Tag: Vintage Dorset
We don’t often go to wedding fairs – they are usually slap bang in the middle of our busy season and we’re either at weddings or events or doing collections and/or washing up on Sundays! However – we thought we would do a little fair at the Corn Exchange in Blandford last weekend – just to see what response we would get and to meet new people and potential new clients.
It wasn’t the busiest day in terms of meeting new clients but it was a great day in terms of networking with other local suppliers, florists, cake makers and the like! We had a laugh with the lovely Brian Cox, Toastmaster, ate the sweets from the gorgeous sweet trolley by Gina and Julia of Sweetness (website under development but available at email@example.com!), loved the stationery from Ciao Bella, admired the amazing cakes from Gina at Cakes For Every Occasion, talked photoshoots with Darima of Darima Frampton Photography and took home some gorgeous flowers from the talented Michelle of Rhapsody….Phew…..and in-between all that we talked to a few couples about their wedding plans!!
Here’s some photos of our stand and a few of Gina’s cakes, flowers from Michelle, a lovely invitation with bunting (very vintage!) from Francesca at Ciao Bella and those sweets!!
For our final blog of 2012 we thought we would share with you one of our favourite Christmas poems “Twas the Night before Christmas” also known as “A Visit from St. Nicholas” by American poet Clement Clarke Moore (1779 – 1863). Apparently, before this poem became so popular, St. Nicholas (of course Santa Claus) had never been associated with a sleigh or reindeers! Can’t really imagine not having Rudolf around at Christmas!
Merry Christmas from all at Vintage Dorset! We hope you have a peaceful and joyful day and a great New Year – see you in 2013!
Twas the Night before Christmas
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
“Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.
His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!”