Not there.....yet!

Italy still awaits, we have still to make a stopover in London.

We hit the ground running at Heathrow...literally! The plane was late from Dubai. We ran to the bus, trying to follow purple arrows, fighting all the way about the correct colour of arrows that we had to follow.  I KNEW they were purple, somebody else thought they should be green. Got on the bus, ran off the bus, ran through terminal five, screaming at each other about the directions we were taking. I tell you it was bedlam! Ran to the express queue, (remember we are royalty) were told we had to go to another counter, ran to another express counter, where the man asked us, "Why are you here, you should have gone straight through." He then informed us that we had missed our connecting flight.

I tell you, the stress! Then we had to navigate customs, where of course a lady officer took me aside and  patted me down. After that we walked about a kilometre through THOUSANDS of people to the British Airways Galleries First Lounge. I had to stay alert as I was fully aware of the threat of pick pockets and roaming bands of gypsies. I wasn't going to be a statistic!

After a bit of argy-bargy at the counter of the Lounge, we gained admittance. We then had to contact the car service in Rome to tell them that we were going to be late. As we  had no international sim for phones or ipads, this was quite difficult, and the British Airways staff were quite indifferent to our pleas for help. After experiencing exceptional service with Qantas, being on a whole, fawned over by Emirates, it was a bit of a shock to the system.

Saying that, the lounge would have been quite an oasis if other matters hadn't been so pressing. In hindsight, I should have knocked back a few champas's and just chilled...even though it was breakfast time. Maybe gone to the spa for a 15 minute massage. (Yes, you can to that!)

It was very big, with a cafe/club/upmarket pub kind of feel. (British Airways describe it as boutique hotel.) Nice decor with pops of colour in the furnishings and the artworks, but still very tasteful and soothing. Great timber floors. Good selection of food. It just wasn't the Qantas First lounge.

After getting our affairs in order, and having digested a plate of kippers, we attempted to think positively and proceeded to our changed British Airways flight to Rome, and I can tell you, it was a doozy! Seated in the worst seats in the back, I think we were on the oldest plane in the fleet. The plane was delayed as they had to change a light bulb. Oh dear! Imagine Fawlty Towers, but with ageing Italian flight attendants. We thought we were in a Jaques Tati film.

And that my friends is the glamour of a long haul flight. I shudder to think what we would have experienced if we hadn't had the opportunity of the lounges.

Here's a little song that kind of reminds me of that drizzly morning. (For some reason it isn't coming up on iPads, but is OK on my laptop)

The Dubai experience

As my travels are now geared to the airport lounge experience, I am afraid I am going to bore all and sundry with the minutiae of those hallowed halls. The adage, "when you have seen one you have seen them all" does NOT apply to these places. Needless to say, I think that I am becoming an airline nerd.

Sometimes pictures don't do justice to real life. The sheer size of Concourse A in Dubai is mind boggling. It sits like an enormous blue caterpillar on the landscape. In the early morning with its lights glowing from within, it was like a futuristic mother ship pod for UFO's. Just remember, looking at the scale of this structure that most of those planes are the Airbus A380, the biggest plane on the planet.

We were able to enjoy the brand spanking new, First Class lounge in Dubai during our short stop-over. It was cavernous but didn't nave the pizazz of Sydney. Don't get me wrong...it was nice, just a bit formal, and dare I say it...a bit like an very upmarket RSL club.

Customer support was polarised, ranging from sullen and rude staff in the customs area, to embarrassingly helpful and servile in the restaurant. On getting my tucker for brekky, I wasn't allowed to hold my own plate at the self service area. Instead, I had to point at the food that appealed to me, whilst my attendant staff member (dare I say, servant!) picked the pieces and delicately placed them on plates. I was pretty stressed at being treated like the princess (that I know I really am), so ended up pointing at anything! I don't mind being waited on, and do expect good service when I go out, but it felt kind of like slavery.

Walking to my table, I made a crazy attempt to seat myself without too much fuss, after all, I am a 21st century princess! I was however thwarted by my nimble helper who managed to race me to the table, deposit the three plates that she was carrying, and scoot around to pull the chair out for me. Once seated, I sat and contemplated my weird breakfast consisting of hummus, baklava, eggplant, and pseudo Italian/Scandinavian concoctions.

Next to me, I noticed six men stand imperiously around a large coffee table. They were directing a female staff member to place seats around it. She was five foot tall, with little stick arms and little stick legs. Made of heavy wood, the chairs  were cumbersome to move. However, not one of those men lifted a finger to help her, except for indicating with an imperious move of the hand, that a chair had to be adjusted by a few inches. Even in airport lounges you experience the culture of the country.

Country mouse in the big smoke

The big trip overseas...

So here I am beginning at the end. So to start, the Qantas International First Lounge at Sydney airport.  Now, some may think this is a ridiculous inclusion to a romantic holiday in Tuscany, but, like Kath and Kel, I could have spent my whole holiday here! We were lucky enough to be able to access these hallowed halls, designed my Marc Newson,  because Sparky works in the mines and has accrued a lotta points.

In a nutshell, it was if I had died and gone to heaven! I am afraid we may have acted a bit uncool, a bit like wide eyed yokels, but if that be the case, so be it. As Oprah says "When you know better you do better." Next time we will be so cool, that we will be refrigerators.

When we arrived to the restaurant area, the waiter asked if I would like some champas. Now, I had been warned of the risks of dehydration due to excessive drinking which may lead to deep vein thrombosis and eventually DEATH, but, what the hey, I was on holiday! OK, says I. The waiter  then apologised as they had just run out of Veuve Clicquot, and could only offer Bollinger! Five glasses later....

I was in a very happy place!

It was uphill from there. I could run on and on about the service, the brilliant Neil Perry food, the ambience, the Spa, the toilets (these are very important), and the fact that everything was FREE, but I really need to practice my 'cool' demeanour.

It is funny, as one of the nameless masses, I had no idea that such places existed, they weren't on my radar. Now that I know how the other half lives, my expectations have lifted. No more Macca's and hard seats, trying not to trip over legs and luggage in the cattle areas. The decision has been made to travel, not only to broaden horizons but to experience the first class lounges of the world!

The Hol's are over

Well, I am back blogging. The last six months have been really busy and I have been working pretty much full time with my shops. Who would have thunk that so many people would want my 'stuff'? It still boggles the mind that I make things, and people buy them.

Rather than go on and on about what has been happening (that's the past baby...move on!) I will start anew, as if I haven't even been away...and show you my fabulous new bag (modelled by Daisy, the Formomatic Dummy).

Made by The Cambridge Satchel Company in the UK, I received it within 10 days of purchase, which is pretty damn good, considering it had to be customised as well. It takes longer for a letter to reach my husband over in WA.

It is a doozy! I got my initials engraved as well, (no, they don't stand for New Zealand) and it is like a real Enid Blyton, Famous Five/Secret Seven/Enchanted Wood type bag, that one would put a jam sandwich in, and then bound off, with reckless abandon, for an adventure!

Which is just what I intend to do. It is going with me on a splendid adventure to Italy and Croatia in two weeks time.

I will be recording our odyssey in minute detail...but that is the good thing about blogs, they remain as a record of your life.

Little Battler

I thought I would post some current pics of my Victory Garden.

I have been super busy making stuff, completing orders and doing markets, and so have not spent as much time as I would like in my patch. That doesn't mean that I haven't got any harvest though. I could easily live off it, as it continues to produce even though I haven't given it any love.

My brassicas have gone beserk this year! In the foreground is my potato patch bordered by cabbages. I rarely eat cabbage...I don't know why I put it in. Maybe I will have to make sauerkraut?

Cauliflowers are being picked regularly and the shining star is the broccoli  After harvesting the initial head (like you buy in the shops) the plants are now producing smaller offshoots. I reckon that I get about a kilo a week off five plants, and they are sweeter than the big broccoli heads.

My asparagus is being harvested this year for the first time. It grows so quickly, sometimes a metre a day.  I planted some "Fat Bastard" crowns three years ago, and fat little bastards they are indeed!

This pic is a bit misleading as the size doesn't equate. Lets put it this way....the middle swede is as big as a baby's head and the beetroots are as big as my hand. I think I will have to look for some props to explain the size of my harvest  from now on...maybe an old baby doll of my daughters. (Freaky, what!)

Vintage tea towel cushions

I stayed up 'til one in the morning the last Sunday making new cushions for Bangalow Markets. I thought I could make ten...I made three.

Backtracking, I was hoping that I wouldn't have to pre-wash this stash of mint, vintage, irish linen, tea towels. But...tests conducted in our lab found that there was 2-3 cm shrinkage in them, so into the machine they went. Ye can't have puckered pillows can ye?

Now today, I have to photograph them properly and weigh them, then list them in my online shops, as well as cutting out some more.  I was thinking of sending the whole cushion through the post rather than just the cover, and tying them up with brown paper and string. So many decisions. I need a cuppa.

Thought I would play with My creative space today...they have moved!

My little mate

I just HAD to show you the pics of 'my little mate.' He (I think) is an adolescent koala who wandered into my studio a few months back. Well, he is back again in the massive flooded gum in our front paddock.

 It doesn't matter how much wildlife you see on the TV or in print, it becomes  so special when it lives with you.

I know they  are quite vicious, and they make the most god-awful sounds at night (like the zombies are coming to get you), but ye gods, they are cute! I watched my little mate for an hour. The most interesting thing he did was scratch his belly....but THAT was riveting!

Obsessions

I get obsessions about things. In particular TV and book series. I suppose it started with Enid Blyton and the  Magic Faraway Tree. Then onto the Bobbsey Twins,  Malory Towers, Trixie Beldon, Ann of Green Gables , the list goes on….you get the gist. In truth, I live in a fantasy world.

My current obsessions of the last couple of weeks has been “Call the Midwife” a TV series based on the books of  Jennifer Worth, narrating a Midwife's life in the post war East End of London, which includes as a character a large Pukka girl called Chummy. I have ordered all of the books on Amazon because I simply MUST have them!

On the other end of the scale, “BreakingBad”,  is the story of  struggling, cancer riddled school teacher who, for the love of his family becomes a meth cooker. His off sider is a former student, meth user, homey dude, called Jesse.

Pretty diverse, what! Unfortunately I become immersed in characters...I pull them apart and unconsciously adopt their mannerisms. (My husband and  I recently read the "Game of Thrones" series and we drone "Summer is coming" to anything that bodes ill)

When I become immersed in said characters, anything is bound to happen. I talk the talk, I walk the walk. It is unfortunate when they merge to become one entity, like some kind of Sybil, multiple personality mutant.

It all came out in the email I was writing to somebody (nameless) who knew nothing of my obsessions. She had done me a professional favour. So, what did I write? Certainly not, "Thanks so much for your assistance." That would be too corporate...too banal. Instead I wrote, and I shall put it in capitals, because it was so ridiculous, that most would not believe it, and it must be exclaimed...I wrote, "YOU'RE A BRICK, YO!"

I will say it again. "You're a brick, yo!"

Hmmmm!

It belies belief.

Cards

I have branched into making cards in a mad attempt to create my "Re-purposed Empire."

As well as Little Golden Book images, there are pics from Ladybird: Learn to Read Books, and great retro photos  from a 70's Boys Own Annual.

They are all sewn (very, very neatly) onto the card. (One must ensure the handmade element is present!)

My favourite has already been sold, but it is such a great image it deserves to be seen. It is from a Ladybird book, The Miner. The person who purchased it described it as homo-erotic!

The buyer asked me why I din't just photocopy the image and sell hundreds of 'neck-ed' men. I had to explain about a little thing called copyright  and also the preciousness of the actual vintage object, knowing it came out of a book that was handled by children learning to read....about memories and the different papers  and inks (made of heavy metals) used.

It was no use. If the image had been photocopied onto card at Officeworks, I think the buyer would have bought it for a higher price.

Which has got me thinking. If I want to build an Empire, I might have to compromise...but hopefully not too much.

I will leave you with one last card, from "The Miner"...which is quite amusing given my latest 'activating' interest. For those who can't see it on the screen, it is a picture of  coal seams beneath the surface.

Moooooo!

Here is a pic of our new little calf called Alan. (Well he is about two months old now)

He is so cute and runs around the paddock like a crazy puppy. I feed him and his mum every morning and he is so confident. I love living in the country.

Ha, I just reread the text that I wrote. It sounds like a Grade 2 composition, or the 'how to read' books that I have been making into greeting cards...it has been a long day!

Retro Tea Towels

Some things just cannot be made into cushions!

Have a lookee here at these groovy tea towels! Dunmoy Irish Linen, they are beaut! They are all in original condition, and still have their gold sticker attached. There are three colour ways.

Available at my  Laughing Duck Vintage shop or contact me at collectingfeathers@gmail.com

Retarded carrots

About a month ago it rained every day here in God's Country...but now, we have glorious sun shiny days to warm our winter chilled bones. I have ventured out into the garden once more...

Last week I harvested all of my carrots. Because my seeds didn't take, I had cheated and bought a couple of punnets. Although I was really, really careful with the roots, ensuring they were straight when I placed them into the very well  prepared soil, I am afraid it just wasn't enough. I know now why the experts advise not to grow carrots from seedlings.

Some of them seem to have their own personalities. The lady on the bottom left looks particularly coy! Geez,  I will be looking for images of the Madonna or Baby Jesus in these veges soon!!!

Will you miss me when I'm gone?

I have been absent for a while, but now have decided to return to the world of blogging. After a few years of putting your life out there, you start reflecting on the need to blog...Is it necessary? Am I blogging for myself, or for those near and dear to me? Is to create a record of my life? Do the numbers of 'friends' matter? Is it a competition? Is it loneliness, or am I trying to get attention? Should I be more 'professional' and treat it as part of my business? Who cares anyway?

I have come to the conclusion that I am a mere grain of sand on the beach of life. Not important to most, so why not do what I want to do...not to over think the whole thing but just to do it, and enjoy it!

The catalyst of all of this navel gazing was my husband moving away for work, a few months ago. He only comes home once a month, and it has become one of the most difficult things that either of us have done. In truth, I have wallowed in this misery, but it is getting a bit old...so time to pick myself up by my bootstraps and move onwards and upwards!

During this 'down' time I have been listening to a lot of 'old timey' music, Appalacian and folk, especially the original recordings of the Carter Family. One of my sing-a-long favourites is "Will you miss me when I'm gone."




Picture this, a beautiful winters day in a lush green valley. Birds are chirping. Cows are mooing. A car appears on the road. At the wheel a woman, hair awry, tears streaming down her face as she sings at the top of her voice. Her face is contorted in despair. The most pathetic thing in this picture is not the tears, but the complete inability to sing in tune to the music! (That is why I sing in the car, it is like a vacuum, no one hears!)

PS. For those who listen to the song, yes, it is about a dead person...but I have never let anything get in the way of some good old fashioned 'drama queen' behaviour! In fact 'drama queen' is my middle name!

I have been activating

Last weekend I went activating at Lismore Car Boot Markets. I helped to collect money for the charity of the day, CSG Free Northern Rivers.We raised a record amount on Sunday, showing that people of this region DO care. I chatted to many people, young and old and they were all disgusted with what CSG would do do to our region.

CSG, for those of you who don't know is Coal Seam Gas mining mines gas in unstable soils, bringing saltwater to the surface and often creating lesions beneath the ground which allows gas to leach into the water supply. So effectively the water supply is poisoned and in many cases the gas escapes to the surface, which means even rain water is compromised....and they have put an exploration well a few miles up the road from me.

Tara Gasfield, QLD

What is gobsmacking, is that the well is metres from Terania Creek, which flows onto Lismore and Ballina. The Northern Rivers water supply is pumped from this water further down river at Boat Harbour. Plus the valley floods at least twice a year, which means that any waste in holding tanks would be washed downstream.

Keerrong Gas Squad

But it is not just all about moi, basically the mining companies have all the power. They can come onto your land and do this, and you have no rights, the only leverage the private landholder has is the dictation of terms. That is, they can demand that the gas companies pay $10,000 per minute to access their land. (you get the gist)
So ultimately (at the moment) it comes down to money, and what is your price.

Sorry Nick, I can no longer visit you in your lovely mudbrick house, with  your gorgeous vege patch and orchard....because I died of contaminated water ...as did alot of wildlife around the area. Infact, you haven't been feeling too hot lately have you? I know the chooks carked it a few months back, so it can't be the eggs...you haven't been... drinking the water!!!

But there were many disturbing stories on Saturday. One bloke out at Casino was checking his fences. His high tensile five strand barbed wire fence had weakened. (This type of fence is expensive) He found that a mining company, WITHOUT PERMISSION, had cut the fence, installed some gates and had slashed the grass as road access.

source
"I came here as a bride, this land is my life...now they said I had to sign it over to the mining companies.  I got  $1.50,  that can go towards a taxi  to the hospital... my arm is still hurting from all the twisting they did, though I think my knee caps will never recover."

Another bloke told me his 90 year old grandmother had been forced to sign a document by the mining company representatives. They told her she had no option and HAD to sign when they visited her in her house, scary the living daylights out of her.

On Saturday there is going to be a big rally in Lismore to protest CSG mining in the Northern Rivers. If you are  local, consider participating. It starts at 10.00am with a march through Lismore and ends at Riverside Park where there will be music and food. I will be wearing my Keerrong Gas Squad t-shirt, with DON"T FRACK WITH ME.

CSG hasn't got a good track record. The companies who have licenses in the Northern Rivers are Chinese subsidiaries of Shell, they don't care what poison they spread, they are only concerned with their profits. I historically have never been an activist, opting to change things in a different way...organics, self sufficiency, recycling, reusing, low impact on the environment etc. BUT now I am riled, and am ACTIVATING!