tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34786977487292143202024-03-23T18:13:32.453+08:00Sylvanian SunshineTales of our Sylvanian Families, as they live, work and play in Macadamia GroveGreyRabbithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14618464131079015835noreply@blogger.comBlogger83125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3478697748729214320.post-9234200435282733782024-01-09T08:38:00.002+08:002024-01-09T08:38:31.727+08:00Happy New Year 2024!<p>Hello all, and Happy New Year!</p><p>As you can probably tell, last year was a busy year for our family, and therefore not one in which I had much time for my Sylvanians, I'm afraid. They have definitely not been forgotten though! I have lots of new critters to introduce to you, and so many ideas and projects I want to do with them!</p><p>To start with, I'd like to show you some of my Christmas presents (just the Sylvanian ones!) I was lucky enough to be given several new families:</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMYM7juNbwBKIHTayhnjRWBsqyYtGC6FRMwtHO-CdJr4068eUQWqJbaLzgQ-LLmlwnQXo2aCVHywSp71tu3FgBXpYfuXt2zbNmNmCkoVw-ZFBNlPymsohPZwtpraCU-JhoJCGOUVucMgB51mc5ipINQOhyZ2MhGP2RLr7aTkKwd3AxHK8tMLu9B3XcApE2/s721/Christmas%20Presents%202023.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="691" data-original-width="721" height="614" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMYM7juNbwBKIHTayhnjRWBsqyYtGC6FRMwtHO-CdJr4068eUQWqJbaLzgQ-LLmlwnQXo2aCVHywSp71tu3FgBXpYfuXt2zbNmNmCkoVw-ZFBNlPymsohPZwtpraCU-JhoJCGOUVucMgB51mc5ipINQOhyZ2MhGP2RLr7aTkKwd3AxHK8tMLu9B3XcApE2/w640-h614/Christmas%20Presents%202023.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div>(The penguins simply could not wait to get out of their box!)<div><p>I am so pleased to be welcoming all these new critters, but must give a special mention (VERY excitedly) to the delightful mole family, which was sent to me by my lovely forum friend Terra!</p><p>More details will come about these new additions, but I also want to share with you my very first Sylvanian project of the year - just a little one, but definitely a step in the right direction:</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivbxH-FtVVD3o6P6OJFFqayhT2yCTpGdnrnSSz_ZtKcKnAEKq0ps6NWPT2JTryKLwivcqBzoBpsx3BViuRkGEf_PeuTGkSLkmfjX6isbqg5le26d4tlgZcl4fRuBQGdg0-Mgb1qDzm3KQHS6lgsGzAAj0iMLT90KNvKWCEsmt393JGb7SltpmhJ2Sa8fpk/s829/Lolly%20Chocolate%20dress.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="829" data-original-width="622" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivbxH-FtVVD3o6P6OJFFqayhT2yCTpGdnrnSSz_ZtKcKnAEKq0ps6NWPT2JTryKLwivcqBzoBpsx3BViuRkGEf_PeuTGkSLkmfjX6isbqg5le26d4tlgZcl4fRuBQGdg0-Mgb1qDzm3KQHS6lgsGzAAj0iMLT90KNvKWCEsmt393JGb7SltpmhJ2Sa8fpk/w480-h640/Lolly%20Chocolate%20dress.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Meet Lolly Chocolate! She is the youngest child of a family of Chocolate rabbits who live in our seaside area, Starlight Cape. Soon I will update our Meet The Families page with their names and pictures, but first I had to make Lolly a dress (couldn't have her being mistaken for Freya Chocolat, now could we?) lol<p></p>Here is the back:</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbM_1CEoRkb_oz1jHurVVlZgYLVpEzm6eHqUGDYp4MsD4SD7K7gi9jsuc_DawbhhEZv-IBYYZJFlyHoxOtiLm1jLOg65Ibqq3TsOMaYUUMAo4onegPlz1DL9ffDQzXkFRNEFsX1REoNcjXu7eDaFNHB8a-yrTqSbn1gqyWwV86jXKN3k25zH4q2f3g2_q5/s829/Lolly%20Chocolate%20dress%20back.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="829" data-original-width="622" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbM_1CEoRkb_oz1jHurVVlZgYLVpEzm6eHqUGDYp4MsD4SD7K7gi9jsuc_DawbhhEZv-IBYYZJFlyHoxOtiLm1jLOg65Ibqq3TsOMaYUUMAo4onegPlz1DL9ffDQzXkFRNEFsX1REoNcjXu7eDaFNHB8a-yrTqSbn1gqyWwV86jXKN3k25zH4q2f3g2_q5/w480-h640/Lolly%20Chocolate%20dress%20back.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div>I wanted a nice bright Summery feel for Lolly's dress, as not only does she live at the beach, but she is a bright, bouncy sort of bunny, who definitely needed colourful clothes. I am quite pleased with the result.<p>So from everyone in Macadamia Grove, Starlight Cape, Town and beyond, as well as from Caitlyn Hazelnut and myself, welcome to 2024 - a much more Sylvanian year!<br /></p></div>GreyRabbithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14618464131079015835noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3478697748729214320.post-52106460724634788982023-07-01T18:22:00.003+08:002023-07-02T10:02:14.567+08:00Chocolat Fine Chocolates<div>This is Mr Frasier Chocolat.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRqZmVI1oCTa6CufmelJlSj1MZQe1tawJYzeFlkdCLElbuF93Cr0O-VBJBECP2GVj5FD_MgWeDrL01vpJWlZRjso2wdnNLl2KOEsfENmt6jlEUIIyJjhJvKKr2ZXun5biTW4SSuQVCOuAh0IbsudoJG0bjQdk40Zj1nvNfQL_TGCdWRoACYnkm1KTzvFDo/s827/Mr%20Chocolat.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="827" data-original-width="692" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRqZmVI1oCTa6CufmelJlSj1MZQe1tawJYzeFlkdCLElbuF93Cr0O-VBJBECP2GVj5FD_MgWeDrL01vpJWlZRjso2wdnNLl2KOEsfENmt6jlEUIIyJjhJvKKr2ZXun5biTW4SSuQVCOuAh0IbsudoJG0bjQdk40Zj1nvNfQL_TGCdWRoACYnkm1KTzvFDo/w536-h640/Mr%20Chocolat.jpg" width="536" /></a></div><br /></div><div>Mr Chocolat owns a chocolate shop in Macadamia Grove. He makes the chocolates himself, and his loyal customers think it is the best chocolate in all Sylvania.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdbi6doswb34ZTTXMh8ks1cH76t6PjFZf39rc2pojSpaytvjn9FfmEqvruIlDi-NoDm95y5Fky4OT_r96lcF2m9qaC00549E2X4mHvkCeG-17GiacG00FCP_qI4lm5Duc8Bug-l6eesGwqIUt9eAP0OaIXeEmwhsCy0sX-2N7WlAYCzGZWkrYilogEGq8s/s979/Chocolat.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="979" height="418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdbi6doswb34ZTTXMh8ks1cH76t6PjFZf39rc2pojSpaytvjn9FfmEqvruIlDi-NoDm95y5Fky4OT_r96lcF2m9qaC00549E2X4mHvkCeG-17GiacG00FCP_qI4lm5Duc8Bug-l6eesGwqIUt9eAP0OaIXeEmwhsCy0sX-2N7WlAYCzGZWkrYilogEGq8s/w640-h418/Chocolat.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />"Welcome to Chocolat Fine Chocolates," he says. "What can I help you with today?"<div><br /></div><div><div>Every weekday afternoon, at three o'clock sharp, the hometime bell rang at Macadamia Grove Primary School, and inevitably several students would walk to Chocolat on their way home - even if they had to walk quite a bit out of their way!</div><div><br /></div><div>One day, Wash Wildwood and Angel Woolly were the first to arrive, and knew exactly what they wanted to spend their pocket money on. </div><div><br /></div><div>"I would like two of those big truffles, please!" said Wash.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXRg3wJ1qKv0sorVt2d-o7JNagKQXl1jRENncpfpCB_CpN9BZXDRnMRhOdmk93DQYpYlYlZ-Bek1K3c3TiyoUkzsh0kV_8oHQyGHa9bIG7VUXaPm8h4WCw6JtslxxqdZBaSYbf096JhuPKehdimYYuZalHaHuRTc7V4r_8Jb_G4YXhz2PoZSblZsVUiExO/s815/After%20School%20Treat.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="676" data-original-width="815" height="530" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXRg3wJ1qKv0sorVt2d-o7JNagKQXl1jRENncpfpCB_CpN9BZXDRnMRhOdmk93DQYpYlYlZ-Bek1K3c3TiyoUkzsh0kV_8oHQyGHa9bIG7VUXaPm8h4WCw6JtslxxqdZBaSYbf096JhuPKehdimYYuZalHaHuRTc7V4r_8Jb_G4YXhz2PoZSblZsVUiExO/w640-h530/After%20School%20Treat.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div>"And I'd like a bag of chocolate coated lemon peel," added Angel. Wash looked quite impressed at this - the lemon peel bags were quite large, and cost more than the boys usually spent.</div><div>"I'm sharing with my sister," Angel explained. "We pooled our money before school - it's her turn to help Mum with the twins this afternoon."</div><div><br /></div>Meanwhile, Faraday Periwinkle and Merida Fletcher were having more trouble making up their minds.</div><div><br /></div><div>"We could get some fudge..." said Merida thoughtfully. "Or...."<br /><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6h1-KTdJ8XzpsaxzBghODGlAdW13pH0BLYXNbq6dz4HOqHOMaOJ0xCnAI0m-MBh4HFp39Pfw7nUKcFVF-d4La3KcMV3aMECyI5yLTt60Wg5GgGtlLQDeEd3lum20EU7vTqOgaaO5inhhW2w3cXSvAupNZ1uWcOMxUImVKdeXkWQON8veNWKlWtuvBTwP1/s814/Decisions%20Decisions.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="612" data-original-width="814" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6h1-KTdJ8XzpsaxzBghODGlAdW13pH0BLYXNbq6dz4HOqHOMaOJ0xCnAI0m-MBh4HFp39Pfw7nUKcFVF-d4La3KcMV3aMECyI5yLTt60Wg5GgGtlLQDeEd3lum20EU7vTqOgaaO5inhhW2w3cXSvAupNZ1uWcOMxUImVKdeXkWQON8veNWKlWtuvBTwP1/w640-h482/Decisions%20Decisions.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div>"Or shall we go halves in a block of Caramel?" suggested Faraday. </div><div><br /></div><div>Eventually, all the schoolchildren had emptied their pockets of coins, and were busy filling their mouths with delicious treats! Mr Chocolat had just a few minutes to recover from the onslaught before Mrs Corrie Dale and her daughter Peren arrived.</div><div><br /></div><div>Corrie was shopping for a gift for her husband's birthday. Mr Dale had quite the sweet tooth, and chocolate from Chocolat's Fine Chocolates was his favourite treat.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge5CSgkKAj_rtxZmlE-XgDwkSLf6ovDJWkaHMbSCuinsJKq0a9l-ZfHRJfZvqCDBrqOLQA3d-XZpAoTH9YF8CHIEgpzKUfp3eovd7I89rlFGUUf9EFhe4O_NLgWs6pvmrvrFoAPv-bKL_kNnNwN7xmBK8mx68aXciMuDhCBA4n2RMn6voHIZaerpwysxJ1/s847/Mrs%20Dale%20Selects%20a%20Gift.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="613" data-original-width="847" height="464" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge5CSgkKAj_rtxZmlE-XgDwkSLf6ovDJWkaHMbSCuinsJKq0a9l-ZfHRJfZvqCDBrqOLQA3d-XZpAoTH9YF8CHIEgpzKUfp3eovd7I89rlFGUUf9EFhe4O_NLgWs6pvmrvrFoAPv-bKL_kNnNwN7xmBK8mx68aXciMuDhCBA4n2RMn6voHIZaerpwysxJ1/w640-h464/Mrs%20Dale%20Selects%20a%20Gift.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div>"I think I would like to select several individual chocolates from the cabinet," she said. "May I have them in a nice box, please?"</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiUK4wCNp1Ez6zm9a_1SOQ1Vz3QlGP07y4_M8RsHYubag0nUfkYiuSDA5ggCBZ-GM9Pn3qmEREjaSX81JYAD8JK1eV3prWFBhg_c4-fZiJ8KV666oBAAU5OH0wE9ckRYe_3o0oJrkyjKErjqJScMAJk4lzOH0DK18H7A1MVy_zVC9rHkoRFKX7WbAB9hod/s881/Display%20Case.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="881" data-original-width="624" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiUK4wCNp1Ez6zm9a_1SOQ1Vz3QlGP07y4_M8RsHYubag0nUfkYiuSDA5ggCBZ-GM9Pn3qmEREjaSX81JYAD8JK1eV3prWFBhg_c4-fZiJ8KV666oBAAU5OH0wE9ckRYe_3o0oJrkyjKErjqJScMAJk4lzOH0DK18H7A1MVy_zVC9rHkoRFKX7WbAB9hod/w454-h640/Display%20Case.jpg" width="454" /></a></div><br /><div>"Of course" Mr Chocolat answered. "I know Ewan likes fudge, too - shall I include a piece of that, as well?"</div><div><br /></div><div>While they were talking, Corrie's daughter Peren wandered about the shop, looking at all the different items for sale. There were large blocks of chocolate in several different flavours. There were boxes filled with truffles, and others filled with a selection of chocolates. She gazed at them, trying to guess what tasty centres were hiding in each one. There was even a large chocolate sculpture of a mouse.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM5kNbr_eJewkt6Gbf3pFNORBhuse8KNkzK9gH8f4iHFEI1oyxlZodmthaJGPRC2RC9W50C_m7vEXAFfQZ8A2iWXm8Kz_0hApT7ikO7NbczkXi0mF41S5Rs2_h1XN5bKHmGrzwTzfo0R7uW7uFTkYhjddEs1QKgU9C17U1v1eim975-drZZfH5bqMIlDbR/s812/Blocks%20and%20Boxes.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="662" data-original-width="812" height="522" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM5kNbr_eJewkt6Gbf3pFNORBhuse8KNkzK9gH8f4iHFEI1oyxlZodmthaJGPRC2RC9W50C_m7vEXAFfQZ8A2iWXm8Kz_0hApT7ikO7NbczkXi0mF41S5Rs2_h1XN5bKHmGrzwTzfo0R7uW7uFTkYhjddEs1QKgU9C17U1v1eim975-drZZfH5bqMIlDbR/w640-h522/Blocks%20and%20Boxes.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /></div><div>Everything looked so delicious, and the whole shop smelled so good!</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyNfgau9La8xzzKLtqYMKXi1ytA6VkLRTYIqZnJfkt8t0jJ50Rx3jGUCc8xy2ri6lm4Q0vacPBI2cdX1Puya7RKvUELPswsnoUWaiAs6qJpkQL_sI4UN2CHR4aFnUKsWrCIB2zi5IfN3FQF1fquHs645U7gETWoMgsIETEtt4XyUp0_-wEcS4NEOPcZ0xC/s818/Peren%20is%20Tempted.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="682" data-original-width="818" height="534" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyNfgau9La8xzzKLtqYMKXi1ytA6VkLRTYIqZnJfkt8t0jJ50Rx3jGUCc8xy2ri6lm4Q0vacPBI2cdX1Puya7RKvUELPswsnoUWaiAs6qJpkQL_sI4UN2CHR4aFnUKsWrCIB2zi5IfN3FQF1fquHs645U7gETWoMgsIETEtt4XyUp0_-wEcS4NEOPcZ0xC/w640-h534/Peren%20is%20Tempted.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div>She wondered if her mum might buy her a truffle to eat on the way home...</div><div><br /></div><div>Finally, Corrie was happy with her selections, and went to the counter to pay.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh83FCl9AOFzg7hQ2h6lxoyETKi-MfsIPShQwy2Rr8gR8Ma0LXO3wCr9nzrLLHyKdV3Y_REIwhhOW-hoeWBMNavNoB8KEv8iIhW_zC0wq78qoKWXtn_UZBw22nfbdgfK5tCcxZ8lLzN7Day_f7BAhOra9hDMK-1qJQr8WlQ6aOaFdg3RF3aQvjCj6sozLYP/s881/Peren's%20Ladybug%20Chocolate.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="661" data-original-width="881" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh83FCl9AOFzg7hQ2h6lxoyETKi-MfsIPShQwy2Rr8gR8Ma0LXO3wCr9nzrLLHyKdV3Y_REIwhhOW-hoeWBMNavNoB8KEv8iIhW_zC0wq78qoKWXtn_UZBw22nfbdgfK5tCcxZ8lLzN7Day_f7BAhOra9hDMK-1qJQr8WlQ6aOaFdg3RF3aQvjCj6sozLYP/w640-h480/Peren's%20Ladybug%20Chocolate.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div>As it turned out, Peren had made a selection of her own.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Mum, can I have a chocolate ladybug? <i>Please?</i>"</div><div><br /></div><div>"Oh alright then," Corrie smiled. "But I don't want your dad to know we were here - it might spoil the surprise - so be sure to eat it all before we get home."</div><div><br /></div><div>Peren felt that this would not be a problem at <i>all</i>.</div></div>GreyRabbithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14618464131079015835noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3478697748729214320.post-62722433446357858742023-05-31T18:13:00.005+08:002023-05-31T18:13:52.906+08:00Quick Photo Challenge: Take Your Sylvanians To WorkThe latest Quick Photo Challenge on the Sylvanian Families Collector Forum is "Take Your Sylvanians To Work".<div><br /></div><div>I chose Alice Marshmallow to come to work with me, as she is a very mature and professional young lady who could be expected to behave herself. She even has an office job of her own, as a receptionist in the hospital in Town.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiMURlPW4zv3jb5McF8vX7AY-dCIremeo39vP0nXZs9MqiAmofe_cH79F6SKbVqCctKfn2R9C_ol70hFOq9KBRUpFiQNHcXZtfWkQJUtxju21hcggARCIm8uDDPGcL0xiLRPOt41NSO4LwyY_lHDiAoBNO6FmSgcHrmMclbSI7NnjkFqSFo9Tj-b8J8Q/s886/Alice%20Marshmallow%20At%20Work.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="886" data-original-width="758" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiMURlPW4zv3jb5McF8vX7AY-dCIremeo39vP0nXZs9MqiAmofe_cH79F6SKbVqCctKfn2R9C_ol70hFOq9KBRUpFiQNHcXZtfWkQJUtxju21hcggARCIm8uDDPGcL0xiLRPOt41NSO4LwyY_lHDiAoBNO6FmSgcHrmMclbSI7NnjkFqSFo9Tj-b8J8Q/w548-h640/Alice%20Marshmallow%20At%20Work.jpg" width="548" /></a></div><br /><div>As you can see, this photo was taken at lunch time. Alice decided to eat lunch at my desk rather than in the kitchen, as she was very interested in the computer. She is enjoying a nice cup of tea, along with a cheese sandwich, which she brought with her from home.</div>GreyRabbithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14618464131079015835noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3478697748729214320.post-59835145138139056192023-05-14T16:10:00.002+08:002023-05-14T16:10:28.626+08:00Mothers Day with the Outbacks<p>This morning, Kylie Outback had a lovely sleep in. Finally though, her husband Steve could not hold the children back any longer, and they scurried in to greet her (Steve lifted little Karri onto the bed).</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAPiSiLX-UuM2Jz63KK28vC2QQenOKa95ibP2YUhXvD4E3SuIHDV4IR45ceBUAbKDu0r-sJOAEmxgNDiZnVyN1PdbwUJBCY-hfuSySfT0IyP8VZm1Hwf5WaFGWCnwh2EkwKDT4_LSF2GLekdgJXk0lo8E8S8aae_LbiOSz-uSG1zyvJXTt3ZGpIjfmtA/s789/Mothers%20Day%20Outback%202023.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="650" data-original-width="789" height="528" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAPiSiLX-UuM2Jz63KK28vC2QQenOKa95ibP2YUhXvD4E3SuIHDV4IR45ceBUAbKDu0r-sJOAEmxgNDiZnVyN1PdbwUJBCY-hfuSySfT0IyP8VZm1Hwf5WaFGWCnwh2EkwKDT4_LSF2GLekdgJXk0lo8E8S8aae_LbiOSz-uSG1zyvJXTt3ZGpIjfmtA/w640-h528/Mothers%20Day%20Outback%202023.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>"Happy Mothers Day, Mummy!" Adelaide and Jarrah shouted, while Karri squealed excitedly.</p><p>Luckily, Kylie could smell the aroma of eucalyptus tea wafting from downstairs.</p><p>"And there is a present, and there is MUFFINS!" shouted Adelaide. Kylie laughed, and hugged her children tightly. Obviously it was time to get up...</p><p>********************************************************************************</p><p>Happy Mothers Day to all the mums out there! Hope you are all spoiled, and have a lovely day!</p>GreyRabbithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14618464131079015835noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3478697748729214320.post-23998447162583954962023-04-12T18:02:00.003+08:002023-04-12T18:02:38.541+08:00Quick Photo Challenge: Spring Green!<p><span style="background-color: white; color: #14280a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">The March prompt for the Quick Photo Challenge on the Sylvanian Families forum is "Spring Green"</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #14280a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">I'm a little late, but have been neglecting this blog so shamefully this year that I was determined to catch up on these anyway. I might even add a contribution to the <i>February </i>prompt in the next few days - I am just <i>such </i>a rebel. lol</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #14280a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">Anyway, here is my "Spring Green" photo, starring my lovely mother sloth, Candice Folivora:</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnl8xY6ycSXM994w3xkfrhMZXJYuJcyDHCCylUwsil3GBuUj68XqTUiBVxA9TclawvJoTWpx6qHZfm8BCHUp0ahewcq8zAKkjwy_h2Q9o7zrXFNEks-YEiiVCWBUlJlb7kWsy4yo-OQ7O4oA2MCu1fUrIYfKr296oCYTEK3sw36XBxwaoP7u9gZsw2NA/s902/SFPC%20Spring%20Green.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="902" height="454" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnl8xY6ycSXM994w3xkfrhMZXJYuJcyDHCCylUwsil3GBuUj68XqTUiBVxA9TclawvJoTWpx6qHZfm8BCHUp0ahewcq8zAKkjwy_h2Q9o7zrXFNEks-YEiiVCWBUlJlb7kWsy4yo-OQ7O4oA2MCu1fUrIYfKr296oCYTEK3sw36XBxwaoP7u9gZsw2NA/w640-h454/SFPC%20Spring%20Green.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #14280a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">She had a lovely relaxing time hanging out with the bees in our rosemary hedge.</span><p></p>GreyRabbithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14618464131079015835noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3478697748729214320.post-89986924011252653422023-01-14T18:31:00.004+08:002023-01-14T18:37:00.896+08:00Christmas Presents!I have waited a shamefully long time to post this, but better late than never, and I would like to share some of the wonderful gifts I received for Christmas (the Sylvanian ones, that is!)<div><br /></div><div>The very first gift I got for Christmas was this special parcel from one of the members of the Sylvanian Families collectors forum, HThistlethorn. She was my partner in an organised Christmas gift exchange that some of us do each year. Look what she sent!</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbqflFOHEZcNvuYXkGJnIEztdCaqBiFqCPnuOiXopXvvqUWmZXpyR6hUAUPtyLn94ByvNQmcju4-F4Jwtur9FduBc1zD5NO3kh4a2_amceoEUDwr9SVINigmBfbwkPK6Lt0lznl33MFtyJIHR9ibz2rzKCEnytSbooI9IwWkmY0O_ZAIqaeWzc5VKsxw/s587/2022CE2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="587" data-original-width="446" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbqflFOHEZcNvuYXkGJnIEztdCaqBiFqCPnuOiXopXvvqUWmZXpyR6hUAUPtyLn94ByvNQmcju4-F4Jwtur9FduBc1zD5NO3kh4a2_amceoEUDwr9SVINigmBfbwkPK6Lt0lznl33MFtyJIHR9ibz2rzKCEnytSbooI9IwWkmY0O_ZAIqaeWzc5VKsxw/w486-h640/2022CE2.JPG" width="486" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div>So many sweet little cross-stitched works of art!</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDbNZgQb1NXmJHghLLTpqev-7wJQXOlrmQmHsm9A3wmg5TWsZY5eaVC9zSmOSy313wEotHCm6aje-I-iXBmrZcCqQrDQmMkbUNOa8voylgguxCfEoYLYlJGSH19ftshcg3xRBQANu8Uw1ApWcb8ttPrCpf-eYc_qXZghYHDPWgBDUiYHWPSm5H9QpWaw/s628/2022CE3.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="416" data-original-width="628" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDbNZgQb1NXmJHghLLTpqev-7wJQXOlrmQmHsm9A3wmg5TWsZY5eaVC9zSmOSy313wEotHCm6aje-I-iXBmrZcCqQrDQmMkbUNOa8voylgguxCfEoYLYlJGSH19ftshcg3xRBQANu8Uw1ApWcb8ttPrCpf-eYc_qXZghYHDPWgBDUiYHWPSm5H9QpWaw/w640-h424/2022CE3.JPG" width="640" /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div>She put an incredible amount of work into these, and many little families have been very excited to receive beautiful rugs, wall hangings and table mats to grace their homes. </div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCM9z9-_ODTZm26qS9hGzQ_lpq78SBS558fk1JMgoafbAjhNuKULh21SoBBglLY7CkT4re2PX2VkS-G19qLMBuHmgUMb2rkrXH6O_qc3FsDryo_cXKZV41AeJi7J4U6rxEeuo8i8REouuiQs_wVMZ1RNXGduqbgJ2XnZibJabiQTx9TT15Jg4-EkLHDA/s644/2022CE4.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="406" data-original-width="644" height="404" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCM9z9-_ODTZm26qS9hGzQ_lpq78SBS558fk1JMgoafbAjhNuKULh21SoBBglLY7CkT4re2PX2VkS-G19qLMBuHmgUMb2rkrXH6O_qc3FsDryo_cXKZV41AeJi7J4U6rxEeuo8i8REouuiQs_wVMZ1RNXGduqbgJ2XnZibJabiQTx9TT15Jg4-EkLHDA/w640-h404/2022CE4.JPG" width="640" /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div>My next surprise was from Jackson Butterglove, another forum member, as part of our annual Christmas card exchange. With my card, Jackson sent a tiny book of real sheet music - songs from the musical two of his critters wrote (this was part of <a href="https://mellowdene.blogspot.com/2021/11/the-performance-sylvan-river-2.html" target="_blank">a series of his stories</a>). He included a note saying that the little book was a gift for Hugh Grunt, who as you may remember is <a href="https://sylvaniansunshine.blogspot.com/2022/09/hughs-hamilton-holiday.html" target="_blank">very keen on musicals</a>! Here he is, showing off his new prized possession:</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJZLnKvAIRQmnizHGElyaX5r7iW-qOP5iJ6BdWZ2V1ekKW7p2pFnPSUuIqzx1mXrgXEl0_5eOwL51Ha4gBoiesqTU6tH1rU1GtLywgvvX7GfVbEihl9JAwm-QnnIUGJQdc1NA0mF89fqz4sPTxZSKnIjgyOdlDzu8U8EV4NHZHn9bLzzN8GziOz_Zh6Q/s710/The%20Sylvan%20River%20songbook.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="710" data-original-width="690" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJZLnKvAIRQmnizHGElyaX5r7iW-qOP5iJ6BdWZ2V1ekKW7p2pFnPSUuIqzx1mXrgXEl0_5eOwL51Ha4gBoiesqTU6tH1rU1GtLywgvvX7GfVbEihl9JAwm-QnnIUGJQdc1NA0mF89fqz4sPTxZSKnIjgyOdlDzu8U8EV4NHZHn9bLzzN8GziOz_Zh6Q/w622-h640/The%20Sylvan%20River%20songbook.jpg" width="622" /></a></div><br /><div><div>On Christmas Day, there were more gifts! I was very excited to receive a family of giraffes from my Dad and his wife - I was very much hoping for these! They also gave me a cute storybook. :)</div><div><br /></div><div>I also waited for Christmas Day to open an amazing package from my forum friend Terra. She sent me a family of sloths, which is wonderful as we do not get the sloth family in Australia. They have such cute little friendly faces! There was also a special Park baby (which are sold in the Sylvanian Families theme park in Japan) - she very fittingly chose a grey rabbit baby for me :) But perhaps most exciting of all were the family of Yule Rabbits! These rabbits are green-accented Christmas customs that Terra made herself using spare Chocolate Rabbit figures. She sent them naked, as she knows I like making clothes for my figures. They are very very special, and I will have to put my best crafting brain on to come up with some fitting outfits for them!</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghpP81DIw8yqQIOMhMKDrNHiobAOm2jw7G26VWWYO7iPhRZLr2iPejPY2l7Fbz4Tr9bcrOog0Q_WHqYvFdYPnVrWttnd1j8-LpaUEcw9h_ymkCmlPet_Ia64ZJaluyoO0JulaD-Pamw2Bot6iKkTooAG3QNKiALNL1IUQudMiWsGrcCu0dlVGCLaCUPg/s854/Christmas%20Presents%202022.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="549" data-original-width="854" height="412" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghpP81DIw8yqQIOMhMKDrNHiobAOm2jw7G26VWWYO7iPhRZLr2iPejPY2l7Fbz4Tr9bcrOog0Q_WHqYvFdYPnVrWttnd1j8-LpaUEcw9h_ymkCmlPet_Ia64ZJaluyoO0JulaD-Pamw2Bot6iKkTooAG3QNKiALNL1IUQudMiWsGrcCu0dlVGCLaCUPg/w640-h412/Christmas%20Presents%202022.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /></div><div>Not to be outdone, my daughter Caitlyn Hazelnut presented me with the most beautiful dress and bonnet she had made herself:</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-YQoE9-1w8S600fMwbk5dD5ZGC91Y0aCyQS885unDlQooAzAtNBpo-j3WTzHBtxn050clmJIQu31UbPOVDSO4tFVjHLKlm0WbkdnYS-xqs4HwsjZVPweWqsXMVd_DJwvzTeWiU1YsnEXBG_gAXIGeLBDmF4R7XaKpwgtXZF1VH1VoCPGKqXzpwEdsAA/s788/Peach%20Dress%20Bonnet%20front.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="788" data-original-width="587" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-YQoE9-1w8S600fMwbk5dD5ZGC91Y0aCyQS885unDlQooAzAtNBpo-j3WTzHBtxn050clmJIQu31UbPOVDSO4tFVjHLKlm0WbkdnYS-xqs4HwsjZVPweWqsXMVd_DJwvzTeWiU1YsnEXBG_gAXIGeLBDmF4R7XaKpwgtXZF1VH1VoCPGKqXzpwEdsAA/w476-h640/Peach%20Dress%20Bonnet%20front.jpg" width="476" /></a></div><br /><div>Here it is being modelled by a Chocolate Rabbit Town girl - doesn't she look special?</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp3sDOfeke6TSCpMcYfZia9i7qB9tukGMxFE3YBzlPge3fQn6RZvqiTA8alZ1emgB71Deh3roEjOc21jInXIIeNvtMCI2Opg33bCfqsexG0k2g-XiefuozMYahp_VPbPGq05Fa43sMUJaR9jKnUS94HgPy0UW9cWGeSnEIvTg2Pav_0o1vAgLXl6-QcA/s820/Peach%20Dress%20Bonnet%20side.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="820" data-original-width="643" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp3sDOfeke6TSCpMcYfZia9i7qB9tukGMxFE3YBzlPge3fQn6RZvqiTA8alZ1emgB71Deh3roEjOc21jInXIIeNvtMCI2Opg33bCfqsexG0k2g-XiefuozMYahp_VPbPGq05Fa43sMUJaR9jKnUS94HgPy0UW9cWGeSnEIvTg2Pav_0o1vAgLXl6-QcA/w314-h400/Peach%20Dress%20Bonnet%20side.jpg" width="314" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNbOADeEi1rsazhEttAJc_hJSsfk_BD3cKtPbV-kRPL0HJJcvB8ldzgcFEeXWpCvV-nqXpMTio_YE2oojSu_d9Ldbnm-IEMltjaRSk-VgotqbHL2PQp1DqIPIr8PtugsWUOltaCrit4vwjR6rNyvSx-zqrAKtNYCho8dwb9j608HBS4Ok7lKlPTqEj6g/s761/Peach%20Dress%20Bonnet%20back.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="761" data-original-width="568" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNbOADeEi1rsazhEttAJc_hJSsfk_BD3cKtPbV-kRPL0HJJcvB8ldzgcFEeXWpCvV-nqXpMTio_YE2oojSu_d9Ldbnm-IEMltjaRSk-VgotqbHL2PQp1DqIPIr8PtugsWUOltaCrit4vwjR6rNyvSx-zqrAKtNYCho8dwb9j608HBS4Ok7lKlPTqEj6g/w299-h400/Peach%20Dress%20Bonnet%20back.jpg" width="299" /></a><br /></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Clearly I will have to get to work on my (much-neglected) next instalment of Sylvanian Pride & Prejudice!</div><div><br /></div>And finally, just last week my holiday card from another forum member, Florence, made it here. In it, she had included the most beautiful tiny handmade shawl...<div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu_uKkARrlincXpOorVMY4lFHTKgdRWgHyst8uFfCAXJ51n7rl0XlxWkSs8uAhpmTaNZHzIparF3m8DBWac6ZKGcLYnNPnvtm6Y17CxleqS8GwWnbJyCrUqdfePXWQr40_CEHsRzT2QeDaWqG9F1m8j5VjIxfST1UEa49ah7Foo_4Q2WezZoXsCnvqoQ/s854/Shawl%20from%20Florence%201.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="687" data-original-width="854" height="514" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu_uKkARrlincXpOorVMY4lFHTKgdRWgHyst8uFfCAXJ51n7rl0XlxWkSs8uAhpmTaNZHzIparF3m8DBWac6ZKGcLYnNPnvtm6Y17CxleqS8GwWnbJyCrUqdfePXWQr40_CEHsRzT2QeDaWqG9F1m8j5VjIxfST1UEa49ah7Foo_4Q2WezZoXsCnvqoQ/w640-h514/Shawl%20from%20Florence%201.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><div>I am just in AWE of the work in this. It's amazing. Here it is being modelled by Madison Hamilton, although I'm not sure yet which critter will get to keep it...</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvOWIcw3kSoz-BEi2A_fNC2m-G0dZr_SRGI5EAWZrMw7ojKUJEz9KdrggRK9ufx3BF19YFnZV-2JUEZPfUaEmKAb1aGfIqo0u6lXIZ9bTfbufn68-ZApXNQ7zoT7C60LmJagMVc_HwBdG8m0FLsPirlFuQ3oHJjmBZ9ykNYZWq6L_c8AeqjDBLew2-4Q/s764/Shawl%20from%20Florence%202.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="764" data-original-width="661" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvOWIcw3kSoz-BEi2A_fNC2m-G0dZr_SRGI5EAWZrMw7ojKUJEz9KdrggRK9ufx3BF19YFnZV-2JUEZPfUaEmKAb1aGfIqo0u6lXIZ9bTfbufn68-ZApXNQ7zoT7C60LmJagMVc_HwBdG8m0FLsPirlFuQ3oHJjmBZ9ykNYZWq6L_c8AeqjDBLew2-4Q/w554-h640/Shawl%20from%20Florence%202.jpg" width="554" /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div>So many talented people on the Sylvanian forum!</div><div><br /></div><div>I feel very humbled to have received such beautiful gifts from so many lovely people! Thank you all very very much. I look forward to many more years of sharing this delightful hobby with you all.</div><div><br /></div><div>Happy New Year, everyone!</div></div>GreyRabbithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14618464131079015835noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3478697748729214320.post-27762466167181197392022-12-24T23:40:00.001+08:002022-12-25T00:43:55.097+08:00Merry Christmas Everyone!<p>The gifts are wrapped, the sleigh is packed, and the Northern Mouse is on his way! </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQC-58ln2lfUzyKDoSYbsDTjTwmgdttP3R_zEL4LwneTr-ZBGIiGMBEZQNKGEOurTKHcathN-F_ktCJuutZH0J2VSYLfFohE0iYt601Lz7sefZQRL2rRHv2f-XYYdcUz9R1KmqPWDrxGodrMSC0NHaKMwc47qtkd2CdcIyiWPd9PA-jD8MFFMbzxc3qw/s866/Packing%20the%20Sleigh.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="578" data-original-width="866" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQC-58ln2lfUzyKDoSYbsDTjTwmgdttP3R_zEL4LwneTr-ZBGIiGMBEZQNKGEOurTKHcathN-F_ktCJuutZH0J2VSYLfFohE0iYt601Lz7sefZQRL2rRHv2f-XYYdcUz9R1KmqPWDrxGodrMSC0NHaKMwc47qtkd2CdcIyiWPd9PA-jD8MFFMbzxc3qw/w640-h428/Packing%20the%20Sleigh.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>Wishing you all a very Merry Christmas!</p><p>from GreyRabbit, Caitlyn Hazelnut, and all the critters in Macadamia Grove & surrounds!</p><p><br /></p>GreyRabbithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14618464131079015835noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3478697748729214320.post-14837268156650150942022-12-24T00:39:00.003+08:002022-12-24T00:39:50.650+08:00Applewood's Christmas WindowOn a night out in Town to see friends for Christmas, the Honeycrackle family passed by Applewood Department Store. The children couldn't help stopping to look at the exciting window display!<div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi17cdn4iJQOeQg39R-7O742Jnphdd28hKRNXLIjpipK4giPU9N3KGCUe5ywB0CZXeqhoZwXsVJwbwZ4Zw0l5Y3tIopsTNPHepCGuBd7q_bWyrRCLWcUw47xG0m9DW2sGKYeqVSphexUXidQpUjzWQ8AcZP4G8vhEI1g6j1Fff2cqQl1qCwv_j5nSSYOQ/s869/Applewood%20Christmas%20Window%201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="869" data-original-width="655" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi17cdn4iJQOeQg39R-7O742Jnphdd28hKRNXLIjpipK4giPU9N3KGCUe5ywB0CZXeqhoZwXsVJwbwZ4Zw0l5Y3tIopsTNPHepCGuBd7q_bWyrRCLWcUw47xG0m9DW2sGKYeqVSphexUXidQpUjzWQ8AcZP4G8vhEI1g6j1Fff2cqQl1qCwv_j5nSSYOQ/w482-h640/Applewood%20Christmas%20Window%201.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><br /><div>Maisie wanted to look at the dolls in the window, but then her eye was caught by a very fine elephant in a top hat, further back on one of the shelves...</div><div><br /></div><div>Meanwhile, little Jason was feeling quite overwhelmed - there were so many wonderful toys, he just wasn't sure what he liked best!</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJdcawZUwlqxAmVTZts2c-X3TQTbZSVyNaZWh4UCf_kKI6n0LgbbJMLl0u-A2vKsxrfjBsVv0QFlXMB-mwpjcTR7_DnkI_efRGwUKmfNOaVXwZ0lxImCPjoIQabUkStVcJKIVpelWGAZqBQd0G7v30WfWNuuxRxS9tvrQ-MYgTweDnrLRTZphV-BFGqA/s904/Applewood%20Christmas%20Window%202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="904" data-original-width="691" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJdcawZUwlqxAmVTZts2c-X3TQTbZSVyNaZWh4UCf_kKI6n0LgbbJMLl0u-A2vKsxrfjBsVv0QFlXMB-mwpjcTR7_DnkI_efRGwUKmfNOaVXwZ0lxImCPjoIQabUkStVcJKIVpelWGAZqBQd0G7v30WfWNuuxRxS9tvrQ-MYgTweDnrLRTZphV-BFGqA/w490-h640/Applewood%20Christmas%20Window%202.jpg" width="490" /></a></div><br /><div>After dinner at the Delicious Restaurant, the Honeycrackles passed Applewood's again on their way home. The children ran straight back to the window to gaze once more at the brightly lit display.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiklOJq7AnVjR7fDk1OXxayu5DEfuiE359bf9_ht0UiGxqp_8Bp0y5AEhyoJnr2kUXqhHvgW0sWzIOIfhDq0h8EyNck1sKSuDs41GZylt6rqQjc_A3H5DbCq3TQN87d9BehRhBuLm22d_q2l82RxbHN69vLf0nFmDUjNPMyEGDmd8HNJbE2EGnOCdHrOw/s869/Applewood%20Christmas%20Window%203.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="869" data-original-width="776" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiklOJq7AnVjR7fDk1OXxayu5DEfuiE359bf9_ht0UiGxqp_8Bp0y5AEhyoJnr2kUXqhHvgW0sWzIOIfhDq0h8EyNck1sKSuDs41GZylt6rqQjc_A3H5DbCq3TQN87d9BehRhBuLm22d_q2l82RxbHN69vLf0nFmDUjNPMyEGDmd8HNJbE2EGnOCdHrOw/w572-h640/Applewood%20Christmas%20Window%203.jpg" width="572" /></a></div><br /><div>Their mother laughed, and called "Come on children, time to go home to bed. Who knows what the Northern Mouse will bring you on Christmas morning?"</div>GreyRabbithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14618464131079015835noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3478697748729214320.post-41015541666997115672022-09-10T11:33:00.000+08:002022-09-10T11:33:18.305+08:00Hugh's Hamilton Holiday<p>Hugh Grunt adores the theatre - reading plays, watching plays, even acting in them himself! His teachers say he has some talent in this area, and he is almost always chosen as the lead in the school musical.</p><p>So when his mother, Constance Grunt, found out that a very famous musical would be playing soon, she really felt that seeing it would be a valuable experience for her son. Of course, there were problems with the plan: the musical was not being shown in Macadamia Grove - they would have to travel a long way to see it. The triplets, she felt, were too young for the play, and would not cope with a long journey. Also, there was no way the whole family could leave the farm for so long anyway - there were just too many things to do, and the crops would suffer.</p><p>When she raised the idea with her husband, he thought carefully for a moment, and then said, "I don't see that it is a big problem. Why don't you just take Hugh yourself? And Olivia too, if she is interested? I can hold the fort for a week or so, and I'm sure Sacharissa will help with the triplets if necessary." Sacharissa Pennypress was a good friend of Constance's, and was well up to the task of taming the energetic triplets.</p><p>When the children were asked, Hugh was as excited as could be imagined, but Olivia was reluctant. </p><p>"I would really rather stay here and help Dad with the farm," she said.</p><p>And so it was decided. One bright early morning, Constance and Hugh set off on their holiday adventure! Neither of them had ever been in an aeroplane before...</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi8BiKkMO-XsJKcs0WC5sufd5NP92VttDDOTvVRO5cSCTvLsyXjMt3QyQTmF4HHXhlNe4cSjoWhMzTT3xKrx6zc37_l5eombmQ20dLLZgjwrzdFQ7PeWhmOkoUtWJZHnIDoISNX1eLyPY0WVD254AWbJIjnvDgqTOye6O7jKHZaJJY7W1eODqAIxAQxg/s760/Pigs%20Holiday%20Plane.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="710" data-original-width="760" height="598" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi8BiKkMO-XsJKcs0WC5sufd5NP92VttDDOTvVRO5cSCTvLsyXjMt3QyQTmF4HHXhlNe4cSjoWhMzTT3xKrx6zc37_l5eombmQ20dLLZgjwrzdFQ7PeWhmOkoUtWJZHnIDoISNX1eLyPY0WVD254AWbJIjnvDgqTOye6O7jKHZaJJY7W1eODqAIxAQxg/w640-h598/Pigs%20Holiday%20Plane.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>"Whoa, look Mum, we're <i>above </i>the clouds!" Hugh said, awestruck.<br /><p>When they reached their destination, they checked into a hotel, and then ventured out to explore. The city was large and very busy, and they felt quite overwhelmed at first. It wasn't long before they started to find their feet though. Hugh bounced along excitedly, pointing out landmarks and theatres. Constance smiled - it was nice to see him so happy, and actually she found she was quite enjoying this break from the normal routine too! There were a great many interesting shops in the city, and Constance took the opportunity to purchase some gifts for her family and friends.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG9hd5o24N5bPtRfBHMuYoJl4iF5jIDuvctU01MqMWp2wgZF5tmJPtYATm32vrYAW-t401qYqQB9D0hrHd5fS9ELjNF7l2gPXL7DuPB5aObvTV6supbvU4bMJhnPvWxBdOy5L8DhUvG6iOpoJ3mTiMXZyM8BOHvnMR_7shdwuO9bxf8DweKy1blYXM9Q/s860/Pigs%20Holiday%20Shopping.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="585" data-original-width="860" height="436" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG9hd5o24N5bPtRfBHMuYoJl4iF5jIDuvctU01MqMWp2wgZF5tmJPtYATm32vrYAW-t401qYqQB9D0hrHd5fS9ELjNF7l2gPXL7DuPB5aObvTV6supbvU4bMJhnPvWxBdOy5L8DhUvG6iOpoJ3mTiMXZyM8BOHvnMR_7shdwuO9bxf8DweKy1blYXM9Q/w640-h436/Pigs%20Holiday%20Shopping.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>"Hmm.. Perhaps I shall buy a pot as a thankyou for Sacharissa..."<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxlZAfl1mR4zDeyt646mzqp4LH11mx9FhWagfS6YNQx0_2g7HPCDuAt4NNqrIeUAinaRaJ8P8GbrYuNQsPxuaIq6fz6p0V2bsv7PfGYvGJ3fN9D3oSrGG3e90PtfuNErkcgRX5j0hq5700d4Pq6nwchrAcizj1r1XeUuyrLcQQ9uf7ZpNOY1Hum8zV7w/s900/Pigs%20Holiday%20Shopping%202.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="594" data-original-width="900" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxlZAfl1mR4zDeyt646mzqp4LH11mx9FhWagfS6YNQx0_2g7HPCDuAt4NNqrIeUAinaRaJ8P8GbrYuNQsPxuaIq6fz6p0V2bsv7PfGYvGJ3fN9D3oSrGG3e90PtfuNErkcgRX5j0hq5700d4Pq6nwchrAcizj1r1XeUuyrLcQQ9uf7ZpNOY1Hum8zV7w/w640-h422/Pigs%20Holiday%20Shopping%202.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>"But oh dear... which one??"<br /><p>However, they were still country Sylvanians at heart, and they both agreed that one of their favourite places in this big city was the large, beautiful Botanical Gardens.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSeC_USgkJ5AIC3ATi7ubJZRCKx6jnbYtV-9jHBuSjUVO7OmiYYmvapefL9rZcJQqZd4J5v0eB7ZfkjZVmCZRg1wWkfLQdaPZtVSJVIaqd53yDQMSMeVS4C2XrjEHqu2qvXLUPQGzd1Zxc2MO4Q_WChv9zx5hhZ2-H8LeUMY-gzKLoEeOJWhaKB03WvQ/s950/Pigs%20Holiday%20Garden.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="571" data-original-width="950" height="384" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSeC_USgkJ5AIC3ATi7ubJZRCKx6jnbYtV-9jHBuSjUVO7OmiYYmvapefL9rZcJQqZd4J5v0eB7ZfkjZVmCZRg1wWkfLQdaPZtVSJVIaqd53yDQMSMeVS4C2XrjEHqu2qvXLUPQGzd1Zxc2MO4Q_WChv9zx5hhZ2-H8LeUMY-gzKLoEeOJWhaKB03WvQ/w640-h384/Pigs%20Holiday%20Garden.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>They spent many happy hours exploring these gardens over the course of their stay - it was a perfect place to picnic, to examine all the different types of plants and trees, or just to stroll and recharge their batteries before more sightseeing.<br /><p>Of course, the main event of their trip was the musical! Hugh was so excited he could hardly hold still while his mother tied his bow tie. She had also bought herself a fine hat for the event. At last, they arrived at the theatre!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGy-U06QbNPXi0AGQCrka8skSN1lXdfy09uOBj3ZfH0bLMZazoxIHPqWAAI9I5dPXa-t7LV9QodNLtYo-fB-mkqI8SMoeEqwUugHbcoTT9JXDSQlOiWRzblcFB6SHNSO9J5OX8-AGhzsBR2C-iatSCyQuO-DlgDYNT18qDtmztjJU3Ps3iVaVD75aXww/s850/Pigs%20Holiday%20Hamilton%202.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="597" data-original-width="850" height="450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGy-U06QbNPXi0AGQCrka8skSN1lXdfy09uOBj3ZfH0bLMZazoxIHPqWAAI9I5dPXa-t7LV9QodNLtYo-fB-mkqI8SMoeEqwUugHbcoTT9JXDSQlOiWRzblcFB6SHNSO9J5OX8-AGhzsBR2C-iatSCyQuO-DlgDYNT18qDtmztjJU3Ps3iVaVD75aXww/w640-h450/Pigs%20Holiday%20Hamilton%202.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div>As the curtain rose, mother and son grinned at each other, and settled in to watch.</div><div><br /></div><div>Afterward, they both agreed it had been wonderful, but couldn't decide which part they had liked best. Hugh wanted a photo as a keepsake, and another theatre-goer kindly took it for them.</div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWtG_RoJc-KhRdcr7AlRPIXWC0WW6Bi-zXJjtZbePmP6UxvIgUjXHHiPGw4W3piYiPLNM777j-_9l4JEztyRaRNfPSprAf2cJkVAlVKyolReUtqzlu7m-BD6_TaI_1kwonqhjkL0iksJMHS7HcZY9dy2PBxzDWKOUQm_ouQZzCUfY-NMybKBCA5iOW1w/s830/Pigs%20Holiday%20Hamilton.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="606" data-original-width="830" height="468" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWtG_RoJc-KhRdcr7AlRPIXWC0WW6Bi-zXJjtZbePmP6UxvIgUjXHHiPGw4W3piYiPLNM777j-_9l4JEztyRaRNfPSprAf2cJkVAlVKyolReUtqzlu7m-BD6_TaI_1kwonqhjkL0iksJMHS7HcZY9dy2PBxzDWKOUQm_ouQZzCUfY-NMybKBCA5iOW1w/w640-h468/Pigs%20Holiday%20Hamilton.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><div>"Do you think I could play Hamilton one day, Mum?" Hugh asked. "If I work as hard as he did?"</div><div>"I'm sure you could, dear," his mother smiled proudly at him.</div><div><br /></div>The next day was the end of their trip. As they boarded the bus to take them back to the airport, Hugh said, "Mum? Thank you for bringing me. This was the best holiday ever."<div>"You're welcome, dear," Constance answered, and gave him a hug. She knew this was a trip they would both remember always.</div>GreyRabbithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14618464131079015835noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3478697748729214320.post-68254924844955694302022-07-28T00:35:00.004+08:002022-07-28T00:35:47.078+08:00Summer Holidays<p>Wow, I can't believe it's been three months since I last posted! I have been a bit slack with my Sylvanians in the interim, just due to real life stuff taking precedence - it's been a busy time for us. I haven't forgotten about my Sylvanians - some of them even came with us on a recent holiday (but more on that another day!), and I have a few other photos and stories I hope to get onto soon.</p><p>Today though, I have an entry for last month's Creative Challenge on the forum (better late than never, right?) The prompt was "Summer Holidays", but just like here in Australia, the residents of Macadamia Grove are currently experiencing some chilly Winter weather. It seems that some of them at least are getting rather sick of it...</p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #14280a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0STIu0jMN_eb2w1BjQRj2I7COdjvYOe6rrJGDEhb6PcaLjHC7TGjTcqr2IuD9k6omCsCcVOv0fL4Hd9AdmTPYz8S0W9Ic8yvWiyQJD_C-8vCFqx-tv3KYuYWKoaMwBouEEsSDIYWm50risROESIyx15HKEoAzstrkKKvJPuzDFZu-kFBtHLKpN8dPoQ/s800/Rainy%20Day.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="646" data-original-width="800" height="516" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0STIu0jMN_eb2w1BjQRj2I7COdjvYOe6rrJGDEhb6PcaLjHC7TGjTcqr2IuD9k6omCsCcVOv0fL4Hd9AdmTPYz8S0W9Ic8yvWiyQJD_C-8vCFqx-tv3KYuYWKoaMwBouEEsSDIYWm50risROESIyx15HKEoAzstrkKKvJPuzDFZu-kFBtHLKpN8dPoQ/w640-h516/Rainy%20Day.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span style="background-color: white; color: #14280a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">Zac Patches looked gloomily out the window as the rain beat down outside. He sighed loudly.</span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #14280a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">"What's up with you?" asked his sister Sarah, glancing up from her book.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #14280a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">"It's raining <i>again</i>," said Zac. </span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #14280a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">It wasn't fair. The school holidays had begun a whole three days ago, and it had rained on all three of those days. Zac didn't much care about being cold, but he hated being cooped up inside all the time.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #14280a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">"I mean what's the point of having holidays if you can't go out and play?" he demanded.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #14280a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">Sarah shrugged. "It won't rain forever," she said. "Why don't you read a book or something?"</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #14280a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">Zac looked highly affronted by this suggestion. He did not share his sister's enthusiasm for books.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #14280a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">"Look at one of the photo albums then," suggested Sarah. "You like doing that - what about the one from Australia? Or - ooh, I know! This one." She handed him a big photo album.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #14280a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">"This one's got the Sylvania photos in it," said Zac. "It's not as interesting."</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #14280a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">Sarah reached over and opened the album to a particular page. "Not even these ones?"</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #14280a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">Zac gave her a look. "Oh, very funny," he said, but a little smile did tug at the corner of his mouth. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #14280a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">Sarah had given him the photos of their last Summer holiday to look at. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #14280a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">They had spent a week at Starlight Cape, enjoying the beach and the endless sunshine.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMVcpIbC7CbnvWs_JXAdA40roo4KgXevsHBaHKaVwf56Wuu_hLPG9tlk3JoMBECkQ-8teckVlIulU2CNN6Lh_RKK8FvxDcmgNBfUX0lt0Gq05v6fTKoXxISWezEXH57CFpA_GihpKcWbY89beZDIq9VDB0ch4G2eY9xfhJGqPhpXqqn8MhhmmHuxJ6Ew/s870/Family%20Holiday%20Snap.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="599" data-original-width="870" height="440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMVcpIbC7CbnvWs_JXAdA40roo4KgXevsHBaHKaVwf56Wuu_hLPG9tlk3JoMBECkQ-8teckVlIulU2CNN6Lh_RKK8FvxDcmgNBfUX0lt0Gq05v6fTKoXxISWezEXH57CFpA_GihpKcWbY89beZDIq9VDB0ch4G2eY9xfhJGqPhpXqqn8MhhmmHuxJ6Ew/w640-h440/Family%20Holiday%20Snap.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span style="background-color: white; color: #14280a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">"Looks like we'd been to the Fish & Chip shop that day," said Sarah, peering over.</span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #14280a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">"Those chips were so good," said Zac. "But the ice creams were even better. Remember that chocolate one I got? There should be a photo... Yeah, here it is!"</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjK5-rSVjBRAWT7Y9ieXty0oIYRBNCUN9gmYhmdGxV-pssJ2GYYdeyELFEFsPZmApr3qxlvzNJvm_k3qz8JPui-ki4WOOc5bsfgHw2KwYMBF4qCfLsU2ii68921s5rgmCiNaaCP8Vi7Ubll4ArfNZY41-b-xnzfjxXcNb8C3ZdPllCXlDFEGR9O6nlvQ/s800/Icy%20Treats.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="611" data-original-width="800" height="488" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjK5-rSVjBRAWT7Y9ieXty0oIYRBNCUN9gmYhmdGxV-pssJ2GYYdeyELFEFsPZmApr3qxlvzNJvm_k3qz8JPui-ki4WOOc5bsfgHw2KwYMBF4qCfLsU2ii68921s5rgmCiNaaCP8Vi7Ubll4ArfNZY41-b-xnzfjxXcNb8C3ZdPllCXlDFEGR9O6nlvQ/w640-h488/Icy%20Treats.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #14280a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">"They were awesome," he sighed, reminiscing.</span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #14280a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">"Oh look at this one. You were such a rat," said Sarah. "You kept on trying to splash me. I didn't know Mum had taken this photo until afterward."</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6x3AS07UHpijqOuYMSNDgy95iogXVOmg-bpnUHesHh2Sbdk1lBicG3ocOyFt-YNabHvGO54F8z8ypiR59hOc_ZflWwbgaMhb3EteUVWmXU7drGvT9CPjFsHQFpFEj2T1dOlttQkbkA4XsnacGjERMIqpG_xaFOsG_crPD46QF6Zu2GR1FBC78EIb_tg/s800/Splashing%20Siblings.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6x3AS07UHpijqOuYMSNDgy95iogXVOmg-bpnUHesHh2Sbdk1lBicG3ocOyFt-YNabHvGO54F8z8ypiR59hOc_ZflWwbgaMhb3EteUVWmXU7drGvT9CPjFsHQFpFEj2T1dOlttQkbkA4XsnacGjERMIqpG_xaFOsG_crPD46QF6Zu2GR1FBC78EIb_tg/w640-h480/Splashing%20Siblings.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span style="background-color: white; color: #14280a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">"I wasn't trying to splash you," Zac protested.</span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #14280a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">"Oh <i>really</i>?"</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #14280a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">"No," he said with a grin. "I was <i>trying </i>to throw you in the water." Sarah poked him.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #14280a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">"It was a fun holiday. We met nice people there too. That rabbit girl was nice - Cherrie. I liked her," said Sarah. "I don't see a proper picture of her - just in the background of this one of you."</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKG_Zmv-3z9yp8R5WMriSsxwlD_Qv2tSEkJa8w90V83AFwFpvnZB5u-wf21uUUlsA5neAipKhXUfW0ihOV2doByhE1oF0NDk-UYOXmbE631-ClEy5SiSoWRsWv4QebIybaxzqDzoIKrTrLxTqj7DcMfY-PDBaS3XqSS0al5P3zfa65VRpOlMQOPIOXSw/s800/Floating%20Zac.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKG_Zmv-3z9yp8R5WMriSsxwlD_Qv2tSEkJa8w90V83AFwFpvnZB5u-wf21uUUlsA5neAipKhXUfW0ihOV2doByhE1oF0NDk-UYOXmbE631-ClEy5SiSoWRsWv4QebIybaxzqDzoIKrTrLxTqj7DcMfY-PDBaS3XqSS0al5P3zfa65VRpOlMQOPIOXSw/w640-h480/Floating%20Zac.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #14280a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">"Meh - she was just a girl," Zac said dismissively.</span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #14280a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">"Excuse me? Honey Chocolat is <i>just a girl</i>, too," Sarah pointed out. Honey was one of Zac's school friends.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #14280a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">"Yeah, but Honey is fun," said Zac. "Anyway, Cherrie was too old to play with."</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #14280a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;">Sarah rolled her eyes. "Well I think she was very nice. And anyway, that is her float you were on, if I am not mistaken. It was very kind of her to lend it to you."</span></p><p><span style="color: #14280a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14.85px;">"That's true," Zac admitted. "I guess she was alright."</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #14280a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14.85px;">"It was a fun holiday," Sarah mused. "I wonder if we'll go back next Summer?" </span></span></p><p><span style="color: #14280a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14.85px;">"Hope so," her brother replied. He wandered over to the bookshelf and pulled out another photo album. "Hey, look. Italy."</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #14280a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14.85px;">Suddenly, Sarah noticed something.</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #14280a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14.85px;">"Zac, the rain's stopped. Mum would probably let you go out now," she said, picking her book back up and settling into a comfy chair.</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #14280a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14.85px;">"Hmmm? Oh, yeah... okay..." Zac mumbled absently, turning the pages of another album. Sarah smiled to herself. There was nothing her brother liked more than looking at their family photos - well, apart from running around making mischief with his friends, of course. She guessed it was just the nature of little brothers to be a pain sometimes, but Zac was pretty fun, mostly. She would never have admitted it, but she often missed him when she was away at school. She was looking forward to next Summer, too.</span></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-IfLmV3VVVd70RY--fMPIXMIu3ly7iDero-Dxajy9_PV1IlngzvA4u42oftH4VpQZQ34Fn0Ofx1Ksv4WZkh1VUYcqfS5nH6qB4zhAhUJvvC-aClj9Gs6_x_iCsoAhDa8YBMpS_Nzy8DvWV2W-Q_2_tU-hYd3ad0CW3p9crT6B7zKnCz_1Jrpuds3Mhw/s640/Staying%20Cool.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="525" data-original-width="640" height="526" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-IfLmV3VVVd70RY--fMPIXMIu3ly7iDero-Dxajy9_PV1IlngzvA4u42oftH4VpQZQ34Fn0Ofx1Ksv4WZkh1VUYcqfS5nH6qB4zhAhUJvvC-aClj9Gs6_x_iCsoAhDa8YBMpS_Nzy8DvWV2W-Q_2_tU-hYd3ad0CW3p9crT6B7zKnCz_1Jrpuds3Mhw/w640-h526/Staying%20Cool.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p>GreyRabbithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14618464131079015835noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3478697748729214320.post-63057441073245669622022-04-21T23:37:00.000+08:002022-04-21T23:37:00.248+08:00Meet the ColdfootsToday I would like to introduce you to a new family. This family came to me in an unusual way. Some time ago, there was a competition on the Sylvanian Families Collectors Forum. I didn't win, but a few days later I received a message from one of the people who did. Tenchibaka (who is a fantastic miniature-food maker by the way, in addition to being one of the most active forum members) said that instead of ordering something with the prize (a Sylvanian Storekeepers voucher), they had decided to give it to me. What a lovely thing to do! I was very surprised, and grateful.<div><br /></div><div>Once I had established that Tenchibaka was really, really sure about this, I ordered myself a lovely little family of huskies - and here they are!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg99g9cj403JOx3jfb5j05E5CFboDrwTTSNBEb0xAgtnZ-_epOGZVdnpFOxdcNvvBM5knLXAK59FkdWbpmMuBQ3um72VusUkYgFUs3TDxvaBsYFWXURqtUjogi9y_7iiVxKpRACD_bWofH8BlCjeffiSYj4cGNblMh0zPICWLVmKnZPDXHAhBltj_Dyug/s835/Husky%20Family.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg99g9cj403JOx3jfb5j05E5CFboDrwTTSNBEb0xAgtnZ-_epOGZVdnpFOxdcNvvBM5knLXAK59FkdWbpmMuBQ3um72VusUkYgFUs3TDxvaBsYFWXURqtUjogi9y_7iiVxKpRACD_bWofH8BlCjeffiSYj4cGNblMh0zPICWLVmKnZPDXHAhBltj_Dyug/s835/Husky%20Family.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkR9sDXcqiRwvZvxW_sbAktLairNDQaugAKLS6eeQ17Xu1Tp2m5gmO-WHMcRQko2mpiGPVV8c89a1ByIGSwhpz7tQc8Amomj5tO-_y810Z59_eLnAY2FORYtQwTJFGPSP72v6R06w5x7zhV-BfeikmDBZOHfIi7MMvd2q3x5hR1KzJ0nwEUxNIc4vP2w/s873/Huskies%20in%20the%20Snow.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="602" data-original-width="873" height="442" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkR9sDXcqiRwvZvxW_sbAktLairNDQaugAKLS6eeQ17Xu1Tp2m5gmO-WHMcRQko2mpiGPVV8c89a1ByIGSwhpz7tQc8Amomj5tO-_y810Z59_eLnAY2FORYtQwTJFGPSP72v6R06w5x7zhV-BfeikmDBZOHfIi7MMvd2q3x5hR1KzJ0nwEUxNIc4vP2w/w640-h442/Huskies%20in%20the%20Snow.JPG" width="640" /></a></div></div><br /><div>I decided to rename everyone in this family, starting with the surname - the offical surname for this family is just "Husky", which I thought a bit odd. Kind of like a person's last name being "Human". Then I happened to discover that there is a tiny town in Alaska named Coldfoot. Well that sounded <i>perfect</i> for these little fuzzies!</div><div><br /></div><div>The Coldfoot family live in a comfortable log cabin in the foothills of the mountains, a little way out of Macadamia Grove. Whilst their home is not technically in the village, the Coldfoots are considered by everyone to be very much part of the community. </div><div><br /></div><div>Together, Wolfgang and Juneau Coldfoot run a business supplying ice to the local villagers - both in edible form for drinks etc, and in large blocks for food storage (most homes in Macadamia Grove do not have electricity, so iceboxes are much in use, rather than the more modern refrigerators commonly seen in Town). </div><div><br /></div><div>Wolfgang is the one who cuts and collects the ice from higher up the mountain, and he enjoys his job immensely. The ice is stored in a special coldroom until it is needed, at which point it is transported down to the village by sled. Juneau's job is to take the orders, and make sure the correct products are delivered to the customers.</div><div><br /></div><div>The most important things in their lives though, are not cold at all - they are very warm and furry and wriggly! The baby triplets - Katya, Luka, and Echo - were very excited today to be taken for a ride in their very own brand new sled!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRnjAaP8979sLKYRYL8y1RX1NsrQHbB7jZ858gzCOu8YJZvuSaimH_ltHc8WzUQ6MSAo-WHQ22NmIh79PpY_P4J7ModUr3dIDYcLUdyWg9iRHqM7IoubZHtHsOov5z3I6Ihy572aM3Jg0VZtG1CfaqcyGbD8UGiz0F5o-zwCzkTm8T9NZyDrWeBbCe0A/s816/Huskies%20Sled%20Ride.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="816" data-original-width="738" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRnjAaP8979sLKYRYL8y1RX1NsrQHbB7jZ858gzCOu8YJZvuSaimH_ltHc8WzUQ6MSAo-WHQ22NmIh79PpY_P4J7ModUr3dIDYcLUdyWg9iRHqM7IoubZHtHsOov5z3I6Ihy572aM3Jg0VZtG1CfaqcyGbD8UGiz0F5o-zwCzkTm8T9NZyDrWeBbCe0A/w578-h640/Huskies%20Sled%20Ride.JPG" width="578" /></a></div><br /><div>"Over the hill we go!" shouted Wolfgang happily, and Juneau laughed as the babies yipped excitedly.</div><div><br /></div><div>The babies had not seen such thick snow before, as they had never travelled this far up the mountain. It was only early Autumn in Macadamia Grove, and also at their home, so there was no snow there. Further around the mountain, outside the strange seasonal anomaly that existed in this part of Sylvania, Spring was beginning. Soon it would be time for one final delivery from the Summer coldstore there, and to begin storing ice at the main coldstore closer to home. Juneau was glad, as it meant Wolfgang would be able to spend more time with the baby puppies.</div><div><br /></div><div>After she took a turn pulling the puppies around in their sled, Juneau heard a sneaking sort of noise behind her...</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifBgdqQR1n40qrhGisMLKYjuuX3iYrpYHsRZz2KcEdaZYz7XETOUqBxS43w-1VL5t8iPhzVniZ3TgLu_wKB5KcM1T1dPEAQZoWbyQzNOFjYPfeDlFy0YZwXOXfREYY514bOoSws0wPwuel9FwkWtGMXfQy8H5D7gBD4_ZQge6RQdPdFo2oKKXtrUgkvQ/s841/Huskies%20Snowball%20Fight.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="841" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifBgdqQR1n40qrhGisMLKYjuuX3iYrpYHsRZz2KcEdaZYz7XETOUqBxS43w-1VL5t8iPhzVniZ3TgLu_wKB5KcM1T1dPEAQZoWbyQzNOFjYPfeDlFy0YZwXOXfREYY514bOoSws0wPwuel9FwkWtGMXfQy8H5D7gBD4_ZQge6RQdPdFo2oKKXtrUgkvQ/w640-h456/Huskies%20Snowball%20Fight.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div>"Snowball fight!" cried Wolfgang. Juneau let out a little shriek, and immediately returned fire with a snowball of her own. The babies watched, wide-eyed and giggling.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Won't it be fun when they're old enough to join in?" Juneau laughed. </div><div>"Yes - but it's pretty fun now, too," said Wolfgang with a smile, and gathered them all in a big family hug.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_7XhIJFH1_pVYwauggNWHtCnFjHZ9Y4nZ4ObLHNQPHX3VqzHd9uQ47NuoXwzHQZ1D2fDlvlSaSBOIm0tsggoMICxGXqUA3IeDfcvlOxeCCTiN1I0KB63CyGwxVgDsl-xgtMUcC9hWedsmSd3YPHklxoWC8AuM8f_vPE42aGlNMBYtLLZvJY-EqUWsPw/s804/Huskies%20Family%20Hug.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="682" data-original-width="804" height="542" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_7XhIJFH1_pVYwauggNWHtCnFjHZ9Y4nZ4ObLHNQPHX3VqzHd9uQ47NuoXwzHQZ1D2fDlvlSaSBOIm0tsggoMICxGXqUA3IeDfcvlOxeCCTiN1I0KB63CyGwxVgDsl-xgtMUcC9hWedsmSd3YPHklxoWC8AuM8f_vPE42aGlNMBYtLLZvJY-EqUWsPw/w640-h542/Huskies%20Family%20Hug.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div>Thank you again Tenchibaka for enabling the Coldfoots to move to Macadamia Grove! They can also be found on our<a href="https://sylvaniansunshine.blogspot.com/p/meet-families.html" target="_blank"> Meet The Families </a>page now. :)</div>GreyRabbithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14618464131079015835noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3478697748729214320.post-70928052767723011792022-04-17T00:30:00.001+08:002022-04-17T00:30:00.192+08:00Happy Easter!The Easter Bunny and all his helpers have been very busy getting ready for Sunday, as we can see from this quick peep into his workshop!<div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipNVmBcrYZbECeFVeiU3nyqHmk4bTzvDH25D-viTVt-kkI-2upLZCnk8Vm3oxiMIMQ0suuHsE2Wnvg9eWQ8G7KFxrRsS3c-NSz9Iw9c07ePnjho8pkMt-tVeHIqKzlO8A6PHPjd07lIg4OkhwhjMKVKs-rFp45BEWnUBmJALMUK-DHIYQMB2sx2l1AYg/s804/Easter%20Bunny's%20Workshop.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="609" data-original-width="804" height="484" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipNVmBcrYZbECeFVeiU3nyqHmk4bTzvDH25D-viTVt-kkI-2upLZCnk8Vm3oxiMIMQ0suuHsE2Wnvg9eWQ8G7KFxrRsS3c-NSz9Iw9c07ePnjho8pkMt-tVeHIqKzlO8A6PHPjd07lIg4OkhwhjMKVKs-rFp45BEWnUBmJALMUK-DHIYQMB2sx2l1AYg/w640-h484/Easter%20Bunny's%20Workshop.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div>Happy Easter everyone! Whatever your beliefs, we hope you all get to spend some time with family or friends this long weekend (and eat a bit of chocolate, too!)</div>GreyRabbithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14618464131079015835noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3478697748729214320.post-89457670443473571202022-04-02T19:10:00.005+08:002022-04-02T19:10:49.342+08:00Village News<p>On the Sylvanian Families Collectors Forum, the Creative Challenge prompt for March was "Village News". For my contribution to this, we are going to take a peek into the basement of the Pennypress family home. </p><p>Mr William Pennypress is the editor and chief reporter of The Macadamia Times newspaper, his wife Sacharissa is also a reporter, and the basement under his family's cottage serves as the press room.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfwM4UAdHHVh2G27GJivNN1VInLVKx_OEtzTibExknDwdFVTeRonpfLyXIpaPwVZ6vCyXE_JtDG6eYIEOIrhV-xg_d6DP-lzIzKU0-eOp1VEdL7U1mn_gDJcAHfxEDzFGLzgFfFhvn0yWdaIHgNo4ja9lZGuUxKu02KPcYTyYRwqr8BDJ0PnGkoy5JXA/s780/Mr%20Pennypress,%20Editor.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="569" data-original-width="780" height="466" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfwM4UAdHHVh2G27GJivNN1VInLVKx_OEtzTibExknDwdFVTeRonpfLyXIpaPwVZ6vCyXE_JtDG6eYIEOIrhV-xg_d6DP-lzIzKU0-eOp1VEdL7U1mn_gDJcAHfxEDzFGLzgFfFhvn0yWdaIHgNo4ja9lZGuUxKu02KPcYTyYRwqr8BDJ0PnGkoy5JXA/w640-h466/Mr%20Pennypress,%20Editor.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p>Of course there are several critters who work for the newspaper in various capacities, such as investigating stories, writing reports, taking photographs, setting the type, and of course making the late-night coffee! But everything must be finally approved by William, and he also shares in the actual printing.</p><p>Once the articles have all been written, approved, illustrated, and type-set, the printing can begin. First, William collects a piece of paper from the paper box. (The door behind him opens on a staircase up to the house),</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDHH3GOjzAeCF9NQsHNW3GkAvlSqtP9jGFT7tzJwaKvT9tBx_UvozKyBQt-tdR7bAsUthh9RHl4MbSZQWeX79dTZ1FvMgqAN-7sIMKBcpgAId3_TgIrx1rqmw1vQFqWIYF07BbJ4HNlmMoQufxjDV4llAjvPoTyXmqx2V0DdI20xNygO67y3YyoIJWcg/s960/Paper%20for%20the%20Press.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="599" data-original-width="960" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDHH3GOjzAeCF9NQsHNW3GkAvlSqtP9jGFT7tzJwaKvT9tBx_UvozKyBQt-tdR7bAsUthh9RHl4MbSZQWeX79dTZ1FvMgqAN-7sIMKBcpgAId3_TgIrx1rqmw1vQFqWIYF07BbJ4HNlmMoQufxjDV4llAjvPoTyXmqx2V0DdI20xNygO67y3YyoIJWcg/w640-h400/Paper%20for%20the%20Press.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p>The paper is then placed carefully on the tympan... </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeuyEdWxgTb2JtNAgz3piD-SiAlJMfvPxY-xF2hlPg8Ph7c1PTd8KjVAIU6LL1xHhRjDtKSyFaz09UYxIlSDEeAKj7JzjkWEdSzdFjL6-7Nrb3l5h1vmpc3EtKmea3dvaRa5N7FBMPlPqcLHqokOJX_EZvAgiyZhW9TBHz5MPpaqCiVIgUQ5KMxXQCtg/s812/Placing%20the%20Paper.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="609" data-original-width="812" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeuyEdWxgTb2JtNAgz3piD-SiAlJMfvPxY-xF2hlPg8Ph7c1PTd8KjVAIU6LL1xHhRjDtKSyFaz09UYxIlSDEeAKj7JzjkWEdSzdFjL6-7Nrb3l5h1vmpc3EtKmea3dvaRa5N7FBMPlPqcLHqokOJX_EZvAgiyZhW9TBHz5MPpaqCiVIgUQ5KMxXQCtg/w640-h480/Placing%20the%20Paper.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p>... and the frisket is folded over it to hold it in place. </p><p>Next, William carefully inks the type on the forme. Behind William, in the corner, we can just see a black cabinet which contains trays and trays full of movable type. The largest letters (for front page headlines) are in the tray on top of the cabinet.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifjoVBZCfj6BB-j5Xoglizl-AYb8BCliIlv0U7BaRzE2TLAymHeVcb2Vvjb3KJd_3iTvoa3KyvAzvCcqPKBlYwYoTuynRsIS_Zm7vysvI1HOeftAUrgTriuqNJLKgwn34ImRuLdZv8XVradBKHl_R7kkdRP-i7rY2RueaOf_vOSz1rGHL7-1ZkcPjNNA/s810/Inking%20the%20Press.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="591" data-original-width="810" height="466" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifjoVBZCfj6BB-j5Xoglizl-AYb8BCliIlv0U7BaRzE2TLAymHeVcb2Vvjb3KJd_3iTvoa3KyvAzvCcqPKBlYwYoTuynRsIS_Zm7vysvI1HOeftAUrgTriuqNJLKgwn34ImRuLdZv8XVradBKHl_R7kkdRP-i7rY2RueaOf_vOSz1rGHL7-1ZkcPjNNA/w640-h466/Inking%20the%20Press.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p>The inking takes experience to get just right, as the type must all be inked evenly. It is done with a special padded tool.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiboH5QtMSDD1LCor51fwoswrcsDu_UGp3_nZcMzpdFXHDWweFno3SiSOtXnwmFPCW73zp0MKTJj5ExLnbxckto7hO0NG89_BW2o-5MDtOg5WzLUCmxtZXmXyLSWhh6oZezCHuUsC22Ix1Jw4OC36xBPL-UOA0TY7LUxpAx_M0jNw96lfNWVW4wcZWjgQ/s803/Inking%20the%20Press%202.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="603" data-original-width="803" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiboH5QtMSDD1LCor51fwoswrcsDu_UGp3_nZcMzpdFXHDWweFno3SiSOtXnwmFPCW73zp0MKTJj5ExLnbxckto7hO0NG89_BW2o-5MDtOg5WzLUCmxtZXmXyLSWhh6oZezCHuUsC22Ix1Jw4OC36xBPL-UOA0TY7LUxpAx_M0jNw96lfNWVW4wcZWjgQ/w640-h480/Inking%20the%20Press%202.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p>Then both tympan and frisket are folded over the inked forme...</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdX5puVisAIJBMNxNWiPYB-B0SF6cV-7llM802tl_qF4yQnxxwFrE1ZmgazDpuIfqaQFANM7C4-BdXWgCU3hQ-BZDaFT-F73z1MMbN_7NcAVAUCaHXNCE_YkKeOpuXNLWR-OCQqp8dGkeBuZicZ0Gi6N51QIUr8VRljPvzi8P-7RE2AExpklhm7Zm2Gg/s856/Tympan%20and%20Frisket.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="856" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdX5puVisAIJBMNxNWiPYB-B0SF6cV-7llM802tl_qF4yQnxxwFrE1ZmgazDpuIfqaQFANM7C4-BdXWgCU3hQ-BZDaFT-F73z1MMbN_7NcAVAUCaHXNCE_YkKeOpuXNLWR-OCQqp8dGkeBuZicZ0Gi6N51QIUr8VRljPvzi8P-7RE2AExpklhm7Zm2Gg/w640-h478/Tympan%20and%20Frisket.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div>... and pushed along the press' frame, so that it sits under the heavy platten.<div><br /></div><div>William then pulls on the long bar. This works the screw mechanism, lowering the platten to press down and produce the impression on the paper.</div><div><br /></div><div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoHxphHQEPO7Jght2T_gpZ1i3v5dteu35NQHd0OHqmxIZqLiSn3Zna0KhS7tAvcYmZWKoqErM-pfgefbUmrPh87qyeg1JpTN44wMgLgkBfhHUANliy8E9yBW6ZSmqRRoI49zJ0GrYt_XzwJQ-mCALNgD1LYvWueBsbKHZ1LezyfyvM1a4IlqXcV_UixA/s807/Working%20the%20Bar.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="807" data-original-width="654" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoHxphHQEPO7Jght2T_gpZ1i3v5dteu35NQHd0OHqmxIZqLiSn3Zna0KhS7tAvcYmZWKoqErM-pfgefbUmrPh87qyeg1JpTN44wMgLgkBfhHUANliy8E9yBW6ZSmqRRoI49zJ0GrYt_XzwJQ-mCALNgD1LYvWueBsbKHZ1LezyfyvM1a4IlqXcV_UixA/w324-h400/Working%20the%20Bar.JPG" width="324" /></a></div><br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5AyGuP7ib-iuvSPv6JNp8PwPpaGzSpGlmtEPHR_q1TozESeP42J0-4Grz5TFGYJrPhH2LQzj1qV-8jh4nMscAUrH3ahu3ue3QWugPGpa0REniS9ASbf0s98w9u78DqgtjOtr-L34yYCkFwW2GJAyJttsrPaa3lE4uFPBe0P22jE2A1lKGhibAVOWoLw/s812/Freshly%20Printed%20Page.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="812" data-original-width="609" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5AyGuP7ib-iuvSPv6JNp8PwPpaGzSpGlmtEPHR_q1TozESeP42J0-4Grz5TFGYJrPhH2LQzj1qV-8jh4nMscAUrH3ahu3ue3QWugPGpa0REniS9ASbf0s98w9u78DqgtjOtr-L34yYCkFwW2GJAyJttsrPaa3lE4uFPBe0P22jE2A1lKGhibAVOWoLw/w300-h400/Freshly%20Printed%20Page.JPG" width="300" /></a></p><p></p><p>When the bar is released, the screw and platten raise up again, and the frame can be slid out. The freshly printed page is then removed, and moved to a long bench to dry. While they are there, William inspects them quickly, to make sure the print is good, with no smudges.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9IdaVUhXF_pHOyQQKAdS8l42StLsVIaHr3ZrguiwLPW0L_09SE1d_j33iZHJDqXHzVheTdLp8gaDiBLGsZsL0AiEWvydkUP4S6KTgurC2hgK_FhMk4U7GRBgBOE3hl2_I7dmuSh4R2MDKBKKpFbFEe7uBzSgTA2FskQKqonQW02VgiiN5rpOg2wdVAw/s812/Quality%20Control.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="609" data-original-width="812" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9IdaVUhXF_pHOyQQKAdS8l42StLsVIaHr3ZrguiwLPW0L_09SE1d_j33iZHJDqXHzVheTdLp8gaDiBLGsZsL0AiEWvydkUP4S6KTgurC2hgK_FhMk4U7GRBgBOE3hl2_I7dmuSh4R2MDKBKKpFbFEe7uBzSgTA2FskQKqonQW02VgiiN5rpOg2wdVAw/w640-h480/Quality%20Control.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p>Of course, all this is a lot of work, and Mr Pennypress could not do it all alone - he has already been working all day getting the paper finalised for printing! Luckily, Mr Prickles has arrived for the night shift - it is his job to continue the printing of the Sunday issue into the wee hours each Saturday night. With his excellent mechanical skills, Mr Prickles is the only other person William trusts to ink the presses perfectly every time, and deal with any mechanical issues that may arise. It is a good arrangement for everyone: Hawthorn is quite a night owl anyway, and appreciates the regular work, while William and Sacharissa both take Saturday nights off to spend with their family.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0egZ0hhY3fqnirAJ5YOeYDyFI9S20VubhsZEDQj48iX0uILHByf0kw3u-Yp9QOI70uNh7Wbuj1u02UvAhXLZkVBhbCIfLxZv4bcx60UNtc3_QO0T1D-tQ4wVIjisn2cyaDagmjVNi9_DcVwxrb7aMYy1lddEPlWehYlfhU4h-IX5vdAWooDpeuKOLrQ/s802/Mr%20Prickles'%20Shift.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="601" data-original-width="802" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0egZ0hhY3fqnirAJ5YOeYDyFI9S20VubhsZEDQj48iX0uILHByf0kw3u-Yp9QOI70uNh7Wbuj1u02UvAhXLZkVBhbCIfLxZv4bcx60UNtc3_QO0T1D-tQ4wVIjisn2cyaDagmjVNi9_DcVwxrb7aMYy1lddEPlWehYlfhU4h-IX5vdAWooDpeuKOLrQ/w640-h480/Mr%20Prickles'%20Shift.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p>"Any problems with the press this evening, William?" Hawthorn asks.</p><p>"No, it's all running well, Hawthorn," William replies. "I'll leave you to it, shall I? Give me a yell if you need us - we're staying in tonight. Verity wanted to help Sacharissa cook dinner."</p><p>"Well, you have a good night with your family. I should be right," says Hawthorn, waving William upstairs.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNz6fZEgi7BFWR3c0BLPHgUboI2W5QLfJfsecfd5mAucdtJltXZymfiaGFv1F0GRsnNRnLk8ceLECnqBP67tfuyrJQXkiRtupIO_AvLd23jrxRwvLpEqjUVaIzNtyAuUDK9sYTsaFJccVt9whfPdaGXne0BpprMazHHAOFNT0jUR16I4vz0v8PdeK6tw/s806/The%20Printers%20Confer.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="598" data-original-width="806" height="474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNz6fZEgi7BFWR3c0BLPHgUboI2W5QLfJfsecfd5mAucdtJltXZymfiaGFv1F0GRsnNRnLk8ceLECnqBP67tfuyrJQXkiRtupIO_AvLd23jrxRwvLpEqjUVaIzNtyAuUDK9sYTsaFJccVt9whfPdaGXne0BpprMazHHAOFNT0jUR16I4vz0v8PdeK6tw/w640-h474/The%20Printers%20Confer.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p>And that is how it's done! Once all the pages have been printed and dried, the paper is put together and placed in two piles: the biggest pile is for delivery to the Supermarket, where it will be sold the next morning, while the other is for papers to be rolled up and tied with a piece of twine.</p><p>Finally, it is Verity Pennypress' turn to contribute to the family business. Very early on Wednesday and Sunday mornings, Verity hops out of bed, dresses quickly, and loads the tied newspapers into the basket of her bicycle. She then heads out to deliver the paper directly to any customers who have paid the weekly fee for this service. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf-uD1r4C6Z3p_cCeJ6EsOx8dzksgzUwtmj53W_rQ4kF9J7vkYdPlN1ckuVF8zsI_tJlYS_411usuVf1S0sfnNAhjmLZyDPiOKjNklT8LA934nPKKSwNbeyBnwJ6bxHAzOEl7tAKeTKbTrADMsyyCnsPCwG8Xr6WCDjbkmAEWNYfrkuLL_6ZxyzOGdxg/s812/Newspaper%20Delivery.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="597" data-original-width="812" height="470" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf-uD1r4C6Z3p_cCeJ6EsOx8dzksgzUwtmj53W_rQ4kF9J7vkYdPlN1ckuVF8zsI_tJlYS_411usuVf1S0sfnNAhjmLZyDPiOKjNklT8LA934nPKKSwNbeyBnwJ6bxHAzOEl7tAKeTKbTrADMsyyCnsPCwG8Xr6WCDjbkmAEWNYfrkuLL_6ZxyzOGdxg/w640-h470/Newspaper%20Delivery.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>"Thanks Verity!" calls Mr Appleblossom, the baker. He also starts work early, and is one of the few people Verity often sees on her round. Sometimes she will stop and buy a currant bun from him to eat on the way, but today she is in a rush - her mother is making pancakes, and Verity can't wait!</p></div></div>GreyRabbithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14618464131079015835noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3478697748729214320.post-46798615401225406202022-03-05T11:47:00.001+08:002022-03-05T18:31:24.523+08:00New Year, New Beginnings<p>Well, this is rather late, isn't it? I had planned to write this post in January, as my response to the Sylvanian Families Forum's Creative Challenge theme, but with one thing and another, I never got around to it then. So, whilst I realise the year isn't exactly brand spanking new anymore, I figure better late than never, right?</p><p>It's quite an appropriate theme for us, really. There have been a lot of changes over the last few months in our corner of Sylvania. Caitlyn Hazelnut (my daughter and fellow collector) has taken a bit of a step back from her Sylvanians. She still likes them, and has kept most of her figures (in fact there are a few new families she has her eye on as well), but she has decided to sell most of her buildings, furniture etc. So some buildings (and a couple of families) have moved away to new owners, and I must admit that I decided to buy the larger part of her buildings etc from her myself. </p><p>Obviously this has had an impact on Macadamia Grove, Starlight Cape, and Town. The figures Caitlyn owns are now displayed on shelves in her bedroom. She says some of them still "live in" Macadamia Grove, while others have "moved away to other villages". Therefore, they may still appear in photos from time to time, but obviously we can't have them running physical buildings in our permanent setup if they aren't really there. The Courtyard Restaurant for example is no longer owned by the Trunk family (Caitlyn tells me that they still live in Macadamia Grove, but have opened a second-hand clothing and haberdashery shop, almost certainly so that Savannah can reroute any hats that come along into her own collection!) :)</p><p>Anyway, this very long introduction (well done if you're still with me), explains why Caitlyn's Walnut Squirrel family no longer owns the Supermarket. The Walnuts have moved away from Macadamia Grove (although Caitlyn still has them). This little story introduces the new owners. Thanks for reading! </p><p>~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ </p><p>The Supermarket in Macadamia Grove was a popular place to shop. Indeed it was the only place to shop for some items. So it was quite an inconvenience when it closed. The Walnut family, who ran the Supermarket, had decided to move away from Macadamia Grove to be closer to Katerica's parents. The children were sad to leave their friends behind, but they were excited by the prospect of spending more time with their grandparents. The Walnuts were a popular family, and would be missed by all of the villagers. But there it was - and what to do about the Supermarket?</p><p>Luckily, one of the newer families to the village was able to step in to the breach! </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiZHlOerlASM2X52x0IvKxIwVC7lugtJB8ivRW3cDmErotoknw7N-H7gpBtskkROANaJkPfz9nEq2DAIQ0NrVbuGIC7-EHfoGNBHi1kMNOYmP8P6dpudGFB4Oxm9pFhK-YuZYueo7QxQKG_B_70gkHDHhB9Fj5qGLKsh_riLTzvejKnDUIqVKhhYMKBTQ=s807" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="628" data-original-width="807" height="498" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiZHlOerlASM2X52x0IvKxIwVC7lugtJB8ivRW3cDmErotoknw7N-H7gpBtskkROANaJkPfz9nEq2DAIQ0NrVbuGIC7-EHfoGNBHi1kMNOYmP8P6dpudGFB4Oxm9pFhK-YuZYueo7QxQKG_B_70gkHDHhB9Fj5qGLKsh_riLTzvejKnDUIqVKhhYMKBTQ=w640-h498" width="640" /></a></div><p>The Cottontail family had moved to Macadamia Grove a few weeks prior to the Walnuts announcing their departure, and when the Supermarket was put up for sale, Mr Rupert Cottontail immediately suggested to his wife that they buy it. She agreed, and so it was all settled. The Town council was thrilled, as it meant only one short week of inconvenience to the village, whilst the new owners familiarised themselves.</p><p>Some items needed restocking, so Rupert spent much of that week placing orders, and restocking the shelves. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjt_ZK6h1pHWsTQmCVg5qlpdpA0OPqK5u285DRqINSKHCVLwkNmFU5ANwfzl4z9euCLhC8EgaN5s4WF4wBTKpdQXkKmwVU0UeFGJIv19UNgq4x_QKYjHKhm_Eoa3LwBjkEZRG5QxLhcG8hITpunBc6c70zyZ_YY2BGq4e2Pww1LxqznXHscFpA0gfStGg=s805" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="611" data-original-width="805" height="486" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjt_ZK6h1pHWsTQmCVg5qlpdpA0OPqK5u285DRqINSKHCVLwkNmFU5ANwfzl4z9euCLhC8EgaN5s4WF4wBTKpdQXkKmwVU0UeFGJIv19UNgq4x_QKYjHKhm_Eoa3LwBjkEZRG5QxLhcG8hITpunBc6c70zyZ_YY2BGq4e2Pww1LxqznXHscFpA0gfStGg=w640-h486" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>Meanwhile, his wife Sorrel made sure everything was priced correctly, and generally familiarised herself with the day-to-day process of running the shop. She had never worked in a shop before, and was a little nervous!</p><p>Even the children tried to be... er, helpful...</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgw2CqsM1uwWONHZQpPoFqdY8AdRKg5xYD-9tSZtNXWah_5MPa1fCAgFKh6Sxf8xxaqRTQxDfYIgdHvb1K7uW5ETHpUc8xM7nS8IrhQLnXhaAtUUEawVhhvyyu4ps7poMZAZnhhxG4jRMsEU6-nN2-tVL-f93kHU3lMUPggD9VSgNXiUydve_RsXuwJ3A=s824" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="594" data-original-width="824" height="462" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgw2CqsM1uwWONHZQpPoFqdY8AdRKg5xYD-9tSZtNXWah_5MPa1fCAgFKh6Sxf8xxaqRTQxDfYIgdHvb1K7uW5ETHpUc8xM7nS8IrhQLnXhaAtUUEawVhhvyyu4ps7poMZAZnhhxG4jRMsEU6-nN2-tVL-f93kHU3lMUPggD9VSgNXiUydve_RsXuwJ3A=w640-h462" width="640" /></a></div><p>"Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"</p><p>Finally, it was opening day. The Cottontails opened up bright and early, wondering nervously how the villagers would react to the new ownership. Would people miss the Walnuts too much to even visit straight away? They needn't have worried - the villagers were a curious lot, and many were quite eager to visit the shop, especially as not everyone had met the Cottontails yet.</p><p>The very first customer was Mrs Kristy Honeycrackle, who had brought her little boy, Toby, along. She picked a few things from the shelves, then hurried to the counter.</p><p>"Good morning, I don't believe we've met. I'm Kristy Honeycrackle, how are you?"</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhAlTawMdu6M7LD128iuNsjzeKhmnshwBlffoyOoDH2eZtCfzHbO97kCBg-l7b2crQs10hh_ee1QxoHDWveVXPzKwYzlQsisEYYdFevLlm6ilt9GLYxGM92Pss6gkLxhDWWBSxkYnDxupFc4Gr5xfX5jex7wcp_O6d26026Y9DFh4tPEBeoEN2NGSDOMA=s813" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="607" data-original-width="813" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhAlTawMdu6M7LD128iuNsjzeKhmnshwBlffoyOoDH2eZtCfzHbO97kCBg-l7b2crQs10hh_ee1QxoHDWveVXPzKwYzlQsisEYYdFevLlm6ilt9GLYxGM92Pss6gkLxhDWWBSxkYnDxupFc4Gr5xfX5jex7wcp_O6d26026Y9DFh4tPEBeoEN2NGSDOMA=w640-h478" width="640" /></a></div><p>"Very well, thank you! Lovely to meet you, I am Sorrel Cottontail. Thank you for shopping with us - you are our very first customer!"</p><p>"Oh, you won't have any shortage of those," Kristy laughed. "Everyone is dying to come in and see what you've done with the place! I only needed a few little things today, but I simply had to pick up this delicious looking cheese!"</p><p>Sorrel smiled. "That is my husband's favourite cheese, so we decided we really must stock it. I'm glad someone else likes it too!"</p><p>"Mama!" cried Toby Honeycrackle suddenly. "Mama! Cookies!"</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgtTTJVn6IDDVeXmrTIo9ypLOY-NvhwvU3vujSZC-5MpyErjkrBScO43-O_71MwpnP96sIVmc3QLHjh46QUX0XTIWG31_lmOwBmhhNuezMREUnVIcjipOXeo22uMw9bRuw891BPIV38N9wYzjIcg5BiHHeHJqZgKELN42RNWdjT-OuGdegsqs35x8j6Hw=s795" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="795" data-original-width="597" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgtTTJVn6IDDVeXmrTIo9ypLOY-NvhwvU3vujSZC-5MpyErjkrBScO43-O_71MwpnP96sIVmc3QLHjh46QUX0XTIWG31_lmOwBmhhNuezMREUnVIcjipOXeo22uMw9bRuw891BPIV38N9wYzjIcg5BiHHeHJqZgKELN42RNWdjT-OuGdegsqs35x8j6Hw=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div>"Oh dear," sighed Kristy. "He really does have such a dreadful sweet tooth. I mean honestly, the child <i>lives </i>in a donut shop. Not today, Toby honey, we don't need any cookies. You can have a nice apple when we get home, how about that?"<div><br /></div><div>Toby did not seem convinced that this was a good substitute.</div><div><br /></div><div>"I'd better go," Kristy grinned at Sorrel. "But you must stop by Donut when you have some time off, and have a cup of tea and a chat!"</div><div><br /></div><div>Outside, Rupert Cottontail was greeting customers, when he heard someone calling, "Hello there, neighbour!" He turned around to see Christopher Appleblossom approaching from the bakery next door.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhI-5uJEn107wkjBI39uNRmsvuAlQ1unlnQqbY9CzR7ro8wGz6yJ-u5851OdKMtuIc8xZYfacMSAl8kEUthRqA76-03tKd879Eeat3MqY0WZ8OSbFusPJ3v3qA4BQQv9MJU0oH3KOUNW04nZOTkP07wkOBRzl5hQcdhiNbABBpm4lqjX2BwHhmiHHEa_Q=s902" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="595" data-original-width="902" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhI-5uJEn107wkjBI39uNRmsvuAlQ1unlnQqbY9CzR7ro8wGz6yJ-u5851OdKMtuIc8xZYfacMSAl8kEUthRqA76-03tKd879Eeat3MqY0WZ8OSbFusPJ3v3qA4BQQv9MJU0oH3KOUNW04nZOTkP07wkOBRzl5hQcdhiNbABBpm4lqjX2BwHhmiHHEa_Q=w640-h422" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div>He had met Christopher briefly before, when organising to sell a few of his more basic baked goods in the Supermarket (this was a good arrangement all around, as it allowed Christopher to take a day off each week). They hadn't had a chance to spend much time chatting though, as Rupert had had rather a busy week!</div><div><br /></div><div>"How's it going?" Christopher asked. "Looks like you have a few customers already. I must stop by later, I need some tea, and some jam."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Yes, it seems to be going well so far. I guess you'll be missing the previous owners, won't you? I hear you and Mr Walnut were friends," said Rupert.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Still are," said Christopher with an easy smile. "I'll definitely miss having him next door, but we'll keep in touch. And now I have a chance to meet you and your family as well. Listen, a few of us are going for a drink this evening at the Courtyard Restaurant - around six - why don't you and the wife join us, and get to know a few people? You can bring your kids along - there's a grassy area they can play." </div><div><br /></div><div>"Right then, that sounds good. I'll have to check with Sorrel of course, but I think she'll be keen."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Great - see you there then. Better get back - I've got customers, and I guess you have too!"</div><div><br /></div><div>The two men shook hands, and turned back to their own shops.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh_sCPsILCrK4h_lXzttf8h3gUZwX6SnxAb-jWRJSsbl5nCjYHoWCF0Wl_1lfYb_nhOqrTBH0CL14_xYluhudSfwwWZU4kwFaBcVgS6JNHBCD_RZCiv8cWoeex0gPOrUmi41v2fLxVXuPVZ5obwN2Zzee4i8Nu9i84T8qSv25YtEvMMgC154efnVldn1Q=s785" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="607" data-original-width="785" height="494" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh_sCPsILCrK4h_lXzttf8h3gUZwX6SnxAb-jWRJSsbl5nCjYHoWCF0Wl_1lfYb_nhOqrTBH0CL14_xYluhudSfwwWZU4kwFaBcVgS6JNHBCD_RZCiv8cWoeex0gPOrUmi41v2fLxVXuPVZ5obwN2Zzee4i8Nu9i84T8qSv25YtEvMMgC154efnVldn1Q=w640-h494" width="640" /></a></div><p>As he walked, and saw another group of customers entering the Supermarket, Rupert felt a glow of happiness. This was going to work. It was a new beginning indeed for his family, and it looked like the beginning of some new friendships as well.</p></div>GreyRabbithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14618464131079015835noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3478697748729214320.post-84619152724865770522022-01-09T23:32:00.003+08:002022-01-09T23:48:17.845+08:00Sylvanian Pride and Prejudice - Part Two<p><span style="background-color: white;">For those who do not know, it has been an ambition of mine for some time to cast and photograph Jane Austen's delightful Pride and Prejudice, using Sylvanian Families. This is Part Two of that endeavour - </span><span face="Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #14280a; font-size: 14.85px;">I do plan to post instalments from time to time when I can, and have great hopes of eventually getting through the whole story!</span></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #14280a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;"><span style="background-color: transparent;">If you missed<a href="https://sylvaniansunshine.blogspot.com/2021/10/sylvanian-pride-and-prejudice-part-one.html"> Part One, I recommend reading that first</a>. (I also highly recommend seeking out Austen's original book and reading it - it is great fun! Many people do not realise how much writers such as Austen have influenced modern romantic comedies).</span></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #14280a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px;"><span style="font-size: 14.85px;">Obviously, the words that follow are not my own, although I have heavily abridged the original text to come up with this version. I hope you enjoy it.</span></p><p>~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~</p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">In a few days, Mr Bingley returned Mr Bennet’s visit, and
sat about ten minutes with him in his library.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He had entertained hopes of being admitted to a sight of the young
ladies, of whose beauty he had heard much, but he saw only the father.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj7Om-H5tdbM94EgmwJ0cJ41IQWunpPsbwr7tC9qgXfYldLGWvixh6P13zaNDaVgwU2WJwFU4K9aPadWv6eXV4SF1zQhOYXmdamkLjvh_ViOsURlZFQEtBVFJnIhyb5_P0DHfmNvhFBJ3frFgjMqimw1t8Ub2gYvAj5Di_zGJGjHe9QKrXoGuhzKMVCxA=s808" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="602" data-original-width="808" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj7Om-H5tdbM94EgmwJ0cJ41IQWunpPsbwr7tC9qgXfYldLGWvixh6P13zaNDaVgwU2WJwFU4K9aPadWv6eXV4SF1zQhOYXmdamkLjvh_ViOsURlZFQEtBVFJnIhyb5_P0DHfmNvhFBJ3frFgjMqimw1t8Ub2gYvAj5Di_zGJGjHe9QKrXoGuhzKMVCxA=w640-h476" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">An invitation to dinner was soon afterwards dispatched, but
an answer arrived which deferred it all.
Mr Bingley was obliged to be in town the following day, and consequently
unable to accept their invitation. Mrs
Bennet was quite disconcerted, however Lady Lucas quieted her fears – her
report of Mr Bingley was highly favourable.
He was quite young, handsome, extremely agreeable, and to crown the
whole, he meant to be at the next assembly with a large party. Nothing could be more delightful!</p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p>When the party entered the assembly room, it consisted of
five altogether; <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mr Bingley, his two
sisters, the husband of the eldest, and another young man.<div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgP8Cn4Hzzm47M3X5Znb7zfxSUEqrmmZyo23lRsJy1rQp-12zkGtJdY5Of8zr-1ubTWez_qPq95ADrukLxgTZmyjqeAS9I2gK61EMwdLBF6U0noyzi0yNVTQAMOMMvwrlOhS2AnnRXwYDbGfl5o_4xFDfMVAmpfN933mww7CjmlVJdiIM2T1ITNflvX7Q=s793" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="793" data-original-width="665" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgP8Cn4Hzzm47M3X5Znb7zfxSUEqrmmZyo23lRsJy1rQp-12zkGtJdY5Of8zr-1ubTWez_qPq95ADrukLxgTZmyjqeAS9I2gK61EMwdLBF6U0noyzi0yNVTQAMOMMvwrlOhS2AnnRXwYDbGfl5o_4xFDfMVAmpfN933mww7CjmlVJdiIM2T1ITNflvX7Q=w536-h640" width="536" /></a></div></div><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Mr
Bingley was good looking and gentlemanlike, with easy, unaffected manners. His sisters were fine women, with an air of
decided fashion. His brother in law, Mr
Hurst, merely looked the gentleman, but his friend Mr Darcy soon drew the attention
of the room by his fine, tall person, handsome features, noble mien, and the
report which was immediately in general circulation, of his having ten thousand
a year. </span></p><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgLvOsMmQh8RMQrC9zf4Xo0DhVD4-TsEQnff_13M9-JDuR_2LmomTlqd6DF23CvjX5eF-fHtncIIG5EOMseEofTMGYxSzf50x2J6xw9GIKJ3UOt6OPtwSmJNhscw_I1ukFfH7HNwWfQqzdoU-1zr5EHE80uSCHehB5R3Aw_amy41BXmKqyI1BLrrWqfnw=s827" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="827" data-original-width="592" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgLvOsMmQh8RMQrC9zf4Xo0DhVD4-TsEQnff_13M9-JDuR_2LmomTlqd6DF23CvjX5eF-fHtncIIG5EOMseEofTMGYxSzf50x2J6xw9GIKJ3UOt6OPtwSmJNhscw_I1ukFfH7HNwWfQqzdoU-1zr5EHE80uSCHehB5R3Aw_amy41BXmKqyI1BLrrWqfnw=w458-h640" width="458" /></a></div></div><p class="MsoNormal">He was looked at with great admiration for about half the evening, till his manners turned the tide of his popularity, for he was discovered to be proud, to be above his company, and above being pleased.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiAAdyEy2Dkd7rOj_imnPEOLWXw6cnN94GFfvCe4QxdWBq1WiJnibdSeuQsn1FdnBsfC3szMDgyNFIXXKrenSL1fTwGNxLMEoBYt6rNd7ZVNZzuTg50F0sn4hQCVElpNMpE--ly7xsdz0Hr4s-oiqdEYhViyziiqt0ONgbf-s4tnjqMfjjChvPMZG5EZw=s764" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="617" data-original-width="764" height="516" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiAAdyEy2Dkd7rOj_imnPEOLWXw6cnN94GFfvCe4QxdWBq1WiJnibdSeuQsn1FdnBsfC3szMDgyNFIXXKrenSL1fTwGNxLMEoBYt6rNd7ZVNZzuTg50F0sn4hQCVElpNMpE--ly7xsdz0Hr4s-oiqdEYhViyziiqt0ONgbf-s4tnjqMfjjChvPMZG5EZw=w640-h516" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">Mr Bingley was lively and unreserved, danced every dance,
and talked of giving a ball himself at Netherfield. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg-b3k6MGf-l2_itUcLqbxdWsWkEisXItJVDIlcoF10vvIVCE_mQVC3XdLURba_xFxqQHKpPpQXqd7YYU-GWupVRF7Fs0mC3k8qR225B2ljv4IhI2wlL60lBCJCF9JYhOI3kCQbHlAnywqry8M93SngcDf2zbuyWn6_OC7plZMxY6P92KNK_OIdfTgpXg=s777" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="671" data-original-width="777" height="552" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg-b3k6MGf-l2_itUcLqbxdWsWkEisXItJVDIlcoF10vvIVCE_mQVC3XdLURba_xFxqQHKpPpQXqd7YYU-GWupVRF7Fs0mC3k8qR225B2ljv4IhI2wlL60lBCJCF9JYhOI3kCQbHlAnywqry8M93SngcDf2zbuyWn6_OC7plZMxY6P92KNK_OIdfTgpXg=w640-h552" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">What a contrast between him and his
friend! Mr Darcy danced only once with
Mrs Hurst and once with Miss Bingley, and declined being introduced to any
other lady. His character was
decided. He was the proudest, most
disagreeable man in the world, and every body hoped that he would never come
there again. Among the most violent
against him was Mrs Bennet, as he had slighted one of her daughters.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Elizabeth Bennet had been obliged, by the scarcity of
gentlemen, to sit down for two dances, and during part of that time, Mr Darcy had
been standing near.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bingley came from
the dance for a few minutes, to press his friend to join it.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Come Darcy,” said he, “I hate to see you standing about in
this stupid manner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You had much better
dance.”<o:p></o:p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj0_4nQArJlhhM9Os2Hl7eOPKHVia2aLXR8cwmVppJ4Dkf8lP_dh5eYp9X5KFqqPN9tYzMh2cVefX-z3oZrkqpNA7lFjfhSwr9x0Y4WiMZSkTA5vFIdCV9abnb5mE1IijhSFYo1KIJpxmXEhXbQbsPy2OLC5wxpVEgQuSrudE3wvlIfBAUday9MkDXxwg=s795"><img border="0" data-original-height="596" data-original-width="795" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj0_4nQArJlhhM9Os2Hl7eOPKHVia2aLXR8cwmVppJ4Dkf8lP_dh5eYp9X5KFqqPN9tYzMh2cVefX-z3oZrkqpNA7lFjfhSwr9x0Y4WiMZSkTA5vFIdCV9abnb5mE1IijhSFYo1KIJpxmXEhXbQbsPy2OLC5wxpVEgQuSrudE3wvlIfBAUday9MkDXxwg=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">“I certainly shall not.
You know how I detest it, unless I am particularly acquainted with my
partner. At such an assembly as this, it
would be insupportable.”</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“I would not be so fastidious as you are,” cried Bingley,
“for a kingdom!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Upon my honour, I never
met with so many pleasant girls in my life, and there are several of them
uncommonly pretty.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“You are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room,”
said Mr Darcy, looking at the eldest Miss Bennet.<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgCmTBw7vj8gqViTVKH3eYVjztzeUjnT3fXyesuRxUp_wAbXRELQ2I_t_83Hsxdz-MP9cR3R4mH00ttCHt5dHe_-Zp1hS9I9Wx9nF7mDoZTgO09y99KApF2pv5Q2CgwptHwTcO3t_v022TLxIow6Ynp4XLs4QlHtR2zZsjKR8oVWqi8_v0nXuLwH5GpUQ=s795" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="597" data-original-width="795" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgCmTBw7vj8gqViTVKH3eYVjztzeUjnT3fXyesuRxUp_wAbXRELQ2I_t_83Hsxdz-MP9cR3R4mH00ttCHt5dHe_-Zp1hS9I9Wx9nF7mDoZTgO09y99KApF2pv5Q2CgwptHwTcO3t_v022TLxIow6Ynp4XLs4QlHtR2zZsjKR8oVWqi8_v0nXuLwH5GpUQ=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">“Oh! she is the most
beautiful creature I ever beheld! But
there is one of her sisters sitting down just behind you, who is very pretty,
and I daresay very agreeable.”</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhmTLpbqkCazOjMLfi97YWNHcGEN05G0031vWQE_wvAVPu_dhghiroHl018z8j3eGfMS1_m0fwQzN2i6wVyCeIbmvBus41XhMdmAbFmHcle_cslPH64d58gPPGePoEQsyUtx1FODNeMHoUec0iT2pixg933edPPEJ7D8NbzvUo-6TgCWx76fXxc_xbpyg=s802" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="593" data-original-width="802" height="474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhmTLpbqkCazOjMLfi97YWNHcGEN05G0031vWQE_wvAVPu_dhghiroHl018z8j3eGfMS1_m0fwQzN2i6wVyCeIbmvBus41XhMdmAbFmHcle_cslPH64d58gPPGePoEQsyUtx1FODNeMHoUec0iT2pixg933edPPEJ7D8NbzvUo-6TgCWx76fXxc_xbpyg=w640-h474" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">“Which do you mean?” and turning round, he looked for a
moment at Elizabeth, then coldly said, “She is tolerable, but not handsome
enough to tempt me, and I am in no humour at present to give consequence to
young ladies who are slighted by other men.
You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are
wasting your time with me.”</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh-FutgjhE6-k54gp_9M9DQ6Q-82NO7fVN2c2UNNACpx-iEPhG99zjLEgzIoORmbWi1CoR1tSwUYDB5gAPDXTaIh7EcDi0x2rkcqk5B11eG7COq7V72Q46yuMGToBIak6idE4KkHN_ENA5A6LruMgYEUR1Wcpf1qljReR5SpinYyfnhoRsy_KZDLcReSA=s881" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="591" data-original-width="881" height="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh-FutgjhE6-k54gp_9M9DQ6Q-82NO7fVN2c2UNNACpx-iEPhG99zjLEgzIoORmbWi1CoR1tSwUYDB5gAPDXTaIh7EcDi0x2rkcqk5B11eG7COq7V72Q46yuMGToBIak6idE4KkHN_ENA5A6LruMgYEUR1Wcpf1qljReR5SpinYyfnhoRsy_KZDLcReSA=w640-h430" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">Mr Bingley followed his advice. Mr Darcy walked off, and Elizabeth remained with
no very cordial feelings toward him. She
told the story however with great spirit among her friends, for she had a
lively, playful disposition. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhNjDZLx7MGlKOeR2VTdXhnOZUV06fjJa4X_nbBa09QUY7FMhgGu8xlTkR72fALCsJYeMA5usNSAeUGWrn_afZbv7OYYfpzwz9SMOUCDvl2ZHsKjZ6-vJMu7mNIx643Nx5V2vmeEAzJk9g3esgBzZMginmnUQ40EfYYkhCQNaeCgxHhRUopeYKKajlcMg=s794" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="599" data-original-width="794" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhNjDZLx7MGlKOeR2VTdXhnOZUV06fjJa4X_nbBa09QUY7FMhgGu8xlTkR72fALCsJYeMA5usNSAeUGWrn_afZbv7OYYfpzwz9SMOUCDvl2ZHsKjZ6-vJMu7mNIx643Nx5V2vmeEAzJk9g3esgBzZMginmnUQ40EfYYkhCQNaeCgxHhRUopeYKKajlcMg=w640-h482" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">The evening altogether passed off pleasantly to the whole
family. They returned therefore in good
spirits to Longbourn. They found Mr
Bennet still up. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi9Wjb6-Sy5pFparZIhbWVj4P4zzFuKJLTXRk7dPULxxo5gBtgMIPbFzGqkLJdYAOTy6oHPJ25xkhPhHITj1g4pbgPjjNATgRHDyumtgZrlxw8WESNP-ssNCdwQGyoac72rND479Dl9QzkOfw14Qz11aLcV5LLG45CpxfRSxZHbgP9a_ZHmufB8JQwn4w=s765" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="619" data-original-width="765" height="518" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi9Wjb6-Sy5pFparZIhbWVj4P4zzFuKJLTXRk7dPULxxo5gBtgMIPbFzGqkLJdYAOTy6oHPJ25xkhPhHITj1g4pbgPjjNATgRHDyumtgZrlxw8WESNP-ssNCdwQGyoac72rND479Dl9QzkOfw14Qz11aLcV5LLG45CpxfRSxZHbgP9a_ZHmufB8JQwn4w=w640-h518" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">He had rather hoped
that all his wife’s views on the stranger would be disappointed, but he soon
found that he had a very different story to hear.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjR-T373axnvqfiYD-9adfz0ndsb2TgRHjouu2dXDBugTHsk-5IT_2Nb9jPl-Wppb0jYWO3X9gBpfY5zQiyAyyNQi36DsDH7lD0Gx_msh6Bxux1uPaHsRtBWekj8iW1oSSEwCsXD8Np7dxiBsgjk3t3HznNPvzNxNTWsmSFx30piw_cm68ce_N_byBVaA=s812" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="609" data-original-width="812" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjR-T373axnvqfiYD-9adfz0ndsb2TgRHjouu2dXDBugTHsk-5IT_2Nb9jPl-Wppb0jYWO3X9gBpfY5zQiyAyyNQi36DsDH7lD0Gx_msh6Bxux1uPaHsRtBWekj8iW1oSSEwCsXD8Np7dxiBsgjk3t3HznNPvzNxNTWsmSFx30piw_cm68ce_N_byBVaA=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">“Oh! my dear Mr
Bennet, we have had a most delightful evening.
Jane was so admired, nothing could be like it. Mr Bingley thought her quite beautiful and
danced with her twice. Only think of <i>that</i>,
my dear, he actually danced with her twice, and she was the only creature in
the room that he asked a second time. Oh! I am quite delighted with him. He is so excessively handsome! and his sisters are such charming women. I never in my life saw any thing more elegant
than their dresses-“</p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj_21_PER_s6wvps1EJH2nkocnuv3sgX3MUyd3vFiaN6Y2HEYNHLv9FlAYOJHIJuhifunCqF5ocUorTK6-0q7DVwW6XSMjEAytWqat12EG2MAFm5MVJx8AVBwQL_3XVBNpIpB3927GRZZeeAIGmge5yxAIayui_zhKspn4t1_65_a16ucRPFdCGL3phRA=s795" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="597" data-original-width="795" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj_21_PER_s6wvps1EJH2nkocnuv3sgX3MUyd3vFiaN6Y2HEYNHLv9FlAYOJHIJuhifunCqF5ocUorTK6-0q7DVwW6XSMjEAytWqat12EG2MAFm5MVJx8AVBwQL_3XVBNpIpB3927GRZZeeAIGmge5yxAIayui_zhKspn4t1_65_a16ucRPFdCGL3phRA=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Here she was interrupted.
Mr Bennet protested against any description of finery. She therefore related, with much bitterness
of spirit and some exaggeration, the shocking rudeness of Mr Darcy.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Another time, Lizzy, I would not dance with <i>him</i>, if
I were you.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“I believe, Ma’am,” replied Elizabeth, “I may safely promise
you <i>never</i> to dance with him.”<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjnjaqbzNPFY7If_QtMLKvdvlbF-CbGu3p2SdzRwtagJ2_XhOPCyzbOOZcu1kpKvU4kR2DM_QhYWBf5eaH1FI_tgr-fWul9YpwYV2v4J9TobJuiz7ZT-IawwDP0swmSwMGXlRUtEHFY-0HyIMV-zLOwDqKWN_h83F2oO7XJ8Jj_EW0wsmjbUY2_Bo3zfg=s982" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="594" data-original-width="982" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjnjaqbzNPFY7If_QtMLKvdvlbF-CbGu3p2SdzRwtagJ2_XhOPCyzbOOZcu1kpKvU4kR2DM_QhYWBf5eaH1FI_tgr-fWul9YpwYV2v4J9TobJuiz7ZT-IawwDP0swmSwMGXlRUtEHFY-0HyIMV-zLOwDqKWN_h83F2oO7XJ8Jj_EW0wsmjbUY2_Bo3zfg=w640-h388" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><span face="Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #14280a; font-size: 14.85px; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14.85px;">~~~ o ~~~</span></div></span><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>When Jane and Elizabeth were alone, the former, who had been
cautious in her praise of Mr Bingley before, expressed to her sister how very
much she admired him.<p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">“He is just what a young man ought to be,” said she. “I was very much flattered by his asking me
to dance a second time. I did not expect
such a compliment.”</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgOXmbnXJc4GOFvoGpaya48efNwrrIlEWMiHLSiq6IFxnmjn9sFgVwRvigeCzqFzkGufJ9IAi9Tu8lrJ9wuH9LzXyAaORxBu0tJx3Ozg5kB6anQ92Vfl7ZQPnDviahQjqGbfdytwxcJYgS7kojtWzWh-2FMT1M2XlYeRJLFlsgmydOwRd7Hbv9rMTP1MA=s853" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="853" height="450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgOXmbnXJc4GOFvoGpaya48efNwrrIlEWMiHLSiq6IFxnmjn9sFgVwRvigeCzqFzkGufJ9IAi9Tu8lrJ9wuH9LzXyAaORxBu0tJx3Ozg5kB6anQ92Vfl7ZQPnDviahQjqGbfdytwxcJYgS7kojtWzWh-2FMT1M2XlYeRJLFlsgmydOwRd7Hbv9rMTP1MA=w640-h450" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">“Did not you?” replied Elizabeth. “<i>I</i> did for you. He could not help seeing that you were about
five times as pretty as every other woman in the room, and you never see a
fault in any body. All the world are
good and agreeable in your eyes. Well,
he certainly is very agreeable, and I give you leave to like him. And so, you like this man’s sisters too, do
you? Their manners are not equal to
his.”</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Certainly not at first.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But they are very pleasing women when you converse with them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Miss Bingley is to live with her brother and
keep his house, and I am much mistaken if we shall not find a very charming
neighbour in her.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Elizabeth listened in silence, but was not convinced.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With more quickness of observation, and less
pliancy of temper than her sister, she was very little disposed to approve
them.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The manner in which the Netherfield party spoke of the
Meryton assembly was sufficiently characteristic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bingley had never met with pleasanter people
in his life;<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>every body had been most
kind and attentive to him;<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and as to
Miss Bennet, he could not conceive an angel more beautiful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjpPl94MGOBzj5goXL7DEUh8O-iwqV-ap2CNPeQuBKAJDBDDLS8FwgNS5wUcvCSa-2hbCINtzT4wjrAsHZ2Xpw_tVhdib4sPBwpVYx5ZmUk4DQ8yJODMU6SeUwCVtpy1V2dkm1VbOpP410OBInvMILMUPnEeLz7CM7e--a2MA_zrfx4jXZXv6ztUcv3jg=s858" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="590" data-original-width="858" height="440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjpPl94MGOBzj5goXL7DEUh8O-iwqV-ap2CNPeQuBKAJDBDDLS8FwgNS5wUcvCSa-2hbCINtzT4wjrAsHZ2Xpw_tVhdib4sPBwpVYx5ZmUk4DQ8yJODMU6SeUwCVtpy1V2dkm1VbOpP410OBInvMILMUPnEeLz7CM7e--a2MA_zrfx4jXZXv6ztUcv3jg=w640-h440" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">Darcy, on the contrary, had seen a collection
of people in whom there was little beauty and no fashion, and for none of them
he had felt the smallest interest. Miss
Bennet he acknowledged to be pretty, but she smiled too much.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjfDugDJOyNXWq3Q2kXb67ItUy-oAza_pKoOLFx3EWqoPWoft3t78z72m5J-D5-G8lQtb5Gdh_R0l-1JWF6wLzNZJa5RdkVdxYVh3zVBQOy6iY163bciASled-zj5HjjGab0w0O8Gmq8nCJq0oeRixgEP0H8sTykdvq7695UQTYh4LInnFIllDFyMvFlQ=s675" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="634" data-original-width="675" height="602" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjfDugDJOyNXWq3Q2kXb67ItUy-oAza_pKoOLFx3EWqoPWoft3t78z72m5J-D5-G8lQtb5Gdh_R0l-1JWF6wLzNZJa5RdkVdxYVh3zVBQOy6iY163bciASled-zj5HjjGab0w0O8Gmq8nCJq0oeRixgEP0H8sTykdvq7695UQTYh4LInnFIllDFyMvFlQ=w640-h602" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">Mrs Hurst and her sister allowed it to be so – but still they
admired her and liked her, pronounced her a sweet girl, and one whom they
should not object to know more of. Their
brother therefore felt authorised by such commendation to think of her as he
chose.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj7OjFK3uGvO2ci0JwL88SDUCJj0k9ALcEwGFPKEYa2Q66NBTfL4AMi6RCh9S3L1JfN0NimpAdXTrHf2pn4KHWs0owsjda9Qs0Xf_RbFc1_tC8G5bIqkU1NdjC8kY_hspj54CjLz9c5OxT1SFdFGYLZwc3g3kileMpGdcfRXA5-WXMS28BUu6Qs1-s6yQ=s693" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="606" data-original-width="693" height="560" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj7OjFK3uGvO2ci0JwL88SDUCJj0k9ALcEwGFPKEYa2Q66NBTfL4AMi6RCh9S3L1JfN0NimpAdXTrHf2pn4KHWs0owsjda9Qs0Xf_RbFc1_tC8G5bIqkU1NdjC8kY_hspj54CjLz9c5OxT1SFdFGYLZwc3g3kileMpGdcfRXA5-WXMS28BUu6Qs1-s6yQ=w640-h560" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14.85px;"><br />~~~ o ~~~</span></div><p class="MsoNormal"><span face="Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #14280a; font-size: 14.85px; text-align: center;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal"></p><p></p></div>GreyRabbithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14618464131079015835noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3478697748729214320.post-84822777666389362932021-12-27T00:26:00.003+08:002021-12-27T00:26:30.524+08:00Quick Photo Challenge: Cosy<p>This month's prompt for the Quick Photo Challenge on the Sylvanian Families forum is "Cosy".</p><p>Now, I do understand that in many parts of the world it is pretty cold right now, and the idea of curling up by the fire with a blanket and a cup of hot chocolate probably sounds pretty good.</p><p>But.</p><p>Today where I live, the temperature hit 44 degrees Celsius. So, yeah... I'm afraid that in the last couple of weeks, "cosy" wasn't a word that was inspiring me too much.</p><p>But then I remembered that a relative of mine had recently shown me something she bought at a market. It was a teapot cosy, and I realised it was <i>perfect </i>for a silly, left-of-centre take on this theme. All I needed was a mouse...</p><p>So here is my photo for the "Cosy" theme:</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgY_Q7Td79YyvOvyne1oWDNzL8OaxSvAZFFzBBh1tEEEtUeN9kuYCpnqzC7WsWxn7j-UW9azrkHFrkOFh8aRQpEJ413eId_Ygjzh6ZG_H-8dkFzQ8dwZYjCPdowd_242mdQkKpu-iwfMMWO7wgzSJ2j3U74qSm7VATIYup965QsSy9Dh-4Q26qNK7O8uQ=s804" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="804" data-original-width="654" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgY_Q7Td79YyvOvyne1oWDNzL8OaxSvAZFFzBBh1tEEEtUeN9kuYCpnqzC7WsWxn7j-UW9azrkHFrkOFh8aRQpEJ413eId_Ygjzh6ZG_H-8dkFzQ8dwZYjCPdowd_242mdQkKpu-iwfMMWO7wgzSJ2j3U74qSm7VATIYup965QsSy9Dh-4Q26qNK7O8uQ=w520-h640" width="520" /></a></div><p>I hope it gives you a bit of a giggle. :)</p><p>And I never quite got around to posting a Christmas post this year (<i>bad </i>blogger!), so I will also take the opportunity here to say that I hope you and your families had a very Merry Christmas!</p>GreyRabbithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14618464131079015835noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3478697748729214320.post-81194319671240032602021-11-04T15:18:00.000+08:002021-11-04T15:18:02.990+08:00Quick Photo Challenge: Candy!<div>Over on the Sylvanian Families Collectors Forum, a new monthly challenge has popped up: the Sylvanian Families Photo Challenge. This is intended to be a quick, no-big-setup-or-story-necessary photo, with a set theme. This month the theme is "Candy".</div><div><br /></div><div>Well, I had the perfect Sylvanian for this one...</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiNhFDNwTDEjMPZ439IsfbzmxEvPCysHrRRS2nK67M7fRXRFDHsDFRF96G8RffUtMXtLfdWBtwR22y1r0DPt8DiZ7UTNPBcXWc9jHllp2whtIhVXzEcS_6OHA9p_h4iXWDGsD4fq_J5RkCWhQO-jzLwEHZSVG_JL1o42Rcts5OsOcZTIj16Fe_76ndoHA=s734" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="537" data-original-width="734" height="468" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiNhFDNwTDEjMPZ439IsfbzmxEvPCysHrRRS2nK67M7fRXRFDHsDFRF96G8RffUtMXtLfdWBtwR22y1r0DPt8DiZ7UTNPBcXWc9jHllp2whtIhVXzEcS_6OHA9p_h4iXWDGsD4fq_J5RkCWhQO-jzLwEHZSVG_JL1o42Rcts5OsOcZTIj16Fe_76ndoHA=w640-h468" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Joy Woolly is wearing the lovely candy-print dress that Caitlyn Hazelnut made and gave me for Christmas a couple of years ago.</div><div><br /></div>Hope you are having as good a day as Joy is! :)GreyRabbithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14618464131079015835noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3478697748729214320.post-13361424323466397922021-10-10T00:31:00.002+08:002022-01-09T23:49:41.714+08:00Sylvanian Pride and Prejudice - Part One<p>This is something I have been wanting to do for a long time. Caitlyn and I both love Jane Austen's <i>Pride and Prejudice</i>, and the notion of casting Sylvanians in all the roles, and photographing them to illustrate the story, was just too tempting! It is destined to be a very time-consuming endeavour, what with all the costumes that will need to be made (ball gowns! regimentals!), so I do not promise to finish it quickly. I do plan to post instalments from time to time when I can, and have great hopes of eventually getting through the whole story!</p><p>Obviously, the words are not my own, although this is very much an abridged version of Austen's masterpiece. I have also made some slight additions where necessary to tie the photos in (these will be kept to a minimum though. I am hoping it mightn't be necessary again at all after this first instalment).</p><p>Without further ado, I would like to present Part One of my Sylvanian <i>Pride and Prejudice</i> - I do hope you enjoy it, and that it inspires you to seek out the original book and read it if you have not done so already!</p><p>*************************************************************************************</p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in
possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“My dear Mr Bennet,” said his lady to him one day, as the
family walked home from church, “have you heard that Netherfield Park is let at
last?”<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhwwutzEffx199XHNprDVbThLDPUoogxM8pqzZxLOfcgjsyptsBuTR6HrRUBmhWO75y_7fSaRI4C26FtJvvKAPoint1YXg19fBu-fLKvoecJwhmnEk2T8n_uU6HcFUzL9st--HP8zGpxnI1BKcw3VZyNg-QOOAae7odNDHBzHGQLqQoRIoG5bkip0Yz7w=s820" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="615" data-original-width="820" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhwwutzEffx199XHNprDVbThLDPUoogxM8pqzZxLOfcgjsyptsBuTR6HrRUBmhWO75y_7fSaRI4C26FtJvvKAPoint1YXg19fBu-fLKvoecJwhmnEk2T8n_uU6HcFUzL9st--HP8zGpxnI1BKcw3VZyNg-QOOAae7odNDHBzHGQLqQoRIoG5bkip0Yz7w=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">Mr Bennet replied that he had not.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“But it is,” returned she.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Netherfield is taken by a young man named Bingley – a single man of
large fortune, four or five thousand a year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What a fine thing for our girls!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“How so?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How can it affect
them?”<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhq9OjGWMT166IQV76p3kxiCEdMlfo1westnhlIWx3i3JpUApqazmv6-ocvYBCg345O0VIChrwTlMvmenf6tJR0WmFt80ZBBhBUPuxldzs2o5yBo9nA0KP99n8xqddlJ0mfOpTeBrYRRN0nX0i_R6SAPXgWX4-BSJl9MNFSCgsQMK4R93TE9egpmvxdhw=s825" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="601" data-original-width="825" height="466" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhq9OjGWMT166IQV76p3kxiCEdMlfo1westnhlIWx3i3JpUApqazmv6-ocvYBCg345O0VIChrwTlMvmenf6tJR0WmFt80ZBBhBUPuxldzs2o5yBo9nA0KP99n8xqddlJ0mfOpTeBrYRRN0nX0i_R6SAPXgWX4-BSJl9MNFSCgsQMK4R93TE9egpmvxdhw=w640-h466" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">“My dear Mr Bennet,” replied his wife, “how can you be so
tiresome? You must know that I am
thinking of his marrying one of them.”</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Is that his design in settling here?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Design!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nonsense,
but it is very likely that he may fall in love with one of them, and therefore you
must visit him as soon as he comes.”<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjjIs32Re7GdyhdWdnfjM0duBeIGtQGUTwNusYat6XkfzV4194W1jlB0rIElO_Os3oQQggaEJMw-xdWvO0-j-MaQRIVDsuPWpX47QazmOg6NdN3bYmn8ITSPJZ_GUe0K5lxdXHJlLrKF_Su7hqp3kIO5qACb2Xl6WJ6Fzrnx4vPUWO-RnlUTYz-_5QR0A=s774" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="601" data-original-width="774" height="496" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjjIs32Re7GdyhdWdnfjM0duBeIGtQGUTwNusYat6XkfzV4194W1jlB0rIElO_Os3oQQggaEJMw-xdWvO0-j-MaQRIVDsuPWpX47QazmOg6NdN3bYmn8ITSPJZ_GUe0K5lxdXHJlLrKF_Su7hqp3kIO5qACb2Xl6WJ6Fzrnx4vPUWO-RnlUTYz-_5QR0A=w640-h496" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">“I see no occasion for that...” Mr Bennet began.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Their eldest daughters, Jane and Elizabeth, shared a rueful
smile.<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh4jZ5hyqHxZSmEtXFnjI9FGoAFxdHr-QBxp1ByLi3dFDbb2skbn7SyfuoyqoKTBKcFBk2PrZGvrQPRkQ3FnZpCCwmfn5WAQJAU7-fAuRIqioioytk7RNQxNcLUe8VQLWkvHQDvJj1g8qwEuWpTo18W8_gwEx5CIVJfWB1tfHG0OuJSQCfcsA6lXQJ7Jw=s795" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="597" data-original-width="795" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh4jZ5hyqHxZSmEtXFnjI9FGoAFxdHr-QBxp1ByLi3dFDbb2skbn7SyfuoyqoKTBKcFBk2PrZGvrQPRkQ3FnZpCCwmfn5WAQJAU7-fAuRIqioioytk7RNQxNcLUe8VQLWkvHQDvJj1g8qwEuWpTo18W8_gwEx5CIVJfWB1tfHG0OuJSQCfcsA6lXQJ7Jw=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">Mary followed next, her mind on what she considered loftier
matters, and behind her came the two youngest Bennets, Kitty and Lydia, giggling
and chattering excitedly.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgs0Ej16vN0HfFyQEU28p9_AHwKSRO-KKZDDNm0nNxTnR3DKyTDX3whJJa-7J64-jtV6zjnT5ujk_fYVtApGQPlWgKCUX2WGXGJdl6R2VESXXLY0kLGxzix6CSzuYvRNnRwvX09DKQ2Ud49UrWtsEeN0kk51pOm0sfY4F0b7MdQGtGU-AVUSAVnO2wFww=s736" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="686" data-original-width="736" height="596" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgs0Ej16vN0HfFyQEU28p9_AHwKSRO-KKZDDNm0nNxTnR3DKyTDX3whJJa-7J64-jtV6zjnT5ujk_fYVtApGQPlWgKCUX2WGXGJdl6R2VESXXLY0kLGxzix6CSzuYvRNnRwvX09DKQ2Ud49UrWtsEeN0kk51pOm0sfY4F0b7MdQGtGU-AVUSAVnO2wFww=w640-h596" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">By this time they had arrived home, and despite Jane’s ministrations,
Mrs Bennet was in quite a state.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiUO7bAYdB2hGBOycyogRYp1tY9vHwYIQb1T4YZ2tYhfsyB3VTqvEfkQs2wYl6w0o5eLFWkDgFLzVssHWlKnGx5C_KLPWwiLwb76xjyot8VEaHSd18b1AqTRbEcmHyOesHSGT61flGVv1_d1ihZQvKTSPGatJawzrX5y6rQmgczc-19uGtptToJabYJMw=s795" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="597" data-original-width="795" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiUO7bAYdB2hGBOycyogRYp1tY9vHwYIQb1T4YZ2tYhfsyB3VTqvEfkQs2wYl6w0o5eLFWkDgFLzVssHWlKnGx5C_KLPWwiLwb76xjyot8VEaHSd18b1AqTRbEcmHyOesHSGT61flGVv1_d1ihZQvKTSPGatJawzrX5y6rQmgczc-19uGtptToJabYJMw=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><br />“But consider your daughters," said she.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> "</span>Indeed you must go, for it will be impossible
for us to visit him, if you do not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh,
you delight in vexing me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You have no
compassion on my poor nerves.”<o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“You mistake me, my dear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I have a high respect for your nerves," replied Mr Bennet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> "</span>I have heard you mention them with consideration these twenty years at
least.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I hope you will get over it,
and live to see many young men of four thousand a year come into the neighbourhood.”<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgitt3PToxoc87ObXcsDC6gqzE_1Ig5s8ZQrvNtG9d_Z0lFQ_Xai8D__jv5oKucD4mArMl4W1aorGDcptSiAR3vmFp5Nb0AAW2K3WkUp-kFCJgq1h1QyoUMQAWI7tkQOnrd7IE8IZUZpsczWlVOS3BESjAiEo4jLp-EhzRSUT0TqqZFLN764AGF3NQmtA=s838" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="601" data-original-width="838" height="458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgitt3PToxoc87ObXcsDC6gqzE_1Ig5s8ZQrvNtG9d_Z0lFQ_Xai8D__jv5oKucD4mArMl4W1aorGDcptSiAR3vmFp5Nb0AAW2K3WkUp-kFCJgq1h1QyoUMQAWI7tkQOnrd7IE8IZUZpsczWlVOS3BESjAiEo4jLp-EhzRSUT0TqqZFLN764AGF3NQmtA=w640-h458" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">“It will be no use to us, if twenty such should come since
you will not visit them.”</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Depend upon it my dear, that when there are twenty, I will
visit them all.”<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiASoW3PWG66kNW3HrkWPQkPYEj5-DN4xCVq27fdXkTWn1zYrlORA-cVcRRkkt53QyhZMvJmDmVo5gZB5D2-iVm-Gopbhzr1A4SUxkCmuQLXo4HC4HAVTFOtrhuorzExS7yoB7Bdhi_llL6f_qsaxRyjgIZkXLJzOkqiLP6vCmCV0WPCHAWJaUuPhH5-g=s803" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="599" data-original-width="803" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiASoW3PWG66kNW3HrkWPQkPYEj5-DN4xCVq27fdXkTWn1zYrlORA-cVcRRkkt53QyhZMvJmDmVo5gZB5D2-iVm-Gopbhzr1A4SUxkCmuQLXo4HC4HAVTFOtrhuorzExS7yoB7Bdhi_llL6f_qsaxRyjgIZkXLJzOkqiLP6vCmCV0WPCHAWJaUuPhH5-g=w640-h478" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">~~~ o ~~~</div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">It was a few days later, and Mr Bennet made some casual mention
of Mr Bingley, wondering whether or not the intriguing new visitor would like
some trifling thing or other.<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhq1r43PyK-7w_XxbFHJfLcOGez8iaWyMFijHGpEHFxnvwMsSk3XHY5uEQKyeFf2pY2oZqKAQ1dq7kan-NgPKrqS9UYiCwKZgqdV8b8zRzNLU7dq1_EDmiOPQtl9MhjIh50RHTZgEXkt3z-etOTH2AxcrYrKVi0tRmbrjtpQFN8X2emjsp5tSZISUKkHQ=s835" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="579" data-original-width="835" height="444" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhq1r43PyK-7w_XxbFHJfLcOGez8iaWyMFijHGpEHFxnvwMsSk3XHY5uEQKyeFf2pY2oZqKAQ1dq7kan-NgPKrqS9UYiCwKZgqdV8b8zRzNLU7dq1_EDmiOPQtl9MhjIh50RHTZgEXkt3z-etOTH2AxcrYrKVi0tRmbrjtpQFN8X2emjsp5tSZISUKkHQ=w640-h444" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">“We are not in a way to know <i>what</i> Mr Bingley likes,” said
his wife resentfully, “since we are not to visit.” Unable to contain herself, she began scolding
one of her daughters.</p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">“Don’t keep coughing so, Kitty, for heaven’s sake! Have a little compassion on my nerves."<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh7jXHxauXL7N2TelxOa3C2m-HpdnFCO7He5vH2lAsgsXvwdKaEwFkX91FdV3-1nMsebAiW8S0YlMufdBfeBbD_ROStEVRkvoVDRrwk15tMX_1Kf9oCqhfTbNC0Aui_lIdGSU6gpxVhACL7luGLeiOcnGGT8VCmU1euJH5YZVh2wD8xbl6-MiKeTQsaaQ=s807" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="586" data-original-width="807" height="464" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh7jXHxauXL7N2TelxOa3C2m-HpdnFCO7He5vH2lAsgsXvwdKaEwFkX91FdV3-1nMsebAiW8S0YlMufdBfeBbD_ROStEVRkvoVDRrwk15tMX_1Kf9oCqhfTbNC0Aui_lIdGSU6gpxVhACL7luGLeiOcnGGT8VCmU1euJH5YZVh2wD8xbl6-MiKeTQsaaQ=w640-h464" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">“I do not cough for my own amusement,” replied Kitty
fretfully.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiLEpUjq51PcCBg4HVY23YF03mMWigEeTd2I0-0aoXOoAQMMW7vymDA97pn9seDYbuP_l0YS1uvvuZtIPsvcbtNLHQACqrWNPFcG8k_QTndKZCLqJ0zaFDlRYXFdVHYIjUMGF8yPiga2jhPUmaCH9vjT5zSb_uyRJZCmofgiTv5CPgKPXna5lfQZfy-KQ=s644" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="603" data-original-width="644" height="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiLEpUjq51PcCBg4HVY23YF03mMWigEeTd2I0-0aoXOoAQMMW7vymDA97pn9seDYbuP_l0YS1uvvuZtIPsvcbtNLHQACqrWNPFcG8k_QTndKZCLqJ0zaFDlRYXFdVHYIjUMGF8yPiga2jhPUmaCH9vjT5zSb_uyRJZCmofgiTv5CPgKPXna5lfQZfy-KQ=w640-h600" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">“Let us return to Mr Bingley,” Mr Bennet said.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">“I am sick of Mr Bingley,” cried his wife.<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi14UBe8GgCnwN9rCILwJKbiuAA51MGpI7OBdyh0Y65H5Mc3ELd3wCEO3OL7RD6ceMwhaec4rRb2sv1y5oRKG1J0eEZ3JC1VWbQa68lVPTsG9FxeiyPndMFIq8pYXMXlHFqAHgRc_mR3RO3bueq6afjwcehxo8Ww27twSaR5GRtuMyk7E2C6GSKLf9VVQ=s838" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="582" data-original-width="838" height="444" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi14UBe8GgCnwN9rCILwJKbiuAA51MGpI7OBdyh0Y65H5Mc3ELd3wCEO3OL7RD6ceMwhaec4rRb2sv1y5oRKG1J0eEZ3JC1VWbQa68lVPTsG9FxeiyPndMFIq8pYXMXlHFqAHgRc_mR3RO3bueq6afjwcehxo8Ww27twSaR5GRtuMyk7E2C6GSKLf9VVQ=w640-h444" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">“I am sorry to hear that, but why did not you tell me so
before? </p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgnEom4sJcJNGb0zQ2NM0qVOmxavA4ko0QpJSY3QBR0MJCShwZktfrE_ryUiGK6nHQfDiJNI8GBS-AEihjYuWAwClBEYH21_nVxQGIiovDEq_DvwUF6QjYmuIhASbX88ZpVSN81TNFh1cgG7HetwgDE-HNGOt-1LEzBgxTY8WWpD3AFX3Tcnp0S7Kzckw=s742" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="618" data-original-width="742" height="534" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgnEom4sJcJNGb0zQ2NM0qVOmxavA4ko0QpJSY3QBR0MJCShwZktfrE_ryUiGK6nHQfDiJNI8GBS-AEihjYuWAwClBEYH21_nVxQGIiovDEq_DvwUF6QjYmuIhASbX88ZpVSN81TNFh1cgG7HetwgDE-HNGOt-1LEzBgxTY8WWpD3AFX3Tcnp0S7Kzckw=w640-h534" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">If I had known as much this
morning, I certainly would not have called on him. It is very unlucky, but as I have actually
paid the visit, we cannot escape the acquaintance now.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">The astonishment of the ladies was just what he wished, that
of Mrs Bennet perhaps surpassing the rest.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEizTGJjgRm2dTZ8ktovwQe_Iw_hmTGuMjXt1eB-hLKdp2tASimMWN5hAEaWSbcB38AVxz6QnxXC1__u0Zq5mWtRZIYASatP6lF6vk35kF0qUHBVeLbYcWKJLFUdLJ2_3M8pojVpHIifF1J8rByDmywncNaJ6ddMrXnQV1LT6js_b4Fu1BaNS8kh8FzUXA=s832" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="592" data-original-width="832" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEizTGJjgRm2dTZ8ktovwQe_Iw_hmTGuMjXt1eB-hLKdp2tASimMWN5hAEaWSbcB38AVxz6QnxXC1__u0Zq5mWtRZIYASatP6lF6vk35kF0qUHBVeLbYcWKJLFUdLJ2_3M8pojVpHIifF1J8rByDmywncNaJ6ddMrXnQV1LT6js_b4Fu1BaNS8kh8FzUXA=w640-h456" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">“How good it was in you, my dear Mr Bennet! I was sure you loved your girls too well to neglect such an acquaintance. Well, how pleased I am! And it is such a good joke, too, that you
should have gone this morning, and never said a word about it till now.”</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">“Now, Kitty, you may cough as much as you chuse,” said Mr
Bennet, and left the room, fatigued with the raptures of his wife.<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiKVceNk80D3tkZssJPAEkHTTKJFVQbtT36yS7Z8_NnJk2pvKMk8MgHPbNpcz0Vqk_E-4B8vq7xiha3UibqtFSFPOmgwnmIfxx49SF46oUDCMCWcS1hj9HurtmJF0zvhlATf09y9ythEnSWjZp0lGFqsOcwCP3jyghF_BjIT6lFkPGue45QXOzTAszjNw=s804" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="615" data-original-width="804" height="490" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiKVceNk80D3tkZssJPAEkHTTKJFVQbtT36yS7Z8_NnJk2pvKMk8MgHPbNpcz0Vqk_E-4B8vq7xiha3UibqtFSFPOmgwnmIfxx49SF46oUDCMCWcS1hj9HurtmJF0zvhlATf09y9ythEnSWjZp0lGFqsOcwCP3jyghF_BjIT6lFkPGue45QXOzTAszjNw=w640-h490" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">“What an excellent father you have, girls,” said she. “Lydia, my love, though you <i>are</i> the
youngest, I dare say Mr Bingley will dance with you at the next ball.”</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgnJcChfaHShjZF2MOdd5IXIKXaOAKEKRJgw0zwv-8_QcOcyX9Y-64Gi4oJHGj2oKyS6DGcoo6BvnrwTkJn1s44czr3W0v7JwZ-cXrRpybzEEdxkoeod3Hi4qYBwtBbxHqeHkgXr7tr0xI19YRqLCIoN7KGZl8Cbr8BLYCDaSgkRyWX7nans0DE2hBL8g=s795" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="597" data-original-width="795" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgnJcChfaHShjZF2MOdd5IXIKXaOAKEKRJgw0zwv-8_QcOcyX9Y-64Gi4oJHGj2oKyS6DGcoo6BvnrwTkJn1s44czr3W0v7JwZ-cXrRpybzEEdxkoeod3Hi4qYBwtBbxHqeHkgXr7tr0xI19YRqLCIoN7KGZl8Cbr8BLYCDaSgkRyWX7nans0DE2hBL8g=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt;">“Oh!” said Lydia stoutly, “I am not afraid, for
though I </span><i style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">am</i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt;"> the youngest, I’m the tallest.”</span></p><div style="text-align: center;">~~~ o ~~~</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Ready for more Pride and Prejudice? <a href="https://sylvaniansunshine.blogspot.com/2022/01/sylvanian-pride-and-prejudice-part-two.html">Click here for Part Two...</a></i></div>GreyRabbithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14618464131079015835noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3478697748729214320.post-29396010955469674642021-10-03T16:32:00.004+08:002021-10-04T00:28:11.529+08:00Giant Pumpkin!<p>This is a bit of a flashback to Autumn in Macadamia Grove - the village put on a small harvest festival, showcasing fresh produce and other locally-grown items. It was mostly arranged by the Grunt family, as most of the fruit and vegetables produced in Macadamia Grove are from their farm, but there were also a few stalls featuring handicrafts, baked goods, etc by other residents of the village.</p><p>Mr Grunt was extremely proud to unveil his prize butternut pumpkin! </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuyr8B7W3SLwiwd63nyNut4ApsA_I7AkRULbfhvtk2rKmkBm3d-UjuY2YGv0nxpBtC0-9zUZfXTnAyGSLy5YfZQcA-SPJulJApSLhG8QLm0oqk3_RNYRrNMpVLbO9frvbCtj7NctaOCKyM/s871/Guess+Weight+of+Pumpkin.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="615" data-original-width="871" height="452" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuyr8B7W3SLwiwd63nyNut4ApsA_I7AkRULbfhvtk2rKmkBm3d-UjuY2YGv0nxpBtC0-9zUZfXTnAyGSLy5YfZQcA-SPJulJApSLhG8QLm0oqk3_RNYRrNMpVLbO9frvbCtj7NctaOCKyM/w640-h452/Guess+Weight+of+Pumpkin.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p>This giant was grown especially for the festival, and Mr Grunt lavished a great deal of attention on it as it grew. The local children could not believe their eyes at the size of it, and were eager to write down their guesses in the hopes of winning a prize! </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl_IAfUs7_zN50BwGFJvDE0C6VXilRybBR8IfEhf7dniguG8b38imssSik3JOqhpSLPXBNMdFx1DuGVaxhhDk2NWf10EykmBA73xFyZL9a6giw3ucxtUXkbJlSdZO0ywK-dumJnBH8G-83/s822/Guess+Weight+of+Pumpkin+2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="577" data-original-width="822" height="450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl_IAfUs7_zN50BwGFJvDE0C6VXilRybBR8IfEhf7dniguG8b38imssSik3JOqhpSLPXBNMdFx1DuGVaxhhDk2NWf10EykmBA73xFyZL9a6giw3ucxtUXkbJlSdZO0ywK-dumJnBH8G-83/w640-h450/Guess+Weight+of+Pumpkin+2.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p>The pumpkin was even featured in a newspaper article, advertising the festival. Mr Applewood, the Macadamia Times photographer, had stopped by the day before. He took a photo when Mr Grunt had just set things up.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixHWRQtay1XkkTg3qlJhpxPJ8x-ib99auxKdHJ8sff1ayfiX-pXQ6se_D38CVSscJg5ap9Y0LesaKUay0bI3DZaa7hSOp39-q6uCF3dqBV05bUHoqq3BCz-CaEB85vaGffkOFNYS_3KM8y/s907/Guess+Weight+of+Pumpkin+3.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="650" data-original-width="907" height="458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixHWRQtay1XkkTg3qlJhpxPJ8x-ib99auxKdHJ8sff1ayfiX-pXQ6se_D38CVSscJg5ap9Y0LesaKUay0bI3DZaa7hSOp39-q6uCF3dqBV05bUHoqq3BCz-CaEB85vaGffkOFNYS_3KM8y/w640-h458/Guess+Weight+of+Pumpkin+3.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p>A good time was had by all at the little festival, and the Grunt children felt very important having their dad pictured on the front page of the local newspaper!</p><p>****************************************************************************</p><p>I couldn't resist taking this picture back in Autumn. My aunty grows pumpkins in her back yard, and had asked me if I wanted one. I said yes, so as a joke she presented me with this tiny butternut she had grown - yes, it is a real pumpkin! It was so cute, I just knew I had to incorporate it in a Sylvanian picture. So the photo was taken around the end of May, but I decided to hold onto it for a while, as I figured there would be a pumpkin-related craft challenge on the Sylvanian Families forum at around this time of year. Well, it isn't a pumpkin-related theme exactly, but it is an "Autumn Colours" theme. I know people will probably expect a lot more orange and red, but honestly where I live, the colours in Autumn aren't much different from the colours at any other time of year (most of our trees are not deciduous). So I have decided my pumpkin photo qualifies!</p>GreyRabbithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14618464131079015835noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3478697748729214320.post-13423097074793528262021-08-27T23:30:00.002+08:002021-08-27T23:30:30.922+08:00A Rose By Any Other Name...<p>Jane Appleblossom sat down at the table with a relieved sigh. It had been a long train journey to Macadamia Grove, and she was pleased to have had no trouble finding the house. Of course, it helped that the Walnuts’ home was above the Supermarket, and Mrs Katerica Walnut had been very kind and welcoming. Katerica had been a friend of Jane’s aunt at school, and when she heard that Jane had taken it into her head to do a bit of travelling in the countryside, she had insisted that the younger woman stay with her at her family’s home.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">When Jane arrived, it was a busy time. Mr Walnut was getting ready to go and open the shop downstairs, and there seemed to be children everywhere!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">“Would you like some walnut slice before you go?” Katerica asked her husband. He looked interested, and approached the table.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">“Mrs Babblebrook brought it over,” warned Saffron, with a pointed look at her father. He hesitated.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">“Isabella? Or… er… the <i>elder</i> Mrs Babblebrook?” he asked.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">“The <i>elder</i> Mrs Babblebrook,” Saffron grinned.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">“Ah… well… perhaps I won’t,” Cedric mumbled. “Probably should be getting downstairs anyway…” Suddenly he seemed to be in a hurry; his voice trailed off as his bushy tail disappeared down the stairs.<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKmVqscCwEeUHSULiTqT0DF3ktBByng-1uqoQp4tgJ9QKskRpHc2cMTGnZ5NXq5C69dRcYC-4ubzVEWVXdcYkv59HtE1SMK0gA2Zh6jnw2km7u3BTuYMcomMLVHhlTZrQqBAerIE3DwVAL/s801/Pearl%2527sCooking1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="630" data-original-width="801" height="504" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKmVqscCwEeUHSULiTqT0DF3ktBByng-1uqoQp4tgJ9QKskRpHc2cMTGnZ5NXq5C69dRcYC-4ubzVEWVXdcYkv59HtE1SMK0gA2Zh6jnw2km7u3BTuYMcomMLVHhlTZrQqBAerIE3DwVAL/w640-h504/Pearl%2527sCooking1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal">“I’m off too, Mum,” said Saffon. “I’m meeting Honey at the donut shop, remember?” And with a last distrustful look at the walnut slice, she also departed.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Jane was surprised at this reaction from Cedric and Saffron, until she suddenly made the connection – Mrs Babblebrook – “the <i>elder</i> Mrs Babblebrook”… Why, surely they must mean Pearl Babblebrook! Of course Jane had heard the stories. She had even seen a photograph of Pearl Babblebrook, proudly holding aloft a cake she had baked for the christening of Jane’s second cousin. The story went that half the party had had food poisoning for a week, although Jane suspected that that story had gained strength and embellishments over the years. At any rate, the general consensus was that anything baked by Pearl was guaranteed to be dreadful, and that Pearl herself remained completely oblivious to the fact. No wonder Cedric and Saffron had left in a hurry! But Jane had never actually met Pearl herself – and she certainly had had no idea that Pearl lived in Macadamia Grove! What a small world it was, she mused.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">She was startled from her thoughts by the Walnuts’ son Twig, who announced, “I’ll have some.”<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidsKuyAI9_Mq6x3zNc2SzSKeH1jdZpM4hhR5b36h4AOh6fL5Lruifpc4O6-F_WXAaT35wu3SETRRwSLnfSYSrs_qgXJgdl8j0sXnBpScA3Ce4Lz7DvBZo0lBDylGK8RJ8850_iRsHxYzaK/s812/Pearl%2527sCooking2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="812" height="472" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidsKuyAI9_Mq6x3zNc2SzSKeH1jdZpM4hhR5b36h4AOh6fL5Lruifpc4O6-F_WXAaT35wu3SETRRwSLnfSYSrs_qgXJgdl8j0sXnBpScA3Ce4Lz7DvBZo0lBDylGK8RJ8850_iRsHxYzaK/w640-h472/Pearl%2527sCooking2.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal">Sure enough, he took a large piece of slice and began to eat it, quite unconcerned.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">“Jane?” Katerica offered, her knife hovering over the slice.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">“Oh… no thank you,” Jane faltered. “I – I ate something on the train!”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">“And I expect you’d like to freshen up after your journey, of course – silly me!” exclaimed Katerica. “Your room is just through there.”<o:p></o:p></p><div style="border-bottom: 3pt dotted windowtext; border-image: initial; border-left: none; border-right: none; border-top: none; padding: 0cm 0cm 1pt;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; padding: 0cm;">As Jane gratefully left the room, she couldn’t help noticing Twig still munching absently on the walnut slice, his attention mostly taken up by his comic book. Oh well, she thought. I suppose it’s true what my mother used to say – teenage boys really will eat anything!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; padding: 0cm;">***********************************************************************************</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; padding: 0cm;">Later that day, Katerica took Jane to an afternoon tea party to meet some of the local ladies.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; padding: 0cm;">“It’s just a small gathering of friends,” she said. “We like to get together when we can to have a cup of tea and a gossip. You’ll be very welcome – we love meeting new people!”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; padding: 0cm;">As luck would have it, on this occasion tea was to be held at the Babblebrooks’ cottage. Jane found herself feeling very interested to meet this infamous Sylvanian!<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ7rOsIFAz2nhaO2oOflnSbImSo8DZj44YsSBZCk4S5LBaqeGV09T3D0DSrT6hEa8puavWo7AGwjyrL0UG1z_Ztp82S0B1BAe4ouRmE11Y2_zktXziyFSep3qqO5JoEVkuHD7VitQSIPyH/s812/Pearl%2527sCooking3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="599" data-original-width="812" height="472" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ7rOsIFAz2nhaO2oOflnSbImSo8DZj44YsSBZCk4S5LBaqeGV09T3D0DSrT6hEa8puavWo7AGwjyrL0UG1z_Ztp82S0B1BAe4ouRmE11Y2_zktXziyFSep3qqO5JoEVkuHD7VitQSIPyH/w640-h472/Pearl%2527sCooking3.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; padding: 0cm;">They were greeted warmly, and as Katerica had assured her, Jane was made to feel very welcome. The ladies chatted happily, and cups of tea were served. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh1NiaWKnn10jSCl4h7riQTLtli1sUuRjJlIhuiAMzhxQBO9RtP8SuacIxl97fx6yqNOQms0ef4qGlvNWZS-nNNYXaZgU_pOpGPFD6wIOseKp-NBZKPwD8Ss_c5au01PmPdBlR3YE0vyYr/s812/Pearl%2527sCooking4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="593" data-original-width="812" height="468" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh1NiaWKnn10jSCl4h7riQTLtli1sUuRjJlIhuiAMzhxQBO9RtP8SuacIxl97fx6yqNOQms0ef4qGlvNWZS-nNNYXaZgU_pOpGPFD6wIOseKp-NBZKPwD8Ss_c5au01PmPdBlR3YE0vyYr/w640-h468/Pearl%2527sCooking4.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; padding: 0cm;">Jane was just in the middle of a interesting conversation with Mrs Ariane Woolly, when suddenly a plate of cupcakes appeared in front of her. It was being offered by a beaming Mrs Babblebrook.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; padding: 0cm;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; padding: 0cm;">“Would you like one, dear? They’re orange!” she said sweetly. <o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgahuGTxKJKBM-bPeI8fAQxFWzy6dzx3lGo74bMJg1bBgytZExdyVORTBUNM6iKs3443FoYr9PLTO7zS3P8mG4qYxgcwN6DetKtuKw_vK7DK0rZDnZoyW4zgi-SwfKhPSTkc4eTMKFg5Kbx/s811/Pearl%2527sCooking5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="608" data-original-width="811" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgahuGTxKJKBM-bPeI8fAQxFWzy6dzx3lGo74bMJg1bBgytZExdyVORTBUNM6iKs3443FoYr9PLTO7zS3P8mG4qYxgcwN6DetKtuKw_vK7DK0rZDnZoyW4zgi-SwfKhPSTkc4eTMKFg5Kbx/w640-h480/Pearl%2527sCooking5.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; padding: 0cm;">“I’m fine, thank you,” Jane replied politely.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; padding: 0cm;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; padding: 0cm;">“Oh, please help yourself!” Mrs Babblebrook urged. “As our newest guest, I thought you should do the honours!” she added.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; padding: 0cm;">Jane didn’t know what to say.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; padding: 0cm;">“Oh… er… in that case… thank you,” she murmured, and gingerly took a cupcake. To her horror, Mrs Babblebrook didn’t go away, but instead remained eagerly waiting for her to take a bite.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; padding: 0cm;">“Do try it!” she urged. “I’d be interested to know what you think – I’ve tried something different this time!”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; padding: 0cm;">“Have you?” Jane managed. “Well. How… er... clever of you.” Still she hesitated, staring down at the cupcake. It <i>looked</i> like a cupcake. It was certainly orange.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; padding: 0cm;">By this time, Jane realised she had gathered a bit of an audience. Several of the ladies were looking curiously at her. Finally her good manners couldn’t take it any longer. She closed her eyes, and took a tiny nibble at the cake…</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOZM8MXXTymA__zcaQkmGmKadjlLyp2cWZ9LumKWHs1ztN4yjGgXG5a5Z9mRWRjszoQQqp9mRCKShyphenhyphen0Z2CdLsg1uNe6oZ4qOycpu5t8gMpcrEQTVIwoFtO_J4Znpj6b_lsJ5tX1gurPzUB/s804/Pearl%2527sCooking6.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="603" data-original-width="804" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOZM8MXXTymA__zcaQkmGmKadjlLyp2cWZ9LumKWHs1ztN4yjGgXG5a5Z9mRWRjszoQQqp9mRCKShyphenhyphen0Z2CdLsg1uNe6oZ4qOycpu5t8gMpcrEQTVIwoFtO_J4Znpj6b_lsJ5tX1gurPzUB/w640-h480/Pearl%2527sCooking6.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; padding: 0cm;">… and opened her eyes, startled.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; padding: 0cm;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; padding: 0cm;">“But – but Pearl, this is delicious!” she exclaimed. She took a bigger bite. It was in fact one of the nicest cakes she had ever eaten! What on earth was all the fuss about, she wondered.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; padding: 0cm;">Then she realised several of the ladies were staring at her – Katerica and the two Mrs Babblebrooks in particular. Oh dear, she thought, blushing – did I say “but” out loud?<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; padding: 0cm;">“Er… Jane dear, did you call her… Pearl?” Katerica asked quietly. Oh dear, thought Jane – and now I’ve called an older lady by her first name when it’s not how she was introduced to me. Perhaps now they will think I am terribly rude… <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; padding: 0cm;">The younger Mrs Babblebrook’s mouth twitched.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; padding: 0cm;">And suddenly the elder Mrs Babblebrook went into peals of laughter. <o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEVQ7qkmG2PFHWyzpzKVaC71E8gQ82XtXcOpuut7x42vZch1dkxvomUDhTAgsbStOsNIihow6zrEmfV0-9xeYr3Aq3onpIhac3EnSt_zJFxxi8rrRIQENqVYNvbKKs0_y0BAE49jjx6uwl/s804/Pearl%2527sCooking7.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="603" data-original-width="804" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEVQ7qkmG2PFHWyzpzKVaC71E8gQ82XtXcOpuut7x42vZch1dkxvomUDhTAgsbStOsNIihow6zrEmfV0-9xeYr3Aq3onpIhac3EnSt_zJFxxi8rrRIQENqVYNvbKKs0_y0BAE49jjx6uwl/w640-h480/Pearl%2527sCooking7.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; padding: 0cm;">“<i>Pearl?</i>” she cried. “Oh goodness child, no wonder you didn’t want to eat one!” Wiping tears from her eye, she patted Jane’s paw reassuringly.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; padding: 0cm;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; padding: 0cm;">“My name is Rose, dear,” she said kindly. “Pearl Babblebrook is a relative of mine. Quite a distant relative actually, although we do look an awful lot alike.”</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; padding: 0cm;">Jane was very embarrassed, but the rest of the ladies seemed to think it a great joke – Rose most of all. When quizzed about her family’s reaction to the walnut slice, Katerica explained that Rose was known for putting a lot of cinnamon into her walnut slice. Whilst this was delicious for many critters, cinnamon was a flavour that Cedric and Saffron simply could not abide. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; padding: 0cm;">“Oh dear,” said Jane. “I have been awfully silly.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; padding: 0cm;">“Nonsense child,” said Rose stoutly, handing her another cup of tea. “It was very understandable you would mistake me for Pearl. And for what it’s worth dear, I wouldn’t eat anything she’d cooked, either!”</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcmETEHCZaHReV2LL7FPgroVWKc3ffJ9y6U8u_n2hJ9z1kBxQixVxosoJNbPXmd3QVybq17ghpQd9tsd15DQ6RS_ndkh19FgBHTrjP0DzgjfwOaWS9uyEkehUQFkNbURvxwJD8pM5mANOY/s766/Pearl%2527sCooking8.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="677" data-original-width="766" height="566" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcmETEHCZaHReV2LL7FPgroVWKc3ffJ9y6U8u_n2hJ9z1kBxQixVxosoJNbPXmd3QVybq17ghpQd9tsd15DQ6RS_ndkh19FgBHTrjP0DzgjfwOaWS9uyEkehUQFkNbURvxwJD8pM5mANOY/w640-h566/Pearl%2527sCooking8.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; padding: 0cm;"><br /></p></div>GreyRabbithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14618464131079015835noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3478697748729214320.post-67196137096102701002021-05-21T14:41:00.001+08:002021-05-21T14:41:19.358+08:00Elementary, my deer...<p>One of the recent Creative Challenge prompts on the Sylvanian Families Forum was "Sylvanian Eras - Victorian". Well, we couldn't pass that up, could we?</p><p>We thought it would be fun to recreate a Victorian-era literary character in Sylvanian form - but which one?? It was Caitlyn Hazelnut who thought of Sherlock Holmes, and with that, the game was afoot...</p><p>After much examination of all our Sylvanians, Mr Buckley was chosen as the best fit for this character, which Husband found intensely amusing, given the name of the famous detective's iconic hat...</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin1wFoBp2tOvH6gQlpk3lSMPhyIZMN-PZq50S21CdUNkz_x1L4f3mjWtBccwDjS-e0swyiX7lEjInN9GgrGxoTY29unAdd6z_CcOx0lYbjL4tD_8aAakqFHh6tIfrnWaxDe4O6nr-0yHnx/s815/SF+Sherlock+Holmes.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="613" data-original-width="815" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin1wFoBp2tOvH6gQlpk3lSMPhyIZMN-PZq50S21CdUNkz_x1L4f3mjWtBccwDjS-e0swyiX7lEjInN9GgrGxoTY29unAdd6z_CcOx0lYbjL4tD_8aAakqFHh6tIfrnWaxDe4O6nr-0yHnx/w640-h482/SF+Sherlock+Holmes.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p>I made Sherlock's pants, waistcoat, Inverness travelling cloak, and deerstalker hat (the white shirt is Mr Buckley's own), as well as the magnifying glass. The rest of the accessories were already owned by various Sylvanians, and just had to be borrowed for use here.</p><p>Also thank you to my Dad and his wife, who gave me the beautiful edition of The Complete Sherlock Holmes that our Sylvanian Sherlock is standing on! I couldn't have wished for a better setting for this photo (and incidentally it's rather a good read, too...) :)</p>GreyRabbithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14618464131079015835noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3478697748729214320.post-13334537148455765302021-04-14T19:08:00.009+08:002021-04-14T19:13:33.820+08:00The Grunt Family's Fruit Stand<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_9gErYqVcSpazyqWyscfnm8tmWEllOmK9eKjlT5lz3pawFu4BX9h-6zzdn16nlRAO0jJVJD8M9wX9lDTDifiCrN8Wv01eQsc8zg2fxH0pDWZZbwu6sKcfAo8LurvEO8sxam0iwtIGdM31/s862/Grunt+Family+Pigs.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="558" data-original-width="862" height="414" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_9gErYqVcSpazyqWyscfnm8tmWEllOmK9eKjlT5lz3pawFu4BX9h-6zzdn16nlRAO0jJVJD8M9wX9lDTDifiCrN8Wv01eQsc8zg2fxH0pDWZZbwu6sKcfAo8LurvEO8sxam0iwtIGdM31/w640-h414/Grunt+Family+Pigs.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p>The Grunt family owns and operates a large farm on the edge of Macadamia Grove. Their main crops are apples, corn and macadamia nuts, however Mrs Grunt and her daughter Olivia are interested in growing other fruits as well. The farm's produce can be found for sale in the local Supermarket, and other local restaurants and food businesses also use their produce. </p><p>Inevitably though, there is always some beautiful fresh produce left over, and it was Olivia's idea that it would be a good idea to run a fruit stand outside their house on the weekends. Her father agreed to build it, but decided a wagon would be a better design, so that it could be moved around easily if they ever wanted to sell at a local fair or similar.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiHoKxLsl76jlHfOdXVHxpKrT2yc724v6p8LdrZ6O1VRtJ32w0MmSRTCXCsdukvXFjPfPfizIpEZdKLMbpoxY66xk5I0zFTwPxCzev-i9PIQC6EDkLrI_C7P2eq-4SsXOShgNYntk5l0SS/s804/P1080600.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="603" data-original-width="804" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiHoKxLsl76jlHfOdXVHxpKrT2yc724v6p8LdrZ6O1VRtJ32w0MmSRTCXCsdukvXFjPfPfizIpEZdKLMbpoxY66xk5I0zFTwPxCzev-i9PIQC6EDkLrI_C7P2eq-4SsXOShgNYntk5l0SS/w640-h480/P1080600.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p>Last weekend, the Fruit Wagon opened for business. Olivia was very excited. She hoped to be in charge of this little weekend business eventually, but her father felt he should be in charge this first time. </p><p>"When you have learned enough to be in charge, you and Hugh can run the stand yourselves, and keep the profits from it," he said. "But first you will need to learn the ropes. You will have to learn to weigh the fruit, work out the prices, and deal carefully with the money. But most importantly, you will need to learn to look after your customers."</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmA4_if55So7xQItK7SgybNPWpQewwB4CHIfURSlW0Hfq68vw-jRWrxjiLARwhNBybGlQ6RZ-iL0ify3EUjsGSuJi7L-wTi8_EdFUYRzYIu2nyQ7_i8TOaObprM_SSBvoXUtygoD_vkgL8/s799/P1080601.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="572" data-original-width="799" height="458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmA4_if55So7xQItK7SgybNPWpQewwB4CHIfURSlW0Hfq68vw-jRWrxjiLARwhNBybGlQ6RZ-iL0ify3EUjsGSuJi7L-wTi8_EdFUYRzYIu2nyQ7_i8TOaObprM_SSBvoXUtygoD_vkgL8/w640-h458/P1080601.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p>Hugh was also quite interested in the fruit stand idea (mostly as he liked the idea of having more pocket money), and he cheerfully did his part to help set up. He had always been less enthusiastic about farm work than his sister though, and Olivia noticed he had brought a book outside with him. She wondered how much help he would be in the long term. She had to admit that he had done a lovely job of the sign, although she did wonder why he had drawn bananas. </p><p>"We don't grow bananas," she pointed out.</p><p>"Yes, but I am good at drawing bananas," Hugh answered. "Anyway, does it matter?"</p><p>"I suppose not." Olivia rolled her eyes and gave up. The sign <i>did </i>look nice.</p><p>They had just finished getting everything in place, when Olivia spotted some potential customers. Elinor Fletcher was out for a walk with her daughter Merida and the little twins. Olivia waved. Mrs Fletcher looked interested and trotted over.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsfcQddBc_g0piyrEsXVnPIZqWulF9Q4FEvzpGE5VJ2WTsGEgb311pkpt0E5eUHvVVxSXwYeXITim-KoM2bJKEaBOXKXBS6qAxB_kv8XBCIlL7NP5zPCEkozGpo-e4o-fzU4j8ZB7eNrL9/s894/P1080595.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="605" data-original-width="894" height="434" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsfcQddBc_g0piyrEsXVnPIZqWulF9Q4FEvzpGE5VJ2WTsGEgb311pkpt0E5eUHvVVxSXwYeXITim-KoM2bJKEaBOXKXBS6qAxB_kv8XBCIlL7NP5zPCEkozGpo-e4o-fzU4j8ZB7eNrL9/w640-h434/P1080595.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Soon Corrie Dale arrived too, and had questions about about some pears.<br /><div>"Are they very sweet?" she wondered.</div><div>"Oh yes Mrs Dale, and they are perfectly ripe. Just picked this morning," Olivia replied. </div><div>"Well, I shall have some then," smiled Corrie, hoping the pears might satisfy her daughter's sweet tooth.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiuxYF6vOVRCsl8qgl-xdwUyrUw7At69F8-L-tPqMXJp9JViUEheJsC7mpwrhPu5t9KQtpMxTpKOoHQ2lPdyg0AwYJtp9Oewq8jCZZYF2PZsE3P0zY1tqBjqo0UQTBsgbctN3EAcsVqU2d/s899/P1080618A.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="632" data-original-width="899" height="450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiuxYF6vOVRCsl8qgl-xdwUyrUw7At69F8-L-tPqMXJp9JViUEheJsC7mpwrhPu5t9KQtpMxTpKOoHQ2lPdyg0AwYJtp9Oewq8jCZZYF2PZsE3P0zY1tqBjqo0UQTBsgbctN3EAcsVqU2d/w640-h450/P1080618A.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /></div><div>Meanwhile, Mr Grunt was explaining about corn to Mrs Fletcher.</div><div>"You must eat it while it is very fresh," he said. "Then it is the tastiest vegetable you could wish for."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1ogOtxEQy4C4_kpzjItBMlkXuInBGgoYxT4AMp2ZXJBcfmHpXFVdyWI5y4G7wqiJvlJtTFuPl5JqGreos-EU_Boa1ROg0c2pCWy4MYNNn0fNmqyAC3WvVx3rLhhaBeS5CNG3HmbqeihDN/s820/P1080632.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="615" data-original-width="820" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1ogOtxEQy4C4_kpzjItBMlkXuInBGgoYxT4AMp2ZXJBcfmHpXFVdyWI5y4G7wqiJvlJtTFuPl5JqGreos-EU_Boa1ROg0c2pCWy4MYNNn0fNmqyAC3WvVx3rLhhaBeS5CNG3HmbqeihDN/w640-h480/P1080632.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div>Merida Fletcher wasn't particularly interested in corn, and had instead concentrated on choosing herself a snack.</div><div>"Mum, can I have an orange please?"</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTahQhyYPS5M6aiSzKcaT1O1P-czqHtefMbDLQwNJBSXWXrI4U7ut89fQkea8HjQEAJZ-zrK3h5UEkcCoiNDBBexzmGUsnMKuorqIOfHJSq_ofnxFDzHa1gG_ss2ORXd4Tk-7gPt3ZKmf2/s858/P1080627.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="615" data-original-width="858" height="458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTahQhyYPS5M6aiSzKcaT1O1P-czqHtefMbDLQwNJBSXWXrI4U7ut89fQkea8HjQEAJZ-zrK3h5UEkcCoiNDBBexzmGUsnMKuorqIOfHJSq_ofnxFDzHa1gG_ss2ORXd4Tk-7gPt3ZKmf2/w640-h458/P1080627.JPG" width="640" /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div>All in all, it was a successful day. The Grunts had many customers on their very first day, and Olivia just knew it was going to be a success. Suddenly, she wondered where her brother had got to...</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDdlqj0RgYkcpNshI1pmNuXz6EDuFKnqhIhJq7Q9zFCQASXz1sd8rigtoTAjUnSjABZSSy56fFhUkWVLMjJXKTnAhZSD0tc7F3Yhi30eBVX8BWb9yUstoBlBjF7C660xUBa-mEuo8NoijM/s813/P1080633.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="813" data-original-width="600" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDdlqj0RgYkcpNshI1pmNuXz6EDuFKnqhIhJq7Q9zFCQASXz1sd8rigtoTAjUnSjABZSSy56fFhUkWVLMjJXKTnAhZSD0tc7F3Yhi30eBVX8BWb9yUstoBlBjF7C660xUBa-mEuo8NoijM/w472-h640/P1080633.JPG" width="472" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>It appears the lure of his favourite book had proved too much for Hugh, and during a quiet spell he had snuck off to have a bit of a read...</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Olivia hoped he would be more help in future. Otherwise, she thought, they might have to rethink how the profits were shared out...</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>GreyRabbithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14618464131079015835noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3478697748729214320.post-43382095525477064222021-04-04T17:58:00.003+08:002021-04-06T21:04:19.569+08:00Happy Hoppy Easter!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL-AJuzPgCz9PiMoiGDSRkxhnr3KhnE-Z2OMMrJY32xi-DGT77OfIZ_jh8ar0vEnbwOAjBC71TXqXjicz2lLyopac79YBldGgJePIixb_hFo6nOoltYxtlDzxufTstnieyY-tXHFyVzTbI/s891/Easter+Bunnies+Periwinkle.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="590" data-original-width="891" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL-AJuzPgCz9PiMoiGDSRkxhnr3KhnE-Z2OMMrJY32xi-DGT77OfIZ_jh8ar0vEnbwOAjBC71TXqXjicz2lLyopac79YBldGgJePIixb_hFo6nOoltYxtlDzxufTstnieyY-tXHFyVzTbI/w640-h424/Easter+Bunnies+Periwinkle.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>The Periwinkle children had a lovely time this morning hunting for eggs! (Faraday was hunting too, but was just around the other side of the house when this was taken.)<br /><p>I know I have been a bit slack lately with posting on the blog, but now that the school holidays have begun, I am hoping to share some new stories and family updates with you very soon!</p><p>For now, Caitlyn Hazelnut and I would like to wish you and your families a very Happy Easter. </p>GreyRabbithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14618464131079015835noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3478697748729214320.post-35811194694366683112021-02-18T10:55:00.007+08:002021-02-18T10:55:45.639+08:00Family Updates<p>Hello there! I have a few ideas for posts that I would like to share soon (some of them inspired by creative challenges on the forum), but for now, I would like to draw your attention to a number of updates I have made to our Meet The Families page in the last month or so.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTS_JegCRuFs7DeHgnLaca01sEIAQSd3sgf0zuQ5zv6DKBWhgaj6_l7W43wk_I9510xTeaIEIf_r2E65-nsnGt-wnn5rW-ApfM8-703CkfY5IHkMxNFJpFtgfotm_8e-vX6ZV9iobM0wwJ/s919/Dale+Family+Sheep.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="577" data-original-width="919" height="402" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTS_JegCRuFs7DeHgnLaca01sEIAQSd3sgf0zuQ5zv6DKBWhgaj6_l7W43wk_I9510xTeaIEIf_r2E65-nsnGt-wnn5rW-ApfM8-703CkfY5IHkMxNFJpFtgfotm_8e-vX6ZV9iobM0wwJ/w640-h402/Dale+Family+Sheep.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p>I am pleased to introduce the Dale family of sheep, the Fletcher family of border collies, the Pennypress family of red pandas, and Mrs Roxy Renard.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1_6rBU6YHbd2VUizr7NxgjBvB0t1nVjoHkm3eFdztKRosiP490RY91MEDG4dR-8LnLSMcgfGks5xsW8Moxia8ptJPfNuzqeqwC57ofoJg4QpGuGxsz-0iSLCuKu0rGYHHEY97msK5Fhs2/s827/Fletcher+Family+Border+Collies.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="597" data-original-width="827" height="462" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1_6rBU6YHbd2VUizr7NxgjBvB0t1nVjoHkm3eFdztKRosiP490RY91MEDG4dR-8LnLSMcgfGks5xsW8Moxia8ptJPfNuzqeqwC57ofoJg4QpGuGxsz-0iSLCuKu0rGYHHEY97msK5Fhs2/w640-h462/Fletcher+Family+Border+Collies.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p>If you have not yet read their bios, and would like to, they can all be found on our <a href="https://sylvaniansunshine.blogspot.com/p/meet-families.html">Meet The Families - Macadamia Grove page</a>, as they are all residents of the village (you will need to scoll down to find them - the families are listed alphabetically by surname).</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixtl57vZA8-nVe1r-Cvq8enNhBSKXQfh8rlToi281MSCavuM7en6DhnwnCEiNUHq_z7oSEuvh-qEDSALdARCrxvwgDFp9wLe2QEwhyOdBUefl08NCDXfEZeKi8S0TQdNAjm-EY4CMU4pGk/s874/Pennypress+Family+Red+Pandas.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="607" data-original-width="874" height="444" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixtl57vZA8-nVe1r-Cvq8enNhBSKXQfh8rlToi281MSCavuM7en6DhnwnCEiNUHq_z7oSEuvh-qEDSALdARCrxvwgDFp9wLe2QEwhyOdBUefl08NCDXfEZeKi8S0TQdNAjm-EY4CMU4pGk/w640-h444/Pennypress+Family+Red+Pandas.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p>I have also added a picture of my Slydale fox family, with their names, but I have not yet included their bios - they will come soon!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3iL0idvSf7PUeccP53vX6rVKKKU91CLw7bIvMiAQnXw8l2PrJ46ga_pVY0pFOUnF4VVayNsg4ErdNIgRufwtXyPVOHaZYPayzxy0ZkKfmIaq9uN0sXtHniPz04krNzeo61eVH81g8Yaze/s804/Roxy+Renard.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="603" data-original-width="804" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3iL0idvSf7PUeccP53vX6rVKKKU91CLw7bIvMiAQnXw8l2PrJ46ga_pVY0pFOUnF4VVayNsg4ErdNIgRufwtXyPVOHaZYPayzxy0ZkKfmIaq9uN0sXtHniPz04krNzeo61eVH81g8Yaze/w640-h480/Roxy+Renard.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p>I am also looking forward to adding some other new additions to the Town page, but it is always the same old problem, isn't it? - so many projects, and so little time... In the meantime, I hope you enjoy reading about these families., and that you are having some time to work on your own pet projects, whatever they may be!</p>GreyRabbithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14618464131079015835noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3478697748729214320.post-67463633223554011482021-01-16T19:46:00.007+08:002021-01-16T19:47:53.936+08:00The Talented Dr Murdoch<p><span style="font-family: inherit;">Not only is Dr Tobias Murdoch a highly skilled surgeon, and friendly neighbourhood doctor, he plays the guitar, too!</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZohGYD0nNK7bVW1itn8suV7vMmibqm_XBQ2KuaDRkm9hVJeSPaYkq4Wol_JtnjCvbtzG6lG9jYBM4hYrz_M5hNzof69TvRWP1HizhwU-A-v6wCIn2dpFxmKKIrHFQDG2WgoSMgdsYqbd2/s786/Dr+Murdoch+%2526+his+guitar.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="670" data-original-width="786" height="546" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZohGYD0nNK7bVW1itn8suV7vMmibqm_XBQ2KuaDRkm9hVJeSPaYkq4Wol_JtnjCvbtzG6lG9jYBM4hYrz_M5hNzof69TvRWP1HizhwU-A-v6wCIn2dpFxmKKIrHFQDG2WgoSMgdsYqbd2/w640-h546/Dr+Murdoch+%2526+his+guitar.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p>Harry Spotter brought his son James in for a check-up late this afternoon. As it happened, James was Dr Murdoch's last appointment of the day. As they are great friends, Tobias offered Harry a cup of tea after the appointment, and he and James hung around for a chat. </p><p>Alice Marshmallow (who was on reception today) was just getting ready to leave for the evening, when she noticed that Dr Murdoch had got his guitar out. She wasn't in a hurry to leave, so she pulled up a chair to listen as well.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTl_jNbjwi2NLcvc3y9dFsQ4PuAlB6TJ-ivtxmLDhZVSHL2_MbbP4hojWH8AV5PAmd7pVBCEddobUerf9WQ3wzd7ErB1Sp15U5-H_foOQ429QCNbKy0j3n0RhVMBJ_xVCJpw4INlQv7ZoQ/s876/Dr+Murdoch+plays+guitar.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="876" height="438" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTl_jNbjwi2NLcvc3y9dFsQ4PuAlB6TJ-ivtxmLDhZVSHL2_MbbP4hojWH8AV5PAmd7pVBCEddobUerf9WQ3wzd7ErB1Sp15U5-H_foOQ429QCNbKy0j3n0RhVMBJ_xVCJpw4INlQv7ZoQ/w640-h438/Dr+Murdoch+plays+guitar.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p>Young James Spotter was very interested in this impromptu concert, too. He hadn't heard Dr Murdoch play before, and enjoyed hearing these old favourites. He was also amused by the way his father joined in the singing during the chorus - Harry's voice wasn't nearly as good as Dr Murdoch's!</p><p> ***********************************************</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY-V6lbnUIe5ll6RvXprFrbrcW1wS3evhTgzq-fP0QVCs0GccXCQ_RbtCmT2TCTYIXEsq8joKili5PO5lRtWuX_0MX_DJaO4JNcJkIMdFhNbYs8y6pYreTSOirX-ZXSjEywjkI1RKScHWl/s829/Dr+Murdoch%2527s+guitar.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="829" data-original-width="464" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY-V6lbnUIe5ll6RvXprFrbrcW1wS3evhTgzq-fP0QVCs0GccXCQ_RbtCmT2TCTYIXEsq8joKili5PO5lRtWuX_0MX_DJaO4JNcJkIMdFhNbYs8y6pYreTSOirX-ZXSjEywjkI1RKScHWl/w358-h640/Dr+Murdoch%2527s+guitar.JPG" width="358" /></a></div>Each month on the Sylvanian Families Collector's Forum, there is a creative challenge. This month, the theme is "Talent Show" - we were challenged to show off the talent of one or more of our Sylvanians. This is my entry for the challenge.<p></p><p>I made Dr Murdoch's guitar by loosely following <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wRZEx3u998U&ab_channel=TheSquaretoSpare" target="_blank">this youtube video</a>. If you would like to see (more or less) how it was done, or have a go at making one yourself, I recommend checking it out (<b>although please note I do not know the person who made this video, nor do I guarantee what sort of content may or may not appear in the comments attached to it etc - proceed at your own risk!</b>). I did simplify my guitar quite a bit (hers is amazing - really an insane level of detail that I did not think was necessary for my version!), but I am still happy with the results.</p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p><br /></p>GreyRabbithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14618464131079015835noreply@blogger.com9