It's been a goodly while between postings, so a hearty thank you to the four dear people who have persisted, like kind parents, checking in each day. If you are not already Australians of the Year, prime ministers or MasterChef finalists you deserve to be.
What has the space of two months brought? Many a goodly thing:
1. I have started a collection of miniature driftwood. This piece is currently my favourite:
Sorry about the blurriness at the centre of the photo; I think my camera has glaucoma?
Anyway, this delightful piece of driftwood is sitting on the kitchen windowsill. I have chosen to present it, in this installation, next to that fine example of twentieth century technology, the 'rubber plug', for scale.
There are other pieces of my miniature driftwood collection rattling around the glove box, and others still in the cupboard under the fish tank. I haven't so much told Mr Kettle about my new collection yet as not told him, but I'm sure when he does finally realise all the shitty bits of wood around the place are *precious* to me he'll be stoked.
2. I have survived my histrionics about having the 'flu.
3. I have partaken of the berry of the mulberry bush (which isn't a euphemism for anything; I actually tried mulberries for the first time).
4. I made it all the way through Wuthering Heights again without wanting to kill myself.
5. I have discovered The Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain (but not, unfortunately, purchased my own ukulele yet).
6. I have spent a few giddy moments wondering anew why my letterbox is shorter than a standard letter.
7. I have listened to some very, very good music and wondered anew (again) why I bought tickets to see Holly Throsby this Friday night.
8. I decided I wanted to write a libretto for a rock opera then woke up the next morning with a hangover and realised it was just a hideous drunken dream.
9. I have spent innumerable happy hours imagining what the builders responsible for the renovations in the three houses across the street can do with their freakin' sanders and grinders.
10. I have learnt that 'landfall' does not mean the moment your boat or space ships lands on Terra firma (which I have been espousing energetically) but the moment a storm reaches the shore. Who knew? Not me. But now I do.
But I go on. Tell me, what's been happening with you?
6 comments:
Your miniature driftwood is lovely. It looks like a hand. Almost kind of like the hand of christ as he lies expired in his mother lap, which I'm sure probably didn't happen in the book, but I didn't read it, even though I kind of, sort of, ended up stealing it. I'm really not sure why I have that hymn book from the church either? Certainly we were not encourage to take them home.
I have done little.
And perhaps even nothing.
However perhaps that will change soon.
A most intriguing and enigmatic comment, Ms Mad Cat. I worry that I perforce have not the intellectual stamina to decipher the biblical references? Other than to say if you stole a hymn book - then that is hilarious.
Although, I've always worried about hymn books: aren't they just words but no music? How does one know how to sing the words? Hymn books always make me think of saddles without horses.
Hey I read about your course. Has that finished now? Did you start a new job? More importantly: is the chappy with the French accent still a waiter at your favourite Sunday breakfast cafe?
So many important questions.
You need a theme tune to go with the installation. Might I suggest Driftwood by Travis
Very good Squib! The song will make the installations even more meaningful, ahem.
So, what song should I have for the soundtrack of my realisation that my letterbox is a non-standard size?
Welcome back to bloggy world, Kettle! I am possibly one of the four who checked frequently only to see that "cat" post still there.
What a relief that we have moved on to driftwood.
I too collected driftwood, except it was way back in my childhood.
Good luck with your collection
Oh dear Words and Wine, I am sorry about the cat thing.
I suspect my family, when they realise the shitty bits of wood are actually a collection, will be delighted that I've chosen such a beautiful thing to collect. It's possible, you know, that in the past I've collected things like Christmas beetles, moss and dust from castles (really, I have no explanations, in hindsight, for any of them).
Anyway, it's very nice to be back in the bloggy world, even if it is JUST IN TIME TO HAVE AN EXISTENTIAL CRISIS ABOUT TURNING 35!
But that's tomorrow; tonight I'm still young, so see you on the other side.
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