Craft

Sarah is the author of craftinvaders.co.uk where she blogs about her original craft tutorials, recipes, foraging, and developing wellbeing through being creative, spending By Sarah Whiting time outdoors and connecting with nature

WHAT IS MILK PAINT?

Milk paint is a water-based paint made from milk protein, lime and clay with natural pigments added for colour. Milk paint contains only natural ingredients, so it is environmentally safe and non-toxic. It is perfect for children’s furniture and toys, is food safe and ideal for those looking to reduce the level of toxins in their home. Milk paint has been used for thousands of years. It is incredibly durable, often lasting for hundreds of years if protected from the elements. It sinks into porous materials and hardens over time, so will not peel or chip like many modern paints. Supplied in a powder form that is mixed water, milk paint can be used both as a colour wash using a thin coat or built up in layers to provide a solid matt colour with a velvety finish. Succulents are easy to grow as long as they have good drainage so they will love the conditions these strawberry planters provide. I used a selection of trailing Sedum and Sempervivums to plant up the succulent pots. Most of them I bought for this project, but I did also grab a couple of cuttings from others I already had in the garden.

Upcycling Planters

I’VE HAD TWO TERRACOTTA STRAWBERRY PLANTERS LURKING EMPTY IN MY GARDEN FOR YEARS. I HAVE NEVER MANAGED TO GROW STRAWBERRIES SUCCESSFULLY IN THEM; THEY ALWAYS DRY OUT AND DIE. SO IT WAS TIME TO ADD A POP OF COLOUR BEFORE PLANTING THEM WITH DROUGHT LOVING SUCCULENTS

Materials

− Terracotta strawberry planters − Milk paint − Paint brush − Mixing pot (for the milk paint) − Succulents for planting − Soil, compost, vermiculite, stones

Instructions

1. Before you start anything, make sure your planters or pots are clean by washing them with soapy water, before leaving them out to dry.

It doesn’t matter if you can’t get them spic and span, a little bit of character works well! 2. Mix up your milk paint as per the instructions provided. 3. Apply a first layer to your planter and allow to dry. 4. If needed, apply a second coat of milk paint to make the colour really ‘pop’. 5. Leave to dry overnight or as per instructions. 6. Work out where you would like your individual succulents, place them and

start filling the planter with soil. Due to the weight of the terracotta planters, I decided not to add any gravel to my soil mix. Instead, I mixed vermiculite and compost to make my succulent soil. 7. The pot grown succulents pushed into the holes of the strawberry planter perfectly. For the spots where I planted cuttings, I used stones to hold them in place and to stop the soil falling out while I wait for the plants to establish and fill up the hole.

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Country Life

Brian White lives in south Indre with his wife, too many moles and not enough guitars

I’ve noticed the topic of patriotism being much discussed recently - how it’s defined and, of course, how it defines us. Post-Brexit and mid-vaccine, this most emotive of terms is being bandied about, often in accusations of being “too” or “not enough”. I guess each of us has their own interpretation of what patriotism involves and I don’t presume here to question anybody else’s. I tiptoe into this minefield only to confess my own lack of comprehension of what it means, in practice, to be a patriot. It appears to me as a nebulous concept, capable of being both one thing and its opposite at the same time. Most dictionaries offer variations on a vague ‘proud of one’s country’ but where does that pride sit, specifically? In a nation’s history – but which bits? Every sovereign state has murkier chapters in its past which should be confronted and acknowledged. If reading your country’s history leaves you beaming with unvarnished admiration and a glowing sense of pride, then what you’re reading probably isn’t history. To me, love of one’s country should involve wanting it to get better, to see fellow citizens properly housed, fed and educated. Being patriotic has to mean more than anthems, flag waving and “Last Night of the Proms” bombast, surely. I count myself extremely fortunate to have been born in the UK with freedoms and rights unimaginable to many around the world. But do I feel actively patriotic? Or just very lucky? I honestly don’t know. My birth country has made massive contributions to the world in culture, medicine and technology and, despite playing absolutely no part in any of that, I suppose I do feel a vicarious pride in those achievements. Then there is the identity question: a recent TV debate on the future of Scotland and the chances of a second independence referendum featured the phrase “this Scottish nation”. I wondered how these sentiments –patriotism and national identity – play out in a nation-within-a-nation. Pride in one’s country – but which one? When my children were small, they would ask me if they were Welsh, like their mum, or English, after most of my family. I would respond that first and foremost, we are Europeans, (which, despite the politics, we still are), and then British. Beyond that I drew a line because subdivision is potentially endless and often ludicrous: a friend of mine lived in a hillside village the size of a carpark, whose residents nonetheless regarded themselves – and each other – as “upper” or “lower”. How do we define nationality anyway? And why are we often so selective about its importance? When Britain’s Bradley Wiggins stormed to cycling gold at the London 2012 Olympics in a blizzard of Union flags, did anyone object that he was actually born in Belgium? And I don’t recall anybody eulogising Spike Milligan as India’s greatest comedian. Countries and national boundaries are surely manmade constructs, reconfigured at the whim of politicians or the outcome of wars, yet these lines on the map become sacrosanct. In any case, go back far enough and we’re all African.

I get that national identity brings a sense of belonging but I also know that our inclination to separate into factions is corrosive. It’s hardwired into our species and ‘patriotism’ seems often to play into that. Each of us is conceived as a small cluster of cells which then begins dividing until there are about 26 billion of them. Et voila! - a baby us. Tragically, this impulse to split and split again continues, long after it has served its purpose. The engine of our evolution becomes the towed caravan in our progress. So, does patriotism encourage unity or division? Is it a noble attribute or the gateway to ugly nationalism? My ambivalence has never overcome these questions or the way in which “love of one’s country” is so often, and so easily, distorted. I prefer instead to remember the words of British nurse Edith Cavell, executed for spying in 1915 after she had saved around 200 Allied airmen escape occupied Belgium. On her statue in London is written: "Patriotism is not enough. I must have no hatred or bitterness for anyone". That will do for me.

Edith Cavell chose to stay in her adopted homeland of Brussels when the Germans invaded. She provided medical treatment for injured soldiers, regardless of their nationality, as well as helping to smuggle injured soldiers and civilians out of Belgium to neutral Holland

I get that national identity brings a sense of belonging but I also know that our inclination to separate into factions is corrosive