Category: Photographs

If you don’t ask….

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I am a firm believer of “If you don’t ask, you don’t receive” with some things, but torn slightly as there are other times when you just shouldn’t ask.  Generally though it has served me well over the years and worked on occasions where I have asked for a pay rise. If I have asked for someone’s help since I don’t make a habit of it, they are more inclined to assist me.  Of course I am happy to return the favour if at all possible and offer help in return.

This week, in practicing Gratitude for the good things which have been happening, even when they are few and far between.  I wanted to share with you all something that I am very grateful for.

As a keen recycler I have written about this previously in One Mans’ Waste is another Mans’ Treasure I do tend to search for items if there is something that I would really like, to see if it can be bought second hand or given freely if times are tough.  I don’t have a problem in having things which are pre-owned or preloved since they are often better made than new items.  I am also happy to donate to charity shops and buy from them as well as re-using what others may think of as waste items, so that as much as possible is kept out of landfill.

I have had a desire to get myself an old typewriter.  I wrote a while ago in  English Lessons, Touch Typing and Speed Tests about learning to type when I was at school and felt a little bit nostalgic about it. So I asked my father, since at the time when I studied, we had my grandmother’s typewriter.  I would have loved to have it and use it again and since I have not known him use it for years, he may want to pass on this heirloom. However he wasn’t ready to do that at this point and told me it has sentimental value and he is still using it.  It may be passed on to me one day, however in the meantime I thought I would search elsewhere.

So, a quick browse around the local charity shops proved fruitless although my partner asked them to call us if they get one in.  It really didn’t matter to me what it looked like, as long as it works.  But something vintage would suit my inspirational living and I do love old items. There is something about that Art Deco room in my imagination, where I can write wonderful stories at a big wooden desk, with old writing implements surrounded by beautiful things and peace and quiet.  I purchased an old ink well on the strength of that particular dream or goal. Alas at the moment we are lacking in space and it is resigned to the loft until I have this wonderful office one day.

My next stop was Freecyle where I have received some wonderful things in the past. So I posted a “Wanted” advert on there at the weekend.  Lo and behold, a rather nice email popped into my inbox on Monday from a lady, telling me that she had a portable typewriter which I could have.  I didn’t ask too many questions, just when I could pick it up and arranged this with her.  The thing about Freecycle is when you collect that you are not obliged to pay for it.  I feel that if someone is giving you something for free, then it is only fair that you show them a token, however small of your appreciation.  So I took her a Terry’s Chocolate Orange, when times are hard, you have to share what is available.  The lady asked what I wanted it for since she though that no-one uses them anymore. I told her that I wanted something to photograph and that I was in the process of writing a book and feel that it might bring inspiration in my moments of writing. It had been her Father’s, she was pleased that it would be used, but wasn’t sure if it still worked. I said that I would give it a clean up and if it didn’t then I would just photograph it.  I did not look into the box until I returned to my car, then sneaked a peak inside the dusty and slightly battered case which surrounded it.

On opening it, it took my breath away, I must admit that I squealed with excitement too at this point as my eyes met a possibly 1930’s Royal portable typewriter, a little dusty, but otherwise in good condition with a ribbon in place.  It is beautiful and I am feeling very lucky.  I cannot remove the smile from my face.

I found some paper and tried it out.  It all works perfectly, I sent the lady a message, letting her know and she sent one back and wishing me luck with my book.

If anyone had asked me what I could have hoped for in a typewriter, whilst living in a small space. I couldn’t have described it any better, this is one which I can put away, when not in use, but enjoy whenever I like.

Gratitude, Absolutely Yes.  I love it and I am thrilled with it. Share your Gratitude.

 

 

Le Grand Plan

Le Grand Plan

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There is a language barrier, but it is my saving grace.
So that when I want to visit France, I’m able to save face.
I try to speak the lingo and do what can be done.
But when faltering in conversation, I’m inclined to run.
The actions of our countrymen, can lead to embarrassment.
But that’s not what takes me there, its not why I’ve been sent.
See, I am after something else, which is different from the rest.
It’s a place to call our own, and searching is my quest.
I will enjoy the culture, the cuisine and the wine
And when I’ve actually found it, we’ll settle in just fine.
Not sure if farm or mill house, will suit our big grand plan.
Or whether a small cottage, will house our little clan.
But it will have some land and lots of greenery.
Somewhere with peace and quiet, with great scenery.
The climate will be lovely, where warm breezes blow.
It will be a place, where we’re happy when we go.
Perhaps there’ll be a place, where we’re looking out to sea.
Surrounded by trees and pasture, where animals run free.
Or in some darkened forest, or a wooded glade.
I simply do not know what decision will be made.
When we’ve finally found it, I’ll definitely need a hand
Strong people there to build on, or work our fields and land.
Friends might come and stay with us, plenty of room there.
If there’s lots of space, maybe a cabin or two to share?
Will there be an old house, filled with grace and charm.
Or ramshackle sheds and buildings, on a forty acre farm?
Wherever this can take me, I’m glad where it began.
I’ll call this little journey, the start of “Le Grand Plan”
It has some ten years, in which to grow and fruit.
Now there’s just the family, to entice and recruit.
When up mountains and through lakes we follow all the trails,
I’m sure they’ll be with me as we figure out details.

 

Images: Location Photographs byIndiaBlue. Food from morguefile.com

The Home Made Dark Room

IMG_0034_v2The Homemade Dark Room.

Where we all had to go to the bathroom before we started, as no-one could use the toilet while we were all in there!

I was thirteen when I really noticeably got into Photography. At the time, my parents attended a church. They ran an award scheme for the children, it was a bit like after school clubs, or youth clubs for all the kids in the church. It was called the Kings Award Scheme and upon completion of the course, which was usually 4-6 weeks duration, for a couple of hours per week, you received a certificate.

Since such certificates of merit were not commonplace or even given out in our school. It gave me a real sense of achievement back then to be able to do something useful, and practical.  It also gave the people in the church with practical skills, the opportunity to teach them to the kids. It also meant that if someone wanted to have something done on their house, they were able to get it done by someone in the church and a team of kids for the price of materials and refreshments. It is the place where I learned to plaster a wall, lay and point bricks to build a barbeque and develop photographs and later Mum and Dad decided that they wanted to have a go too.

So that is how we decided to turn our family bathroom into a temporary Dark Room, in the evenings while my sister, who was a toddler at the time was sleeping upstairs, we trooped into the bathroom. You see we had to have somewhere with a water supply and there was way too much light in the kitchen. So ever the practical ones, we created this space. A bright orange gloss painted door was placed over the bath, this was now surplus to requirements and the only thing large enough to so that we could lay our trays of developing fluid on it and the wash. On the cupboard in the corner, we placed the photographic enlarger, and the plug for it went through an extension lead which went out under the door. We tried to cover all other light sources with a bath towel so that small shaft of light could not seep underneath spoiling our efforts. The final addition was a large blanket covering the window. We also had a torch, for when we needed some light, since the light switch was on the outside of the bathroom door.

We were limited in our prints, to black and white and I noticed that if each process was prolonged there were interesting effects upon the printed results. The negatives had been selected beforehand in a room with the lights on, so we knew which ones we wanted to do. But that is how we spent several evenings, the three of us cramped in the bathroom, whilst my sister was sleeping soundly for the night. I loved those developing sessions. The smell of chemicals was heavy in the air and probably encouraged at least some of our artistic outcomes, but it was a time when I was able to bond with both of my parents simultaneously and also have a physical memento from it.

It also gave us the opportunity to go through the slides, which were the only film my father used to take photographs on when I was a small child. There were a few cine films too of other family members. But save for the school photographs, all the childhood pictures from when I was a baby were on slides, which meant we rarely got to see them. Unless the slide projector came out for an evening, which was too much hassle. I remember one time they did get the projector out though and being absolutely mortified when in a room full of people suddenly I was confronted with an image of me as a two year old sitting in the car seat in the back of a Morris Minor, absolutely covered in chocolate. I asked what had happened. Mum explained that “Daddy had given me a 2 finger KitKat and was surprised as to just how far it had travelled on a sunny afternoon” He was taking the photo, when Mum asked me to give him a cuddle, so there I was ear to ear grin and arms outstretched to greet him. I was so embarrassed that the memory of that has stayed with me. It is quite an innocent image, so I cannot understand why. I was too young to remember the actual memory of that day.
Other than that I did enjoy the nights when either cine or slides were set up in the lounge, the slides would allow us a peek into the family history, people from the past and happy occasions, holidays, parties and relatives.
I have been trying to encourage my parents to allow me to borrow these, so that I can see them again. Show them to my partner who has never seen them. Unfortunately neither parent is particularly keen to assist with this. My aim is to get be able to photograph them as they appear on the projector, so that I can turn them into a family album that can be shared between us all in years to come. No-one else seems bothered to do it, or even bothered that they may never be seen again. I am the sentimental one of my siblings, the others have their moments, occasionally we share in a memory, my sister being several years younger than my brother and I, has slightly different memories as we were so grown up when she was still small.

Some of the past it would be nice to keep alive. It shouldn’t all be buried and forgotten, there were good bits.

Parisienne Shopping

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The day that we went Parisienne Shopping
At Galeries Lafayette
When our feet were close to dropping,
Our wishes there well met.
I sat him down to rest, with croissant and café.
Searching off through the mall on my merry way.
Had no idea it was enormous and how very grand.
Or what item in the sale, I’d be pleased to land.
Skipped out to tell him later, I was worried of the cost.
He told me, “Get Back In There” so the bargain is not lost.
When on holiday shopping is certainly not my aim,
Just cannot see the fun in it, it is a crying shame.
But I had found a beautiful thing in bright blue and pink.
The smoothest silk, a summer dress. I hope it doesn’t shrink!
I walked around the centre, in surprise and awe.
He urged me to return there and I should buy some more.
But I was happy for a something, that I liked and it cost less
A veritable bargain, my Lafayette silk dress.
A handsome pair, hand in hand walk along the Seine
For dinner in some wonderful place, we’d love to visit again.

When you’re feeling Blue, There is always Hope…

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When you’re feeling Blue, There is always Hope!

Well that’s what he said to me the other day… It has been a tough couple of days here at home, actually it has felt like a tough couple of weeks. I went from a happy high, to feeling melancholy, as though there is a cloud that has been hanging over us, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Whatever have caused it, I dearly wish I could remove the cloud. Things have not been going our way lately. Suddenly and inexplicably it is like it’s all been hitting the fan all at once. It started who knows when I am not sure.

My beloved has injured his back again, for the second time in as many months, the last time the pain lasted till a couple of weeks ago and he felt a little better. But then he lifted the garage doors open with the help of a friend, so he didn‘t think that he was being foolish. But they have been closed for some six months and something clicked out, more like a squelch apparently and he has been in mortal agony since then. So getting Hope out again, has been tinged with injury for him once again, which kind of took the shine off the event. He is not a laying on his back doing nothing kind of guy, so has sneaky attempts at doing random things, because they need to be done also since he is in yet more pain than he normally faces, he has required my help, despite not wanting it. A very independent person who is faced with yet more restrictions as to what they can and cannot achieve is certainly not a happy camper. With this in mind, we have been doing some spring cleaning sorting out around here, so that things are at least happening.

We have all been craving the green and quiet of our Scottish getaway so much lately, but have been unable to make the trip there and stay there. The time is just not right to go at the moment and it seems that whatever funds we do to try to raise any have been met with obstacles and no-one has bought anything from us, right when we need it. This has caused unrest here in the home, since we are not where we want to be and we have been scraping by. We should be there by now, up on our hill, enjoying the scenery and preparing the ground so that it isn’t four feet high in the summer, if we can get up there in late spring and chop it back, then it does not grow up past the windows by the summer and we can walk around with ease but we haven‘t been there for what seems like an age and were unable to do anything to either house or garden last time we were there. By the time we get back there they will be thinking about the harvest nearby and we will not be able to get the help we need to clear, which means a lot of work which is actually beyond our own capabilities. We have friends who work the farms, but barely see them in the late summer when they are working long days to get the harvest in. It makes for a quiet time with just us around accompanied by the constant whir of combine harvesters and other machinery and movement of cattle.

Yesterday, it was threatening rain outside, other parts of the country had a heavy rainfall, but ours did not arrive until the evening, so I sat on the back patio and spent a couple of hours weeding all the pots before I began the cupboard. I only did them a couple of weeks ago, but it’s surprising how quickly they return. The Dog was feeling clingy, since we had given him his flea and tick treatment the night before, which means that he follows me everywhere and keeps coming over for kisses and cuddles, he is a little bit groggy from it all, so I am reassuring him that I will not leave him. It is a heinous crime if I leave the house lately, but I am met with a hero’s welcome when I return. Goodness knows how he will be when I return to a day job again. He is happy when everyone he loves is around him, he can see them all and knows we are all safely at home.

So my partner and I are sprucing things up here and I have been sorting out some of the rubbish that we have been keeping since God knows when. This is not stuff I can sell to get funds to help us out of the mire, this is actual rubbish and I cannot understand why I had been keeping paint, putty, tile adhesive and other wonderful DIY objects which I no longer need. Probably it was in case I did, but I must have had the paint testers for about 15 years. A quick shake of them and any that are liquid have been saved for possibly a project here or there, when I might need 1sqM worth of paint in an interesting colour to brighten something up with, as I though of what I had painted with them previously, at least two bathrooms, various pieces of furniture, cupboard interiors all sprang to mind. I also found some lovely exterior paint, which I will be repainting the bench outside in ready for the Summer Seagrass to go with the blue, both colours I love. It is the remainder from my old garden which hasn’t dried out in the tin and I think there is just enough left for the job. It’s strange what we keep isn’t it?

My friend was painting one of the rooms in her house, I told her that I have been thinking of painting my hallway too. It’s a tiny room and I have now lived here for over 5 years and still have not done it. When I was younger, in the first few years after we got together we did not spend Bank Holidays together, since he often worked them. So, traditionally for me, I used to spend Bank Holiday’s painting and decorating, when I was not out doing something interesting or partying with my friends. I kind of miss that, not the partying but the decorating (Bizarre I know). I moved in here and I have only painted the bedroom walls since I arrived. Although the kitchen and bathroom have been done for me. Five years on, it’s looking a little bit tired and in need of a bit of TLC now, jobs to be done.

It turns out I have paint, not just the tester pots. I have the paint which I had anticipated using in the hallway and it turns out rather a lot of brushes. I used to buy them whenever I could, knowing that if they are cared for, then they will last many years if you buy the good ones. I cannot use the same brushes as my partner, he paints in a different way to me and there are very few straight bristles at the end of it. So there are brushes for him and my own ones. That may sound harsh to the uneducated, but have you tried to get good gloss paintwork with a brush that looks like it has been used down a toilet?

So I was quite pleased when I cleared the cupboard yesterday afternoon. Where I keep tools not the shed, I only did that again the other day. But my cupboard, with my tools and found about ten brushes in every size needed to paint the house. These are staying here. I also found the paint, masking tape, cloths, white spirit, gloss paint, tile paint, enamel paint, vinyl matt, vinyl silk and the rather nice metallic paint which I did the bedroom in. So I think that I may have to start the hallway after all, since I have all that I need to do it, I have no reasonable excuse.

It is now organised so I will be able to find things. I have extra space, sorted through and put all hardware in one place, plumbing in another box, electrical in another and all the loose tools I could find, which he hadn’t cleared off with, back in my toolbox. It was nice to find that I actually do still have two good hammers, half a set of screwdrivers and put all the loose screws in yet another jam jar. At least they are all now in one place and as I told him, I now know what is in the cupboard. This random place, where I found all the puppy harnesses, from when he was small. The very first Halti lead, which had been chewed through, and the harness which made him look tiny, there were blankets and chewy toys it brought memories of my puppy flooding back, he was very interested in the contents of the bag. I couldn’t part with them, they have been put away again along with the Land Rover seat covers. The vehicle having been disposed of about three years ago now, but these kept in case we reach the goal of getting a diesel one at some point. The seashells and other items from my beach combing, awaiting the day that I use them in some arty project. There were silk flowers. A tile cutter which I bought, Some Lino cut rubber stamps which are treasure from the house in Scotland. I have yet to print from them since failing on my first attempt. and had a rethink, perhaps I will do rubbings from them instead. There was also Compost and Fancy interior Plant Pots. Tools and Ladders and two vacuum cleaners. Always necessary to have a spare one in this house. We have a furry dog.

Despite this cleaning, tidying and sorting frenzy that I have been doing over the past week or so, I have been feeling rather unsettled. I can’t put my finger on when it started, but it is like waiting for news and now I come to thinking about it we are. My partner is waiting for hospital appointments which will tell us how his health is progressing, referrals to surgeons who will decide when, not if, surgery is necessary and set the ball rolling with that. I know it has been pretty bad and the injuries he sustains whenever he does anything are causing me concern. With a degenerative condition and things wearing out, you are one step away from thinking “What if ?” I know for a fact he has injured himself so many times in the past year and not healed properly. He is more fragile than he would ever admit to and this is putting further constraints on what he can do, whilst all the while he is making plans.

This morning I woke up giving myself a mental pep talk. Telling myself that I cannot afford to stop what I have been doing lately, I don’t wish to stop. I need to carry on, but for some reason, I hadn’t written a poem for several weeks and this has bothered me. But as I write this today I have written one it does not rhyme, like many of the others have done so does it feel like a poem? I am as yet undecided.
I was concerned that as I had got to my goal for the book and that was it. But I had already surpassed the figure of poems I had in my head for that and just need to sort them out and decide the contents now. So perhaps that time has come to do that. The work is there, although my work is not yet done. I still have work to do.

Had my sub conscious has been listening to my partner who has been saying that I cannot sit around writing indefinitely, there are many other things that need doing? I cannot afford to just sit and write all day and he wants things to be done around here. I woke up this morning thinking that I had absolutely nothing to write. I was going back to sleep once I had let the dog out, but although he is now sleeping soundly, I am not. I have taken the chance to write this. Not knowing what was going to come out of my head. My body aches from lugging things about and yesterday’s weeding. I did not sleep well and could have done with a couple more hours sleep, but my mind is travelling again, at warp speed as I write, well, this and the new poem, I am thirsty for the feeling I get when I write.

I keep reading that we should write when it comes to us and I have been trying to do this whenever it does, grateful for the release it has given me along with the new experience and finding out that someone, somewhere actually reads it from time to time. I am fearful of this writing drying up. Telling myself constantly to finish what I started. Too many thingse over the years have been started and then discontinued. I want continuity in my life. I want to be doing this still when I am old. Don’t get me wrong, I would also like to earn a living from it and sooner rather than later would be great.

Perhaps the time has come, whilst I feel that nothing new is arriving on the page, that I should figure out the contents, edit and so on, it might just push me forward and get the creative juices flowing once again and get that book out there, the last 3 months since I started sometimes feels like an age, but I have always suffered with a certain level of impatience to get to the end result.

After all, do I really need to cover old diaries with sticky back plastic and scraps of paper to get creative and kid myself that I have the next notebook ready for what wonders my mind beholds. Erm, actually no, that is another project will have to wait. I have writing to do. Just as I do not need to search the social networks to see if people are happy or not, or how I can become happy again, or what I should be eating, or not. My three square meals and the odd jaffa cake for good measure will sustain me.

My feeling of reaching a plateau needs correcting. I need to do that wonderful thing, get the ball rolling on this thing, the future. And as he said to me the other day, if you are feeling blue, there is always Hope as he sent me out to play in her for the first time in months. I do not drive unless I have somewhere to go at the moment and try to cram all the jobs that need doing into one journey. Ticking all the boxes as I go. That way I can justify to myself the fuel used. But I was sent out with nothing to do, no where specific to go, which left me clueless, a decision to make. What will I do? I was out on my own as well, so there was no one to ask. This may sound a little barmy to you, but in the past few months I have rarely been alone and decisions have been made between us, almost everything being a democracy. I have had the family around me and done the food shopping and been to appointments, but little else. I needed a break from what has become the norm, I just didn’t realise it.

So it was an unexpected shock to the system, but one that I actually thoroughly enjoyed. You see I love driving, it really doesn’t matter what I drive. But it I have to admit, it is wonderful to be back in my own car, instead of the truck out in the open air after all this time. So I searched for a green place to drive through, country lanes, surrounded by trees. The light dappled overhead, birds singing. The sun was shining, it was on my skin and I had the wind in my hair, the smile firmly placed on my face. A couple of hours went by in no time at all, I thought it was early, but I hadn’t put the clock forward in the car since I last drove it.  I thought I was getting alot of miles covered in the time I was out.  Oops, no I had just lost an hour! I came back thinking to myself that I should not have driven out without purpose, he told me I did have a purpose. We had an awful day before that and I needed to lift my spirits again. It worked, he wanted to send me out again yesterday but I could not justify doing the same thing every day, after all I would run out of fuel. Now that really would be a crime…

Decay #6 Blessed with a great outlook

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On Bank Holiday Monday I spent the afternoon with my sister.  We chilled out at home talking about all kinds of things then ventured out in the car to a nearby river.  It is lovely how a quick trip to water brightens the day.

She has recently bought a car and I am enjoying the afternoons where we can go out and see some of the great countryside which surrounds us, where I get to show her the places she hasn’t seen before, which are right on our doorstep and she gets to practice her driving.  It makes a change not to be the driver. More importantly, we also get to be sisters again, when we are out on our own and just be ourselves.  We were talking about location shoots since she is after some new promotional pictures for her work and I tried to think of places which were a little out of the ordinary.

I thought of just the place and took her along the river. It was threatening rain all afternoon, so we went over there early evening for an hour or so, despite the slightly grey evening, we messed around with our cameras and I came away Happy with a load of new shots and making new memories as she put it.  Although I will not be the photographer for her promo shots, I also got some nice ones of her.

I decided that I would add some more images, bit by bit to the series called Decay, which I have photographed over a period of time.  So, here goes…

 

One Mans’ Waste is another Mans’ Treasure

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One Man’s waste is another man’s treasure. So they say….
I am the first to admit, I hate waste. I was brought up in a home where we did not have much to spare, what little we did have was often passed on or found. As a consequence, My parents and grandparents we great at recycling, (and hoarding) so I guess that it became second nature to me to have second hand furniture, clothing and to learn how to give things a new lease of life, or just enjoy them when someone else had finished with them. Also to hang onto things, often until way past their usefulness has probably passed. When I grew up, it wasn’t known as recycling, that only became a popular phrase, as I was growing up, the phrase was learning how to just “make do and mend.” It instilled a certain level of practicality in us children, where we looked at how things were made and how they could be repaired or even turned into something completely new. So much of that seems lost now.

I am in turmoil. You see whilst walking the dog earlier, I came across a house which had been cleared. We walked past it yesterday too, or was it the day before. It looked interesting, the house had been sold and as a consequence emptied. Totally emptied! The front garden was now piled high with the belongings that someone had once held so dear. You see, to someone like me, there might be gold there! Some wonderful preloved thing, just waiting to be found. It is difficult for me to comprehend, how someone can just clear out and dump someones possessions all out in the garden. No Skip. Just loaded up so that they can barely get down the pathway, what on earth does that solve? The house is sold, clearly they didn’t want it but surely you would get a house clearance in, or donate to a charity instead, after all there are plenty of them around.

Lots of people would make use of these things. A washing machine, fridge, cooker, the odd nick-nack. I wish I had a truck and a spare pair of hands sometimes. Oh and a lock up.
Unfortunately we live in a wasteful society now, where everything is considered disposable, without thought or consequence. I find this difficult to deal with and try to find another option: re-use, recycle, re-purpose or donate. My other half thinks that I gather “unnecessary toot” wonders what I would do with it, but it just requires a little creative thought. I can see the potential in most things, this is both a blessing and a curse at times.

There are still poor people in the world, at times I am one of them. Those who don’t have much, are missing something in their home and cannot afford to go and buy it. Cannot afford the latest things for their children and yet still want to encourage, nurture and let them think outside the box. That someone might be grateful to sit on an old chair, with a new cushion, or repainted in a pretty colour.

They might want a suitable table where their child can paint pictures, draw or read a book in a quiet corner. That desk and chair might just be welcome.
Perhaps if I could get that truck, lock up and spare pair of hands, then I would have a curiosity shop, full of such things to inspire a new generation, that dumping stuff for the local youths to smash up and litter all over the roads, really is not the way forward. To needlessly destroy things of beauty that were once a cherished part of someone’s family home. Sometimes passed from generation to generation. Sometimes they are not worth anything at all, in monetary terms, but have huge sentimentality to others.

As I sit in my house, surrounded by items of furniture, either bought or collected through the years, mismatched it tells a story, or several. Some inherited, some replaced but all has it’s use and place within the home. New is not always better, it holds no story to tell. It’s life has only just begun, but does it have any staying power, will it endure? I would rather take steadfast old than crumbly new any day. They don’t make it like they used to.

I regret that I did not rescue a piece of furniture from the roadside a couple of years ago. It was robust, solid wood and well crafted. Made to Last and had done so since just after WWII a 1940‘s post war oak cupboard. It had been disposed of for days, I tried to think of a way of getting it home, since I could not lift it alone and my partner had damaged himself (as he often does) so was unable to assist me. Over a period of several weeks, the rain got to it, which split the wood. Someone poured something over it and the varnish began to peel. The drawers were removed and smashed upon the floor. Paint was then thrown all over it.
A few weeks later and the top was also pulled off and slung across the road, broken and beyond repair it was then stacked by a tree for the dustmen to take away. The furniture that had once stood proudly and polished, cared for in someone’s home. Gone forever… Such a waste. Things around here so often are, it causes great sadness.