in here

before your good honour two notorious benefactors.

Angelo: Benefactors! Well; what benefactors are they? Are they not

malefactors?

Elbow: If it please your honour, I know not well what they are; but

precise villains they are, that I am sure of; and void of all

profanation in the world that good Christians ought to have.

Shakespeare 400: Tragic heroines and passionate pilgrims

It's exactly 400 years since our greatest ever writer died, and I'm off to Bankside this afternoon to join in the Shakespeare celebrations with about a million other people. We won't float off down the river like poor, sweet Ophelia though. You can see this gorgeous Millais painting in Tate Britain, along with his Mariana (from Measure for Measure) and Waterhouse's Lady of Shalott in the same room, if tragic, fictional heroines float your boat.

I used Romeo and Juliet, my favourite play, to illuminate my post for his birthday/deathday last year. Last summer, my little sister (who's autistic and has a limited vocabulary) half-read, half-listened to me reading this rather awesome version of the story as part of the summer reading challenge that children can do through their local library.

I was so pleased when I found out David Austin produce a gorgeous, scented Juliet rose (the peachy rose in the bouquet above), which opens up like a bowl (below).

But I was heartbroken when all but two farms stopped producing my favourite cut rose: the stunning and incredibly-scented Rosalind, named after the character from As You Like It (the blush-pink rose below; the green-tinged rose is Miranda, named after the character from The Tempest).

Emily (aka Shakespeare's Cymbeline) is another cut rose that's hard to find now. It has such a sweet, fruity scent. This was the first purely Emily rose bouquet I made during my short time at David Austin.

I was even more heartbroken when I found out earlier this year that the cut flower department at David Austin is no more, which is all the more heartbreaking given their wonderful new varieties, and the love and care that the florist-growers take when handling them. They know their stuff far better than urban, relatively newbie florists like me ever could. You can still buy the roses wholesale and florists like me will be happy to use them to make your bouquets, but you can't order bouquets to be made up at the heart of David Austin in Albrighton. You can still see their beautiful roses at their rose garden and they continue to grow and develop new varieties, including the new Roald Dahl rose, which will be launched at RHS Chelsea in May and which I am ridiculously excited about! I had planned to go to Chelsea this year, but as my old supervisor, Ann Saxby, is only going to set up on the first day, I won't bother - I will see her when she stays the full week at Hampton Court instead. Some things are more important than being first on the scene.

He that is thy friend indeed,

He will help thee in thy need:

If thou sorrow, he will weep;

If thou wake, he cannot sleep:

Thus of every grief in heart

He with thee doth bear a part.

These are certain signs to know

Faithful friend from flattering foe.

Shakespeare, The Passionate Pilgrim XVIII

A Good Friday tradition: The Widow's Son

Nine years ago, I heard about a pub in the East End that kept a wonderful tradition every Good Friday. A hot cross bun would be added to a collection of hot cross buns that had grown each year. This tradition started after a woman, whose son had left home to be a sailor, baked a hot cross bun in preparation for his return. He never returned home, but she never lost hope, and continued to bake a bun for him each year.

So my friends and their six-month-old baby went to The Widow's Son in Bromley-by-Bow, and sat in the beer garden on a Good Friday as beautiful and sunny as today's. When it was time for a sailor to add a new bun to the net of old buns (most of which, heartbreakingly, had been destroyed in a fire), we went over but found it hard to get decent photos, being so far back. So here's one, which I took before we left. And the sign outside the pub.

There's a lovely post here, with some much better photos - the blogger spoke to some of the people who have been involved in the tradition.

As for me, I just love the continuing bond of the mother and her son, which is still being honoured now, long after both have died. I think it's beautiful testament to the strength of love, and the need to express sadness and hope and all of the other feelings that come up weeks, months, years, decades after a bereavement.

Looking at the photos now reminds me of a couple of things I saw in Liverpool last October: an exhibition at the Museum of Liverpool on women and poppies, which included a talk about white poppies. These were originally worn by women whose sons had died in the war. However, they were criticised for wearing white poppies instead of red, even though they were expressing their own, very personal loss.

It also made me think of Tracey Emin's neon artwork which hangs in the gothic cathedral on Liverpool's Hope Street. I first saw it there when I visited Liverpool in 2010, and I was relieved to see it was still there last year. It could be read in so many different ways, and I think that's one of the loveliest things about art: that very personal, emotional connection we might have with some pieces.

Christmas daffodils at the Olympic Park, Stratford

When I heard that there were confused daffodils at the Olympic Park, who had taken the cold spell earlier in the autumn to be winter and the warm November to be spring, I really wanted to see them. I kept meaning to go to the Olympic Park whenever I see photos of the beautiful summer flowers there, but I never went. Well, this time I made the effort, and got there just before the sun went down yesterday afternoon.

I couldn't see them for a while and then suddenly there was the surreal sight of a huge Christmas tree and a mass of Eastery daffodils.

I wonder how long it took to decorate this huge tree - it was full of baubles, cinnamon, oranges and lotus heads.

For all of the wrongness of having daffodils before Christmas, they were still beautiful.

I've got into a DIY nail art habit since the summer, which is spectacularly silly when I am working with my hands so much, but pfft. Here's me showing off my Christmas tree nail art.

Some of the daffodils had already started to wilt!

The sculpture by Anish Kapoor and Cecil Balmond, the helter skelter-esque ArcelorMittal Orbit, looks wonderful up close - much better than it looked to me when I just saw it on TV or in the papers during the Olympics! And it sounds like they ARE going to open up a helter skelter slide next year...which, judging by the popularity of the slides in Tate Modern a few years ago, will be a hit.

I managed to go in before they shut and took some nice twilight photos...but most of those will have to wait for now.

I was pleased to hear they offer free access to accompanying carers of disabled people, so if my sister is ever in a good enough mood to go on the train and Jubilee Line/DLR, I would love to take her.