Sunday, 21 August 2016

A little idea


that I'm pleased with.

I have a lot of toys left over from my own childhood,
my mother's nursery school
and my own children.

Some of them have seen better days, 
and are mostly without their original packing.
I have a goodly supply of small boxes and so until recently
was happy enough just to decant and store into those.

But with lids on, these were not very helpful to little B 
who likes to choose toys and put them away herself on the shelf.


So I photocopied the contents


directly on the photocopier bed


and stuck the startlingly 3D image


onto each of the lids.



I'm going to do the same with Lego.
I sorted that years before I knew there'd be anyone else
playing with it, so it's all complete with instructions 
but there are hardly any original boxes.

It was such fun that I am casting round for other things to photocopy.
Food perhaps?
Tools?
Art equipment?

Tuesday, 16 August 2016

Mouldiwarp




 A Dead Mole - Andrew Young

Strong - shouldered mole,
That so much lived below the ground,
Dug, fought and loved, hunted and fed,
For you to raise a mound
Was as for us to make a hole;
What wonder now that being dead
Your body lies here stout and square
Buried within the blue vault of the air?



On a happier and more topical note for August, 
Mole's thoughts on returning home after travelling Abroad:

He saw clearly how plain and simple - how narrow, even - it all was;
but clearly, too, how much it all meant to him,
and the special value of some such anchorage in one's existence.
He did not at all want to abandon the new life
and its splendid spaces,
to turn his back on the sun and air
and all they offered him and creep home and stay there;
the upper world was all too strong, it called to him still,
even down there, and he knew he must return to the larger stage.
But it was good to think he had this to come back to,
this place which was all his own,
these things which were so glad to see him again
and could always be counted upon for the same simple welcome.

From the chapter Dulce Domum - Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame



Sunday, 7 August 2016

Seeing red


Oh my goodness.
This is a trial of one's patience.


I have now managed to copy someone else's last, precious, 
but now unsupported, version of iPhoto
onto my computer in a bid to be rid of Photos.
And Hallelujah
it has let me upload from my phone to the computer
and now to upload from the computer to the blog
but not quickly.
Oh no. That would be asking too much.
We must wait and twiddle our thumbs
 long enough for the moon to rise and darkness to fall.



Tuesday, 2 August 2016

Woe, woe and thrice woe




I would love to be posting more frequently.
The 'upgrade' continues to cast a pall over all my endeavours.
The latest blip being that I can no longer upload photos
from my camera to Photos.
It has locked itself into a permanent state called Closing the Library.
I am therefore obliged to hover on the fringes of Support Communities
and forums
looking for someone speaking in a language that I understand.


Here are three photos which snuck in under the wire.


How lovely to be oblivious
to the woes of the world.

Tuesday, 19 July 2016

At last




















Summer!
Last seen 1976.



Wednesday, 13 July 2016

Upgrade, downgrade, retrograde


Well I knew it was going to be a bore,
but with more and more of my usual processes being given
the computer says, 'No' treatment,
I made a last ditch attempt to bring my old Mac up to date
with its first ever upgrade to El Capitan.

It didn't like it one bit.
It groaned and protested and chucked a spinning beach ball around all night.
Then it said it couldn't find my Bluetooth keyboard or mouse
but would I please enter my password.
So my son kindly sent away for the plug in variety of both
and we were back on speaking terms.

But another part of the problem lay in my extensive photo collection
happily housed in carefully labelled Events in iPhoto.
Now they have been ported into a new library called Photo
and it as if the whole lot were chucked into the air
and then randomly stuffed into shoe boxes 
called Moments, Albums and Collections.

I hardly dare to upload a photo here,
because it must laboriously search for every single picture taken since 2008,
playing with the beach ball all the while, 
and then I must try to find one to illustrate my bon mots.
But I'm going to give it a go
because otherwise it's all up with this blogging business
and back to pen and paper diaries.




 Well worth the wait.
I think I deserve a little flowery crown too.



Thursday, 30 June 2016

On why we will never be self-sufficient




French beans.


Courgettes.


Red cabbage.


Runner beans.


Happy snails.




Perhaps this would be a match for them.
Crambe maritima or sea kale.
Leaves as tough as neoprene, but the stems are delicious blanched and
eaten like asparagus apparently.

Tuesday, 21 June 2016

Snappy snaps


I'd relied upon Tuscany to provide me with much blog worthy material
but, as the prevalent exclamatory writing style has it.
Rain.


There was a cat. Monroe.


On a nice mat.


And a couple of shadow opportunities
when a fitful sun appeared.



But mostly it was about dodging the torrents.
This one at the top of the Torre Grossa in San Gimignano.


And lamenting the presence of chainsaws
in the valley below our house.


Yes down there in the fog.
8.30 until 5.00 unless it rained.
Hmm.

On the plus side, the food is not affected by rain.
And the chainsaws cannot follow one into restaurants.

Also it was very green and the wildflowers were abundant.









And I wasn't once bitten by a mosquito.