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So, I planned to tell you all that I was retreating to the workhouse to make apple cosies, finish bunting, and maybe even fly on with the daisy chains (which are incidentally very exciting, if incredibly hard on the eyes!), but then I stumbled on the above.
Belfast City Workhouse mid-nineteenth century. Still standing in large part and amalgamated into Belfast City Hospital- its orange tower block is a big part of the wider Belfast skyline, and where my mother spent lots of time in the lachrymose year whence cometh fraise's name. Irish famine meets pre-gold rush underpopulation of Australia with disastrous consequences for many young girls sent forth from this densely over-crowded workhouse.
No joking, then, but there will be a buzzy bee period of Internet silence here! A hooky retreat- your last comment strangely appropriate, Angela, if you follow the link! I need addresses for most commenters on my last post- could you email them? And Gretchen Joanna too?
Happy strawberrying!
3 comments:
Wow! The workhouse photo is fascinating. I want to hear more of that story (when you finish all the makes, of course!)
We ate the watermelon and the cozy waits for something to cozy up to. Maybe some nuts.
Did you get my address? I sent it to your e-mail...
Amazing picture of the workhouse! It looks grand, but I imagine it was awful to live there. I'd love to take a look around at it now ...
xofrances
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