A Splintered Throne

From past experiences I've learnt that exercise is good for moody ladies so....This morning after only 4 hours kip and a meagre breakfast I tootled down to see Joan:)

On entering her gaudy establishment my eyes quickly clocked a black cake tin...and a chair.... with my name on it. Oh yes indeedy.

The beauty in question stood fine and erect by the dressing up box and I knew it was coming back to the madhouse. So after peering into my purse I told Joan to hold on to it for me while I went and got my car from outside Somerfields.

Back within two ticks and, parked atrociously outside the charity shop, I went in to claim my prize. Good old Joan heaved it outside and both she and I had a hoot of a time trying to lay the big beast inside my titchy Micra. After a bit of this way and a lot of that way the Peacock Rattan chair was laid uncomfortably all over the place and after a few naughty words about back seats I said 'cheerio darling' and sped orf.

Getting it out was another story...

But get it out I did and it now stands imperiously on the torn white lino in the conservatory.
Leaning in the cat damaged doorway I smiled at another mental purchase:) And nothing beats up the blues than astonishing purchases bought for a pittance. Many a day I've tutted to the shops with a down turned mouth only to return with magnificent knick knacks and, in the days and months afterwards, been pleasured to the point of ecstasy. My Burslem teapot was one such toy. My Peacock will be another.

And so after sitting in it like:
1. A tiny doll house person with legs a-dangling
2. A lady with a man servant called Scroter
and 3. An old colonial Queen, I rose up majestic like, adjusted my crown and stockings and laid a tray with tea and fancies.

It really is impressive and as soon as Mr H. gets the time (he's away a lot you know) I'll upload a pic. But here's a pic I stole from the internet, it isn't MY chair, but it is A Peacock Chair.

Cooking tonight: Not much on account of being on my own, will probably plump for a spam sandwich. Wish it was steak but don't have money for such luxuries. Now.


Toodle pip!

Say Hello To Georgie

I have bought what could be the finest handbag. Ever.

It is very like a handbag I had in 1974, a time when, unlike now, I was happy, calm and unafraid. I saw this ghastly/heavenly beauty as we were on our way back to the car park.
"Just popping in here" I said and left John standing clutching bags of other rather mundane goodies like men's pants and Swiss Rolls. Anyway I galloped into Peacocks dismissing the rails of horrible clothes and headed straight to the bags. And hanging like an angel of light was my saviour. As I stood there fingering it I felt the hot breath of a tired man on my neck.
"It's not ostentatious, is it? I asked, opening and closing it a dozen times, having already made up my mind that it was mine. "No dear" He said

Indulging in bags has been a pastime of mine for decades so I had to model it in front of a huge mirror of course knowing damn well that it would look divine and very me whatever I wore and wherever I went. Even Sainsbury's.

But yet as I smiled ridiculously at it in the huge mirror tossing it this way and that I felt like screaming/laughing/wailing because I was so desperate to feel alright again. You see I am a slightly frantic slightly manic woman who's been crying a lot lately and holding on to this perfect handbag reminded me of the gal I was. A gal who wore wild boho clothes and Patchouli scent, who read miserable poems and went to bed at 11 without cleaning her teeth. I was a semi-wild child who preferred books to boys and large handbags to small ones. And here in the middle of Southend high street was a bag which had catapulted me back to the days of working in the glue factory and eating Kebabs with Ernie. Never knew what mental illness was and only ever worried about the day in question.

So we queued and John paid the £12 and after eating two bananas in the car park we drove home to fish paste sandwiches. I've now filled my new bag with women's stuff and it awaits its first outing which will probably be Monday when I pop out for more bananas.
I will always love this bag, not because it's well made or any nonsense like that but because it shone a little light into my cave.
Thank you Georgie. Yep, I've even christened it.

More Pimm's now I think...

Interior Designer

The work goes on:(
I am not in the least bothered about the mess but I am following Johnnie around with a bin bag:)

As the tin of 'chocolate dream' stands in the corner I'm trying to conjure up ideas about soft furnishings. A little fern green perhaps, with possibly splashes of burn umber and sunflower yellow. And although I like blue I think it will jar me slightly so autumnal colours it will be. Curtains are blighters. As we have two windows I'll be out looking out some sweet but not too chintzy drapes in green I think...

Our suite is bad.
So bad in fact that recently I covered the back of the settee with a tartan dog blanket. The miaows coming from Monty now have a decidedly Scottish tone:) So that's more expenditure, we won't be getting into debt with furniture people though but I may buy some new loose covers. Or, and this excites me more, I might get some material and cover just the cushions of the furniture...:(
Bugger. Maybe it just a needs a good wash.

Oh dear what a to-do and all because I'm 53:(

On the menu today:
Sodding fish cakes.

Like A Teddy Bear

Been walking around the garden.

There were a lot of bees fussing about and I liked that. Had a few ideas too. Thought I might move the bins out of the way, push them further along, down almost to the gate, then I can fill the space with plant pots, chairs and a few gnomes. But I'll need to kill some weeds first, don't fancy playing footsie with things that sting me.
The garden is spiritual at 7 in the morning, bit like me. Yes, I feel a project coming on. Creating something, however simple, is what artists have to do. And if playing with ornaments, pots of herbs and plastic chairs satisfies me, then so be it.
All I have to do now is find money and time.