ships

I found these little cuties on Saturday morning.
What a week it was. I have spent most of the weekend trying to sort out acquisitions and make some space to work on things. I took some before and after pics of some of the things I finished.

Yes - another suitcase - but note the little stool.

Its very sweet, isn't it?

Nice, eh?

How could someone throw this away? As a friend commented, "damn Generation X-ers".

I finally put this bird together. It has no clear purpose.

Lots of other things have been tucked away and will surface here no doubt as I dig my way down to them.

The cave of residence has been returned to pre-craft fair normality, with a modicum of furniture rearrangement and the re-stacking of the suitcases and trunks. Life, as we know it, is returning to normal. The dog has been bathed, the wardrobe reconfigured from winter to spring/summer, and gaps therein identified. Rhubarb has been planted.

I have somehow managed to accumulate quite a lot of new books. Oh dear. Never mind. They range from a volume of Ted Hughes poetry through thrillers to a volume on Norman Rockwell and various tomes on history, biography, and a small early 20th century introduction to German grammar.

I accept that I may have a bit of a book issue. I intend to continue to have said issue. I shall probably be the mad old woman in the house with books stacked in all the rooms and hallways. There are some who may say that is the case now - less of the old, people!

Adventures on the verge

Hot, humid, sticky. Five women in search of the most compelling junk. Well, to be absolutely truthful, four obsessive and slightly deranged women and one slightly confused friend. Two cars.

The penultimate weekend of BOYD. So much trash, so little time. An awful lot of laughter.









New games to play - someday I may explain 'dead dog' and how to play it. We hope that those people who saw a car scream to a halt, women leap out, examine their trash, discuss, and leave without taking anything do not feel that their junk is any less worthy, or that their self esteem should suffer. Perhaps next year.

Perhaps next year, 'thank you' notes and/or signs...an idea to be developed. It would seem a good idea to express our appreciation. Thank you to Sue, Steve and Christine for the help with the chest of drawers, much appreciated.

Another happy week of leave to go - furniture to rearrange, veggies to garden, Obie to amuse.
Maybe some more adventures...

Summer Street 2010

Phew, big day, start of a biiig weekend. Here are some early photos of stuff:

Today's gallery

Just a sample of some of the things for Summer Street Fair and beyond...

Some fish - a collage (left) and a drawing on a vintage navigation chart (right)...
some postcards...
and yet more jewels...

Verging on the ridiculous

At a time when I should be slaving away on the actual Summer Street Fair, I am distracted by the desperate need to go out and trawl the verges. Tragic, I know, but I remain obsessed by stuff piled on the verge.

I was almost traumatised earlier in the week by this post on my friend Adele's blog.

The thought of all that stuff out there. Me, trapped at work. People telling me about the fabulous stuff seen but not picked up...AAAARGH.

This week we explored Lower King (due to be collected) where amongst many treasures, we stopped for a break to soak up the serenity while pondering Albany's systematic disenfranchisement of non-boat-owners.

Disenfranchised, perhaps, but still able to spot something interesting in a pile of random rubbish. Great excitement when we worked out how to fold the Pajero seats completely out of the way.

We did spend considerable time considering the small boat/canoe that was looking for a new home. It just wouldn't fit in the car. But we did collect some treasure...

A metal flower garden fripperie.

No, I don't know what it is. But I like it.


The veggie garden is going well, by the way.

A suitcase, some strange plaster feet. A huge insulator.


Yes. A hat box. A genuine made in WA hatbox. The catch was a bit rusty, a drop of oil and inside....

a bunch of 50's and 60's hats.

From a skip, a vintage microphone, still in it's original box, a charge book from a police station (not completed and set up for pre-computer days), a lovely old book of pipe music.

But its back to getting ready for the Summer Street market - somewhere under all this stuff is a house.