#Made in Great Britain

[oaksidesaddlery]

It's not just leather belts and dog collars that I craft by hand. I also handcraft leather bags, wallets and phone cases.

These three are all handmade in Great Britain using @metropolitanleather.est1919 Lamport and Rutland leather.

Wallets and phone cases are available to order. Leather bags on the other hand I craft when I have a bit of time.

All hand stitched using Artisan Leather's braided polyester thread.

Visit my website at www.oaksidesaddlery.co.uk for all of my handmade leather goods.

#oaksidesaddlery #handcrafted #handstitched #madebyhand #madetoorder #madeinengland #leathercraft #leatherbag #leatherphonecase #leatherwalet #

[dyinginfandom]

Came across some beautiful finds today when I popped into a charity shop I frequent

This is a coal miner carved from British coal. I grew up in an old coal mining market town so things like this are really interesting to me

This meanwhile is a Wales association of pewter works model of the rocket created by George Stephenson. He was buried in the town when he died at Tapton and our train station has a statue of George holding one of the rocket models in one hand,

This model of the rocket is what caught my eye and then when I went to pay one of the guys asked if I noticed the British coal carving which I hadn’t due to my sight loss (dark items on a dark shelf don’t really stand out, I spotted the rocket because of the slight metallic glint in the lights) but with how beautifully carved it is I couldn’t not buy it too.

Hope you have all had a good day week month year

[bleistiftblog]

Staedtler's licensed pencils from Wales

After reading the previous Staedtler x Star Wars blog post, Bleistift reader Matthew asked for pictures of the licensed pencils made in Staedtler’s Welsh factory, so I dug some out: Mask pencils Bravestarr pencils Capers pencils David The Gnome pencils Dogtanian and Spot’s pencils Mickey Mouse pencils

[foreverinthepagesofhistoryy]

Princess Alice throughout her childhood in Photographs

~

1848 (first ever photograph taken of her, age 5)

1852 (age 9)

1853 (age 10)

1854 (age 11)

1855 (age 12)

1856 (age 13)

1857 (age 14)

1858 (age 15)

1859 (age 16)

1860 and 1861 (ages 17 + 18)

~

[5231045]

post canon epic divorce guys

[figureskatingcostumes]

Layla Karnes and Liam Carr skating to a Eurythmics medley for their rhythm dance at the 2024 European Championships. Their costumes were designed by Lisa McKinnon.

(Source: Ester Ayerdi Photography)

[the-busy-ghost]

Alright uninformed rant time. It kind of bugs me that, when studying the Middle Ages, specifically in western Europe, it doesn’t seem to be a pre-requisite that you have to take some kind of “Basics of Mediaeval Catholic Doctrine in Everyday Practise” class. 

Obviously you can’t cover everything- we don’t necessarily need to understand the ins and outs of obscure theological arguments (just as your average mediaeval churchgoer probably didn’t need to), or the inner workings of the Great Schism(s), nor how apparently simple theological disputes could be influenced by political and social factors, and of course the Official Line From The Vatican has changed over the centuries (which is why I’ve seen even modern Catholics getting mixed up about something that happened eight centuries ago). And naturally there are going to be misconceptions no matter how much you try to clarify things for people, and regional/class/temporal variations on how people’s actual everyday beliefs were influenced by the church’s rules. 

But it would help if historians studying the Middle Ages, especially western Christendom, were all given a broadly similar training in a) what the official doctrine was at various points on certain important issues and b) how this might translate to what the average layman believed. Because it feels like you’re supposed to pick that up as you go along and even where there are books on the subject they’re not always entirely reliable either (for example, people citing books about how things worked specifically in England to apply to the whole of Europe) and you can’t ask a book a question if you’re confused about any particular point. 

I mean I don’t expect to be spoonfed but somehow I don’t think that I’m supposed to accumulate a half-assed religious education from, say, a 15th century nobleman who was probably more interested in translating chivalric romances and rebelling against the Crown than religion; an angry 16th century Protestant; a 12th century nun from some forgotten valley in the Alps; some footnotes spread out over half a dozen modern political histories of Scotland; and an episode of ‘In Our Time’ from 2009. 

But equally if you’re not a specialist in church history or theology, I’m not sure that it’s necessary to probe the murky depths of every minor theological point ever, and once you’ve started where does it end? 

Anyway this entirely uninformed rant brought to you by my encounter with a sixteenth century bishop who was supposedly writing a completely orthodox book to re-evangelise his flock and tempt them away from Protestantism, but who described the baptismal rite in a way that sounds decidedly sketchy, if not heretical. And rather than being able to engage with the text properly and get what I needed from it, I was instead left sitting there like:

And frankly I didn’t have the time to go down the rabbit hole that would inevitably open up if I tried to find out

[timetraveltasting]

MILK SOUP, THE DUTCH WAY (1747)

It has been a few weeks since I made a historical dish due to a busy schedule and a weekend trip tp London (where I picked up an interesting historical cookbook, 'Churchill's Cookbook', which I intend to use here if I run out of Tasting History recipes). To keep in the English mood, I decided to make my next Tasting History dish, Milk Soup, the Dutch Way. While it may have been inspired by the Dutch style of making Milk Soup at the time, it is, in fact, an 18th century English recipe from Hannah Glasse's 'The Art of Cookery Made Plain and Easy', published in 1747. This soup technically follows the rules of Dr. George Cheyne’s Georgian English fad diet of “Milk, Seeds, Bread, mealy Roots, and Fruit”. While it follows Dr. Cheyne’s rules, this soup less a healthy soup and more a dessert. I chose to make this recipe entirely because Max says it tastes exactly like the milk left over from Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal - a nostalgic breakfast treat from my childhood. Milk soup may sound a little strange, but it will hopefully be delicious. See Max’s video on how to make it here or see the ingredients and process at the end of this post, sourced from his website.

My experience making it:

I stuck fairly close to the recipe, other than the fact that I halved it. The only minor change I made is that instead of using whole milk, I used 1.5% milk, mainly because I bought the wrong one, mindlessly purchasing our default milk. For the sippets, I used French baguette, and for the butter, I used Kerrygold unsalted.

Milk Soup was a pretty quick dish to make, but did make a few dishes to clean. While the oven preheated, I fried the baguette slices in butter. I threw them in the oven, but they definitely took less than 30 minutes to dry out. As a result, mine were a little on the crispier side than Max's were. I heated the milk and attempted to dissolve the cinnamon and brown sugar into it with some constant stirring, but the cinnamon, like Max warned, did not quite want to combine all that well. It eventually did, but just a little. I added in two sippets, leaving the others on the side so I could try dipping them and 'croutoning' some of them into the soup when trying. I beat the egg yolk, then added half of the milk mixture to it, then poured it all back in the pot. It was super frothy at this point, so I simmered it a bit longer until the bubbles went down. I served up two portions, with a few sippets on the side, and was quite happy it looked similar to Max's Milk Soup!

My experience tasting it:

I first tried the soup by itself. To my delight, it did taste exactly like the milk left over from Cinnamon Toast Crunch! Then I tried a spoonful with some of the soup-soaked sippet: it was cinnamony, sweet, and a little buttery. A little soggy, but not terribly - similar to the last few bites of cereal before there is only milk left. Next, I dipped a crispy sippet into the soup and took a bite: this time, the sippet was almost too dry and crispy, it barely soaked up any of the soup flavour. Lastly, I broke up a sippet into crouton shapes and threw them into the Milk Soup. Taking a spoonful with these fresh, crispy bites of buttery toast was the winner for sure - probably the most literal interpretation of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. It blew my mind to think that this exact flavour and texture combination was a thing in the 18th century, long before Cinnamon Toast Crunch graced our kitchen cupboards! My husband and I both enjoyed the Milk Soup, but I would probably simplify the recipe if I was going to make it again. I think you would get the same flavour if you didn't add the beaten egg yolk. I also think that kids would really enjoy this recipe; it's a little interactive, sweet, and very close to modern flavours in desserts. If you end up making this dish, if you liked it, or if you changed anything from the original recipe, do let me know!

Milk Soup (The Dutch Way) original recipe (1747)

Sourced from The Art of Cookery Made Plain and Easy by Hannah Glasse, 1747.

Boil a quart of milk with cinnamon and moist sugar; put sippets in the dish, pour the milk over it, and set it over a charcoal fire to simmer, till the bread is soft. Take the yolks of two eggs, beat them up, and mix it with a little of the milk, and throw it in; mix it all together, and send it up to table.

Modern Recipe

Based on The Art of Cookery Made Plain and Easy by Hannah Glasse, c. 1747, and Max Miller’s version in his Tasting History video.

Ingredients:

Sippets

4 tablespoons butter

8-12 small pieces of bread, I used a baguette sliced 1/2” thick

Soup

1 quart, plus 3/4 cup (1.1 L) whole milk

1 1/2 teaspoons cinnamon

1/3 cup (70 g) light brown sugar

2 egg yolks, beaten

Method:

For the sippets: Preheat the oven to 225°F (105°C) and line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

Melt the butter in a pan over medium heat, then add the bread slices. Cook for 1 minute on each side, or until nicely browned.

Place the bread on the baking sheet and bake for 30 minutes or until they are dry and crisp.

For the soup: When the sippets are almost done, pour the milk into a pot and whisk in the cinnamon and brown sugar.

Bring to a simmer over medium heat, then add the sippets. Simmer, stirring occasionally to make sure the milk doesn’t burn, until the sippets are soft.

Add about 1/2 cup of the hot milk mixture to the egg yolks, whisking constantly, then add it all back to the pot and stir for 10 to 15 seconds. Remove from the heat and serve it forth.

[asnarkyandironicusername]

Day 08 of @remadoramicrofics - Guts

Remus feels moss and ferns brush his stomach as he crept through the Forbidden Forest. In front of him, a brown hare dug through fallen leaves. Drool flooded his mouth as he caught its scent. Despite his slow, deliberate motions, the Hare must have spotted it because it bolted. No matter, Remus had its scent and bounded after it.Twigs reached out and scratched at him as they raced through the underbrush. 

As he readied to pounce, the hare ducked into a burrow. Remus began clawing at the dirt as he snarled. He wasn’t about to lose his prey, not now. Above him, a crow cawed accusingly. Just as he was about to relent, he saw a flash of white and snapped his jaws around the soft flesh, reveling in the cracking of the bones.

No. Something is wrong…very very wrong. It isn’t a hare under him, but a child and his wife. The sweet iron taste in his mouth soured and burned. And the crow…the crow was all wrong. The crow above him, calling out his sins, is far too shrill to be a crow and far too close to be in the tree that loomed above them. He looked up to see Andromeda Tonks screaming at him.

Just as a flash of green filled his eyes, he sat up to find himself not in the forbidden forest, or any forest, but his bedroom. “Remus,” Tonks’s voice flooded his ears as she shook him. “Remus, wake up,” she huffed, “you’re having a nightmare.”

Tendrils of sweat ran down his back as Tonks pulled him against her. He squirmed out of her grasp. “N-no,” he gasped, “the baby, is the baby –”

She reached out and pulled his hand to her stomach. “The baby is fine,” she told him as he felt their child squirm under her skin. “I’m fine. We’re both worried about you.”

“I’m sorry,” he said as he ran his hands over his face, “for waking you.”

“You’re my husband, I want you to wake me up when you’re having a nightmare. That’s part of it,” she said as she wagged her finger, letting the small rock glint in the light. He was certain she’d charmed it to catch the light no matter where it was, likely to hide the fact that he could only afford a very modest stone and band set. “Tell me about it,” she whispered as she ran one hand across his shoulders and used one to hold his hand on her.

“No,” he said quickly. He squirmed out of her grip and settled on the bed, turning his back to her.

She wrapped an arm around his chest and rested over his heart. She leaned up against him, breath ghosting his ear as she whispered, “Please, maybe I could help –”

“It was you, Dora, you and the child and your mother, she –”

Tonks giggled. “I’m telling Mum you’re having nightmares about her.”

“No, no you can’t –” his breath hitched as he felt tears prick his eyes.

“Hey, hey, you listen to me,” she told him softly as her hand drew patterns over his chest, “it was just a bad dream. It doesn’t mean anything, Remus John Lupin.”

Remus was quiet, so she continued, “Please, tell me about it. If nothing else, I deserve to know what my part was.”

He looked over his shoulder at her. Her heart shaped face seemed fuller than it normally did and he wasn’t sure whether she was morphing it now or had simply been spending most days morphing the baby weight away. Her lips were set in a pout to match her furrowed brow and her pink fringe fell over her forehead and simultaneously stuck up in all directions. 

“The victim,” he said finally, remembering her horrified and pained expression. She rolled her eyes but stayed quiet as he continued, “I was in the Forbidden Forest, during the full moon, and there was a hare. I…I was hunting it –”

“I’m not a hare, Remus.”

“No, I know, I think the hare was…I don’t know – I was chasing it but it dove into a burrow so I tried to dig it out. I think I did,” he added. “But when I looked up, saw the carnage, it wasn’t a hare or a burrow…It was you…and our child,” he whispered. “I killed my own –”

He was quieted by her hand slapping over his mouth. She leaned over him, pinning him down to the bed with a hand on his chest and a hand on his mouth. She swung her legs over him, settling in his lap. She leaned over as far as her stomach allowed. 

She brought his hand back to her abdomen as she said firmly, “No, you didn’t. Your wife and child are right here, next to you, very much alive. You dreamt that you killed your family; they are not the same.”

He swallowed as she leaned down and replaced her hand with her mouth. When she sat back she smiled down at him. She settled down next to him, never letting his hand leave her swollen stomach as their child pressed against it.

He laid there for a while, waiting for Tonks to fall asleep. Her breath never evened out, though. Instead, she whispered, “But, even though it was just a nightmare, I promise not to go out in the Forbidden Forest – as a hare or otherwise – for the rest of this pregnancy.”

“And you’ll stay away from me during transformations,” he prompted. Lately, she had been getting a little too relaxed. Last full moon, she had become so confident in Remus and her potions abilities that she had visited him. 

“Yes,” she said.

Remus nodded, feeling sleep pull at him. 

“If you’ll tell me one thing,” she said, jolting him awake.

“What?”

“What was Mum doing in it?”

“Screaming at me,” he admitted.

Tonks laughed. “I’m so telling her,” she said through hiccups and tears.

[ben-the-hyena]

First day of Christmas : the Mari Lwyd

5 years ago during 12 days til Christmas (even if actually the Twelve Days of Christmas take place between December 25th and January 6th but I wanted it to end with Christmas and not the Epiphany) I had drawn several classic Christmas figures. Welp never mind this year I do it again because as you can guess there aren't just 12 emblematic figures for a holiday as known and celebrated across the world ! We start with the Mari Lwyd, a Welsh tradition quite seedy but funny at once consisting in showing around a horse skull decorated with a white sheet, ribbons and flowers from door to door and make it sing a little song asking in. The purpose is refusing in a song using every argument and excuse possible, to which it will reply etc like a battle. If we win, it leaves. If we fail, it comes in and we have to offer it a drink, or rather to the man who carries it. I do kinda picture him/it drunk as hell at the end of the day

[fluentisonus]

also check out this rudder

[locklylemybeloved]

lucy asking lockwood if he takes sugar in his tea 🤝 lockwood saying that the orange juice with pulp is lucys favorite

seeming inconsequential to the person who does it, but probably deeply hurting the other despite what they want you to think

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

i really am gonna finish this architecture book by the power of Too Sleepy To Start New Fiction, huh

[assassin1513]

⚜️London Legion ⚜️

[marzzrocks]

i’m really considering dropping out of college and taking a boat out to sea