Autumn Cottage Diarist

My Firebaby

This evening's entertainment was a demonstration of whirling fire-poi
from my son Tim, who is studying Performing Arts and has a particular
fascination with Circus skills. Since he has hair that is *much* longer
than shoulder length, it was imperative that his very silly woollen hat
was worn - in addition to which, there were buckets of water and a fire
extinguisher to hand.

The show was spectacular - stills cannot really do justice to the
excitement of watching our very own whirling fireman! He was encouraged
by his cousin Jack, (a student architect who actually rather LIKES dollshouses -
Yesssss!), who is visiting from Australia. Jack also has a faster camera
than me that can record good short bursts of video as well - so he has
quite a nice memento of one of the evenings he spent with cousin Tim at Aunty Roz's house. Roasting chestnuts  by the fire it was NOT :-)

Calling Booklovers Everywhere

  "84, Charing Cross Road"....The very name stirs something in the breast of all bibliophiles, doesn't
it? This book was mentioned today on the Armchair Travelling list to which I belong, in the context of clearing out and discarding books (gasp). The very thought makes me feel faint, for as hard as I try, I find it
extraordinarily difficult to do a "book sort".

I often try to do this, and oh, my intentions are noble enough when I
sit down to carry out the task. But two hours later, and with a
pathetically small pile of books beside me that I can actually manage to
"let go", I usually admit defeat, and I am afraid that all the other
books go back onto the already bulging shelves. No wonder we have both
moved house and bought the house next door mostly to accommodate our
growing collections of books!

And it doesn't stop me buying more. Oh, no - they are usually the main
things I return home with wherever I travel. There is no nicer time
spent than that looking around, and sometimes positively excavating, a
cosy, untidy, coal fire heated, musky scented bookshop on a winter's
afternoon. (How DOES one describe, exactly, the glorious smell of old,
leather bound books?).

There are not many of those types of old bookshops left now - so it is
with pleasure that I share with you these photographs and text, taken
from a book in my possession - "The London Bookshop", printed in 1977, but now difficult to find.
Here is Mr. Marks himself...and the enticing interior of "Marks & Co. - 84, Charing Cross Road -
Established in 1904".

Finally, the sad epitaph for this most beloved of all emporia to a whole
generation of book lovers......

Here We Are Again!

I had a "heads up" from one of my blog readers today, (Hi, Nancy!!)
asking me " Where are you, Girl!?" - and it was only then that I
realised quite how fast time has once again flown by. I'm well and good,
but have just been very busy of late. Now that my college course has
finished, at the latter part of last year, I am discovering all the
"Projects" that seem to have become outstanding over the course of three
years that are now just crying out to be finished.

This is one such project - I am making "tops" for two display cabinets
that my friend very kindly gave me a couple of years ago. They had
originally been "built in" so had no need for "lids", but my room is
obviously taller than they were. I have now finally got around to making
two tops, with a strip of decorative Gothic moulding along the front
edge of each. They have had their first coats of paint, and will now be
dragged with the same green paint as on the bottoms of the cabinets -
only two years late, but what the heck!

Another foray into the Antiques Centre this morning, where I finally
succumbed to bringing home a dear old toy camel, about 60 years old,
that has stolen my heart, also, I think, for about two years. I have
held out all that time, but today he looked just SO sad and forlorn that
I could not resist one day longer. His ears have been all but chewed
off, so they will need replacing, but hopefully he will then be happy in
the company of all the other rescued playthings that inhabit my late
mother's bedroom. Somehow, happy childhood things seem so much at home
in there.

The rest ot my time has been taken up with finalising an online memoir
writing course, which I am just about to pilot with an initial group of
guinea pigs - er - ladies, who have courageously volunteered to test the
whole thing out. It will last for six weeks, and will hopefully combine
family and personal memoir writing with journaling techniques, to
remember and explore where we have come from, what has made us who we
are today, and how we can shape our own personal history in the future.

We will be capturing "Pearls of Memory" and stringing them together into
a unique and precious rope - our own personal family treasure. This is a
picture of one of the art & craft making projects that we will all play
with - some ideas for decorating a collection of archive boxes to our
own particular taste. I'm excited about discovering and sharing some of
my own memoirs within a community - for me, it's such a satisfying way
to write.

(End note - Lissie says that while Mother is off gallivanting, she is
the one that is REALLY left to sort out the family jewels!)