This show was ENORMOUS. It was rammed with gorgeous, gorgeous craft things. From papercraft to needle craft to art and mixed media; it was all going on. I was asked by Tonic Studios earlier this year to go to the show and of course I accepted but I was really worried about not being able to strike up a dialogue. My school German is nicht zehr gut. But I went along anyway because I love Tonic punches and punch poo (the stuff you make with the punched out bit. Not my description of course, but it kind of makes me laugh!). And the stuff you can do with Petal Pairs, way after its initial conceptual design, is way more exciting. You just have to make your punches do more than they should. Its the law. Well, for me it is. I'm talking value for money here.
I had the most intriguing journey getting there. Of course traveling with KLM can provide you with drama before you take off; it's always a bonus. They are NEVER on time. And their seats are as hard as rock. And when you eventually get on board its 186 degrees with no ventilation. Finally, of course, you always manage to wind yourself being sat next to "smelly man". Smelly man, catching a connecting flight from Mars and on his way to Australia with no intention of freshening himself up. **gag** Don't you think that airlines could cash in on selling mints on board or at least give a complimentary mint to each passenger as they board? That or industrial bleach, in some cases. I sat in the window, prodding it to make sure it was fitted correctly whilst casting my eye over each rivet in the wing. This gave me the best excuse to keep my head facing left instead of striking up a convo with smelly man. I did note that he was neatly pressed but that couldn't even begin to supersede his oniony garlicky aroma. Even all the perfumes I sprayed on at duty free wasn't going to mask the pong pulsating its way over to me. It looked like I was in for a cricked neck for the entire one hour flight.
Somewhere over the North Sea, KLM announced that they were coming round with snacks. Mmmmmmmmm, yummy. I was picturing a nice open prawn sammich with a side of salad with a cool and creamy dressing. But no, what did I get? A choice of either a savoury or sweet snack in a VERY small packet that looked more like a crumb in a stamp sized bag. I wasn't that hungry anyway, so I opted for the sweet one for something to do. I chewed through it like it was plywood, all the whilt it clagged in my mouth. Complimentary? I don't think so. KLM, you suck at snackage.
We landed at Schipol, 20 minutes behind schedge. The taxi from landing to docking at Schipol takes 3 days, I tell you. You weend and wind through various taxi ways at a snails rate. And the journey always seems slower when you are desperate for the lavvy. My eyes were straining through tears as I hopped in my seat waiting to dock and find the nearest conveniences. Plus I was sat at the back of the 737, which only aided in the delay. Why does it take 30 years to disembark a plane? I could literally reach out and touch that darn lavatory but it was so near and yet so far. It felt like I was living my life in slow motion all that while. Then FINALLY I am off the plane and into the Ladies. I re-arranged my clothing, smoothed down my skirt at the front and straightened myself up. I love traveling in a floaty skirt for its light and airiness, complete with my comfy boots and lightweight cardigan. I always feel super in a skirt, I wear them lots. I almost skip and gambol when wearing them and today I didn't feel any less skippy whilst wearing it between countries.
So, I wander off to the nearest info desk to make enquiries about where my next connection was leaving from only to discover it was a 30 minute walk to the next gate (via security). I had 1 and a half hours to spare so I figured that I would amble away between these places. I was happy and relaxed whilst looking and browsing various little shops before I got to Security. I always try and look less like a terrorist as possible (why do we all do that?) when I got there. I removed my cardi, bag, jewellery and scarf and placed them in the scanner tray and waited to be called through the detector thingy. I walked through to an unexpected beep and thought "Hmmm, underwire bra, it had to be. Grateful that I wasn't carrying my Kalashnikov today with spare rounds under my t-shirt." I got side stepped by the shoulders, by a male security guard who handed me over to a very scary and mean looking butch lesbo. She went straight for the ahem, you know, GIRLS and gave them a good old twisting (she wasn't going to be able to tune into Radio Luxemburg, I can tell you) before groping my every inch. Well, I didn't know where to look or what to say. I just did the British thing and said nothing, still trying to look less like a terrorist. After what felt like 41 years of being manhandled, I was allowed to go free. THANK THE LORD. I gathered my stuff out of the scanner tray and ambled to my gate. Again, taking a leisurely stroll as I tried to comprehend the bruises on my girls. After about 35 minutes, I had arrived at my gate with lots of time to spare. In my departure area, there were a large number of US Marines. I did not know for sure at first as they were all in civilian clothing but their haircuts and accents gave it away. Hmmmm, eye candy at least, I thought. So I approached the desk to check in when, from behind, a woman backed up to me and whispered "I just need to pull this down" as I felt a tug from the top of my tights. WTF? Alarm, panic, heart attacks and sweat dripped from my every pore in just that slightest nano second realisation. I had only been walking from the toilets to this gate with my skirt tucked in my knickers. I DIED. 34 times, I'm sure of it. I immediately sat down and tried not to look up, all the while thanking myself for wearing big girl travel pants and opaque tights.
As I sat in my own torture of shame, I looked around thinking about going to the bar for a sammich. I was feeling quite peckish as the crumb I had on the plane hadn't even got to my stomach (think It was wedged in one of my molars). The thing is, though, I'm always suspicious of foreign sammiches. You just never can detect what meat lies beneath the strange looking veg'ables. I know for a FACT that Dutch people eat Rat and Fungus. Instead, I reached out for my emergency granola bar from my bag and munched it whilst peeping from under my shame around the departure lounge. I caught a woman eating a sammich from the bar and was relieved I didn't buy one as I could see a rats tail swishing from the bottom, beneath a fungal infested piece of lettuce. I love my emergency Granola bars.
All the while whilst I munched, I kept looking at the people who were coming to Frankfurt with me. They all looked kind of grey and medium. Unlike me, in my green skirt who thinks showing off her knickers for the world to see is pretty colourful. I don't know about you but who exactly goes to Frankfurt and for why? You only ever see spy movies and war films about Frankfurt and even though I felt like I was going on a very exciting business trip, i did feel like I was on the set of The Bourne Supremecy - only without Matt Damon, the rest of the cast and the film crew. I felt like I was a spy and so I thought I might as well play the game and act like one. At one point, I lifted my cardigan collar and spoke into it, telling headquarters that the Eagle was landing.
Eventch, our plane had arrived. A Focca, no less. You just can't say that without sniggering. What I loved about this plane was that it had 6 steps that lead up to it and when I see few steps that lead up to a pane, I think of Hello Magazine, Jackie Onassis and rock stars. It felt like that this was my very own private plane. The rivets looks sparkly and intact, the engines were bird-strike free and the captain, although in a shocking shade of blue suit (polyester, I saw the sparks with each stride he took), was very handsome. This was going to be an awesome flight, I just knew it. We all boarded the plane, which only had 16 rows, and I looked around for potential sniggering at "skirt-gate". The plane, being neat and tiny and snigger free was heading for Frankfurt and so my spying mission began.
To be continued......
In the mean time, Check out these little flowers here
Made from these punches (which come in a set of two for a lousy £10.99!!!)
You need four white flowers and one green to make a daisy.
You need two red flowers and one green to make this poinsettia
And here are my basic clean and simple samples I made at the show:
This one had little crimbo trees, made into a star shape, on it too.
I think I made 420 billion of those little flowers at the show (fingers bled to the bone). It was good fun and with the hundreds of "Schon" and "Wunderschon's" we were getting, we think the Germans liked them too.
I will share a video very soon on how to make them; they go beyond what they were initially designed to do. I'll keep you posted.