Cross-Stitch-Dolly

Burt the Sheep

2010-01-19T11:29:00.005Z

Rhiannon, or Rhi as we call her, is my Tassel Dolly sister and loves the outdoor life, she lives in the National History Museum on the outskirts of Cardiff, spending all her time exploring the historic castle and buildings or playing in the farm and woodlands. She also loves animals and this is the story of how she and Burt became inseparable friends.

Burt, or ‘Burt with a Ewe’, as he always introduces himself, is English, rustled from the borders between Wales and England by out of work salmon poachers from Shrewsbury. He is quite a charmer with the lady sheep. ‘English Casanova’, they would describe him; quickly adding their theory of a Latin ancestry, but not quite sure how? Burt and his ladies all live happily on the rolling fields of farmer Llywelyn Jones, nestling in the Vale of Glamorgan, right next to the picturesque estate of Duffryn House and Gardens, where I, Delyth live.

Burt joined the flock at Jones farm after being bought at the nearby Cowbridge livestock market. He always enjoys telling exciting tales, of his kidnap by sheep rustlers his near death experience at the hands of the criminals in the illegal meat trade and his subsequent rescue by the South Wales Police – Livestock Protection group. This swashbuckling image along with his suave, but not quite sophisticated manner, make him a favourite in any flock.

One day Rhi was visiting me at Duffryn, it was a beautiful Summer’s day as we slowly walked through the prize winning rose garden. The fragrance and colours were overpowering when suddenly we stopped where there was a gap, all the red rose buds were missing.

‘Apparently’, I informed Rhi, ‘someone is stealing the red roses’.

‘That’s terrible’ replied Rhi, ‘do they have any idea who it is?’

‘Not at the moment’, I replied, ‘but the head gardener is on to it! ‘Look, there he is, over there, disguised as a compost heap!’

It was several days later, at Rhi’s next visit, that I informed her of the exciting news; they had caught the thief. It turned out to be a sheep from the next field!

‘Caught ‘red handed’, so to speak, he’d jumped the fence and grabbed the blooms’ ‘Why?’ asked Rhi.

‘Don’t exactly know’ I replied.

We hastily walked over to the scene of the crime and looked through the fence in to the field, there, merrily grazing away were ten to twenty sheep all with red roses tucked behind their ears.

‘He must have been giving them to the ewes’, said Rhi with a shy wink, ‘tokens of his love’.

‘That’s all well and good,’ I said, ‘but he’s locked up in the gardener’s shed at the moment and the farmer has threatened to take him to the Slaughterhouse!’

‘We can’t let it happen, we have to save him!’ exclaimed Rhi in horror!

That evening we ‘sprung’ Burt from the gardener’s shed, stowed him in the back of the park-keeper’s van and the following morning, on one of the park-keepers regular visits, he and Rhi were whisked to his new home at the National History Museum at St Fagans. Thankfully Burt, the romantic ram, is now happily running round the museum farm, back with his ewes at last and out of sight of any prize winning rose gardens!

Happy Days!

Delyth x

Rhiannon's Story

2010-01-19T11:10:00.005Z

On the edge of Cardiff, the capital of Wales, is the National History Museum at St Fagan’s. In the grounds of the museum is the Earl of Plymouth’s 16^th century Manor house and home for one of my little sisters, Rhiannon.

Rhiannon, or Rhi (pronounced ree) is a tassel on the Earl of Plymouth’s grand, red and gold, military tunic, but like the rest of the Tassel Dollies magically transforms in to a fun loving dolly; but only when the humans are not watching!

The Earl’s splendid tunic hangs unloved and un-appreciated in a broom cupboard at the back of the Park Keeper’s office but this does not stop Rhi from taking great pride in making the tunic look in ‘tip-top’ condition. After her chores are finished Rhi likes nothing more than to sneak out of the cupboard and over to the farm where she watches the animals playing in the fields.

One February evening, when the Museum staff were just finishing of the preparations for the St David’s day celebrations the following day, Rhi looked down on her days work, she had spent hours polishing the Earls tunic buttons until they gleamed. It was such a shame that the visitors to the museum could not see this uniform, she thought. Just then she could hear one of the gardeners shouting to someone about looking in the cupboard, suddenly the cupboard opened and the gardener’s head poked round the door.

‘Now where is that old broom?’ ‘Ah there it is!’

He grabbed the broom that was leaning against the uniform, Rhi managed to swirl her tassels in an attempt to get noticed and bring attention to the uniform.

Hey! ‘He transferred the broom to his other hand and grabbed the sleeve of the jacket. ‘Nice piece of material’, ‘I wonder whose it is?

With that there was another shout from outside:

‘Where is that broom?

‘Coming!’ the gardener replied.

Letting go of the jacket and quickly slamming the cupboard door shut the beautiful jacket slipped off its hook and fell to the bottom of the cupboard.

‘They’ll never find the tunic now’. Rhi said with a frustrated whimper.

Later that evening, Rhi, was really upset and down hearted.

‘All this work and I am the only one to appreciate this lovely uniform, it should be on display, in pride of place in the Grand Hall, not in this tatty cupboard’ she thought.

Totally dejected Rhi brushed away the outside threads of her tassel to reveal her Welsh national costume. She smoothed her hands down her gleaming white apron and red flannel dress, retying the pretty green ribbon on her skirt she climbed over the jacket and out through the cupboard door. Tonight she would go and see her friends, the farm animals, which included Burt her favourite sheep.

Clambering over the cobbles in the court yard she stopped on the largest cobblestone, looking up to the moon she put her hands up to each side and danced, round and round she twirled, tapping her shinny hobnail boots on the cold hard stone. She felt much happier now!

Bounding across the yard she climbed the chicken wire fence to peer across the moonlit field to the young lambs, most were lying next to there mothers but a few were skipping and jumping up and down, up and down, without rest. Where was Burt she wondered? She climbed to the top of the fence post and called for Burt, silence, she waited a few moments more.

All of a sudden Burt emerged from behind the water trough and came dashing over, unable to stop himself he crashed into the post sending Rhi flying, luckily she managed to grab a clump of Burt’s wool and hung on to his wool back. ‘Yeah!’ She cried with one hand up in the air, this is like riding rodeo! Unfortunately, in his enthusiasm, Burt could not stop himself and crash through the farm fence, right into a newly erected, and very expensive, Papier-mâché Dragon specially prepared for St David’s Day celebrations. Burt came to a hoof screeching stop.

‘Oh, my word Burt’, said Rhi nervously, ‘we’re in trouble now’, ‘quick, the Park Keeper’s office’. Burt and Rhi raced over to hide in the office cupboard just in the nick of time as the footsteps of the museum security men could be heard running round the corner to discover the total devastation.

When Rhi re-told me this story she strangely missed out the details of the huge ‘sheep hunt’ that ensued. Park Wardens, Museum staff and the Brecon Mountain Rescue team were all involved including sniffer sheep dogs. At one point they thought they had found Burt, after a sheep was discovered wandering in Ceadelyn park in Cardiff, but this was a false alarm, it turned out to be a local resident’s pet sheep well known in the area.

Eventually, Burt was found in the Park Keepers’s cupboard, frightened and hungry, he was none the worse for his adventures but strangely, he was found wearing the Earl’s military jacket. Now the jacket and Rhi, of course, reside in pride of place in the Grand Hall but this has not stopped Rhi’s new found pastime of Sheep Rodeo.

Happy Days

Delyth x

Cross Stitch Dolly Design

2009-11-11T10:21:00.004Z

Our creator Pam Wilson has put some of our original design drawings on the SpangleJangle website so use the link to see me and my Welsh sisters in watercolour.

Happy Days
Del xx

Mufanwy's Story

2009-10-22T11:52:00.011+01:00

Myfanwy's Story

Myfanwy Thomas is my little sister, a quiet and patient soul, you will find her sitting on a wooden cotton reel gently playing her harp to a group of Cardiff Castle mice. They listen intently, rhythmically swaying their heads to the traditional Welsh music. Her favourite tunes include Cwm Rhondda and Dydd Llun yn y Bore while my other sister Rhiannon and I like 'the tune ‘Good humoured and fairly tipsy', we think it's a good motto for getting on your feet and dancing to a Jig.

Myfanwy, or Myf (pronounced muv) taught herself how to play the harp by listening in on students of the Welsh School of Music and Drama. Cardiff Castle used to be the home of the college but now they have a brand new building around the corner and Myfanwy sometimes uses the excuse of their graduation ceremony to walk through the lovely Bute park and spot any up-and-coming Richard Burtons or Anthony Hopkins.

One day, on such an expedition, she unfortunately came a bit of a cropper! It was a lovely early summer evening and the notices advertising the Grand Graduation Concert were posted all over Cardiff Castle. She had negotiated her usual flight over the castle walls with the chief peacock, Owen, who, meeting her on the very top of the north battlements boldly shouted

'Hop aboard Myf the curtains are about to rise!'

flinging herself over his back she grabbed the short feathers round his neck and they were off. Down they glided, Myf's petticoat layers flapping gently in the wind, down they fell until, suddenly a sudden gust of wind sent them on a course heading straight for a collection of medieval siege engines at the base of the castle walls.

'Look out' cried Myf looking for a soft place to bale out.

It was too late! Owen’s wing brushed one of the large wooden weapons scattering the two friends in different directions.

Owen crashed unharmed into the lilies in the castle moat while Myf hurtled straight into the sling of a rather large catapult known as a Trebuchet. Thinking she had had a remarkable escape she attempted to lift herself out of the sling but this only nudged the firing mechanism and with a sludgy grating noise, like that of an old squeaky door, the monstrous arm of the Trebuchet creaked into action flinging Myf screaming back over the castle wall.

Her troubles did not stop there, she landed breathless on a newly erected tarpaulin covering the banqueting hall's old leaky roof. Luckily Myf had only minor cuts and bruises and there was a happy ending to the story for the owners of Cardiff Castle too. Upon spotting the misfiring of the medieval weapon, they were able to claim on Medieval Weapons Company for the complete repair of the roof. Funny though! They never ever found the missile that landed on the roof that day!

Happy days!
Delyth x

Introductions

2009-08-13T22:41:00.006+01:00

Tassel Dolly Stories

Stories to accompany the Tassel Dolly Cross Stitch Kits and Charts from SpangleJangle.

An introduction

This is me, Delyth with the Daffodils, conscientious and kind, I would like to think that I take my 'eldest sister' duties seriously but between the daily chores I do enjoy hours of light hearted mischief and laughter. I am writing this blog to tell the stories behind the growing number of Cross Stitch characters that make up the Tassel Dolly family. Created by Pam Wilson at the SpangleJangle studio in Cardiff, Tassel Dollies Cross Stitch designs are lovingly created and stitched for someone special, taking on a life of their own. These stories are designed for the children who either stitch or receive the Dollies as presents, however, anyone is invited to share in their adventures. To see all the Tassel Dolly Characters visit our website

Before I tell you more about myself I would like to introduce you to my Cross Stitch sisters above, on the harp we have Myf or to use her proper name Myfanwy. When you introduce Myf to anybody it is always followed by 'Pardon' or 'Sorry' .....you try saying 'Myf' to someone without getting a totally blank look, the person usually just walks away insulted or confused after thinking you were rudely speaking with a mouthful. Last but not least of the 3 sisters is Rhiannon (Rhi) with her pet sheep Burt (he is English, believe it or not), russelled from the borders between Wales and England by out of work Salmon poachers from Shrewsbury. Rhi saved the poor frightened sheep after a little incident in the rose garden of Dyffryn House in the Vale of Glamorgan, but that's another story!

Watch out for the next installment - How Cardiff Castle got its new roof !

Happy Days!

Delyth x