On my way home from Whitby last weekend I bought bunches and bunches of statice from the local car boot sale. The lady was wonderful, sat amongst home grown produce that made me a tad envious. But when I got home, woven amongst the statice, were tiny little clusters of everlasting flower. You know the kind, that looks as if they are made from tissue and that you used to make calenders with when you were in infant school for your Mum for Christmas (that is if you were a 70's child like myself). They always had that dried almost compost like smell - I can re-affirm that that aroma is still as everlasting as the flower itself. But I have fallen in love with the seventies passion for anything dried and floral and I will now be on a mission to fill the house with all that is dried and musty - I wonder if a previous love for spider plants and macrame hanging baskets will return.