Monday, 30 August 2010


"...The (V&A's) new doll archive: rows of stark grey metal shelves, from which dozens of bisque, wax, wooden and vinyl faces stare out...   (One) has articulated legs and arms, so its owner could walk it about the room (move a leg and the arms move robotically in time); it has luxuriant and adult-looking blond curls that I am loath to touch.  Most curiously of all, inside its rosebud mouth is a row of tiny white teeth, pointy and sharp."
by Rachel Cooke.


"What, another doll?"

The Drawing Room, with a Whole Lotta Sewin' Goin' On.

Now everyone recycles, Wombles had to get another job.
My three-storey Georgian dolls house in its entirety.

I've always liked dolls.  Walk around my house, and this would be self-evident.  I have three dolls' houses.  Well, two houses and one shop, to be precise, in various stages of completion.  Several people have contributed to their contents.  The pink carpet comes courtesy of an off-cut from Mum's new bathroom carpet.   There's also Dad's china dogs, Tony's grandfather clock, Richard's miniature dogs, and a 'hat box' which is really an old-fashioned finger-ring box from the jeweller's in the village. 

And if you're wondering why there's a grey shoebox (with a feather) on top of the dolls house, that's because one of our cats, Saffron, claimed it as her own.  We call it her penthouse suite.   She'd sulk for a year if we threw it out.  Quite how the Wombles and other residents feel about a giant cat snoozing on their roof is something about which one can only speculate.

More Dolls:

Who could resist this beauty? 

Or, indeed, these:

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