|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 |
Cautionary Tales For Children
Wonderful witty poems great for reading to your children. The stories and rhymes will stay with them for the rest of their lives.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Research has shown how important YOU are to your children and how as a dad the things you do, and keep on doing, really count, whether you live with them, or you are a single dad and are only able see them once a month, once a week or more, what you do really matters. This site is dedicated to all dads but will be of special relevance to the single dad. Remember, you are half the reason your children exist and they need you whether you live with them or not. As their dad, you have what it takes to make their lives successful and fulfilling no matter how often you see them. This site is about all the positive things that we as parents have to offer our children.
|
|
|
|
Antique Apothecary Labels
|
155
 3869
|
Make your own potions and then label the bottles with these strangly beautiful antique apothecary labels
 ith disbelief I sat at Monty’s bedside on that bright autumn afternoon and stared into his pale vacant eyes, his face as long as a flapper’s necklace.
. . .
"Nothing, old chap," he said weakly, "nothing at all. Go on ask me another."
. . .
Dutifully I obliged.
. . .
"Who captained the English side for the first Test played at Trent Bridge in 1899?"
. . .
Monty’s face stared blankly out at me, but all he could muster was,
"I have no idea old chap, not a sausage; my mind is completely blank."
. . .
I turned to the housekeeper and asked if the doctor had been called, but before she could answer, Monty struggled up on one arm and lent close to me, agitated at the mention of the doctor.
. . .
"Don’t let that quack in here," he croaked, and then glancing at the housekeeper, leaning even closer to me and lowering his voice to a whisper, he continued; "do me a favour, old chap, you couldn’t just pop down to Crumsbeak and Purdy in Old Compton Street, could you? I trust them, they’ll know what to do." He flopped back on to the bed, apparently exhausted from the exertion.
. . .
I found it impossible to reject such an earnest request and after a brief discussion with the housekeeper, where I learned further that Monty had been listless for two days and quite unlike himself had not been able to tell any funny stories, make any double entendres or quote a single pointless fact on any topic, it was agreed that I should go down the apothecary, but if their remedy proved to be ineffectual by the evening, I would take upon myself to call the doctor that night for an emergency consultation.
* * *
Back in the twenties one of my best friends was Viscount Montague Brassington-Smythe, he was so charming and respected by so many, that I felt honoured to be counted amongst his closest confidantes.
. . .
He was a consummate host and threw parties such as were the stuff of which legends are made. Generous to a fault, a gifted pianist, an excellent Bridge partner, bon vivant, and a wicked raconteur, Monty (as he was known to his closest friends) was, above everything else, the font of a vast quantity of facts and snippets of inconsequential information, blessed as he was with an unparalleled hunger for obscure tidbits of trivia and an agile mind that had been filled to the brim by an expensive education. It should come as no surprise to the reader therefore, that he made an excellent travelling companion, and being about as tough as an old boot, had accompanied me on some of my most arduous expeditions. Knowing this then, I trust that you will be as distressed as I was, when I found myself making my way with some urgency from my good friend’s London pied-à-terre, to a quaint little apothecary in Old Compton Street, WC1, with the hope of curing him of the mysterious malaise that had robbed him of his creativity and worst of all, his endearing penchant for making hilarious puns and the quoting of inconsequential facts on any topic.
* * *
I found the shop easily. Inside it was as dry as an autumn leaf and although some sunlight did force its way through the hazy window panes, it failed miserably in its attempt to illuminate the interior. With my eyes still adjusting to the gloom, I groped my way towards the counter.
A strange assortment of bottles and jars crowded every available surface. I ran my eye along one of the dusty shelves.  Goblin Ganglion "For the encouragement of Extravagance, Luxurious Exaggeration and Improvident Overindulgence", Worm Ducts "For the treatment of Sickening Jolt, Tenderised Filaments and Necrotic Bulbasore", and even Dragon Heartstring "For the treatment of Timidity and Tremulousness"; strange concoctions indeed, for even stranger sounding afflictions. At the back of the shop, a tall wiry fellow, stood quietly behind the shop’s only service counter. I made my way through the corridor of creaking display cases and politely greeted the proprietor. He said nothing, only nodding sagely as I related the events of the day and tried my best to describe the details of Monty’s affliction and how the disease that ravaged him was robbing him of his unique qualities. He smiled and without a word, reached below the counter and produced a sheet of paper upon which were printed in fine detail, an assortment of labels exactly like the ones on the ingredients bottles lining the walls. I waited for him to prepare one of his amazing concoctions, but instead he said the most curious thing.
. . .
"Take this sheet and get the patient to make up some of the potions. Cut out the labels from this sheet to make up some authentic looking Apothecary Preparations. It will be messy and so it would be advisable if you were to wear old clothes or at the very least a splash apron."
. . .
By the quizzical look on my face, the shop keeper could see that I was perplexed, but without pause, he continued.
. . .
"Take some old jars and long thin bottles and soak off the labels."
. . .
From under the counter he took out an old shoebox within which were a hotchpotch of old jam jars, small olive oil bottles and old spice jars.
. . .
"I’m afraid you can’t have these jars, they are my samples", he continued, "but your housekeeper should be able to find something similar."
. . .
He put the jars away.
. . .
"If you don’t have wax to seal the top, carve an old cork and then cover it with hot melt glue, which you may then paint red to look like wax."
. . .
I could hold back no longer. "But what about the actual potions?" I bleated somewhat desperately.
. . .
"Use anything you have to hand." He replied, his face the picture of seriousness. "Jelly sweets, floating in desert jelly swell up nicely and look just like Worm Ducts; or you might try bread sticks or perhaps cinnamon sticks, I am told they look just like Petrified Griffin Bone; or you may well find that sugar laces or even red wool yarn strands will be easily mistaken for Dragon Heartstrings."
. . .
He put his hands together and looked at me expectantly, with his eyebrows slightly raised; I was stunned to silence for a moment.
. . .
"B-b-but", I stammered, "surely ingesting any of our own homemade potions would be ineffectual and there is the distinct possibility it could be dangerous, or that it even might complicate the patient’s condition."
. . .
"You are not meant to take the ingredients," he snorted. "The prescription for your patient’s condition is to engage in some purposeful creative activity." He turned the sheet round and pointing to the bottom of it said, "I’d start with the Polyp of Symbioslugella, that’s the cure for Mediocrity, Humdrumience and Uninspiring Indifference, and I find that picked gherkins are almost identical to the genuine preparation."
. . .
As I walked back to the house, I had my reservations about the nature of the treatment, but later that evening, after we had made at least eight container's worth of different potions and had what was starting to look like our very own apothecary, I looked at Monty standing at the kitchen table, grinning from ear to ear, shirtsleeves rolled up jauntily, carefully sticking an Antler Velvet label onto a jar of cut up red felt pieces, I knew at once that that wise old shop keeper had been right, this was the perfect cure for boredom and ennui.
. . .
"W. G. Grace." Monty said out of the blue.
. . .
"I beg your pardon?"
. . .
"W. G. Grace! Captain of the English side for the first Test played at Trent Bridge in 1899. He was an outstanding all-rounder, excelling at all the essential skills of batting, bowling and fielding. But it is for his batting that he was most renowned as he is held to have invented modern batting. He was particularly noted for his mastery of all strokes and this level of expertise has been said by all the most respected reviewers, to be unique."
. . .
"Ahh, I see", I said, "that’s interesting." The old Montague Brassington-Smythe I knew, was back.
Should you wish to try you hand a touch of potion making, you’ll be glad to know that you don’t have to go down to Old Compton Street to Crumsbeak and Purdy to get antique Apothecary labels. I have had Collinworth collect a few sheets and reproduce them here, especially for your enjoyment and of course for the alleviation of boredom the moment it strikes. As usual, for your convenience, both A4 and United States Letter formats are accommodated.
When downloading this file, please be patient, it is a big file at 1Mb and may take a few moments to download
 
|
|
|
OR |
|
155
 3869
|
 |
Posted by Orchid - The kids had fun with this and made a few labels of their own
|
 |
Posted by sausages - I collected loads of different shaped jars and used food colourings, water and glitter to make my potions. I was delighted to find the labels on dadcando- they're perfect!!!
|
 |
Posted by canisfamilyus - Griffin bone anyone? Dried apple can be pretty convincing. As to hummingbird shimmer, we settled for dried berries and raisins. My younger daughter couldn't part with hers...
|
 |
Posted by canisfamilyus - We enjoyed putting these together as Christmas gifts... Beef Jerky makes great Dragon Heartstring, while dried figs make great polyps. We had to settle for dried cranberries and raisins as beetle grist. We had great fun putting using sealing wax as well... Great craft!
|
|
|
|
|
|
The Dragonry
|
|
For all those who may think, in their more reckless moments, that it might be easier to steal a golden egg from under the warm belly of a gently sleeping dragon than would be to make one, it might be wise to heed the text of this ancient rhyme...
Here you'll find so much more than dragons; you'll find projects that make it possible to create fantastic stories and games of your own. Every project is totally original and explained with simple illustrated downloads so that you can do the project together or (depending on age) your child can do it on their own, with a little help from you at key stages, and make something that really looks gorgeous.
All the projects are of the highest quality, because quality and attention to detail are very important to children.
So set your imagination alight with our wonderful dragons projects. Follow the story of Kaptin Scarlet, the famous philanthropist, whose 19th Century adventuring to bring back numerous weird and wonderful artifacts was the delight and fascination of civilized Victorian society. His motto, Life is Your Adventure, is as true now as it ever was, and is perfect for kids and dads everywhere, so make it yours and make the most of the time you spend together.
|
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
