Consumer capitalist commitment copout

Cocky cage for repurpose into a chook tractor

So my friend dropped me at the airport, and asked  'Do you have everything?'  Then we burst into hysterical laughter, because we had just unloaded a uteload of junk into her garage.  Not to mention the carload the previous day, and the bits we hid in there the day before that, on the way from the airport.  There was a circular saw, amongst other things, in my suitcase.

We have more fun at this time of year than should strictly be legal. And this last weekend it was verge collection in some of the uber-rich and super-tasteless areas of Perth. At first we thought that the two facial expressions of the residents were directed at us, as we drove slowly and examined their junk.  Then we realised that those expressionless, non-smiling women had had botox, and the ones with pursed lips just look like that all the time because it's so stressful being wealthy.

I get that it's below their dignity to have a garage sale,

Ooooh, wrought iron...

although we did observe some activity which looked surprisingly like listing things on Gumtree. I don't, and never will understand how the women who lunch for a living don't have time to drop stuff at an opshop, or call a charity for pickup of larger items.

If your house is big enough to have it's own postcode, and your housekeeper has a secretary, why would you prefer to send perfectly good stuff to landfill?  We picked up some lovely things to drop off in charity bins, rather than let them be ruined in the rain. I salute their capitalist commitment to consumerism. 

So many options for repurposing.

For that matter, no-one was playing tennis on the private courts, or lounging on the expensive up to date patio furniture,or even strolling in the landscaped grounds.  We did see some functionaries, functioning. 

The competition out there is killer.  One guy circled past 5 times while we considered options for rather a lot of wrought iron. At another places there were as many as 5 cars competing. I literally threw myself out of the car and onto a vintage David Jones leather suitcase just as a car screeched up behind us, intent on the same thing. We exchanged insincere pleasantries as I threw the suitcase into the back seat. The owner came out and went through the remnants, trying to talk up some items.  We left them to it.  

The early bird gets the suitcase.

Seize the Book

It was Book Week, and quite coincidentally I've been finding lots of good books.

Those who know me know that although books aren't my only weakness (OK, obsession), they are certainly up there in the top three. Due to a tightened personal fiscal policy, I've been avoiding bookstores and even online booksellers.

Unfortunately, the inclement weather last week had me strolling home from work via the protection of the verandas of the main street retailers. Paperbark Merchants yielded another in the Jim Butcher Dresden Files series, Ghost Story. My son lent me the previous books, but he said that he couldn't get this one at the time. I have it up next on the reading rota and am doing secret little happy dances, as I've missed Harry. Thursday was a book disaster in waiting, as I called into another local purveyor of book happiness with time on my hands and books on my mind. 

Sometimes you can drop into a bookstore and find nothing that makes you go weak at the knees. On this occasion, however, any self control was seriously compromised.  

I don't know about you, but I have an established pattern for bookshop browsing. First, the fantasy paperbacks, such as the previously mentioned Jim Butcher books, and, of course Terry Pratchett, my indisputable King.  I am re-collecting all of the Discworld books, having given my paperback collection to the boychild (I'd say having them prised from my grasp, but that would make me seem selfish). I noted a couple of possible acquisitions and moved on, pausing to briefly re-live the reader betrayal that was the last book in the Sookie Stackhouse series by Charlaine Harris. I reflected quietly on the hurt the woman had caused me, and decided that the wound is too raw for me to consider taking on another of her characters.

I moved on to Crime and Thriller, noting that a new Lee Child book in the Jack Reacher series was due out the next day. Happy Fathers' Day to me... They do know that lots of women read Jack, don't they?

Somewhere in Latest Releases, I found  my nomination for possibly best book jacket of all time. I wouldn't generally buy a book solely on it's cover, but this one made my heart beat faster. Luckily, I like Robert Drewe's books.

I moved onto Art, Craft. I need new and different in this category, original ideas, inspiration. Books which advise me on how to put curtains on wire across the front of cupboards simply don't cut the mustard. I grabbed Push Print, I loved the presentation, content - and with appalling restraint, put it's companion Push Paper back. There was just a schmick less new inspiration in the paper volume. 

I very nearly threw myself at Margaret Olley - love her work, an

amazing book, but once again, grown-up bill-paying need-to-eat-cannot-live-on-books-alone-dammit sensibility won out. I hate being a grownup.

I then move to Biography, Travel (books about Paris, mainly), History, non-fiction (general),and specials.

Friday's opshop round provided a mix of crime/thrillers, Karin Slaughter, Linda Fairstein, and so on, and I also picked up Evelyn Waugh's Scoop in Penguin paperback, as well as sundry others. 

Happy Book Week to me.

I got home from work on the only halfway decent day this week, to a gift from my next door neighbour.

It's a strange squelchy tiny thing that looks like a tiny internal organ, wrapped in some seaweed and served on a scallop shell.

Not edible, and accompanied by a note explaining that my neighbour and my dog had been to the beach but found no interesting dead fish.

Such a lovely little parcel and a lovely surprise.

I've been spending far too much time trawling the far corners and darker recesses of the internet of late.  It's part of my strategy to avoid becoming a homicidal maniac as a result of watching election propaganda on television, and is an extension of my vow to read only the garage sales columns of newspapers. 

Since garage sales are sparse in the depths of winter, I've been reliant on the op shops to cheer my cold heart.  There have been a few bargains to cheer me, a Liberty of London silk scarf, and an excellent book detailing the correspondence between Albert Tucker and Sidney Nolan.  

I love their references to breaking into the Paris art scene and their references to Picasso, who apparently spoke French with a Spanish accent. The descriptions of living in Paris as artists are sublime.

In a week which has not been in my top one thousand of weeks worth living through, I managed to break the adorable glasses which I found in Paris, after walking kilometres and searching every optician. I have broken one pair of glasses in my adult life, and it had to be the ones I loved most.

I hope my eyeglass obsession does not overrun a planned trip to Melbourne, the mecca for deluded Australian eyeglasses tragics. Luckily, I will be able to see, as I have spare pairs, and hopefully I will be able to distract myself, or be distracted, from any optical urges.

In the meantime, I picked up some tres chic classic French sunnies this week, so I shall not be squinting in the daylight as I venture out onto the streets of Melbourne.

Winter churns on...

It's official, I'm in winter hibernation mode.  What is there to do, when the wind is howling, and the rain is sideways, but make a cup of tea, take a good book and go back to bed, where it's warm and cosy. With internet access, almost all my needs were met.

I surfaced for a quick but unimpressive opshop round on Wednesday, but by Thursday I was running out of milk for my tea.

So on Friday, I staggered out to the shops. As well as milk, I stocked up on paper for art prints, ink, and discovered some picture frames on sale.  I have some new fish, including some on charts of King George Sound and Princess Royal Harbour, as well as Kalbarri and the West Coast of Western Australia.

Damage from the storm was limited, and largely fixable with gaffer tape.  By the end of the week I was able to do some work outside, including on the old butter churn (which would look very nice with plants in it). It's ready to go to a new home.

I'm slowly reducing the piles of stuff on the back veranda.  You can see the chairs now.  

I've started on a new group of steampunk sculptures, so the kitchen table is hidden again.  I've been gathering the parts for a while and I'm using some of the bits I brought home from the last roadtrip.  There will be several balloons, some boats, a ship, and there's a land vehicle which is looking like it has potential. I don't often do cars/trains/trucks but this one is incorporating some old brass motorcycle fuel pump bits.

I think I need an angle grinder.  Or perhaps a nice man with an angle grinder and an interest in art, that might be a good thing.

Corsets, Shards and Seam

I haven't had much to say for a while.  After my trip, I thought I'd spend some quality time sulking at having to be at home.  My sulk continues but I'm slowly getting back into the routine, with only mild residual resentment that I can't see the Eiffel Tower or the Shard from my bedroom window.

I can see the beautiful Princess Royal Harbour, which is pretty amazing.  So I mustn't grumble.  Much.

Last weekend I went to White Rabbit Vintage and Handmade, at the local Torbay Hall.  It was a long weekend here - which meant the Albany Classic car race, right in the main street. We escaped the relentless 'zoom zoom' and public address system, for the green serenity of the cutest little hall, amongst the trees.  Lots of people obviously had the same idea.  Its a great venue, the kids can scamper about (outside), people ate their lunch under the trees. I met some really nice people, caught up with some old friends, and had a great day out.

It did remind me that I haven't really been working on any fish for - oh - six months.  So I  managed to focus a little bit and so here's some work I prepared earlier.  Just a little bit earlier. Last week. Yesterday.

I've also been playing with my photographs from Paris and London, but I'm not ready to share those just yet.













I did find a couple of interesting things on the interweb this week.  Actually I found quite a lot of interesting things, but that's another story.  While I was stalking Spitalfields Market in London,  I saw a popup shop by two designers making really clever garments and bags, and I noticed that they have opened a shop, Seam.  Here's a link  where they describe their work, including corsets made from upside down pinstripe suit jackets, skirts draped from tuxedo trousers, and dresses cut from jacket lapels, cuffs, and colour-contrast prints.  There are also high quality and locally made leather and sheepskin goods, specialising in bags, jackets and coats. Highly original and highly desirable.

I also found a blog, via a Facebook page, called Charity Shop Chic - where opshop clothes are upcycled into fashion garments.  In this case (unlike many others) it's real tailoring and design, the blogger is a seamstress of considerable talent. She gives clear step by step instructions, with pictures.  Highly recommended.

the enigma of the residual smile

A grey and misty week, with occasional downpours, interspersed with rare but welcome rays of cheering sunshine and a residual enigmatic smile. 

I have a Big Trip coming up soon, and in a wardrobe containing such a lot of black clothes, it's sometimes hard to find particular items.  Especially in a dark room. (This has been on ongoing issue when getting ready for work.) I've set aside a small mountain of items which I'll (unbelievably) cull down to 2 pairs of jeans, one pair of black pants - plenty to choose from - some (not black)layering tops, a jumper, and a jacket. Plain black skirt optional.

On the upside, I've done all the stain removal, and mending, on a bunch of stuff I won't take. 

I dug the suitcase out, causing the dog to go into anxiety meltdown.  He clings to me now like a - well, a furry anxious clingy thing. It's going to be a long few weeks, passed in a cloud of dog fur with occasional whimpering (probably from me.)

I'm also wondering whether I should keep, or sell, my Union Jack Doc Martens.  My mother was fond of the phrase 'mutton dressed as lamb', and one reaches an age where one scans the crowd for an accusatory 'baa'.  On the other hand, I have always wanted to grow old quite disgracefully. Being the old girl in the rocking chair, tripping up the nursing staff with a daintily extended Doc certainly has appeal.


That enigmatic smile just hangs in there.

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.

And some new jewellery....

A rainy day, what's a girl to do?  I made some jewellery.