thrift of the day

I really wasn’t looking to buy this.

I have ogled and fondled many a card index box in my time, but never bought one as they all proved too expensive. So naturally, when one turned up in the local charity shop it caught my eye.

It was still waiting to be priced, so I had to come back later. And it had gone. A momentary pang ensued – until the nice lady told me to have a look in the window.

And there it was.

At a charity shop price that was just too good to miss. So now, it is mine, all mine!

It may be the subject of a small make-over, as it’s rather worn leathercloth is peeling off at the back and is looking a tad dowdy.

But I think a selection of my sewing and crafting bits and bobs will soon be very happily in residence within my new acquisition.

dorset delights

I love coming to Dorset.

The weather smiled on our Saturday.

Morning included a castle on the coast, views across the sea to the Isle of Portland and a stroll along the Rodwell Trail.

Then we headed to Lyme Regis for sunshine and secondhand books, soup and bread at the Town Mill Bakery, fossil shops for the lad and the antiques centre for me.

I managed not to buy anything, though lad blew his pocket money on semi-precious stones and books.

Which made me smile.

A perfect day.

In the car on the way home, singing along to favourite tunes as the sun set, it was all so beautiful that I wanted to cry.

Silly, sentimental old thing that I am.

little monkey

Some things have a hard life. They get scratched and worn, but it somehow suits them.

My little drummer monkey is one of those things.

He is German, made by Schuco, and belonged, once upon a time, to my Nanna, who was born in 1897 and died twenty-five years ago this year. I’m not sure how old monkey himself is, but I think he must have been bought for my dad.

When I and my sister were small, we were forbidden to touch him in case we overwound him or lost his key, despite the fact that he was pretty battered even then.

We were allowed to watch him drum now and again.

Being good girls, we didn’t sneak into Nanna’s room when she wasn’t there to wind him up, nor did we borrow him.

Well, hardly ever.

His face is a bit sad, but then it always has been.

His key was not lost, nor was he overwound.

So here he is, doing his thing. Take it away little drummer monkey. Now is your big moment.

junk and disorderly

If there’s one thing I enjoy as much as textiles, it’s rummaging through junk in search of a bargain.

This magnificent establishment within a church in Builth Wells daunted even my rummaging talents, however.

There was just so MUCH of it.

Local art, midcentury furniture, antiques, reclamation yard fodder and downright rubbish.

Piled precariously, in no particular order, on every available surface.

I could’ve spent a week in there.

I’m glad I didn’t though, as I would have missed the rather more, shall we say… curated delights of Hay-on-Wye‘s establishments.

Be it curated cabinet or giant junkyard, I can’t help but love it.

collecting dust

I have always been a collector.

I think I inherited the tendency from my dad, who amassed enviable collections of books, music and hi fi equipment.

I like to think that I am discriminating in my collecting, as he was. A curator, rather than an obsessive compulsive.

I am not a completist and my collecting focus changes rather than remaining fixed. My collections, and my interest in them, wax and wane over time.

Pippa dolls. Badges. Shells. Buttons. Postcards. Fabric. Tins.

I thought today of my vintage tin collection.

Gathered some years ago, it currently resides in a box in a cupboard upstairs. I use the odd one or two from the collection for practical purposes, but it has not been displayed as a collection since moving to this house.

I have read about Lisa Congdon’s project documenting her collections. I also read an article recently (I forget where) about how it is a good idea to photograph your collections and then part with them.

I’m a bit torn on that one. Whilst it may seem a pity that this particular collection is not on display, that doesn’t mean it won’t ever be.

As with everything, there comes a time to let go.

But there is also enormous joy to be had from the rediscovery of collections past.