The fashion photographer Tim Walker has a lush house. Well, he used to at least... the pictures below are from an article from 2005 - my paper hoarding skills come good! It's sort of mad cluttered but with that much colour and assorted curios, his world is one I'd like to have a sleepover in. (Click for more detail)
Sexy cover art. Sexy tunes. Sexy videos. Sexy band members. What took me so long to buy this album!? This is on heavy replay right now and I'm falling under the spell of Anthony Hegarty's otherworldly voice all over again. I suspect he has shamanistic powers that he likes to keep to himself just to cultivate lovingly. His art is further evidence that he's on some sort of powerful alternate frequency. I'm looking forward to his latest solo offering impatiently.
So I've gone scissor happy again! I need my blunt fridge to grow out a fair bit but this is a halfway cut to what I'm after. My hairdresser told me that I have a "low hairline", so cutting it as close to the neck as I'd like would be risky business...who knew? I suspect I may be pruning before long... P.S Go Tina Fey!Suck it Indeed.
I know I'll be getting one of David Foster Wallace's books for sure but I have no idea what to expect otherwise. It's gonna be another low key affair due to my, er, geographically challenged predicament but I'm trying to make it special by booking a table at Hitchcock's vegetarian restaurant in Hull. It's murder to get into right now as they're opening for 2009 the day of my birthday, the 17th of January. Even if that falls through my mother can be trusted to make me an over-the-top cake. She is the queen of sweet things.
I know the IKEA life style has helped kill off numerous household names but its economy of design, embrace of geometric patterns and abundance of colours makes me all weak at the knees. The Almondy cake in their cafeteria ALONE is worth three hour round trip...
(I bought a 2 meter tall paper doily decorated c.d holder for all of £14!)
A flurry of activity as I try to keep myself warm!
I'm hard at work collating things to sell online. The news story about the woman being buried alive by her stuff is giving me nightmares. One of the items up for sale that might help pay for future air travel is my Sylvac rabbit, well, my three Sylvac rabbits. I love them dearly and plan to keep one but right now, I just see dusty money when I look at them. How sad!
On other productive fronts, we're giving The Kitchen Revolution a go, in an attempt to limit the staggering amount of rubbish and filled bin liners produced by our kitchen habits.
The book sets out a year's worth of seasonal recipes and the week's dishes are planned so nothing goes to waste. It's fairly labour intensive cooking but the menus are well organized and its amazing how much we've saved already. Fish rolls with apple stuffing and chicory tomorrow - the experiment continues... here's the rather grusome looking photo of the delicious tasting beetroot tartan from last night --------->
I made it out to the cinema to see "The Reader" and despite a promising start, it lost its way in the gross miscasting of the ever stilted Ralph Fiennes, (totally unfeasible as the older version of the character the younger actor brought to life), and in a more general failure to create affecting empathy...Cosmo Landesmanseems to agree with me:"They are generic figures — young man in love, beautiful woman with a secret. The film never shows us what is lovable about Hanna, so we cannot share Michael’s ambiguity about her and thus care about her fate. Despite being a love story, The Reader is a cold, cerebral work, a moral debate dolled up in the fancy dress of film." Also, talcum powder was employed to age Kate Winslet around the point I stopped caring, so it was all a bit down hill towards the end.
I'm incredibly excited about the films I have to keep me company tomorrow though.
As a household we've embraced the wave of creative thrift ideas flooding the crisis stricken market. The big picture seems to be darkening by the day with never ending job cuts but if any positive may come from it, it may very well be resulting creative alternatives to the current ailing system. I wince when I read over-paid journalists smugly extolling the "life affirming independence" of making your own jam/lemon curd - tell that to people who just had their home repossessed! That sort of self-cultivation is usually a privilege of people who have wasted too much time navel gazing, fascinated by the lint, already, but that doesn't stop it from being a worthwhile pursuit in other sinarios. It feels pretty amazing to discover you can do something unexpected yourself. Your confidence grows. So I guess at best, hardships can lead to better self knowledge, new found priorities and resolve. The consequent steps taken towards self-sufficient self-esteem can only help soften the political and economic knocks that make us feel so impotent.
(8 days to my birthday! There's something to raise moral.)
A few days ago my dad and I noticed that his much loved flower-box in the back porch had been ratted. Initially he was convinced that some scallawag had jumped our 6 ft gate and stolen his pansies but closer inspection showed the flowers where still in place, just a little worse for ware. A rat was supposed the culprit and we went on with our day.
The following morning my dad got up for work before the birds to find the flower box tampered with once more. Frustrated, he rolled up his sleeves to put things right once again. As he parted the soil to replant the upturned flowers he caught sight of something buried about 2 inches down. Closer inspection and a slimy touch confirmed that it was some sort of ... flesh. Shocked but entranced he dug the item out completely and soon discovered that a whole oven-ready chicken had been buried under his pansies. I'm utterly bereft at not being present at the moment its discovery. Almost as strange was that all the pond water had gone too, along with our last few surviving fish.
He stumbled into the house and declared that he'd "found some meat in the flower-bed" at the top of his lungs. My mother and I sprang out of our beds like the house was alight and pretty soon were online researching voodoo hexes etc.
So, we still have no idea how the chicken got there. It could be a fox but there was absolutely no way it could have made it into our brick walled garden, especially with such a large chicken in its jaws, (and there's no way it got up on its hind legs and burried the chickden so dealicately without leaving a tooth mark, unless it was some sort of mutant fox empowered by drinking all our pond water.)
Any theories? Or any knowledge of poultry curses?
Talk about an ambiguous omen for the new year! I feel like I'm in a David Lynch movie.
Consolidate my French skills - my poor beleaguered French friends deserve a break from my garbled English! I understand a lot and can watch most French films without subtitles. Now it's just a matter of finding my mojo français and making it work for me. I'll revive the Italian afterwards...
Attaining the frame God meant for me, (according to my puny wrists):
Current measurements = Bust 34 Waist 26.5 Hip 35.5 Thigh 20
The fashion photographer Tim Walker has a lush house. Well, he used to at least... the pictures below are from an article from 2005 - my paper hoarding skills come good! It's sort of mad cluttered but with that much colour and assorted curios, his world is one I'd like to have a sleepover in. (Click for more detail)
Sexy cover art. Sexy tunes. Sexy videos. Sexy band members. What took me so long to buy this album!? This is on heavy replay right now and I'm falling under the spell of Anthony Hegarty's otherworldly voice all over again. I suspect he has shamanistic powers that he likes to keep to himself just to cultivate lovingly. His art is further evidence that he's on some sort of powerful alternate frequency. I'm looking forward to his latest solo offering impatiently. 
I know the IKEA life style has helped kill off numerous household names but its economy of design, embrace of geometric patterns and abundance of colours makes me all weak at the knees. The Almondy cake in their cafeteria ALONE is worth three hour round trip... 
A few days ago my dad and I noticed that his much loved flower-box in the back porch had been ratted. Initially he was convinced that some scallawag had jumped our 6 ft gate and stolen his pansies but closer inspection showed the flowers where still in place, just a little worse for ware. A rat was supposed the culprit and we went on with our day.
