See, think, wonder.

Here is a print I made of my stall.

I thought I would show it to you and use the opportunity to tell you something a friend told me this week. The friend is a teacher, a very good teacher, and we were talking about all the learning processes children are taught. When I was in school we were always taught specific processes for doing things - like structuring an essay maybe. But now some clever sausage has introduced processes for thinking about things.
My favourite is: See. Think. Wonder. (You can read more about it here.)
This little thinking trick is for primary school children but anyone could use it and I'm quite enamoured of it. I use it now when I look at artwork - to nosy around in my own brain and eek out what I really think.
Maybe if I keep it up I'll be able to cultivate that golden thing - a tidy mind.

Car booty.

Things from the weekend -

A tiny little finch cage.

A splendid enamel pan made by Nacco of Denmark. Best yellow ever.

A hand-knitted cardi for a sprog.

A papier mache box.

This intriguing painting, quite cartoonish in style but with beautiful colours and a confident hand. Only the initials E.S. to identify it - how do you find out anything about such a thing? I haven't the foggiest.

Dog bowls . . . very nice, big, heavy dog bowls. But dog bowls none the less.

An urchin.

Some metal edging.

And a clown. I don't know why so many people are scared of clowns, look at this little chap in his seductive pose. Imagine him gently patting the ground, inviting you to lie down with him, what a sauce pot. There, you see, no need to be scared.

This weekend Jack and I made a day trip to the coast. We went via a car boot sale of course. Do you go car booting with other people? Or thrifting or whatever you wish to call it? Do you walk around in a couple or a gang together? I can't do that, once I'm in I'm off - with my nose to the ground. I don't really do much consulting or discussing, I'm a lone wolf. This might sound a little antisocial but Jack and I keep tabs on each other and have a natter and debrief afterwards over a healthy breakfast . . . that's a lie, we normally have burgers. Also it is nice when your chap comes around the corner brandishing something you so thoroughly approve of. This Sunday Jack picked up a splendid fisherman's jacket made of canvas in the most magnificent eye-popping orange.

I was very pleased, I like a good colour orange. I liked it near this groyne marker.

And zinging with the yellow lichen on these rocks.

And you can imagine my glee when he tucked into these crayfish tails with a blue fork.

The day was calm at Whitstable, which is a nice place and very full of trendy parents saying things like 'Tilly! Come back from the water!' and 'Where's Felix? . . . FELIX! . . . .FELIX!'.

We gobbled some cheeky oysters at the harbour. And spotted this nice harbour sign.

And on the way home we bought a lot of veg from these two gents in a layby. Who were impossibly cheery as cars zoomed by at breakneck speeds, and were kind enough to call Jack guv'nor a lot - a real treat for a pair of middle class nobs out of London for the day.

Very good, boot fair finds will be up soon.
Hope you had a joyous weekend. If not this video never fails to make me laugh - I like that the parrot looks a lot like Stephen Fry.

A gift

A gift from Dale. A rough-shod brass dustpan, good because it can be hung on a peg and because someone crafted it from an unnecessarily expensive material. And now also because it looks like it's grinning in this photo.
Dale's recently joined up with the Committee of Taste, a very fine shop in Stoke Newington - you should go there.

Two markets this week.

So I'll be doing two lots of buying - here's the first haul.
A head dress for a wedding made of lots of wax flowers . . .

Here is George wearing it, it would also suit a female.

This year is a leap year so ladies can propose to men, according to tradition. If you're not brave enough though there are always other options . . . follow my chum's example - for about a year every time her boyfriend knelt down, to tie his shoe or some such, she'd say OH MY WORD! ARE YOU GOING TO PROPOSE!? . . . until he finally took the hint popped the ask. They're happily married to this day.

If you are planning on succumbing to that marriage lark pop down to Spits tomorrow for this ceramic cherub on a ceramic ladder - to climb between the tiers on your cake of course. It's from 1946 - I know because it had the date of the marriage it was used at on the box. And I know it went on the cake because it still had the original icing caked on it. I'm always curious about how things were in the past so I had to stop myself from licking it before I washed it. Now we'll never know what icing was like in the forties.

A pair of wild beast on an Anchovy Paste lid. And this little tub of very old pewter charms.

Mmmm . . .

Little beauties.



Which I think would be perfect on some knotted string. I'll take this bugle.

Some London toot . . .

Etchings and a card game

And a necklace that certainly ain't from these ends. Indian with a fish design to make any outfit instantly fancy.

 That's all, happy spring time. If you're at a loose end this evening you could watch this nice video.
And if you thought your dance moves were at the cutting edge of avant garde, contemporary nowness let this prove you wrong.

Tomorrow it will be Thursday again.

My days off have disappeared. On Monday I was a busy bee who did everything. Then yesterday I had a slow day in London with no money to spend. I cycled very slowly to the Tate Britain then ponderously walked around every exhibition. Then sat hunched on a bench and ate a packed lunch of Borough leftovers - watched intently by a toddler. Finally I went to Jacks and let him shovel pancakes into my mouth.
Very good.
Now on with the toot . . .

Crucibles.

A variety of handsome tin boxes.

This printing kit - look at that bulldog's face - it's just a touch Bruce Forsyth.

Tiny little rolls of paper . . . handy.

A stencil it in a tin box with all the accessories.

This is what the stencils look like.

A little glass - I reckon it's a Penny Lick but I've not seen one so deep before

An afghani smock - the bottom panel with the triangular top is a pocket, how pleasing.

And this grand picture of a band, bit jealous, I want to be in their band.
Also last week at the market I put the mystery item out on the stall - do you remember it? The pewter shovel that turned out to be a masonic thing, I'll link it soon. I put it out on the stall with it's new label and a small old man said to me: 'You've got to be f**king mad ain't ya?' which isn't my preferred mode of address but i didn't mind when he followed it up with . . . 'that shovel's for stirring ice cream!'
That's odd isn't it? I'm not sure I believe him. (Do you think he might have been mad?)

An invitation

Another invite from those folk at Shedpress, this time to the London launch of their book (I skipped off to the Suffolk launch last year). Do come along if you can.

Ceramics by Roger Fry

I've discovered the work of Roger Fry whose ceramics are monochrome and stark whilst being warm and unpretentious.



I like that this one has a large chip at the base.



Again I've been seduced by a piece of black pottery - this one below is my favourite.





 I found them in this book about the Omega Workshops. Ceramics are especially exciting at the mo because in April I will start a pottery class - an adult education affair that I hear is attended mostly by the elderly of the East End. I can't wait.

The diary of a Crush.

I have in my possession the perfect relic of a celebrity infatuation. A book of photos of "Bobby Crush" . . . whoever that is.

There are all the highs and lows of a fully fledged obsession played out in one small, slightly manky, photo album . . .

Nervously cornering him in the foyer, at Torquay Princess Theatre maybe or Slough Theatre Royal.

The jittery high of visiting him in his dressing room.
'We were only three rows from the front, so close!'

Then spotting him again in the car park.
Sneeking some creepy snaps from an upstairs window.

Being spotted taking some creepy snaps . . . but still taking some more.

And my personal favourite: the slightly embittered act of trimming other girls out of photos with him - missed an arm on the right-hand picture.
Oh gosh, isn't the human mind a funny thing - so many one sided love affairs with obviously indifferent (or even slightly scared) strangers. I can remember being a teenager and just being in love with the feeling of being in love - if it was with a celebrity so much the better because I'd never have to meet them to have my dreams popped. Though I did once give E from the Eels a hug he really didn't want.
Who was your creepy celebrity crush? Anyone who will admit to someone more obscure and rubbish than Bobby Crush will win my everlasting admiration.