THE PERFECT (PINK?) PRESENT

What to get for a nieces 1st birthday present? Especially as her mum runs Nest with me.

Perhaps I should go to ‘Large Pink Plastic Toys Inc.’ and get the biggest price of injection moulded rubbish possible. The sort of toy that ends up in the shed a month later, then at a car boot and then sticking half out of a wheelie bin.

I used to work at a model making company and one of the products we helped to develop was Polly Pockets (sorry). I remember the problems we had trying to mix a specified pink for one of their products. This pink was so intense that it had a chemical half life of mere seconds. It was so pink that it wasn’t actually possible to be any more pink! If the Americans had used Agent Pink instead of Agent Orange the Vietnam War may have turned out differently. I believe this pink has since been banned for causing psychological problems and massive environmental pollution.

Oh, the flashbacks, the years of staring at green things (the antidote to pink).

Umm...anyway, I managed to get a very beautiful vintage wooden pushcart in a lovely old deep blue with wonderful illustrations down the side. I filled it up with wooden building blocks and she loved it – both mum and niece! And no one will ever need pink therapy in later life, although there is the potential for the odd splinter...

THE STORY OF THE SUBMARINE

Do you remember the submarine that used to be outside our shop? It was something that I built to hold an exhibition in and was a spectacular failure because it was difficult to get people to go into it to actually look at the exhibition. Most preferred to stay outside and comment on the fact that I used toilet seats for the portholes (I was in a rush).

Anyway, it sat for years outside the shop acting as a sort of detached stockroom. I loved telling people that I thought a certain item was in stock and “let me check in the submarine”.

Then a few years ago I moved house and decided, after living there for a while, that I didn’t like our garden shed. About this time Burwash Manor looked like it was going to need a Santa’s Grotto so it didn’t take a genius like me long to realise a shed, in return for transporting the submarine to my house, might solve a few problems.

I have to say that following Michael Radford (Burwash Manor owner, and man worryingly accustomed to such weird tasks) down the A14 towing my submarine on a trailer was probably in my top 3 stressful life moments. I was composing newspaper headline in my head involving serious accident, 2 suspects’ held, blue submarine and debris spread over 2 counties.

At one point a police patrol car drew level in the fast lane and I could see the officers talking to each other and much shoulder shrugging. I was convinced we were going to get pulled over but I’m guessing it might have been near their shift end and they drove off quickly – well, who wants to deal with a submarine on the A14 – think of the paperwork...

Eventually, after the longest 35 minute journey of my life, we got the submarine to my house. We then preceded to block the small lane outside my garden for 45 minutes while trying to get the thing in through a hole I had created in the hedge (for those of you who hadn’t seen the submarine, it was 16 feet long and nearly 16 feet high at the periscope!). There developed a small but not angry queue of cars. I think rural Suffolk folk are used to agricultural delays and this was at least vaguely amusing to watch. A one-legged farmer, one idiot, a submarine, an annoyed hedge and lots of swearing.

So, I have a submarine in my garden which looks, er, interesting... and I can get all the gear into it that was in my rubbish old shed.

But, mainly, I got rid of that shed...or so I thought. The recent building work at Burwash Manor has meant that the Secret Garden Furniture shop has moved next to our shop and their new temporary office (which I can see from the counter) is....drum roll....my old *****y shed!

This must be karma.

HOW TO LIVE A LIFE

Do you delight in the small things in life? I’m sitting in the shop trying to think of what to write. So I make a cup of coffee. Making a cup of coffee or tea is what I would call one of those small things in life!

If I was at home I would be getting my coffee from an old French enamel canister – it’s just gorgeous – mainly white with heavy red patterning and a big old chipped knob on the lid. Having done this I would choose a mug. I don’t know if anyone else out there does this but I often select a mug depending on what mood I’m in at that particular moment. Recently, for some reason, I have been selecting a Star Wars mug – I don’t know why – just have! At other times it might be a mug with a chaffinch on the front or a mug with a black beetle (insect). Then to stir the milk in, I have to choose a spoon (point of the blog about to make itself apparent and in fewer words than a Clarkson car review!). Choosing a spoon – what a joy! I have been gradually building a collection of old silver and nickel plate spoons from the late Victorian period up. Some are monogrammed, others have the most delightfully elegant shape and all have been loved and used and washed a thousand times so have that indefinable richness of age and use.

Having beautiful, interesting and yet practical items around your home environment can make all the little tasks much more agreeable and, of course, here at Nest we are the purveyors of such things! If you like mixed cutlery then definitely come and see us. I ate my porridge this morning with an old Scottish silver spoon engraved with a thistle – splendid!

Of course, I sat down on one of a large collection of distressed kitchen chairs (I have a slight fetish for distressed slatbacks – I said SLATBACKS). But which one? I opted for the heavily chipped green one because it smiled at me!

My current collection of dinner plates (circa 1996) is finally being usurped by a random collection of late 19th and early 20th century plates. My wife cooked up a beautiful supper at the weekend and served it out on some blue patterned ironstone plates – it looked just gorgeous – shame to eat it, really, but I did have a 1939 war department fork in my hand, so no chance.

I forgot to mention that when I reached for the coffee canister it was on display in a flipping fabulous old painted pine dresser, so the act of opening the glass fronted door by turning the old key in the lock was in itself a lovely little moment and hang on – yes – we sell such life enhancing furniture at Nest, as well!

So I would suggest you all come in and buy some stuff, it will make your existence so much better!

p.s. we don’t sell Star Wars mugs.

ADVERTISING ADVENTURES

If you read the local glossy magazines, in particular Style, Journal and Cambridge Editions, you will, I hope, have noticed the Burwash Manor adverts.

For some reason, in the dim and distant past I took on the role of sorting out these ads every month. I generally come up with the idea, sort out a location (always on the Burwash Manor site), get the props and then work with the photographer to realise the ‘idea’. Our present campaign entitled ‘where retail meets the countryside’ means that in general, I try and take one of the shops on site and present their ‘wares’ with the campaign concept. In reality this usually involves product, a field and some sort of reluctant farm animal or child (much the same, but smellier).

The weather is, of course, the biggest pain in the backside when trying to get these ads sorted and because this is all done in my spare time (which doesn’t exist), once a date for the photo shoot has been planned it goes ahead regardless (wave fist at sky defiantly). There was one day, early in May, predicted to be free from rain so I risked booking in Dan the photographer (www.mackandme.com) to try and get a shot for the June editions.

I wanted to do a Nest inspired ad using our Landover and given that no animals or children were involved, thought it might be straightforward. The basic idea was to stick the van in a field next to probably the only tree that had enough leaves to look vaguely summery and then hang our vintage furniture and other bits from the side of the van. So far, in my head, so good.

It started quite well...the main table got suspended and counter-balanced on the blind side by large weights. We then started adding lots more furniture, chairs, a tuba, anything really. We were just about to get the shot when a gust of wind blew the deckchair off the van. So we reset, nearly ready, then there was an enormous ‘twang’, followed by the table leaping off an embedding itself several inches into the waterlogged meadow.

After exchanging pleasantries with Dan about the delights of working on these exciting ads, I went and got some tow rope and re-hung the table.

Again, nearly ready and the ****ing deckchair took off again (this time selfishly taking some furniture with it) so we ended up nailing it to the van and finally getting some shots. Unfortunately the sun didn’t come out but it did rain the next day, and the next, and the next, and the next so I was at least chuffed we got something.

My wife is a darn good graphic designer and has been managing, over the years, to turn sometimes desperate photos hoots taken under extremes into really lovely ads; hopefully this will be one of them. Look out for our van in the June issue of Style!

ARRANGING...AND RE-ARRANGING

Today I spent the first three hours of the day, in the shop, moving things around and setting up new displays. A task not made easier by Kathryn turning up halfway through and dumping five boxes of vintage stock next to the counter. This can be the problem with our business. Whilst we mostly do the buying together, if an opportunity arises to buy new stock, you take it. So I had to integrate a whole load of new pieces into the display. Still, it’s a good problem to have.

We try and keep the shop looking fresh and interesting because I, for one, hate visiting other shops where nothing changes from week to week. This should be an obvious business practice but it’s making that a reality can be challenging. After a long day at the workshop, turning up at the shop to move furniture around in the evening isn’t always as tempting as a bar of chocolate, a log fire, a snoozy Labrador and some sort of documentary on tanks! (Just me, then.....)

And that was why I had to move stuff around while tending to the shop. Typically, having created what I thought was a rather beautiful arrangement including a gorgeous blue German chest, and off pink display cabinet and lots of old Victorian cream jars, ink wells and ribbon spools, some customer only wanted to go and buy the display cabinet. It’s a peculiar situation being ever so slightly irritated by a customer wanting to buy something!

I re-jigged the stuffed animal display and, naturally enough, working on the above principle, a stunning pair of Victorian partridges, in a case, sold along with one of our comedy ducks! I wasn’t irritated by that sale, however, because it gives me a very clear agenda to buy more weird stuff.

I was so into doing displays today that I created a few you can’t see. By that I mean you have to look in the right cupboard or dresser top to see it. Another display involved an old typewriter which prompted a customer to let me know that her seven year old daughter had recently asked her what a typewriter was. We both exchanged that certain glance that you do when small people remind you how ancient you are.

Well, I’m back in the shop again in a couple of days and am already cooking up a few ideas. The only problem being that a few days later we’re off buying to Norfolk, so it will all change yet again to accommodate the new stock. Still...it makes it more interesting for you guys...hopefully!!