Head of bone and heart of stone

Sun, rain, wind...the Mitfords ...opshops, garage sales, tipshops...sick girlchild...suicidal cat next door...it's all go here. There's a cyclone in the north, and a long weekend coming - they may even arrive at the same time. 

We've had some rain,which was really welcome.  The cat next door has taken to laying in front of approaching vehicles.
  It won't end well. 

I'm re-reading The House of Mitford, by Jonathon Guinness with Catherine Guinness.  Nancy wrote to her sister Unity, starting 'Darling Head of Bone and Heart of Stone...' They were a family entirely of contrast but their use of language was magical and fabulously far from today's text-speak.  Text speak is slowly but surely sucking the poetry and wit from communication. I shall continue to rant against it.  

I also read Honk If You Are Jesus by Peter Goldsworthy. I finished it this afternoon, waiting in Accident and Emergency at the hospital for my daughter to see someone about the brain splitting earache she's contracted.  Apparently she's going to live to work again but is spending some quality time with various pain reducing potions.   The medical bent of the novel fitted my surrounds.  

Fantastic pickings at the oppies and garage sales this weekend.  A friend brought me two new very old suitcases; one garage sale had not only a pine box, but enough lovely old crockery to fill it.  I found a wonderful tin trunk, it's a bit rusty on the outside but the inside is still very tidy. There was a watercolour in a beautiful old frame, and a heap of framing stuff like hooks. A very nice English-made navy leather jacket. Brilliant yellow rusty tin numbers.  Very exciting.

As things occur in runs, this weekend was CD's, DVD's, crockery.  One lady had lots and lots of the same kitchenalia that my mother had, it was uncanny to see it all together in one place, so far from her kitchen.  I bought some pieces in good condition, to use and some in chipped and cracked condition, to misuse and abuse.