Chapter III

Christmas doings

2011-12-05T18:39:00.004+08:00

I've been making soap, very grateful for all the help, recipes and advice from Lisa here and Suse here.
Some of it has no scent; some of it is rose scented (faintly); and the rest of it is frankincense scented - very festively appropriate!
All my Christmas prezzies this year – as far as I am inspired and able – will be handmade.
The chaps will get a manly hunk of soap each and a bottle of my secret recipe steak rub (ie - I haven't looked one up on the net yet).
The sheilas will each get a more dainty yet still fairly robust hunk of rosy soap and a diary that I have covered and painted. One or two will get a hunk of soap and a bag - which I have yet to do.
Next weekend, my grandson is coming over for the day and the two of us are going to put up the Christmas tree and set to work on a pile of boxes I've been saving for months, to make a box city to go across the living room mantelpiece. With lights in them and everything. So excitement!

Bag

2011-11-14T10:55:00.004+08:00

I started out making this bag as a Christmas present.
But actually, I'm not perfectly happy with it.
The lining material is not a tight enough weave, so it's way too soft and lacks substance, and the handles aren't quite the same, and ... meh.
The dark denim bottom was a success though - and it's been boxed at the bottom so it stands up very well and won't blob.I'll probably use it myself when I need a slightly bigger bag.
Let's hope that won't be the result of the rest of my gift making!

Mix

2011-11-12T11:20:00.004+08:00

I'm making the Christmas cake today. It's an old boiled fruit cake recipe that I've had for years, and which always works. When it's baked and cooled and wrapped, I store it in the same big old biscuit tin and get it out every week to feed it with brandy or whatever festive spirit we have in the cupboard.
I always faff about with exactly what fruit I put into the mix. One year, I substituted dried apricots for the cherries, which was pretty good. I always bung in a goodly handful of chopped up crystallised ginger, because I just can't conceive of a Christmas cake without it.

:: I went last night to see When the Rain Stops Falling, at our lovely new Heath Ledger Theatre. Well, yes, it was really very clever, and seamlessly realised and directed. Charged with Themes and Symbolism, and References. And, quite possibly, Messages.
The actors did really well; the stage looked fabulous. But ... and this may, of course, be because of what it was dealing with ... it was a g-r-i-n-d. And it all seemed so self-conscious in its minimalism, and therefore, to me, leaden. And unsatisfying.
What did it lack? Language? Poetry? Some feeling? More fathomable characters? I'm trying to work it out.
But, don't listen to me! I acknowledge that, unlike my brilliant husband, I do carry an awful lot of baggage with me when I see live theatre: I just don't like it. I keep going, and every now and then, something comes along that has me transported, like the brilliant Red a few months ago. But on the whole, no.
It's a bit like me and Tom Waits ... I try and I try and I try. I listen to his old stuff. I listen to his new stuff. I love his songs done well by other people. The guy really can write. I go and see him. But I just don't like him.
Okay - throw stuff at me now!

Finito

2011-11-11T11:42:00.004+08:00

Forgive the shonky styling and the super-bright, soon-be-overhead, late-morning, late-spring sunshine, but I am very pleased to have finished this one, and that it worked out okay.It's about 1.6m square, and took me five or six hours to quilt last weekend, listening to bossa nova and getting up every 40 minutes or so for a stretch and a cuppa. Good fun.
I'm tossing up whether to throw it in the washing machine and then the drier so it will achieve that lived-in crinkly look I like so much. Ho hum.
It will be delivered this weekend, I hope. Then it's on to the next project!
This is the de-rigueur shot to show off the surprisingly neat job I made of the binding — especially on the corners!
:: I have Golden Girl here with me this arvo, and this evening I'm off to see Andrew Bovell's play, When the Rain Stops Falling, on David's recommendation. He reviewed it for the West and said it was one of the best plays on in Perth this year.
:: Hope you all have a fab weekend!
X X X

Speeding up

2011-11-06T08:38:00.003+08:00

Just when I thought things would settle and I'd gain some quiet momentum, I find myself hurtling towards Christmas ... so I'm all busy again. There are probably no readers left out there, but anyway.
Before I get started on Christmas gifts, I thought I'd finish off this quilt, which is a present for my sister-in-law's 50th birthday.
I'm keen to finish it soon, because she'll be 52 in a couple of months ...
The all-over stippling is looking okay, though there are occasional angular bits, and two points at which I have crossed over a stitching line. But I'm telling myself this is the idea of handmade stuff. As I'm stitching, I keep telling myself, "Curves ... curves ..." to stop doing loops and zig-zags, which feel more natural.
Faves
:: I'm reading Stella Gibbons' (of Cold Comfort Farm) novel, Westwood on the kindle and loving it.
:: David and I have spent several weeks watching 20 gripping, tense episodes of the Danish thriller, The Killing, and now we wish we could start it all over again, it was SO good. And how fascinating it was to hear the Danish language spoken. It sounded quite guttural, with not so many staccato consonants as in the Romance languages. And for the most part it seemed entirely incomprehensible, until suddenly the characters would say a short sentence or the odd word that sounded like German, or English. It just added to the fabulous TV, in my opinion.
We are also loving The Slap - so brilliantly done. I forgot how truly despicable so many of the characters are - good stuff. Likewise the BBC adaptation of Alan Hollinghurst's novel, The Line of Beauty. Lord knows if either of these will get to air in the US - there's so much graphic, no-holds-barred sex in them that they'll cause conniptions.
Oh well - back to the swirly-wirly and curves, curves, curves ...

News from Japan

2011-09-26T08:42:00.002+08:00

Lily has a bit of a cough!

Catching up

2011-09-25T13:41:00.005+08:00

For the past month I've been working full time and a bit - and for two weekend during that time, we had the grandkiddies staying over, from Friday night to Monday morning, so tempus has well and truly fugited.
For a week, I'll be back doing my regular job, then there's a stint as Sir (which I'll be sharing with my new fellow sub - yay!), and after that a month as arts editor ... and before you know it, we'll be revving up and hurtling towards Christmas, with huge issues.
Here's what else has been happening.
:: Reading ... I'm loving and chortling my way through Rupert Everett's autobiography, Red Carpet and Other Banana Skins, lent to me by my best friend Dace. What a naughty, wicked boy he is! I'm not usually an autobiography or biography fan, but it's a fabulous read, and so cleverly written.
On my Kindle, I'm reading Mildred Pierce, after watching the excellent mini-series on TV, starring Kate Winslet and our very own Guy Pearce. They both recently won Emmys for it, so it will probably get on free-to-air telly soon.
I haven't read any James M. Cain before, and love that early 20th century Los Angeles setting. I'm wondering if the book, written in the 1940s, will be as out-and-out sexy as the TV mini-series. Click here to see the trailer on YouTube.
Our book club has just done The Help (enjoyed that movie, too), and our next book is Larry's Party, by Carol Shields, one of my all-time favourite reads.
:: TV ... My regulars (apart from re-runs of Nigella shows and all the Grand Designs), are Crownies and At Home with Julia - love them both. On Friday night, Scott & Bailey, the new British cop show started well. So great that in these British shows the women are so flawed and look so ordinary - not like the US shows where they are stick-thin and always perfectly made-up, or the apparent 13-year-old legal types in Crownies, who are all utterly beautiful and have outrageous sex lives and the wardrobes to go with them (I still like it, though!).
On Friday, the ABC was touting the start of The Jonathon Ross Show from the UK, with guests Hugh Jackman and Stephen Fry. They said it was the hottest thing on TV in the UK, and he was UK telly's biggest and most popular and beloved interviewer, blah blah. Envisioning the new Michael Parkinson, I watched it - yuck! Inane interviews, no leading the subjects into conversations, just naff, idiotic questions. And he was so obsequious and gibbering about Stephen Fry that it was embarrassing to watch.
:: Sewing ... I haven't yet made a start on the English-language version of the Japanese pattern book, but will very soon. I've also got the fabric for a new bag, and will be making Harper some wee little flowery dresses.
:: Knitting ... Lily has requested a cardie for her birthday, and as she sent me the wool for it from Japan, I have started.
My best friend Shelley also gave me some amazing Noro silk-blend that I'm looking forward to getting on my needles.
:: Crochet ...
My best friend Caroline has been waiting for ages for me to finish this granny square cushion - it is on its way, promise!
:: Breaking in ... New Birkenstocks. They feel so strange ...

A parcel from Japan

2011-09-12T18:03:00.005+08:00

And it's full of handspun wool, organic cotton, some extremely lightweight modelling clay, probably paper, and a set of four fabulous and fine brushes with ergonomic grips.And, very excitingly (for stationery junkies like me), a very fine, black version of those amazing pens that can be erased with friction, which means heat - and therefore can be used on fabric and erased with a swipe of a hot iron. They are incredibly useful when you're dressmaking and need to mark where pockets or buttons or pleats or darts go. Brilliant - thanks Lily!Now I'll need to test the gauge of the yarns and work out what to knit. Lily wants a cardie for her birthday in November, so I'll need to get cracking.

Knock, knock ...

2011-09-11T11:58:00.006+08:00

Since my last confession, winter has been and gone, and the most beautiful spring is here, with warm sunny days and nights that are still cold enough to snuggle into sleep.(I dream of a climate mild enough to create and enjoy a colourful, shady alfresco spot like this ... right down to the fireplace, cushions and rug. Love it. From Desire to Inspire, which is one of my now daily reads. )

Will is back from California and Lily is in Japan with Nick. My elder son is in Spain.
For just one day, we were all home here together and it was magic, like heaven on a stick!This was taken on that day - Will, jet-lagged, SoCal-tanned and just off the plane, Lily about to get on hers the next day.
For a brief few weeks, while Will was away and before Lily returned from Melbourne en route to Osaka, David and I had no kids at home, and while we prefer to the house to be full of young people, we did actually enjoy ourselves.
Since my last confession, work has moved up a gear or two, so it takes a good chunk out of my week, and apart from the loss of time to droob about and be otherwise creative, it has been fantastic.
But since my last confession, I have been doing plenty of other stuff. Lily and I made her three or four shirts from one of those lovely Japanese pattern books, and I have made a couple of things for Harper. I've made a couple of small quilts, painted, drawn, crocheted and knitted, and done lots of cooking.
I'm still loving my kindle, and playing words with friends on my iPod (give me a game - I'm Lesleyzed).
I've started digging over the front garden and planted a few bits and bobs, with a few cuttings gleaned from here and there: frangipani branches from a verge pick-up, now a year old and thriving; fuchsia-pink geraniums from my best friend Laura's husband's garden two years ago and thriving; new daisy cuttings from my best friend Shelley's garden, already showing minuscule green shoots; pelargoniums, scented-leaf geraniums, a few herbs, cosmos, violas. I have missed gardening a little bit. In California we had nothing in the back garden but a pool, and the small front yard was looked after every fortnight by a team of hard-working Mexicans sent by the landlord with mower, trimmer and blower, so there was nothing to do.
So this year, I'm getting into it again.
The backyard here is way too big to contemplate doing too much to, but I've borrowed Simon's whipper-snipper while he's away and I may start the battle with a tiny bit of it soon.
There are three kaffir lime trees and a regular one along the side fence that I really feel I ought to be nurturing as the hostility of a Perth summer approaches.
I'm off now to trace a pattern for a shirt from this book, another of the wonderful Japanese pattern books but this time, praise be, it's a translation, and with Australian sizing. Hooray!

First day of winter

2011-06-01T11:35:00.003+08:00

Lots happening here, with Will soon to leave us for a week in Melbourne, staying with Lily, on his way to LA, San Francisco, Boston and New York for six weeks.My elder son Simon is about to take his son Mack (who has been c-r-a-z-y about dinosaurs for five of his seven and a half years) to walk with the dinosaurs in Brisbane — lucky pair!
My best friend Dace and her kids take off on Sunday for London, Rome, Paris, Riga and Krakow, and my best friend Shelley is very soon off to Hyderabad.But I'll be at home in the warm, dreaming up more soppy adventures for Julia and keeping the home fires burning.It's the first day of winter, praise the whatever, and we've just endured the driest, warmest May on record, a complete fizzer of an autumn straight after the hottest, driest most horrible summer on record. I love winter! Let it rain. And please, please, please let it get below 10 degrees C (50F) at night occasionally so I can sleep the way I love to.
Enough words. These are all pics I've gleaned from my adventures on design blogs and tumblr.
I love the look of white floors and furniture, a la Scandinavian blogs, but I'm such a shoddy housekeeper I could never live with it for very long without there being baked bean stains and dog hair everywhere, or crap in the cracks in the floorboards. Sigh. So I'll confine myself to admiring pretty pictures.
Top pic is from Country Homes and Interiors, a UK mag which seems not to have its own website.
I've misplaced the info about pic 2 — mea culpa.
Pic 3 and 5 are from Hus o Hem.
Pic 4 is from Skona Hem.

My trashy romance (3)

2011-05-31T15:44:00.002+08:00

Julia’s house, set in a small garden among sweet chestnut trees on the side of a valley through which a fast and permanently icy stream ran, was not the traditional cottage she had for years envisaged whenever she thought of this part of Italy. Instead, that sort of characteristic Tuscan villa was where her landlords lived, while her house was a far more modest cottage their family had built in the 1970s. Looking at the Carlucci family villa when she first arrived, Julia was at pains to understand why anyone living there would want or even need a guest cottage at all — spread over three storeys with a huge basement, it had so many very beautiful rooms. But as she got to know her landlady, Carlotta, and the eldest son, Ernesto, she eventually learned that her own little house had been built for the family to live in while the big house was being restored, a project that had taken several years … and to Julia, unimaginable sums. Once the villa was ready, in all its creamy timber, golden-veined marble, frescoed, gilded and terracotta splendour, the small house had been left empty for a while, then leased as holiday accommodation, or opened up to university friends of Ernesto and his siblings. Eventually, after several summers of student revelry and general abandon, Carlotta reclaimed it and did it up, ostensibly as a comfortable retreat for her friends who preferred to stay close but independently, but really thinking that once any of her children slowed down enough to show any interest in giving up big-city life and taking over the big house, the little one would one day become her own dower cottage.

Julia had loved it from the moment she’d opened the door and walked in that late winter afternoon. There were two connecting bedrooms and a bathroom off the kitchen end of the big open-plan living area, and a bigger bedroom and bathroom at the other end. The two smaller bedrooms joined the main part of the house at a right angle, and outside, in the corner of this L-shape, a courtyard had been paved and planted. The living room and the main bedroom opened to this courtyard with wide French doors that let in plenty of light. Walls were roughly plastered and washed creamy-white, windows were hung with plain linen curtains on big wooden rings, furnishings were simple — it was perfect.

As she swung her little Fiat into the drive by the front door, James woke up and rubbed his face with two enormous hands.

“This I where I live,” Julia said.

“But what am I … ?”

“I figured it’d be easier for you to stay a night here and then tomorrow we can find you somewhere else to stay.”

“But I …”

She opened her car door. “Got any better ideas? You’ll never get accommodation round here right now — the Paleo is bigger than Ben Hur.”

James got out of the car and staggered slightly as he straightened. “It’s food poisoning,” he told her.

“In Sienna?” Julia was incredulous.

“Yes, in Sienna. Must have been a dodgy prawn … umph … in the risotto … ugh.” He made a dreadful swallowing sound and Julia thought she’d better get him inside quick and close to a loo.

“You don’t look too crash hot. Come in and lie down and we can talk later.”

He made no argument when Julia led him into her room, showed him the bathroom, gave him a towel and left him to it.

It was far easier to let him have her room, the main bedroom. One of the two smaller rooms at the other end of the house was now her studio, and she could easily sleep in the other adjoining one, out of James Connor’s way, out of earshot, and with access to her work. And the phone and her computer. And the kettle.

Mentally thanking Carlotta for ensuring the house had good plumbing and a workable kitchen, Julia put on the kettle for tea and started unpacking her shopping and then, mug of tea in hand, the package from the post office. Fresh new brushes, fresh new tubes of watercolour paints, a box of teabags, a bar of her favourite chocolate, and a quick hello-and-goodbye note from her sister in Bristol, the source of all these goods.

It wasn’t until she’d wandered outside into the courtyard that she remembered the letter from Massimo, and his and his gallery’s interest, and her stomach gave another little jump up to meet her heart.

It had been a hot day and the early evening air was still and warm, so Julia was doubly glad she had no need to cook tonight, not fancying the idea of food smells wafting though to her poor guest — and recalling how he’d blanched at the very mention of that killer risotto. No, this was her night up at the big house playing Scrabble with Carlotta. The two of them had quite a routine, with a light dinner on the terrace and a couple of good games. The older woman adored Julia's company and though Julia’s Italian was pretty good, she insisted they spoke and played in English.

Julia had just played “tic” when Carlotta turned it into “quixotic” and leant back in her chair triumphantly.

“So, come on Julia, what news from Sienna? Oh my God! That sounds so, Shakespearean doesn’t it?” She laughed and pushed back the sleeves of her linen shirt and crossed her legs, nudging Julia's leg playfully with an elegantly sandalled foot.

“Come on, have you heard yet from that gallery … um, what is it called?”
“Martinelli, and yes, I had a letter today.”

Carlotta jumped forward in her chair. “And do they like you?”

“Well …”

“Come on, what did they say? Honestly, Julia, this is like making mud from a stone.” Carlotta had an endearing habit of mangling her English clichés.

“You mean like getting blood from a stone!”

“No matter – just as hard. What did they say?”

“Well, they said they liked my work …”

“Told you!”

“And Massimo wrote the letter himself, and …”

“Yes?”
“They said thanks for showing them and they’d speak to me again soon …”

“Oh no!”

“… about the possibility of an exhibition there next spring!”

Carlotta ran on the spot in her chair and reached for the wine bottle to top up their glasses.

“My dear girl, I’m excited to bits for you — I knew it! I just knew it!”

Carlotta topped up their wine glasses.

“You’ll have to work hard, won’t you? How many paintings will you need?”
“Well, I’ve got about a dozen finished at the house right now, though I think I just sold one of those online this week, so I’m about halfway there,” Julia said.

“I’ll find out when I ring Massimo, but for the space, I reckon I’ll need at least twenty, so I’m aiming to paint about twenty-four or twenty-five so I can choose the best ones to show.”

“That’s more than one a month, you know.”
“I do know! I have a couple on the go at the moment, and it will all work out. I’ll get there.”
“Of course you will. Your turn, you know.”

It wasn't until they were clearing away the tiles of their second game that Julia remembered to tell Carlotta about James Connor.

“You mean to say you kidnapped the poor man?” Carlotta asked in amazement after Julia recounted the whole story.

“Well not exactly, I was just trying to help him out. It’s the only thing I could think of.”
“Oh that hotel, what’s it called? I know the one you mean, right behind the main square, yes. How intolerable.”
“So I thought I’d better let him stay until he’s well enough …”

Carlotta sighed. “But what if he’s a …”

“Look, it’s okay — I can lock my bedroom door and I’ll keep the car keys close tonight!” Julia was only half-serious, but Carlotta was not.

“I won’t sleep tonight now for worrying about you down there. It’s such a pity Ernesto is away this week.”
“It will be fine, don’t worry. If you could have seen the state he was in when we got to the house, you’d understand that he is far too weak and ill to do anything right now other than sleep.”

“I’ll call by tomorrow to look him over.”

“No, he’s so sick he may not even get out of bed tomorrow. I’ll ring you.”
“Well don’t forget — if I don’t hear from you by 10am, I’m coming down.”

When Julia made up her bed that night, no light showed from the other end of the house and there was not a sound from the obviously sleeping James Connor. She put her car keys on the bedside table, locked the door and with her mind fully on the work ahead of her got into bed to thumb through one of her many sketchbooks, knowing she would have to stick to a tight schedule in the coming months.

It was the smell of coffee that woke her the next morning, and noises in the kitchen. A much less rumpled James Connor was in the kitchen looking for cups, his hair damp from the shower, clean shirt and jeans in evidence.

“Good morning. Sugar and milk?” he asked, as watched her padding through into the kitchen.

My trashy romance (2)

2011-05-28T14:59:00.004+08:00

Part 1 is here.

Julia had reasonable Italian and easily picked up the words for "disgusting" and "drunk" from a well-heeled couple leaving the hotel lobby, but as she peered in, stunned by the kerfuffle in such a neighbourhood, it quickly became apparent that drunkenness was not the problem here. The concierge and a colleague she assumed to be the maitre d' were haranguing a third man, who was doubled over in a chair across from the desk. From the state of his face and his rumpled linen shirt and jeans, Julia could understand why the couple who had just left must have thought he was drunk. But what she couldn't understand was the hostility of the hotel staff.
There was a sudden angry roar from the man as the concierge attempted to grab him by the arm and pull him from the chair, and the man stood up, pale, with big dark rings round his eyes.
Julia walked in further.
"For heaven's sake — I can't believe you're treating me this way," the man bellowed, shaking himself free.
Julia was stunned to hear English.
"All I need is another night in my room ..."
"But Signor, we are so very sorry," whined the maitre d', wringing his hands and looking about. Catching sight of Julia, he determined to placate this angry guest quickly and calm the scene before any more inquisitive onlookers gathered.
"It is the Paleo, you understand? We are fully booked ... your room ..."
"But goddammit, I'm sick!"
"I understand Signor, permit us to get you to hospital ..."
"I don't need hospital, I've seen a doctor; I just need sleep."
"May I suggest our sister hotel a Firenze?"
"Jesus, I'm not fit to travel — look at me!"
"It's just not possible, Signor ... !"
"I've never been treated so bbb ..." The Englishman retched with a shudder and put his hand to his mouth, at which point both the concierge and the maitre d' ran in panicky circles looking for suitable containers — not that the superb hotel decor ran to anything modern and plastic.
With great effort, the guest staggered off towards the lift at the back of the lobby and, Julia presumed, the men's room.
"Ah Signora, buon giorno ..." In the temporary lull, the concierge now turned his attention towards Julia and flashed her a weary but practised smile. "Have you a reservation?"
"No." Julia shot a wry glance at her plastic supermarket bag and post office parcel. Unlikely she'd ever be checking into such a hotel any time soon. She spoke in English.
"I was just passing and heard the commotion."
"Er, yes? And?"
"Your guest says he is unwell — why can't you let him stay another night?"
The smile dropped and the tone was icy. "And this concerns La Signora because ...?"
"Well, I ..."
"The Paleo starts in a little under a week, Signora, and the hotel has been booked for months in readiness. We do not have a room for the Signor, not even a cupboard. Not even a couch."
"But you must know somewhere he could stay, surely?"
"No."
"Aren't you in the slightest concerned about him?"
The maitre d' inhaled sniffily in a facial manoeuvre that involved both eyebrows, pivoted on his heel and returned to his desk, conversation over.
Julia picked up her stuff and was about to walk off when the guest reappeared in the lobby, looking, as her mother would have said, like Death warmed up. He had a suitcase and a big leather messenger bag across his body.
"Call me a cab."
Out of the blue, Julia called out, "Come with me. I'll try to find you somewhere to recuperate."
Watched with relief by the concierge and the maitre d', the big man walked towards her, too sick to argue, though his eyes softened with gratitude as he looked at her.
"Try not to speak, you'll need your energy to get to my car," Julia ordered, wondering what in the world she had got herself into - where would she take him? It was true, the entire town was in Paleo fever. Even in the village where she was living, a good eight kilometres away, every pension and hotel room was taken.
"Can you manage?" He was unable to walk very fast, and by the time they had reached the next corner, he sat heavily on some church steps.
"I'm sorry ..." he started, but Julia shooshed him.
"Look, you stay here a mo," she said, putting down her parcels and pulling her hair back from her face. "Look after all my stuff, and I'll go and get my car. It's parked outside the walls, about five minutes away from here, and I'll try to drive as close as I can to here."
He nodded but said nothing.
"Now stay here, okay? Don't wander off, or I'll never find you."
He looked up at her and she caught the ghost of a smile. "I'm unlikely to get anywhere," he said. "I'll be right here."
She had gone just a few steps when she flew back to his side. "My name is Julia, Julia Yates."
"Connor. James Connor." He took her outstretched hand in a warm, firm grip.
"Don't move, okay?"

Fifteen minutes later, Julia was driving gingerly towards her village with James Connor beside her, the back seat crammed with her packages and his luggage. She had not even thought about where to take him, or about how she would find him somewhere else to stay, but just drove towards her house as if on autopilot.
"How are you doing?" she asked as she swung off the main road and into a narrow lane.
"Been better — I can't thank you enough ... but where are you taking me exactly?"
Julia realised with a jolt that he hadn't a clue where the crazy lady was going.
"Oh god, sorry — I just thought you'd better stay at my place tonight and then when you feel up to it tomorrow, we can hunt round for somewhere else — is that okay?"
He nodded, closed his eyes, and rested his head against the cool of the car window.

* Who is this James Connor and what is he doing in Sienna?
* Who is this Julia Yates and what is she doing in Sienna? How old is she, what does she look like and how attractive is she?
* Has she never heard of Stranger Danger?
Find out in part three ...

Close proximity to best practice

2011-05-27T11:23:00.003+08:00

My best friend Shelley sent me the above list this morning, and I have quite a few words to add to it.
I find some wild clangers in my job. For example, the prominent TV news reporter who, working for us many years ago, once interviewed a man who had turned 100 and in her report called him a "spritely centurion". Wrong on both counts!
So I'll start my list with the word she thought she had — the word that all young reporters tend to imagine to be the one-word-fits-all when they're writing about old people: sprightly. I can't bear to write about it, I hate it so much.
Young reporters also like to refer to women in terms of their offspring, and generations of offspring, rather than as individuals with skills, personality, character, talents, and entire lives of their own. So if I get the chance, wherever it is irrelevant, I will change "Swanbourne mother-of-two Bronte Smith" to Bronte Smith, of Swanbourne.
We had a great story recently about a 54-year-old athlete and wave-ski champion who was about to go to the world championships in Europe, and the reporter called her a "paddling granny". And the 68-year-old sub-editor (a bloke) had called her that in the heading as well.
I have my work cut out for me.
And our beautiful, logical language is under constant attack by the perpetrators of bureaucratic bullshit-speak (outcomes, stakeholders, best-practice, results-based, key performance indicators, mission statements, and so on ad nauseam), the worst of whom are teachers, local government office staff, and police officers, followed by government workers, "communication consultants" and "media consultants".
Anyway — here are some others I can think of, in no particular order.
Corporate (especially in job titles)
Currently (redundant in 90% of cases when qualifying a verb in the present tense).
Close proximity (which means close closeness). Oh, and approximate means nearly, so more approximate means nearer, not the opposite.
Enormity (has nothing to do with size, just as noisome has nothing to do with sound)
Impact as a verb (I'm retching)
Core, as in core values, core message (see bureaucratic bullshit-speak above)
Synergy, and synergistic
Governance
Variance
Icon and iconic
Gifted, when gave will do!
Going forward
Prior
Moot, mooted (have you ever heard this word spoken?)
Post-modern (when it is clear the speaker has no effing idea what this means. No effing idea at all. As in, "That's very post-modern of you!")
Plumped (instead of chosen!)
Youth (instead of teenager. Have you ever called a young person a youth? Or even worse, a juvenile?)
Further instead of farther when you mean distance.
Further when you mean more.
Feisty — usually how a young buck reporter describes an older woman who has all her own teeth and won't put up with any crap.
Nice
New (as in, "The man is building a new house". Let's see the bugger build an old one!)
Suffered ( "she suffered a fall", "she suffered a fracture to her arm", she "suffered from cancer". And then "the 50-year-old diabetes sufferer ..." Vomit.)
Participate (instead of take part).
Analog, and the even sadder analogue (I imagine people think this is somehow the correct, non-American spelling!), when what is really meant is "non-digital". This has come about because many, many years ago, my children, our first widespread encounter with things digital was watches. The traditional style of watch, with hands and numbers 1 to 12, is called an analog watch because the movement of its hands round its its 360-degree face is analagous to the passing of time in minutes and hours. So the dunderheads have decided this means non-digital.
Monies
The phrase, "tributes are pouring in for ... ", which is how TV and radio news wallies always start reports of famous or worthy people's deaths. I've often wished some enterprising photographer or news video-type person could get us footage of "tributes pouring in". I'd so like to see what they look like. I've never seen any, have you?
And when there has been a death in a small town, we learn "The small community of Woop-Woop is in mourning today ..." Presumably they'll all feel better when the tributes start pouring in.
Utilise (use, please)
Signage (signs will do)

No doubt I'll think of more. What words, phrases and cliches drive you nuts?

My trashy romance (1)

2011-05-24T17:53:00.005+08:00

Julia couldn't suppress feeling smug as she walked across the piazza and settled at a table set for one under a big canvas umbrella. Depositing her shopping bag on the cobblestones and securing her handbag to the chair, she summoned a waiter, ordered lunch and leaned back to drink in the view over the low terrace wall. The restaurant was perched on a high piazza on the edge of the ancient town, which was itself perched on top of a hill. From here, the view swept across a deep green valley to houses and gardens on the other side, the brick and terracotta of the houses and old garden walls interspersed with bamboo stakes, rows of vegetables, and vines. So much terracotta, she thought, and so many trees — so unlike home ...
Julia did not often stop for lunch when she was in Sienna. Her visits were usually far more perfunctory — but this time, as well as a tidy parcel of art supplies, her box at the post office had contained a letter from Rome, and the news this letter contained was worth at least an icy glass of wine in this beautiful corner of the city, if not a whole indulgent lunch for one.
Once lunch had arrived, she allowed herself to re-read the letter, taking in once more, as if for the first time, the heavy notepaper subtly embossed with the gallery's name and logo in one top corner, the polite greeting and, at the bottom of the single page, the single word scrawled boldly in blue-black ink (so much more tasteful than blue or black on its own!): Massimo. And above and beyond the thrill of realising — all over again — that the gallery owner, whom she had met only once, had signed this very important letter to her with his Christian name, was the ultimate thrill of the letter's content: The directors were so very happy to have met La Signora when she was in Rome last week, and to admire her work, and they would very much like to talk again to La Signora about — Julia took a big gulp of wine as she re-read this bit — the possibility of an exhibition next spring, and could La Signora kindly telephone Massimo — not Signor Martinelli, but Massimo — to arrange another meeting at her convenience?
With a celebratory "Woo hoo!" and a raised glass to dear old Massimo that drew curious glances from other diners, Julia smiled widely but unapologetically, stuffed the letter back into its envelope and her bag and tucked in to her veal.
After lunch, having checked the letter was safe in her bag (she did not want to admit to herself that really she was confirming its existence), Julia picked up her shopping and headed through the town towards her car, wishing she had worn more sensible shoes for walking over cobbles, but knowing there must have been a good reason she had decided to wear heels for this trip into town today.
She approached the big square at the centre of the old town, but her way into it was barred by temporary barricades. A small army of workers had blocked off all access into the square and everywhere people were running about carting equipment from small trucks: hundreds of straw bales, flags, bunting, PA systems, electrical boards, lights and tools. Early evidence of the imminent Paleo, Julia realised — the world-famous bareback horse race that has been held in the square every summer for centuries. She turned away from the noise and frenetic activity and headed down a side street, hoping it would wind its way back in the direction she wanted. This was a very beautiful part of the town, with tiny and narrow streets lined with medieval houses all pressed close together, their large wooden doors pulled shut and giving no indication of the buildings' splendid interiors. Just ahead, a smart awning indicated the entrance to a tiny hotel and Julia slowed as she approached, unaware whether it was her keenness to inspect the hotel's bijou lobby or the noise of the row that was clearly going on inside that caused her eventually to stop and stare.

* What's happening in the hotel lobby?
* Is Julia already just a teensy bit in love with Massimo?
* Is Massimo married?
* Can vampires speak Italian?
Read the next instalment to find out ...

My Friday

2011-05-20T14:18:00.003+08:00

Taken by my very talented son Will just a few minutes ago.

Indoors

2011-05-18T11:34:00.003+08:00

Another blanket on the bed, the occasional rain shower, soup in the fridge. Projects on the go, books in the Kindle, Adele on the iPod, Chris Lilley on the telly tonight. Lovely!

Good choice

2011-05-16T15:27:00.004+08:00

She has a box of toys at our house, with dollies, teddies, Lego, and all sorts of rattly, noisy and shaky things — the works.
But right now, the thing she seems to like best of all is my Liberty fabrics. If she goes with me into the room where I sew, she ignores all the other many and fabulous fabrics and goes straight for the Liberty, which I keep in one of those thick plastic bags, the sturdy rectangular ones, with a zip on three sides, the sort you buy bedlinen in. The one she is sitting in.
She takes the pieces out one at a time, inspects them and arranges them about her, then she drapes them over her head before returning them to the bag.
Some people reckon this is just dressing up and that she will be crazy about clothes.
But I think she might be into sewing one day (if I have anything to do with it).

South again

2011-05-11T11:37:00.004+08:00

We had another wonderful weekend down south, where there has been almost as little rain as we have had here in the city.
In between card games (for 20 years, we've been playing the ancient French game of tarot), I did a spot of knitting (a beanie for my best friend Laura's son), and we managed a few beach walks, a run into town for cream buns from the bakery, and a ramble in the bush.
Despite the long dry, the ground was sprinkled with a few patches of green, and my best friends Rachel and Thierry very excitedly spotted this minuscule autumn-flowering orchid.I was very happy when one of our native bees landed on one of them, showing clearly how tiny these delicate flowers are.There was also the cutest little pinky-brown toadstool ...
On the same path there's this majestic old coastal gum, with massive low-spreading branches. It must be hundreds of years old.Back to work this arvo!

Tulip

2011-05-04T08:50:00.005+08:00

Have you ever seen such a beautiful tulip?
Yesterday was the first of several appointments my mother had at the eye hospital, to have her other eye fixed, and so we called in to see my best friends Wayne and Shelley, who live about 200m from the clinic.
They spoiled us with morning tea in their beautiful garden, setting the table in the sunshine with a vase of the most wonderful pink and cream roses, sweet peas and these tulips.Between cups of tea, fancy biscuits, old English china and chat, we breathed in lungfuls of sweet pea perfume and were amazed by the wonder of these divine tulips, with their double row of petals all frilled with deep pinking.Then Mum and I were off for a stroll up and down Rokeby Road and a spot of lunch. A fab day!

:: Added later (after a day at work): I asked for tulip ID help from Jane Brocket who, as well as being a blogging legend, is an enthusiastic and knowledgeable tulip grower. She kindly emailed me and told me it was a double-fringed tulip, called Queensland.
Such a pity we can't grow such beauties here in Perth!

La la la!

2011-04-29T12:38:00.004+08:00

Fabulous royally weddingy print by Glyn West Design on etsy.com.
And I love this union jacky little brooch, too, made by landbaby and available from folksy.com ...
Of course, it's ever such a big day today!
You don't have to be a monarchist to enjoy a royal spectacle with all the hats and dress-ups and smart soldiers and spotting faces and admiring all the sparkles and shiny shiny stuff.
Plus, in the abbey, they'll be walking past the grave of my great(X5)-grandad, so I feel like I'm part of it all, really.
I'm baking a chocolate cake to celebrate, and I'll be watching all of it on telly from this arvo.

On the job

2011-04-29T11:33:00.005+08:00

It's a lot of fun to work where I work. Exhausting, and intense, and stressful at times — but lots of laughs as well.
In the past couple of weeks we've been visited by a litter of puppies looking for good homes (I snuggled but was not tempted to bring one home);... feasted on the world's finest pavlova, with mango and strawberries, made by the wonderful Judy in advertising on her birthday (and the gorgeous Emma, in production, brought in three cakes she'd baked on Wednesday when it was her birthday!);... giggled like idiots at the editorial meeting when one of the reporters wrote thesbian instead of thespian;
... clucked over dear old Bob in production, who was complaining of a stiff neck after many hours in front of his screen and then withdrew into his hood to bliss out with a back rub from the gorgeous Christine;... chuckled to discover two of our team, the brilliant Lloyd, one of our reporters, and the gorgeous Karena, our production chief, had both come to work yesterday with their shirts inside out, seams showing, tags flying. Well, it was a very early start after a rather long night the night before, so it's easily done.
At 12.30 yesterday arvo we stopped and sat outside with Sir in the sunshine to eat teriyaki chicken from a Japanese take-away in Subi before getting stuck in again for three more full-on hours to get the paper away.
It's a good job.

Happy Easter

2011-04-24T09:37:00.003+08:00

Flars on my mantelpiece from my best friend Shelley — many thanks!
We are having the most wonderful few days doing a great deal of nothing very much here at Schloss Zed. I've been pottering, did a bit of painting, a bit of sewing, a lot of reading (Wallander on the new Kindle), some walking and some fantastic eating.
There'll be more of the latter today as we're off to my best friend Dace's for lunch to celebrate her son, the lovely Max's, 18th birthday.
:: My Lily has got a job in Japan and leaves at the end of July. She hasn't yet found out where she'll be placed (it's a teaching job through the Japanese government-run JET program), so she has her fingers crossed she will be sent to her first choice, which is Onomichi.
I'm so proud of her — and trying not to think about how far away she'll be! David, Will and I will be planning at least one trip to visit her in 2012.
:: Will is off to the US in June and gets back just a few days before Lily leaves. Everyone's going somewhere all of a sudden ...

In situ

2011-04-13T09:29:00.003+08:00

Well, they certainly brighten up the place!
We're looking forward to getting the grandkids down again soon, especially so my lovely girl can snuggle up in the old cot — with all the new linen, of course! What do you reckon about the bite marks? Lightly sand and re-paint, or leave for posterity?

Production line

2011-04-06T10:05:00.004+08:00

It's been a productive couple of days here at Schloss Zed.
First, I finished this little baby quilt (above) that I had started before Mack was born — I suppose that'd be eight years ago now! I never finished it, partly because this was the period when we were toing and froing between Perth and California, and partly because, like a complete der-freddy, I'd started hand-quilting it, which was not the right thing for me to do at all.
So on Monday morning, I yanked it down from the top of the cupboard, ripped out all the hand-quilting and within two hours had ripple-stipple-quilted it on the machine. I then bound it with some navy fabric that I hadn't bloody washed, so when I threw the whole completed object into the wash yesterday, the binding shrank. Double der.
Anyway, with that under my belt, I went on to make a little pile of bedlinen to take down south to the beach house this weekend. The linen there is all looking a bit grungy and faded, so I figured some shockingly bright new cotton pillowslips would be in order.
Thanks to my best friend Shelley for the magenta stripe fabric (it was in a whole crate of fabric goodies she gave me!), and to Sarah at work who gave me a good length of the retro-looking floral-print cotton.
I'll photograph these on the bed on the weekend and show you how good they look!
Also in that pile, at the bottom, is a fitted cot sheet. Last time we were down south, I poked around in the garage and found the old drop-side cot that had been second-hand when Lily and then Will slept in it, and then later their cousins, Emma and Rufus. I managed to screw it together and gave it a thorough cleaning with hot water and eucalyptus oil. It still has all the teeth marks in it where successive babies have chewed.
I was tempted to sand it all smooth and perfect and re-paint it, but after conferring with my best friend Jane, I think I'll leave the old toothy patina as it is. Photographs to come when we get down there again.
After the cot sheet, I decided Harper would need some sort of coverlet in the cot, so I fished out this length of blue candlewick I'd got on special at Spotto months and months ago, and the piece of Echino gauze that was left over when I made this quilt, which now lives in Wales with Emily. Voila! A soft and lovely candlewick-backed cot coverlet to keep my lovely girl all warm and cosy.

Something to look forward to

2011-04-01T12:23:00.003+08:00

Last night, after the news, the ABC Perth weather forecaster told us we'd just endured the hottest March on record.
Then he said: "Well, I know lots of people are getting sick of all these sunny days and clear skies, so I have the news you've all been waiting for.
"There's a chance it will be partly cloudy next Wednesday and Thursday."
Sigh.

I'm from ...

2011-03-30T08:49:00.007+08:00

I am from the home my dad built for us, brick by brick; from eiderdowns and coal fires, Quality Street and Typhoo tea.
I am from the smart bungalow my mum loved, the butterfly bush, the boiler in the kitchen, and the big picture window full of Norfolk sunsets.
I am from long summer twilights climbing trees on the common, lips and fingers stained with wild strawberry juice, and rosebay willow herb growing at the edges of the sugarbeet fields.
Grass snakes in my brother's hands, no front teeth, Chinese skipping at playtime, wellingtons and belted gabardine school macs.
I am from people with too-fresh memories of both world wars; from Grandad in Egypt and Gallipoli who never saw his baby daughter, from Nanna who buried tiny Margaret alone. From Patrick and Violet whose hometowns were bombed and whose childhoods were too short.
I am from unconditional love and being brave.
From family scandals and secrets, and a child given away.
I am from bell, book and candle; from ghost stories, hymns every day, tombstones and superstition; and never being told what to believe.
I'm from age-old Norwich, its castle, cobbles and cathedral ... and from the smooth steel towers and uncracked concrete of shiny-new Perth.
I'm from the immigrant's nostalgia and the settler's satisfaction; the here and there.

I've been missing the will to blog lately, but having read some of these formula-constructed little essays a few years ago, and a lovely one by Fairlie today, I thought I'd have a go. Very hard not to get too mawkish, but fun.

Doings

2011-03-15T10:11:00.004+08:00

:: In between watching ever more disturbing news bulletins from Japan over the past few days, I've been painting — pictures and Easter eggs — sewing, and knitting. And doing an awful lot of cleaning — all areas of the house are now tidy, safe, clean and fully functioning, you'll be relieved to hear.
:: I see my wonderful grandchildren every Friday — last Friday was Crazy Hair Day at Mack's school!
:: News this morning about north-east Japan's Fukushima nuclear power station is pretty scary. This article in the NY Times is a great help in explaining what's going on. The Japanese plants were designed to withstand emergencies greater than scientists expected, but that was still a lot smaller than last Friday's earthquake and tsunamis.
Fingers crossed for everyone there today.

The mess, it grows

2011-03-02T08:59:00.006+08:00

Would you believe I spent almost all of yesterday organising one bookcase? (Please note hi-tech cardboard wedges in sideboard doors to stop baby grand-daughter adding contents to bedlam.)
The house is in such chaos at the moment, partially because we inherited a bit of clutter and mess when Lily and Nick moved out after staying here with us for a month before the move to Melbourne.
And partially because I am pretty slack at the best of times, and we've been having a heatwave, which saps me of whatever minuscule ambition I might have to do housework. Even with the air-con on.
But enough is enough and it's time I clawed my way back.
Lily and Nick left three bookcases in our garage, so I've nabbed this one for this spot. My idea is that this bookcase, once stocked in an orderly way, will relieve some of the pressure in here ...
... so I can once more enjoy a calm, clear room in which to work.
For the first time in this house I have all the reference books together, plus all of my and Will's fabulous art books, which is brilliant.
But now I'm being distracted by the fourth shelf up, which has cookbooks on it, and a spot where we can charge our phones and iPods. The cookbooks are all about to go back into the cupboard in the kitchen so I can give the novels above more room. they will continue into the work room.
Better hustle — (paid) work in a few hours ...

Going round

2011-03-01T08:45:00.003+08:00

Circular knitting — well, this gorgeous purple one is.
It's a mobius version of this lacy cowl, knit in a glorious sock-weight Lana Woll (yes, woll not wool), which was a present the other day from my best friend Shelley.
It's lovely to knit with, and I thought its changing textures and colours would suit this easy-peasy lace.
This next project, a beret for the Divine Miss Iman, is not actually being knit in the round, but I have temporarily transferred it to a circular needle because after the initial ribbing, there were so many increases that it hardly fit on the straight ones.This is also yummy yarn, an Eki Riva 8ply baby alpaca, made in Peru, that is so beautiful to work with that I can't help picking it up and doing a row or two during the day.
Mind you, it's my first ever attempt at cables and bobbles, so a row takes me quite a while.
Both projects met with disaster yesterday, which was probably because I was working on them while I was keeping an eye on the Oscars. Last night I had to frog four rows of the green, and three rows of the purple. Aaaaagh.
That'll teach me to loll about in front of daytime telly.

Sunday scrapbook

2011-02-27T14:04:00.005+08:00

First thing this morning, about 7am. A slight breeze, low sunlight, fresh air — I love sitting here looking at the treetops (that's my foot at the bottom of the pic).
Ten minutes later. This is the view from the sofa near the kitchen door, looking out on to the back deck. The front of the house is on a main road, but the back is green and lush and peaceful, and we back on to a big park.
A little while later, it's still gorgeous sitting here.
But an hour later, I've had to pull down the blinds and move to the other side of the house, into the shade, because already the sun is so hot the room's getting uncomfortable, and I don't want to switch on the air-conditioner so early.By lunchtime, we have to have the air-con on, and the blinds will be down until evening.Right now, about 2.30pm, it's 38 (100F) with a little bit of high cloud. Perth is having a stinking February: no day under 30 (86F), and no night under 20 (68F). With uncommon humidity. Yesterday, I'd been out all afternoon and drove home at about 8.15pm, and as I got out of the cool car, my glasses fogged up in the drenching heat outside. Yuck!
Mind you, this is easily put up with, compared to some of the other natural events in this part of the world.
Posted to join in Dawn's Sunday Scrapbook on the other hemisphere — where she is looking forward to some regular sunshine!

Tomorrow

2011-02-22T15:17:00.004+08:00

Lily (above, saying goodbye a few days ago to her favourite great old gum tree on the farm) moves to Melbourne tomorrow — from the eighth most liveable city in the world to the second*. I'll miss her terribly, but understand perfectly why she's going.
And thank heavens for frequent flyer points, occasional cheap airfares, and dear friends who'll put David and me up when we decide to fly over for a long weekend or a few days. It's out favourite Australian city too, so we're planning to visit.
Today, Lily had her interview at the Japanese consulate for a position on the JET program. She was so nervous, but said it went really well, and the interview panel were very friendly. Now she can relax and wait to hear if she's been selected — I think it's April when they get told.
:: Dreadful news from Christchurch in New Zealand — can't imagine how terrifying such a massive earthquake must be.
And a tornado — as in a twister — has hit Karratha in our North-West!

* If you didn't care to follow the link — The Huffington Post (US current affairs and comment website) has just released its 2011 list of the world's most liveable cities, a list it says is based on "a combination of environment, health care, culture and infrastructure".
Vancouver has been No. 1 for five years in a row. The rest of the top 10 are: 2 Melbourne, 3 Vienna, 4 Toronto, 5 Calgary, 6 Helsinki, 7 Sydney, 8 Perth, 9 Adelaide, and 10 Auckland.
Paris is 16th, Los Angeles 44th, London 53rd and New York 56th.

Sunday scrapbook

2011-02-20T15:38:00.004+08:00

The farm sold a couple of weeks ago, so here are a few random and last shots for Dawn's Sunday Scrapbook.
Three generations of our family have had a great time there, staying in the little shack, often with friends on every available bed inside, and in tents and the backs of cars in the paddock.
Over the years, David's parents planted trees when grandchildren were born, and Simon planted lots of trees in the home paddock.
Whenever friends and relatives visited from overseas, we'd always take them to the farm at sunset so they could watch the kangaroos leap over the fence between the farm and the national park and then graze on the open paddocks.
Our kids all had their very first driving "lessons" on the track from the road up to the shack.
When they were really little, they'd sit on David's or my lap as we drove up from the road, their little hands on the steering wheel, squealing with laughter as the cows tried to get close and lick the car windows. On our trip south a few weeks ago, Simon was able to do this with his son, Mack, on his as Simon had sat on ours over thirty years earlier.

The Great Doctor

2011-02-16T08:23:00.002+08:00

My Dear Old Mum is up in the city for a surgical procedure, so yesterday I had to take her to the clinic for her pre-op assessment.
This is a private clinic, I want you to remember.
We waited ... and waited ... and waited.
We waited three hours before she got to see The Great Doctor.
The clinic was packed, because they were mostly senior patients awaiting the same assessment which involved medication that meant they could not drive, so every patient was accompanied by at least one other person.
My mum is in her 80s and the long wait meant she'd had no lunch, and though there was coffee and tea-making gear in another part of the building, she was too unsure of the walk there with her stick, and also worried that if her name was called while she wasn't sitting anxiously outside The Great Doctor's room, she'd be forced to wait even longer.
I eventually found her, and she told me she'd watched The Great Doctor call in other patients who had appointments later than hers.
So when The Great Doctor poked his head out of his room to call in the next sucker (I'm amazed he didn't have some girlie to do this for him), I glared at him.
You see, not only was he calling patients in at random, but early that morning there had been "an emergency", so he was running late.
And to make matters worse, there were supposed to be two doctors in attendance, but one was absent.
So The Great Doctor was by now a little flustered, which meant when I glared at him, he Took Serious Umbrage. He was being told off!
"We've been running late all day today, and everybody has to wait," he snooted.
"You'll get your turn," he snooted again.
He turned to scuttle back into his room, so I called out to him.
"I don't understand why, when you find yourself in this ridiculous position, you can't ring patients and tell them there is chaos, you are running hopelessly late, and they should come in an hour or two later."
After all, I thought, you only treat people like this because they are elderly and in awe of you. You wouldn't survive in The Real World if you ran any other business this way and treated your customers in such a disrespectful fashion.
But I am not elderly, and I am not in awe of trumped-up little twits, be they surgeons or salesmen.
The Great Doctor took a deep breath and tried to look big.
"Oh that's not my problem," he snooted as he scuttled into his room.
Two patients later, it was my mum's turn at last.
When she was in his office, The Great Doctor rounded on her and said: "If you can't be bothered waiting, go somewhere else."
Great doctor, eh?

This'll make you laugh ...

2011-02-14T09:18:00.002+08:00

For Valentine's Day — no mawkish pink fluffy hearts or maudlin soft-focus pics of roses.
Just a shot of Les and Dave, 1983, on our honeymoon, May 1983, in the house of our best friends, Dave and Cathy, in Cold Spring, NY.
We look a bit jet-lagged, and probably were. By this point we'd had two weeks in Rome (note my sensational Italian loafers), two weeks in Egypt, a few days in England and still had two or three weeks in the US to go before our return via Sydney.
When Cathy sent me this pic that she'd unearthed last year, she remarked on how impossibly young we were. But I'm more staggered by how incredibly thin we were! Coffee and nicotine will do that ...
For our 30th-or-so Valentine's Day together, David brought me a bowl of Cheerios with exactly 13 grapes and low-fat milk, and in return I'm going to be tidying the kitchen.
Livin' the dream.

Sunday

2011-02-13T10:38:00.003+08:00

In between everything else going on around here, I've got stuck into my crocheting again, in an attempt to either finish this granny rug or at least get it to a size at which it can be useful in some way. As a cushion cover or lap rug.
Of course, it might be that I hate this arse end of summer and am projecting cooler, wintry fantasies — often when I'm crocheting I have to throw the whole thing off me as it's just too darned hot to be sitting with it over me.:: Lily and Nick (pictured above, hiking in Utah) have moved in here temporarily before they move to Melbourne. They have a house organised, but cannot move in until after the 18th of this month. Lily is also waiting for her interview here in Perth for a place on the Japan Exchange and Teaching (JET) program. If she's successful, she'll be moving to Japan for a year.
I'm trying not to think about her leaving, after so loving having her and Nick living about a kilometre away and seeing her so often. But oh, I do understand the lure of wonderful Melbourne for bright, active young people.
:: The Perth festival show, Donka: A Letter to Chekhov, was breathtaking last night. Clever, moving, beautiful, spectacular. If you get a chance to see it, make sure you do.

Weekend tangents

2011-02-12T08:47:00.004+08:00

I was just listening to the news while I checked my emails and had my cup of tea, and then caught sight of this corner of my desk — coincidentally appropriate with all the tumultuous news from Egypt (oooh ... fingers crossed). The lotus seed head — the flower is the ancient symbol of Upper Egypt — I dried out last year after Shelley gave it to me when it was beautifully green and fresh and on a long stalk.
:: My David is going to be so busy over the next few weeks now the Perth festival has started! No more quiet nights of dinner and an old episode of Cracker (I must say, they have stood up surprisingly well in the decade and a half since they were made!). Last night was the Big Festival Opening (yes... with fireworks ... stifled yawn) and tonight we're off to see Donka: A Letter to Chekhov.
:: In the meantime my best friend Shelley and the girls are soon to arrive for a sewing marathon with Lily and me, making more loveliness from this book. So I'd better quit whingeing and clean this mess up!
Have a great weekend, everyone!

Sunday scrapbook

2011-02-06T11:49:00.005+08:00

Quite a lot of photos my kids have taken end up stored on my computer. There's a series of about eight shots of this big huntsman spider*. If you click on the pic, you can see it even bigger!I get a lot of Will's pics in particular because while he has a fab camera of his own, he likes to use my little one. When I retrieve my camera, use it and download the pics I've taken, I occasionally get a load of his as well.I included this one, above, so you get some idea of its size against the doormat.
I think this next spider's poorly, or dead.This next one is one of our enormous bull ants — their bites really, really hurt, and the resultant swelling will itch like hell for weeks afterwards.
Plus videos — there is a series of videos showing ants removing the flesh from the dead mouse whose skull Will still has.
So this week, I thought I'd take part in Dawn's Sunday Scrapbook with some of the creatures Will has photographed that end up stored alongside my far less creepy pics!
All these were taken down south, where the house is on a bush block and there are lots of bugs. On some summer nights, there is a constant banging on the window as beetles and other insects hurl themselves at the glass trying to get to the lights inside.
This is one of my shots. Last weekend, in the strong blustery wind generated by Cyclone Bianca, this beautiful leaf insect blew on to the verandah upstairs. Its wings and body are the same shape and green as the leaves of the eucalypts in which it lives, and its legs are identical to the reddish leaf stalks. Wonderful.

:: I was looking at my recent stats and I seem to have had an awful lot of visitors from two or three so-called "adult friend" sites. I'm wondering if they ventured my way because of the title of the post before last ... what do you reckon?

* Huntsman spiders are really common and not deadly to humans. They don't make webs but they can move fast and jump. And they can be big — they can eat cockroaches.
You very often see them indoors, where they like to cling to the ceiling. One jumped on to my pillow one night — the noise of its landing just centimetres from my face woke me up ...

Laundry

2011-02-04T10:14:00.005+08:00

I get an inordinate amount of pleasure from doing the laundry, which is odd, because I am not the slightest bit interested in other forms of domestic toil, though I will keep the loos reasonably clean.{Over the Line, oil on canvas, 2002, by Jeffrey T. Larson}

But give me a pile of washing to sort, wash and — oh joy! — hang out, and I am weirdly happy.
Not so happy about bringing it in and sorting it and putting it away, but I'll do it.
I enjoy the flap of cool wet linen on a breezy, sunny day, the bright pegs (always cheap and cheerful placky ones) against the blue sky, and the basic process of exposing washed fabrics to the whitening and drying effects of the sun.I even stuck to my guns in Southern California, a dry, desert environment where it rains little and the sun shines a lot, and where hanging out your washing to dry indicates your social and financial inferiority and is therefore prohibited in many neighbourhoods lest you bring down property prices and upset the kiddies. And this, of course, is far, far more important than the dire environmental effects of 20 million people all using dryers, even if they are gas-heated.

But I won't go on about that again ...{In the Light of Morning, oil on canvas, 2003, by Jeffrey T. Larson}

I laundered my handmade napkins today — including this one, which someone decided last year would be the perfect cloth for wiping down something gross, like a wet bike, or a set of lawn bowls. Grrrr.

Baby love

2011-02-03T09:27:00.004+08:00

We had a glorious time down south, despite yucky weather caused by the approach and eventual fizzing out of Cyclone Bianca, which fortunately did very little other than drop a bit of rain, increase the humidity and rough up the sea.
But we still had a wonderful time, especially with grandchildren Mack and Harper.
Mack had a ball with Will, and lots of fun swimming, surfing, studying bull ants and beating me at Mario Kart.
He started Year 2 at school yesterday — amazing!
It was one-year-old Harper's first trip to the beach house and it was a bit of a shame that the weather was either too hot or windy, and the sea too rough and noisy, to take her paddling.
Oh, but Nanna Lesley enjoyed lots and lots of cuddles and affection!
She is an amazing eater — whatever is placed in front of her. Broccoli, carrots, avocado, cherries, spinach, tomatoes, the lot! And while it was all a bit strange for her at first, once she'd settled in she slept almost all night every night, until after 7am.
We miss both of them.
:: Started some round-and-round knitting therapy (a beanie for Lily, who is about to move to Melbourne) as we watched the news unfold yesterday of Queensland's approaching menace, Cyclone Yasi.
I think the whole nation watched anxiously all day — we all still feel such an emotional connection with Queensland after the disastrous floods in the south of the state.
This super-cyclone was even more of a worry as fellow blogger and Scrabble mate Tracey lives in Townsville, which is about 200km south of where the eye crossed the coast but was still subjected to an incredible battering. And is still experiencing huge winds today.
We experienced vicariously a little of what she went through as she posted bulletins on her blog and on facebook.
Thankfully, she and her family are safe and sound.
Seems Nature really has got it in for Queensland this year, which is a worry!

Heading south

2011-01-21T07:39:00.006+08:00

I've been counting sleeps!
Yesterday, I put my last edition for now to bed (Sir is back next week) and from today I'm on two weeks' holiday.
As soon as we've finished breakfast, and maybe a coffee, we'll pack and be off.
I've put together a couple of boxes of things to do — watercolours (it's been years and years!), drawing, knitting and crochet — and to read, like the gorgeous cookbooks we got for Christmas and haven't had time to glance at. We've packed the wii and games, I've even dug out my bathers and there's a hat on my bed waiting to be packed.
My eldest son is already down there with our grandson, and our grand-daughter will be with us next week. Lily's coming down with Nick in a few days, and Will will arrive on Monday with two of his mates. My best friend Dace is coming for a weekend, and everyone else is welcome to arrive at a moment's notice.
And on top of all that, we have a forecast maximum of just 29C today (84F) and it's started to rain — very happy.

{Today's lovely pics are of textiles and colours in the home of Scottish designer Fiona Douglas, via Design Sponge. I'm looking at images of bedrooms with an eye to re-painting and brightening up our bedroom down south, and if I could get it to look like this, I'd be in heaven ...}

Italy and daggy pants

2011-01-16T13:27:00.005+08:00

{From Italian Villas, via Desire to Inspire}

I thought you might like a little Sunday outing — to Castello di Reschio in Umbria, close to the Tuscan border.
Simple furnishings, uncomplicated colour schemes, airy rooms and lovely views.
I reckon I could whip up a mural like this really easily ... very effective!
:: I'm sewing today — finishing off yesterday's quilt top and a couple of pairs of pants ready for our summer break next week.
Things were going well with the pants until on one pair I discovered that instead of sewing each of the two front pieces to the two back pieces, I'd sewn the fronts together and the backs together — so one leg is a totally different shape and size from the other.
You may ask why I didn't just unpick and start again, and the answer is that I couldn't be bothered — by the time I'd noticed, I'd finished off all the raw edges and was up to the waistband.
Anyway, I finished them and they will do for holiday wear. They are lovely, comfy, very lightweight cotton pants that look really odd but feel okay!

Easy-peasy piecing

2011-01-15T16:52:00.008+08:00

Here's a brief tutorial about one way to use a jelly-roll of fabric — I'm not an expert quilter by any means, so I feel a bit out of whack giving anyone tips, but this is such a quick, easy and foolproof way to piece that I wanted to pass it on.
Usually I go for more relaxed, unfussy quilts and if my corners don't meet, or something's a bit wonky, I let it go and get on with more important stuff. I don't get too anal about things.
But this a quilt I'm making for my sister-in-law, so I really wanted to do a good job, which is why i decided to use this technique.
Jelly-roll is the kiddy name (don't ask me why) given to a tight roll of fabric strips already machine cut to 2.5 inches wide (everything in quiltland is archaically imperial — I blame it on the US).
{Added later: Of course, you can just cut your own squares of fabric — you don't need a roll. The advantage is that the strips are very accurately cut (a bonus for slapdash old moi), and they coordinate — but you really can't see exactly what you've got until to untie and unroll it to inspect. This one I'm using is from Moda.}
You will need some super-light, gossamer-fine fusible interfacing.
And a good supply of tea, and, once you get to the sewing, some good music (Cecilia Bartoli for me today), or podcasts, as the stitching is so easy and straight it's really, really boring.
1. Okay — the first step is to cut the jelly-roll strips into squares.
I'm making my quilt top with nine panels of seven by seven squares, which I'll put together with sashing in three rows of three. So these instructions are for that — they can be adapted to make whatever you fancy, so long as the piecing is basically square or rectangle-based
2. Draw a grid of 2.5-inch squares on the non-adhesive side of your interfacing.
3. Turn it over so the glue side is up, place it on a nicely flattened folded towel — a light-coloured one so you can easily see your pen lines — then lay a fabric square neatly in every marked square on the interfacing. And remember: this is now adhesive side up.
4. When you have your pieces all arranged as you want them, and all neatly in place, gently put a cloth over it all, spray lightly with water and press so all your pieces will fuse with the interfacing. The next pic shows how it looks on the other side:
5. Once firmly stuck, lift the whole panel up, and fold right sides together along the first marked line (horizontal or vertical). You'll find this will happen very easily, you won't need to iron or pin anything. This is s-p-e-e-d-y piecing.
6. Stitch the fold — I used a quarter-inch seam allowance (even my 40-year-old Bernina is metric, but with the needle off centre, I was able to use the edge of the presser-foot as a guide.
7. Do the same for all the marked lines going in the same direction, then take your lovely sharp scissors (the ones you keep just for fabric!) and snip what we in newspaper trade call a poofteenth off the edge of the folds. Press so all the seam allowances lie neatly to one side.
8. Then repeat steps 5 and 6 working on the perpendicular folds.9. Press persuasively, making sure all the seam allowances lie the same way, gently pulling the fabric away from the seams so there are no puckers and everything ends up good and flat. Turn it over and voila!Perfect piecing, done in a flash, with every damn corner sweet, sharp and ship-shape, yessir.

Lunch at the seaside

2011-01-14T15:30:00.005+08:00

David and I took Lily and Nick for lunch at Clancy's Fishpub at City Beach today. It sits right on top of the beach, looking over the dunes to the sea — an amazing location. It's been open only a week or so, and the colourful, friendly, beachy atmosphere is bound to be a winner. We loved the fun, bright decor — especially the overhead light fittings festooned with what look like beach towels! These are little sea-urchin lights hanging from craypots ... ... while this is superb! Fish hooks embedded in thick glass.
The sky was a little overcast today, so the ocean wasn't its usual fluorescent turquoise, but Clancy's owner Joe Fisher reckons when the beach is that typical WA blue and white, the whole place sings.
:: It was my gorgeous Will's 21st birthday on Wednesday, which means all my kids are now officially grown-up, even if turning 21 doesn't mean anything of any real significance these days. We kicked off the celebrations with a family barbie. I had to work until after 6pm, so Lily and David did all the work — it was fabulous.
I'd gone to bed when I realised I didn't have a picture of Will on his birthday, so I got up and we took this very bad shot!:: Just one more week as Sir, and then I'm off for two whole weeks - yay! Bay here we come ...

Stylish dressmaking

2011-01-09T10:05:00.004+08:00

Lily went to Melbourne a few months ago and, knowing her mother well, brought me back this book.
She also produced a pile of fabric and asked if, for her birthday, I would make her a few of the dresses in the book.
Well, it was a while before I had the real time or brainspace even to look at it, but we got together in the incredibly hot week that followed Christmas, pulled down the blinds, turned up the air-con and got stuck in.
The dresses in the book are simple and beautiful — I'd like a few for myself as well.
The sticking point is that the book is almost entirely in Japanese, and the patterns for all 26 dresses, in all sizes, are printed on just two sheets of paper, and the instructions are in quite small Ikea-style pictograms.
So you need a clear head, lots of time, and a good working space.
As neither of us knows any Japanese, we Googled a few blogs and websites written by people who had tried this book — including one bright spark who said: "If you can't read Japanese, just type the words into 'Google translate' and they'll do it for you." Honestly!
But we did manage to glean valuable info about seam allowances (none allowed on the patterns), and decided our first dress (the one above) would be made from calico so we could gauge the sizing, and whether the patterns worked.
We need not have worried: they are simply brilliant. Everything went together so easily, even sleeves. You can make one dress in just a few hours. We made all the dresses pictured here, including the one on the cover.
It pays to have a little sewing experience so you can recognise the symbols for interfacing, grainline, stay-stitching and so on, but as you can see from the pictures of the dresses we made, they are all quite simple unfitted shapes, with no intricate tailoring or anything.
I hope to get Lily to model hers so I can photograph them — they look quite different from those being modelled by the sad-looking little waifs in these pictures!

Enter a bold, bright new year!

2011-01-08T08:31:00.007+08:00

{Pic: Estancia el Rocio, a guest house in Argentina, via An Indian Summer}

Twelfth night has come and gone, taking with it the tree and trimmings, all of which are now safely wrapped and stashed. This, for me, is the start of the new year, once all the Christmas hullabaloo has died away, the new calendars are up, the diary is still neat and tidy, and the next twelve months stretch out with few deadlines or expectations and lots of potential.

{Love those textiles against the white woodwork. Pic: vtwonen}

I'm back at work but sure have enjoyed the post-Christmas calm. I've had a very productive time since the sale (which was a month ago already!), and have made five tea-cosies, a bag, three cushions, a chair pad (for a cane chair I picked up one bring-out-your-dead weekend) and four dresses.
No pics, strangely, of all the stuff I've been making. So I've sprinkled this post with pics of gorgeousness I've come across in my many meanderings trough design blogs. Yummy.
I've been reading lots (abandoned Haruki Murakami's Norwegian Wood for Barbara Kingsolver's The Lacuna — a much more comfortable fit) and we've been to the movies. {You'd go crazy getting those stripes perfect — but what a great result! I love it. Pic: househome}

Loved The Social Network, and enjoyed The King's Speech, though a couple of days ago I read a great (blog?) article that compared it incident by incident to The Karate Kid, which made me laugh ... and rang true. In much the same way you can see Harry Potter is just like Star Wars re-told .... Anyway, other than the odd swear-word, TKS is a safe-as-houses movie if you want something to take your mother-in-law to see! And Geoffrey Rush will likely take out another Oscar for playing yet another kooky West Australian — when all the time I suspect he's only really playing Geoffrey Rush.
Enough about the fillums.
{I'm collecting pics that show long, low bookcases — this is a beauty. Pic: Skona Hem}

A production of Romeo and Juliet started in King's Park last night — David is reviewing it for Monday's West. We were both remembering how, in 1972, we sat together in the UWA arts common room, sucking on cigarettes (Alpines for me and Marlboro for David) and swigging coffee at 8am, trying to write essays about R&J that were due in at 9am. The subject was the role of the messenger in the play.
I still had starry-eyed visions of myself (lol) as Olivia Hussey ... ... in Zeffirelli's 1968 movie (which I wept buckets through with my friend Jill, sitting upstairs in the Gaumont on Prince of Wales Road in Norwich, munching on After Eights). So my essay was all hand-wringing and "OMG if ONLY that dickhead messenger had pulled his finger out and got to Romeo on time, he would have KNOWN Juliet was drugged not dead and he'd still be alive and they'd have got married and bought somewhere fabulous to live in Padua or even Venice with a canal outlook and it would all have been just wonderful ..."
I got a D, whereas David got an A+ for his ever-so-succinct "There would BE no play if the messenger had got there ..."

Still here!

2010-12-21T16:20:00.005+08:00

Hi – I haven't forgotten how to blog or anything — just been up to my eyes in work and the looming Christmas season.
My weekend market was just fantastic. I sold almost everything and made a very handy pile of Christmas cash. Perfect! Plus it was great fun, and we learnt a lot that will come in handy should we decide to hold another towards the end of autumn, in time for Mothers' Day and selling lots of wintry goodies.
The biggest lesson was that you need to have stuff with a big range of prices. My most expensive items were my tea-cosies and my aprons, all of which I sold for $35 each, and they all went. The 15 or so zippered pouches I made and sold for $15 were also snapped up — much to my surprise.
A heap of baby bibs I made after seeing Barbara's beauties were also big sellers, at $10 each. I made mine with Kokka gauzes rather than Liberty prints and people really liked them, so thank you so much, Barbara, for that great idea!
In sum, I reckon I got back more than the cost of materials, but not much per hour, really. But the fun was the thing!
Jane also did really well and sold a mass of stuffed toys and sock monkeys and almost all her beautiful bags.
But she sold only one baby quilt. We reckoned people did not expect to be buying big-ticket items like quilts, although there was plenty of interest in them, and lots of admiring inspections. Perhaps a market of quilts alone would be a better idea? And again, it's so much more of a winter thing — in summer, in Perth, people don't want to think about wrapping up, however beautiful the wrapping may be.
:: We are putting together two papers this week, then next week is a holiday after which I will be in the hot seat while Sir takes his family down south.
I'm almost ready for Christmas — though the forecasts look awful: 38C and cloudy - yuck.
Lots of love to you all and a really merry Christmas and I'd better wish you all a happy New Year just in case I don't get my act together before then!
Looking forward to 2011 (it can only be better than this year has been) ...

PS: I'm having to check the comments before they get published now as I've been consistently spammed by visitors from Mumbai and Gujarat!

Making merry today!

2010-12-03T19:34:00.003+08:00

Before ...

... and after! It looks truly amazing.
We opened this arvo for a couple of hours, just so we could see how everything looked and work out our positions and prices and labels etc etc. The sale starts properly tomorrow.A TA for dinner tonight, and then I'm watching the telly until I fall asleep (about 8.30, I reckon)!

Making Merry!

2010-11-30T08:40:00.005+08:00

Our big craft sale, the one we've been going on about for weeks, the one we've worked hard for all year (in between work, kids, families, home, other arty jobs and fun stuff) is on this weekend!
There'll be:
• Quilts, bags, soft toys, baby lovelies and other wonderful stuff by my best friend Jane. Jane has a fantastic eye for colour and her contemporary-style quilts are knock-outs. She loves to collect old and vintage kimono and obi silks and other fabrics, and these feature in her highly sought-after quilts.
Only the best-quality fabrics in linen and linen blends, many of which she imports, add an artistic quirkiness to Jane's designs and she mixes them up with Free Spirit and Kaffe — she's brilliant.
• There'll be cushions (to die for), greeting cards and gift tags by my best friend, Isme. Young as she is (14!), Isme has a confident eye for colour and pattern, and her cushions can feature up to a dozen fabulous fabrics — from Liberty to Echino and beyond — that all sing together superbly.
My friends, many of whom are accomplished sewists themselves, cannot believe the quality of her work — her cushions are plump, generous, top-stitched and fitted with invisible zippers, so you can use both sides.
• Seattle-born artist and now North Perth resident Nick (Lily's lovely boyfriend) has painstakingly designed (starting with miniatures), made and painted a series of amazing masks/headpieces for kids. Made from upcycled cartons and boards that are cut, folded, moulded and painted by hand, these are total originals and are purely for dress-up fun — though they'd look brilliant on a kid's wall. Because each is made so lovingly, there are a strictly limited number available, so don't miss out!• I'll have bags and a range of my aprons and tea-cosies, many of them featuring the now-famous Our Lady of the Immaculate Kitchen fabric panels I bought in New Mexico (didn't I have foresight?). There are aprons in a range of colours and sizes — even a couple of virgin-free numbers for men — and my tea-cosies are all free-motion quilted, padded, lined and tassled.
I've also made some papier mache birds to hang from your Christmas tree, or to give as one-of-a-kind gifts. I modelled each by hand so they are all different, then I dried them and then sanded, painted, sanded, painted, sanded and painted them in bright colours. Then I decorated each of them with a very fine brush and white waterproof ink.
• And there'll be much more. Jewellery, zines, other crafty lovelies and some surprises from Lily and her friends are all in order!
Details:
We're open from 10am to 5pm on Saturday and Sunday, at the courtyard garden behind 361 Fitzgerald Street, North Perth.
* Please note there is no access from the front gate on Fitzgerald; instead, walk past the real estate agency next door and around the corner into Raglan Road, and you'll see the courtyard entrance next to the agency carpark, off the short laneway. We'll have signs. so you won't miss it.
There is plenty of free street parking in Raglan.
If you are a Perth reader, please come along and say hello — I'm looking forward to seeing everybody. I've got short grey hair and purple glasses and I'll be wearing one of my aprons.
(If I've sent you repeat emails, or facebook event invitations, please forgive me. Lily told me yesterday that I'd done it all wrong so she did it again for me, so some of you may be already sick of hearing from me - sorry!)

Awwwww

2010-11-22T15:04:00.005+08:00

This was in the big shrub near the garage door on November 13 ...... and this is what's happening in there today.There are two surprisingly big chicks in a small nest that's just above my head height and perilously close to the garage door and our linen line, so the mother bird is frequently disturbed, which is a shame.
Mum is a beautiful spotted turtle dove (Streptopelia chinensis), which, as its Latin name hints, is not native to these parts, though they are really common.
(Added later) Oh, and this is its call — always reminds me of warm, early summer gardens.
Back to the sewing machine!

Sunday scrapbook

2010-11-21T12:58:00.003+08:00

Something besides trees for Dawn's Sunday Scrapbook!
This is a peek at Will's painting, from his course work. His first self-portrait (above), from week two of his painting class, worked quickly and entirely in paint, without sketching. Really good.
These are really attractive abstracts from later in the semester ...The one below is a view of the farm ...
And here he has played with it in Photoshop — it's now my desktop image.:: I just clipped Yoshi's claws and we went for a long walk together. It rained the entire time and we didn't get wet, but it was ever so slightly refreshing.
Back to the sewing machine ...

Festive

2010-11-20T09:05:00.003+08:00

I'm putting together a couple of pages in our newspaper's upcoming Christmas feature, and thought I'd do a step-by-step craft idea. So I'm trying my own instructions for making a simple and colourful quilted Christmas stocking made from scraps.After weeks at the sewing machine, it's great to sit hand-sewing these mindless quilting running stitches. And they are just the ticket for watching Luther on Friday nights - anyone else hooked?
:: We're off to the theatre tonight. David has to review a new play and I'm planning to tag along.
He is so excited about his blog. Every morning while I'm drinking my tea in bed, he calls out to me where his visitors have come from. "Wow! Someone from Vancouver came last night! Italy ... Japan ... Moscow ... they're coming from all over!"
So much fun in Schloss Zed.

Bagging

2010-11-16T12:31:00.006+08:00

My best friend Dace's gorgeous daughter asked me to make her a bag for her 21st birthday (tomorrow). A sort of red sort of a messenger bag sort of thing.
I was dead chuffed, and, of course, left everything until the last 48 hours before getting started. Just like last time.
Lily told me there was no point in making a messenger bag that wouldn't take a laptop, so after a bit of research and a lot of google images, I worked one out.I needed quite a bit of thinking and swearing time when it came to the gusset, and again with fitting and lining the flap ... but the closure idea came from pictures of an Amy Butler bag. There is a huge zip pocket on the outside back of the bag, pockets across the front, and an even bigger one right across the inside back, as well as custom-fitted pockets for iPhone, pens, camera and anything else.The wonderful hand-printed outer fabric, which I got from Materialise (click over there on the right -->) is a sturdy twill that I reinforced with very stiff iron-on interfacing. I had trouble trying to centre the pattern because it isn't exactly symmetrical. But once I'd realised that, I was okay.
I also had trouble banging in the press studs, and working out how the strap adjuster worked, given that this cryptic drawing was the only guidance the manufacturer, Birch, sees fit to provide (it's bloody useless). Fortunately, I was able to take everything over to Nick, who easily and efficiently fixed it all for me.
Dace had thrown me a curve ball by saying this bag had to be h-u-g-e, and by holding out her hands to show something vaguely the size of half a fridge. But my research in cyber-webby land all pointed to a bag that would fit a 14" (36 cm) laptop, so that's what I made.
Only dang is that I'll miss the party tomorrow night, or most of it, because I'll be at work. But I'll rock up on my way home for a piece of birthday cake and a hug.

Sunday scrapbook

2010-11-14T18:41:00.004+08:00

These shots were taken in the park at the bottom of our garden one afternoon, while I was taking Yoshi for a ramble.
Jacaranda season will be over soon, so I'm making the most of it!
Posting for Dawn at Rattling On.

Sunday Scrapbook

2010-11-07T10:33:00.006+08:00

It starts in the second half of October, when you think you can just detect a slight mauve haze about the bare branches of the jacarandas — I can see four from my kitchen window.
These shots were taken from the door to our back deck in three-day intervals, starting with the one above on October 25.And then, all of a sudden, it's obvious the flowers are truly on their way.For Perth people, this loveliness is a symbol of approaching summer, but sadly, the stronger association for younger people is with the start of the TEE exams (brutal end-of school exams that determine university places ... or not).
The jacarandas are at their full purple magnificence right now. Posted for Dawn's Sunday Scrapbook.

Book club

2010-11-05T09:27:00.004+08:00

We met in Shelley's beautiful walled garden, on a warm morning with just a gentle breeze.Shelley served a perfect brunch, and the table was set with crisp white linen and bowls and bowls of flowers. We really do have the most wonderful book club.:: I fear the old Chapter III has become a little dull of late. Neglected, even. But what with working the occasional full week (another one coming up next week), and trying to amass crafty creations for Our Big Christmas Sale (more on that very soon), I have hardly had time to do anything, let alone blog about it. However, I'm aware of my shortcomings and normal service will be resumed as soon as things settle down.
:: My grandson's Big Seven party wet off brilliantly last night, and the candles really added to the cake's volcanic landscape!

Seven today

2010-11-04T16:37:00.001+08:00

Happy birthday, Mack!

Thursday

2010-10-28T11:24:00.005+08:00

I've got a heap of stuff to do, and lots of projects on the go, and things waiting to be sewn together or finished, or sorted, but today I've wandered round the big warehouse chemist lie a stunned mullet (worked late last night) and stared at the nail varnish while I waited for my script to be filled.
I only ever buy Revlon, and I love the pale caramels, but as I've five or six of those at home, I chose an orange, then reckoned it was too ker-pow bright, so I swapped that for a pearly purple, then put that back and chose a coral.
I came home, painted one of my nails, reckoned the coral shade is a bit on the ker-pow bright side, made coffee, and now I'm about to start teaching myself to crochet amigurumi critters, thanks to YouTube.
:: Having said earlier in the week that we were unlikely to get any rain between now and next autumn, we've had a lovely rainy day, then lots of rain last night, and a bit today. Yay!
:: I was still a theatre widow when I got home at 10.30 last night — David was at a first night. If you haven't had a gander at David's blog, do go over and have a look. He is such a naturally gifted writer, and his reviews and other arty posts are short, clever and very sweet reading. He ought to have been writing for years.
There's a link up there on the right -----> just click on the picture (it's his favourite pic of himself, one I took of him when we were strolling down Park Avenue, New York, on our way back to our hotel after a Broadway show, on a romantically rainy spring night ... sigh).

All over the shop

2010-10-25T14:56:00.003+08:00

I'm in my room drawing all afternoon - love, love, love it.
This morning was a disaster.
I called in at the office first thing to organise something I'd forgotten on Friday.
Found I'd left my mobile at home.
From work I went to see Wayne about some artwork he wants me to do.
I found my mobile right at the bottom of my bag, but also found I'd left my notebook with sketches at work.
From there I went on to see my mate Jane, to talk about the Big Chrissy Stall Fest we are working towards.
From her house we drove to Calico and Ivy so I could pick up some more felt squares and fabric.
Found I'd left my glasses at Jane's.
Got home (finally), got indoors, unloaded all my stuff, went to put on the kettle and found I'd left my glasses, phone and notebook in the car.
I think I may be a hazard; I don't think I'll leave the house for the rest of the day.

Sunday scrapbook

2010-10-24T09:58:00.008+08:00

I was looking for pictures of rain for Dawn's Sunday Scrapbook — to cool us down as we come out of one of our driest ever winters and head towards a very long summer. We may not see much rain again until April or May next year, and there are already talks of even more serious water restrictions.
Anyway, as I was enjoying pics of puddles and wet streets, I came upon these pics I took as the Big March 22 Hailstorm swept in from the north.
I was initially alerted by a news bulletin on the car radio that said a severe storm in two fronts was heading south and would cross Perth, and everyone was warned to take cover within the next 15 to 20 minutes.
I just got home as the sky darkened ominously and a strong wind picked up, swirling the clouds in all directions.Will and I went out on to the back deck and then we heard what sounded like a plane engine roaring to the north.The sky (above) turned an eery green — this pic, which also shows the first big hailstones, has not been doctored by me in any way. I later learned a green sky is an indicator of a severe hailstorm; it must be something to do with light refracted through ice.
Within minutes all hell broke loose. We were not in the eye of the hailstorm, but the thunder and lightning were very, very close, and the power station on Bourke Street, just a couple of kilometres away, was struck by lightning with an almighty explosion.
The worst affected areas were in Shenton Park, near the office of the newspaper where I work, and in a line from there to the University of WA, which lost in seconds $1 million worth of historic stained glass in its almost 100-year-old main hall.
The hail damage at work was so bad that we needed an entire new roof. And so many houses near here were similarly damaged, that we've had to wait seven months, until last week, for ours at the Post.
The city's total damage bill is over $1 billion.
The hail was so ferocious it stripped leaves, small branches and bark from trees, covering streets in what looked like mulch and blocking stormwater drains so roads and driveways and houses flooded within minutes. All that on top of hail-pocked roofs that let in torrents from above.
One house near the office was so badly damaged that its owners cannot yet live there. Their neighbour's damage bill was $300,000.
Cars parked outside our office actually floated in floodwater about 60cm deep. People rushed outside to stop them banging into others.
Everyone who was at the office that day has a new car. Their old ones were so battered and dented by the hail that they were written off.
It's amazing no-one was killed.

Sunday scrapbook

2010-10-17T13:18:00.005+08:00

Some seaside pics for Dawn's Sunday scrapbook.

(Will about to launch himself into the warm, deep blue, at Gull Rock, Albany.)

I'm not a beachy-swimmy-surfy type of Australian.(South-West coast, between Cape Naturaliste and Cape Leeuwin.)

Kids here start swimming lessons when they're old enough to walk — I bet very few of my mates here would even remember a time when they couldn't swim.(City Beach, our best and most beautiful metropolitan beach.)

I was born in England and learned to swim only when we knew we were going to emigrate, as one of my aunts had been to Australia for a holiday and assured me that, judging by the people she'd met, I'd never get any friends, and no one would even speak to me, if I couldn't swim.
This rang true with me, as I recalled being on holiday in Germany in 1967, and feeling very ashamed of myself when friends of the family I was staying with growled at my hosts in startled incredulity: "Sie kann nicht SCHWIMMEN?"

(Eagle Bay, down south.)

So, fearing absolute social ostracism, in the autumn and winter of 1969, I made weekly trips to St Augustine's Baths in Norwich and gradually taught myself to swim. I can still feel my nasal passages contract and my eyes stream at the very memory of that steamy, chlorine-infused fog at the baths.
And when I say I can swim, I really mean I can propel myself while floating.
Of course, Australia is beach crazy, but I made a lot of friends despite my lack of technique, so ya booh sucks to you, Aunty June.
On my first week at my new Australian high school, skinny and pale from the long English winter we'd just left,I got roped into the swimming carnival by a very cruel, heartless phys-ed teacher. Took a day off though. So ya booh sucks to you, too, phys ed Nazi.
Today, I love looking at the beach, and walking along it, and hearing it from my bed at night when we're down south. I don't mind not swimming while everyone else is heading for the horizon in an easy, relaxed crawl.I'll just sit on the sand and take the pics.

Friday in the hood

2010-10-15T08:42:00.004+08:00

I'm so loving the Menora - Mt Lawley - North Perth area.
Yoshi and I go for great walks. At this time of the year, the houses and gardens are at their best, before the worst of summer kicks in and everything regresses into survival mode.
This is one of my favourite houses round here: Its combination of Oldee-Worldee English pastiche and American-style screened porch always makes me smile, and it reminds me a lot of some of the original Californian bungalows in the Bel Air - Westwood part of Los Angeles.
I'd walked past it many times before I noticed, high above the screened porch, this:I love it even more! I can only imagine the house must have some American connection for there to be a grizzly bear guarding its entrance!
It's a bit like the loyal, hard-working cattle dog honoured by the owner of this Subiaco house:Meanwhile, in the North Perth side of the hood, the gardens of many of the Greek and Italian migrants who've lived here for a generation and more and added a real Mediterranean flair to the streets, are coming into their productive best.
I'll get more pics of this amazing verge just a stone's throw from our house:These are broad beans, and there are all sorts of other fruit and vegies growing here as well, like olives, loquats, lemons ... every spare centimetre of soil is put to work. Just brilliant.
:: I'm off now to buy a bra before an afternoon at work. See ya!

Tempus fugit

2010-10-13T10:30:00.002+08:00

I'm working today, tomorrow and most of next week, plus my Dad's coming to stay from Monday for a few nights so he can go to hospital and have his cataracts fixed.
So every minute I have spare, I'm in my room, making stuff.
The big sale is scheduled for the end of November, and I'm starting to work out how many days I have left and therefore how much needs to be made every day. Which is a big mistake!

Production line

2010-10-12T16:41:00.004+08:00

Components of 10 Our Lady tea cosies, ready for assembly.And an early batch of ornaments getting their first coat of white paint, ready for decorating with paint and paper.It's busy round here.

Sunday scrapbook

2010-10-10T13:03:00.005+08:00

As I was collecting all these pics for Dawn's Sunday Scrapbook, I realised they were all pretty much cliched images of Australian birdlife!
Ah well.
One of the kookaburras we often see in the plane tree in our backyard. So we hear a lot of this.A magpie (maggie) down south. It's nesting season now, and these get very protective and will swoop to scare intruders away, which can be quite something with that massive beak coming at you. They have a distinctive warbling song, which is one of the first weird and wonderful sounds I heard at dawn on my very first day in Australia.Mack meets an emu — keeping a safe distance!Black swans at Hyde Park, not far from where we live.Mack meets some twenty-eights, which are one of many Australian ringneck parrots and a very common sight around Perth and the South-West. Not usually as tame as these two.

For Caroline ...

2010-10-05T10:35:00.004+08:00

... who wants me to post more often!I'm at work all day tomorrow, and then, at sparrow's on Thursday, we'll all be jumping in the car to head off to Albany and my parents' diamond wedding anniversary.
I have a thick envelope to take down, stuffed with important-looking documents bearing well-wishes from Julia, Quentin and Liz, and I think Colin might be in there as well.
There's a big dinner on Thursday night, for which David and I are taking our Hollywood gladrags complete with bling. You don't get many chances to pull on the full regalia, and if a 60th wedding anniversary isn't one such occasion I don't know what is.
So I shall see you again early next week!

Sunday scrapbook

2010-10-03T10:12:00.003+08:00

wildflower
Originally uploaded by Lesley (Z).

More loveliness from last weekend down south.
If I've done this correctly, clicking on this pic should take you to my wildflower pics stored on flickr.

As I didn't grow up in this part of the world, I have a pathetic lack of knowledge of the names of these plants — and there are so many of them that appear for only a short period in spring. They'll all have Aboriginal names, of course, and it's a shame we don't get taught them.

As well, there are the utilitarian Latin names and classifications, but few common names that have entered the vernacular.

Further north right now, the entire landscape will be blooming with dense drifts of everlastings. We don't get called 'the wildflower state' for nothing.

Posted as part of Dawn's lovely Sunday Scrapbook series — thanks, Dawn!

Spring

2010-09-28T18:04:00.006+08:00

I've been crook with a revolting head cold, which was much improved by taking this past long weekend away with David and friends down at the bay.

We played lots of cards, with the occasional pause for food, or a run to the shops, or a walk in the bush, or to light a huge bonfire and get rid of a big pile of dead wood on the house block before summer starts.

Thierry noticed a dugite, about 60cm long, warming itself up in a sunny spot on the concrete verandah downstairs, so he hustled it off into the bush. The warm weather's brining out the newly-hatched youngsters and the older ones from hibernation, and this is when they are usually their groggiest and grumpiest and in need of warmth and a feed.

The bush was absolutely bursting with flowers — I don't remember ever seeing it look so beautiful.

There was colour everywhere, from lusty swathes of golden wattle to the tiniest little blue stars all across the ground, with blooms just millimetres across. Spectacular.

I am unable to name almost all of them, apart from the obvious orchids, like those in this post.

:: I've taken the doonas off the bed and put on blankets and sheets — our hibernation's over too; we're in for the long, long warm, I think.

Mint-Ohs

2010-09-20T14:14:00.004+08:00

Still life with steam iron and scissors.

Felt like a break from the tea-cosies — though I do still love 'em a lot — but I was curious to try a cushion.

The green Os are appliqued and the front is random quilted.

It's stuffed with a feather insert imported this morning from Little Stockholm.

I was very brave and good this morning. I did a lightning trip into Spotto for zips and batting and Little Stockholm for cushion inserts and was home by 10.15.

Sunday scrapbook

2010-09-19T13:28:00.004+08:00

These were all taken by Will from the front of our house and in the neighbourhood, in March, when it's officially autumn but still really hot.

And clouds are a bit of a novelty. In the pic above, over to the left, you can see the silhouettes of the four h-u-g-e light towers at Subiaco Oval

For Dawn's Sunday Scrapbook.

Flars

2010-09-18T08:56:00.005+08:00

Have you ever seen such exquisite ranunculus(es/-i)?

Shelley and Wayne de Fleurs handed me a big bunch as I left their house on Thursday night.

It wasn't until I woke up on Friday and saw them in the morning light that I took in their amazingly delicate colours — and then I was late for work as I just had to photograph them.

The petal edges that look as though they've been delicately blanket-stitched.

Lovely from every angle.

And they are growing sweet peas, already over two metres tall and flowering.

That scent - the first lungful takes me straight back to childhood in England, where Grandad used to grow sweetpeas in his garden and on his allotment.

:: A truck took out a powerpole in our street yesterday afternoon. We had no power at home from about 3pm, and when David and our mate Damien left last night to go to the theatre (David is the West Australian's new theatre critic - yay!), I faced a bafflingly quiet evening with no telly or computer.

So I went to bed by candlelight a little after 7pm. I managed to read a few pages of Roddy Parr and was out like the lights by 8pm.

Feeling very very refreshed this morning — more than ready to be off sculpting Christmas angels with Wayne de Fleurs. More on that later.

Sunday Scrapbook

2010-09-12T15:26:00.004+08:00

Yoshi loves running ...

... and snoozing ...

... and driving...

...and us.
My contributions for Dawn's Sunday Scrapbook.

2010-09-08T10:34:00.005+08:00

The big wait

Taught myself free-motion quilting while I was waiting for the Independents to do the big reveal yesterday.

The citrus-sharp paisley is one of the Liberty Art Fabrics, classic prints by Liberty that have been re-worked and coloured by Kaffe Fassett. I got it from here.

And yes, this is yet another tea cosy. Sorry if you've had enough.

I'm making a whole mob for my Christmas shop, and I've already got a few orders — yay!

:: Off to work in a couple of hours ... just time to make another ...

2010-09-06T18:32:00.004+08:00

Green tea?

I do love the virgin tea cosies — there've been two so far and more are on on the way — but I think this one is my favourite so far.

2010-09-05T18:43:00.000+08:00

Learn English and get fit

2010-09-02T15:25:00.005+08:00

For high tea with Father Ted

Our Lady of the Immaculate Tea Strainer #1 (goes with last year's Our Lady of the Immaculate Kicthen aprons).

This is the reverse:

(I'm expecting to get struck by lightning any minute ...)

2010-09-01T10:29:00.003+08:00

Domestic arrangement

... with steam iron

2010-08-31T09:22:00.004+08:00

I may have to ...

... stop having so much fun and tidy up.

But not any time soon.

Added for the benefit of The Mof (see comments!):

2010-08-30T16:05:00.006+08:00

Cosy #1

For summer tea parties, I fancy.

2010-08-25T08:59:00.003+08:00

A question for you

I'm thinking of changing readers ... I use bloglines, but I'm contemplating Google reader.

This is mainly because i find bloglines works so poorly on the iPod Touch — sometimes it refuses to open feeds, sometimes it tells me there are hundreds of new posts for each blog. It's frustrating.

I don't know a great deal about either of them really, but wondered if any of you had tried both and felt one was better than the other?

:: Here are some pics of the grandchildren from last weekend. Mack has his trophy from Auskick,

and Harper is trying not to look at Will who, at 1.9m tall and dressed in his all-black uniform for work, terrified her!

Lastly, my finished wall at Maggie's.

It was a great project, and I enjoyed every minute — thanks, Maggie!

I also gave the bird on the left his beak — he'd had three or four that weren't quite right. But he's looking good now.

2010-08-23T18:22:00.004+08:00

One wall finished

I've finished the first wall, including a trio of ants, a procession of ladybirds, a couple of caterpillars, a big fat grasshopper and a green frog, all at kids' eye level.

I think I'm a day's work away from finishing the second wall, seen below at its very early stage.

I shall miss my days spent at Maggie's — it's been such a laugh, and I've had so much fun chatting to her and her clients, and having my friends drop in.

2010-08-22T15:29:00.004+08:00

Sunday scrapbook

Joining Dawn in posting a Sunday collection of happy pics.

(Because I am eternally optimistic and refuse to contemplate the possibility of Prime Minister Mr Rabbit ...)

2010-08-21T14:08:00.002+08:00

Honestly!

Last weekend, in Albany, I took my mum to a farmers' market.

Out the front of the boatshed where it was held, a young woman dressed up as a tree and wearing a face mask was trying very hard, through the somewhat confusing medium of tap-dance and mime, to persuade folks to vote for the Greens.

I didn't see anyone from the ALP or the Libs, though the seat is held by Wilson Tuckey (ye gods).

There was a bloke from the Nationals, however, who tried to thrust some election pamphlets at me.

"No thanks," I said, "I don't live here."

"Aren't you lucky," he said to me with a big sigh, not at all ironically.

2010-08-19T09:51:00.003+08:00

Dream leader

I've sort of tried (not really very hard at all) not to talk politics here, both because some of my dearest, most wonderful friends are Libs, and in light of the sort of work I do. You know ...

But WTF.

So we were talking this morning, as I ironed my shirt to go muralling and David packed Maggie and me a lunch, about Kerryn Goldsworthy's post this morning, in which she mused about what the words "the Prime Minister, Tony Abbott" would mean to her and her loved ones.

And to the country, and its image overseas.

And I said that after reading that post, I'd been wondering about my absolute dream fantasy PM.

I'm rather fancying someone who looks like Hugh Jackman, has a fabulous sense of humour, a couple of languages, a firm and intellectually sound grasp on world politics and economics, a great sense of personal style, humanitarian leanings, enormous sympathy for the arts, and the balls to tell the mining industry that they'll do what they are bloody well told to.

David scoffed and said: "Well, my fantasy PM is erudite, well-thought-through, worked her own way up in the world, loves her footy, and looks like Tilda Swinton."

2010-08-17T18:00:00.003+08:00

The Great Southern

Another lovely weekend in Albany, this time for my Mum's 81st birthday.

On the Big Day, Lily and I took Mum and Dad to the Porongurups, where we were stunned by the silence among the tall karris ...

... and enjoyed the cool greens, and the occasional shower.

Fantastic.

After a picnic lunch we stopped here for afternoon tea.

Can you see the enormous red-flowering camellia beyond the palm fronds? It's over 60 years old, about 3 metres high and absolutely covered with blooms.

Someone obviously planted it in the perfect spot.

Right out the back, next to the orange tree, there was this fabulously simple structure, which I photographed — with Dad sitting in it "to give you an idea of scale" — thinking I might like to build one in my backyard, when we eventually get a house.

I'm imagining a long table instead of two small ones, and lots of Christmas lunches and summery dinners there. (My idea of summer is obviously tempered by the recent months of winter ... of course, a third of our real summer will be too stinking hot to want to sit outside at all, even in a rustic dining pavilion!)

Dad, who is supremely handy and has built at least four houses from the foundations up, reckons it wouldn't take a lot to build, and so long as it was demountable, it wouldn't need planning permission. Good one.

:: The flar at the top of the page is, I think, a kunzea. A native flower, blooming everywhere right now, much to the delight of the bees. And the golden wattle is looking amazing.

2010-08-12T15:22:00.007+08:00

We all know ...

... that old Aristotle was a bugger for the bottle ... but did you know, had you any idea, that Schopenhauer was such a misogynist arsehole?

Click to get a bigger image, and start reading halfway down the left page ...

In case you can't see a bigger image when you click:

Schopenhauer's disparaging view of women [writes author Christopher Janaway], concentrated to most corrosive effect in his short essay, On Women, has earned him some notoriety. To what extent it should single him out from any of his contemporaries and predecessors is debatable ... What is not in question is the vehemence of his rhetoric on the topic:

Only the male intellect, clouded by the sexual impulse, could call the undersized, narrow-shouldered, broad-hipped, and short-legged sex the fair sex; for in this impulse is to be found its whole beauty.

Throughout their lives women remain children, always see only what is nearest them, cling to the present, take the appearance of things for reality, and prefer trivialities to the most important affairs. This it is the faculty of reason by virtue whereof man does not, like the animals, live merely in the present ... In consequence of her weaker faculty of reason, woman shares less in the advantages and disadvantages that this entails.

There are few compensating virtues. Schopenhauer ... is convinced that they [women] cannot reason very well, and have shallow characters. Their interests are 'love, conquests, ... dress, cosmetics, dancing'; they regard everything as a means to winning a man; dissimulation is inborn to them 'just as nature has armed the lion with claws and teeth, the elephant and boar with tusks, the bull with horns, and the cuttlefish with ink that blackens water'.

And: 'Generally, speaking, women are and remain the most downright and incurable Philistines.'

(From Schopenhauer, by Christopher Janaway, published by Oxford University Press)

Just thought I'd share that with the sisterhood.

Incidentally, those are not my scrawlings and scratchings. This entire book, from the library, is full of it, with notes in margins and all this stupid underlining. A lot of it is in what seems to me to be a mature hand. The work of one of those respectable older persons, I imagine, who deface public property and then spend the rest of their time whingeing about skateboarders or indolent youth.

There is so much to dislike in and about these two pages, isn't there?

I'm off now to bake a cake.

2010-08-06T16:32:00.006+08:00

Farther up the wall

The gorgeous Maggs plied me with cups of hot frothy coffee and played lots and lots of Harry Nilsson today as I got on with the mural. This one's almost finished, save for a bit of a touch-up here and there.

I also have to floralise (my own word) the remaining big white discs. I've been waiting for colour inspiration, and I'm thinking bright, bright orange or hot, hot pink. Then there are to be a few bugs and critters in the low grass and foliage for kids to find while they're waiting for their mums or for Maggie to cut their fringes.

I'm very relieved to report it's been a hit so far with Maggie's clients, especially one young woman, who thinks a mural like this may be perfect for her children's library ... and who has taken my card ... (much excitement at this prospect).

:: At home this weekend there'll be more knitting, and quite a bit of sewing, and generally doing nothing more strenuous than walking the dog. Bliss!

2010-07-31T10:27:00.006+08:00

The noddies

Okay Chris! You in the back there, mate! Now, while Tone's talking to camera, you stand right behind him and stare at the hair on the back of his noggin and we want you to really, really stare at it, okay?

Just keep staring at that hair, mate. It's Tony's hair. You lerrrrv it, okay?

And every now and again, just nod and smile a little, okay? We love that little frown, mate, but we really want you to nod. Tony will want you to nod.

Now, Chris, when that other lady wants to talk after Tony, you just shuffle over a bit and make room for Big Tone, cos he's gonna wanna look at her hair, and so are you, got that?

Now you all stare at it ... you really wanna stare at it ... nod and smile ...

Now, Shazza! While Jules is talking, right, you just smile straight at the hair on the back of her head, okay? And you can smile, don't forget to smile!

And don't forget you really really love what she's saying, so nod. We want you to nod. Julia will want you to nod. And stare ... don't stop staring, okay?

2010-07-26T12:20:00.003+08:00

My three grads

From our wonderful celebration lunch yesterday.

Lily was unable to go to her graduation ceremony in Olympia, Washington, to get her cap and gown, so I made her a mortar board in Evergreen's dark green, which she wore all day!

Will (right) is next in line for one from a college or uni — his cap is from his high school graduation in California.

Simon's is the only authentic Australian one, for his B. Comm., from Curtin.

I am a very proud mum.

2010-07-22T17:40:00.005+08:00

Another week

I think our state's daily newspaper has given up on grammar and the apostrophe. Unless fury is a verb ...

:: Meanwhile, at our quality suburban weekly, I have just one more issue to go until Sir comes back. If he comes back, that is: he's doing a whole lot of nothing on Santorini at the moment ... what bliss.

:: I'm knitting a lacy scarf.

This is in gorgeous wool that was spun and dyed by Suse, who is the absolute bee's knees when it comes to lace-knitting.

I'd thought about knitting a shawl, but I am very much a scarf sort of a girl, and I can't wait to finish this one. Perth has been so extremely cold this winter (3 degrees forecast for tonight).

More photographs of the scarf when it's done and blocked.

:: We have a big happy lunch scheduled for Sunday: Lily has graduated and we're celebrating!

2010-07-18T12:51:00.004+08:00

Dem bones

I boiled up a couple of chicken carcasses yesterday, to make soup for today. It's a big footy day for Will and David (Dockers v Melbourne), and they love to come home from the oval to a bowl of good, hearty soup.

So there I was this morning, having strained the stock, picking over the bones to remove the best bits of the meat for the soup pot.

And trying not to think about whether the bits I was discarding (for the dog's bowl) would, in fact, go into commercially-made pies for human consumption.

To take my mind off that, I wondered whether in a past life I'd have been one of those little old Ancient Greek crones who rooted through the remains of freshly-slain chooks to see how the lads were faring in Thermopylae.

I figured that would probably have been my fate — the wizened, warted and moustached old dear — rather than being one of the tall, skinny ones who got the glam gig at Delphi and consorted with Heroes.

Anyway, that led me to wonder if, in the bones of the poor old boiler I had in my hands, I could foretell the fate of the Dockers at Subi this arvo.

But there was a distinct lack of oracular mistiness and scoreboard auguring.

And that led me to thinking about dead chooks as an Ancient Greek precursor to the interwebs.

And that reminded me of a conversation I had with my best friend Laura the other day.

We were in the car and I was parking on Rokeby Road, and she said to me: "Did you know you can use your wee to get wi-fi?"

And in a nano-second I thought, I must get Laura out more often, and away from whatever earth-mothery influences are driving her to such weirdness ... but then the double-I spelling kicked in and I realised my error.

The soup looks good!

2010-07-13T13:54:00.002+08:00

A letter

Last night, and before I went to work this morning, I had the entire house in uproar because I couldn't find my slippers, and I hate, hate, hate going barefoot.

Then, at work in Sir's office, dealing with the 32,735 emails he gets, I read this:

The Editor
Post Newspapers

Dear sir/madam

I have a story I believe will be of great interest to your readers. I have taken the liberty of sending it as complete copy:

Gorgeous husband finds lost items

Lesley Zampatti of Menora is in for a pleasant surprise when she returns home from work today.

In her absence, her dashing yet diligent husband, David, has located her slippers and dressing-gown behind their bedroom door, where she had neglectfully discarded them.

Mr Zampatti refused to be drawn into criticism of his wife, saying only that she was “easily distracted these days” and should “up the dose”.

He dismissed suggestions of a reward, claiming that his wife’s happiness was all he ever asks for.

ENDS

I can send photos of the items, including one involving the family pet, Yoshi (who was obviously pleased and excited to see the slippers again), if required.

Best wishes,

Anonymous

2010-07-12T14:37:00.006+08:00

Darn sarth

My young best friend Isme brought me armloads of flowers early last week — Iceland poppies (above) still in bud, pots of daffodils, and loads of boronia — and they were so lovely I couldn't bear to go away for the weekend without them, so they came too.

By the way: you really should check out Isme's book blog. She writes so well about young adult and children's fiction, and even Random House has taken notice.

We had a fabulous extended weekend away, with some dramatic weather providing the perfect excuse to snuggle up indoors, light the fire soon after getting up and do almost nothing.

The hardenbergia (native wisteria) is starting to open, among our earliest blooming wildflowers. It always looks so magnificent when it twines its way close to a wattle in full bloom.

I say we did nothing all weekend, but there were, of course, a few walkies in the bush,

on the farm,

and on the beach,

well rugged up and skipping rainstorms.

I baked a cinnamon teacake and, for the first time in my life, scones.

They were a bit long in the oven, but yummy all the same.

We drove back this morning through even more rain, hail and storms.

And news reports of happy farmers.