Winnie the Pooh ... Alias Vinnijs Puk

Sonata:
 Of all the things you'd expect to see in an exhibition of 1920s and '30s Russian children's book illustrations , Winnie the Pooh

isn't the first that springs to mind . But there he was , along with this more likely candidate .

For some reason 2013 is Netherlands-Russia year and  the Meermanno museum in Den Haag had a lovely collection to share . The museum is housed in a very fine town house , largely still as it was , including the more than 200 year old vibrantly coloured wallpaper in a couple of the rooms .This provided an unlikely backdrop to some of the books !

Post-Revolution children were to be nothing if not practical . The school books on display were determinedly technical .There was a great emphasis on perspective and metal work , production lines and combine harvesters . But among all the pictures of working mothers and legions of singing farm workers ,luckily there was room for balloons and circus ponies

Upstairs we wandered through the Library and the Drawing room

with cabinets full of ancient obscure religious tomes and  curios  , including a tiny Sumerian stone tablet , nearly four thousand years old , part of a miniature library of a thousand beautifully printed volumes . Reluctantly , we then braced ourselves and went out into the grey , cold outside . It really wasn't window-shopping weather but we did our best ,.

At one point , tired of being dripped on , we stood drinking a take-away coffee in a covered alley just off the main drag and were amused to see that it was , in fact , the back gate of the Palace , guarded by a parked tractor rather than sentries or a tank .  It seemed very democratic .
 In fact it was an interesting week all round , what with Spanish Masterchef ( Tuesday evenings on RTE es. ) and , of course , Eurovision , complete with spare ribs , popcorn and Y.D.  , plus all her friends at Whatsapp distance  . The general concensus seemed to be that we all must have a smoke machine , strobe lighting and a special trapdoor to make us tower above the crowd , when the neighbours drop in . I liked the French song but felt obliged to vote for the Greek entry ... there's something about men in kilts .
This week , on the other hand , promises to be rather long ,what with waiting in for Maintenance , waiting in for the carrier taking the last contents of Y.D's room , 14 years after she left home , and waiting in for the recycling shop's van , picking up the last (?) of our clutter .....and lots more cold rain .
( Sorry about the sideways photos ... this laptop is determined to put them up like that  )

Vain Fashions Of The Day

Sonata: I survived a visit to the hairdressers today and now look less like a Yeti for which I am grateful ..... but not in the slightest vain , oh no !
Which is just as well . This afternoon , while hunting for some papers , I found an excerpt from Ministers and Men in The Far North by the Reverend Alexander Auld , which includes a brief history of one of my mother's forefathers , Donald Mackay . Donald , born in 1767 ,  was a crofter in Clashcreggan and an itinerant preacher , a man of resolute righteousness .
This passage caught my eye ,
"His antipathy to the varying and vain fashions of the day in dress and adornment was strong , and sometimes practically expressed . One of his daughters had begun to his grief to imitate a prevailing mode of dressing the hair . While she was sleeping one night , Donald stole softly to her bedside , and with a scissor mulcted her of a particularly offensive ringlet . The girl , on awaking and discovering her loss , was not a little indignant . Shortly afterwards , being seized with fever , her head had to be shaved . Donald standing by her after this had been done , lifted up his hands and said , "Glory to Thee ; I only took a little , but Thou hast taken the whole"
My many times great-aunt's reply is not recorded .
 

" Our House , In The Middle Of Our Street ..... "

Sonata:
There's lots to see in our street ..... nothing wildly exciting , it's true  , but I'm not sure I could cope with daily gangland shootouts , Morris Dancers or Knock Down Ginger any more .
Still , there's the odd traffic jam 

there's the  luckily-not-right-next-door neighbour who can whistle any tune you care to mention ( please don't ) ,   the daily airing in wheelchairs of ancient inmates of the care home on the corner ,  Meals on Wheels vans in the morning , pizza couriers in the evening ( doesn't anyone cook anymore ? )  ,  flurries of German , Chinese and Spanish students chatting as they rush up to the college , traffic wardens and cats ,  dozens of cats  .......

 It's funny . We only moved a five minute walk away but the cats have all changed colour ... there they were nearly all ginger or white . Here they're an odd shade of sandy pink tabby . I must cross the river and see what they've mutated to there .

When I'm not gawping out of the window , there's pottering in the kitchen

, solving crosswords .... did you know that an anagram of fortyfive is over fifty ? .... and unearthing slightly elderly treasures from storage boxes . This dratted thing not only didn't interlock , it had no picture . It became a matter of honour to complete it  

rather as the opening of this milk carton did later .

 

 

Talking of elderly treasures , you'll be pleased to know that I didn't buy a thing at the Collectors' Fair , though I was tempted by a small wooden toy horse till I discovered it cost 75 Euros , and  it didn't have any wheels .

But tomorrow I will be at the Fabric Fair with a duty to buy . We need cushion covers .......

Picking Up The Threads

O.K.  I've had The Cold and The Cough . Nef and I have sewn the curtains .

 .
 There are even elegant little extras like towel rails and loo roll holders installed . So it was time to rejoin Society . .
Last week I went to an exhibition of late 19th , early 20th century paintings at the Groninger museum ... a sort of Carl Larsson + affair which was rather nice , if not earth shattering .This painting definitely struck a chord !

A spot of shopping and seafood noodles at Wagamama rounded it all off nicely and reminded me just how nice it is to Get Out . Both winter and the move have gone on quite long enough .  So much so ,that  Friend and I are going to the Collectors' Fair in Utrecht this weekend  , having sworn to each other that NOTHING will be bought , however tempting . We'll see ... I've never yet  left this event empty-handed .
Oh yes ,and I'm  getting to know our new neighbours . The 80 year-old next door apologised if she was keeping us awake at night  .... she didn't sleep well herself ,  she explained ," so always took her boombox to bed with her"  .

Withered old and terrible gaunt" describes me well , at the moment.Not because of the move , though it wasn't something I'd ever want to repeat , but the building of an Ikea chest of drawers .
The lovesome , huge and capacious Malm , to be precise . Arriving in two hefty flatpacks , which turned out to contain lots of heavy , precision cut slabs of veneered chipboard , it seemed simple enough to construct . And then I unearthed the bag of fixings .... 267 screws , nails , wooden plugs , plastic locking affairs , runners , minute plastic whatsits to stop the drawers making a noise as they shut .... it was endless . As was the construction itself . Like everyone else , I've put together a Billy bookcase and a table and was game to expand my repertoire .
Well , we survived . A Malm chest of drawers is ours and I'm sure , with a bit of a rest and some feeding up , I'll look my old self in no time .
The quote ? W.B. Yeats , of course .

All change, please....

Smitonius:

Sonata has moved, and though she remains unconnected to the internet or the phone my little sister texted updates on the move day. I am sure Sonata will let us now what it was like for her, but what concerned her three daughters was the potential loss or damage to the crocodile skull in transit. Yes, you read correctly, we grew up with skeletons ON the cupboards (no doubt there are some rattling in them too). It only seems odd in retrospect, but at the time a crocodile skull on top of the furniture, the elephant's molar propping up the books, the bows and arrows in the corner, the red and black beads in a woven box, the Zebra skin on the shop's wall, and African carvings meant we were home. Sonata's other half spent time in what is now known as Zaire and these have travelled to wherever home might happen to be....

Ages and ages ago I seem to remember telling you all about our adopted cat Toots, brought home from Battersea Cats and Dogs home. We knew we were taking a risk to feel more heartache as she had a heart condition but - hey - none of us come with a guarantee.

Unfortunately Toots passed away in October suddenly. She had been a very loving companion who loved being with us in the kitchen in the evenings (we all played musical chairs), had a penchant for shortbread biscuits, and adored playing with silver chains. For a few months we thought we would not get another cat for a while. But, cat lovers know how it is.... driving past Battersea on the 5th of January we stopped off to re-register. One thing led to another and we walked out with not one cat but two:

Reputedly father and daughter combination (though the vet is very skeptical indeed), Mr Bo(jangles) is about 6 years old and his 'daughter' Suki is about one year old. He is an adorable nutcase who likes to wake us up at 7.30 am precisely by jumping onto the bed from the top of the cupboard. She is a little princess of a kitten and by far the bravest of them both. They get on well, and he encourages her to wash herself as it does not appear she lives up to his standards of grooming. They have just been introduced to the garden, though Mr Bo spent two days watching her explore through the window before venturing out. Suki has taken her first (unintentional) swim in the pond. Toots is sorely missed, but it is wonderful to have feline companions again (though given how much they eat, they could well be miniature horses).

Gosh , that was fun ! But let's not do it ever again ...

Sonata :
 Husband and I are moving house . In fact , we've been moving for the last three weeks and , were it not for Friend , we'd never be ready . She's a decorating demon and has tirelessly stripped vile bumpy wallpaper and friezes like technicolor roadkill , replastered and sanded and painted till she dropped .... and mercilessly bullied me into conquering my fear of the steam wallpaper-stripping machine and given master classes on filling holes in walls . And all with great charm .
The new flat , with a view of the river

a lift for Husband's sore knee and wrap-round cosy central heating now also has soft ice cream coloured walls ( not quite as pale as shown here ) and we're packing boxes as fast as we can

So think of us on Saturday, it should be huge fun .... the man moving us has announced that his two young stagaires this year are from a training course for youngsters with ADHD so it won't take long