Box Hill. Home of the best sheds.

A couple of times recently we have been to visit friends in their hut on Box Hill. It's the best damned place ever: set in a valley full of little shacks all smothered in green. My phone doesn't work when I'm there so alls to do is wander around a bit and read the paper. My favourite huts are the really anarchic ones all covered in fine Toot: like this one with a Mel Gibson painting on the outside.And this one with many lampsSome of the huts have a real earth ship feel about them.If you can see them behind all the foliage. One day maybe we'll have a holiday shack to go to at the weekends . . .  . . and a tardis.
Then we really would be Living The Dream

In my drawing book.

Here is a little peak inside my book. It's a drawing for an idea I had.
The idea is, basically, that any time anyone pays you a compliment (no matter how small the compliment) you just close your eyes . . . tilt your head to one side . . . and go in for a kiss.What do you think? It's all that's in my head any time anyone says a nice thing to me these days.

Little bits of Toot

Yesterday I did my first whole-hearted market stall in what seems like ages: it was nice. And my bank balance feels better. recently I've been working a lot on a project with a group of friends which I will get to show you soon, I hope you'll like it. Also printing is rolling along nicely. So many things - but I think I always need a lot of things to do otherwise I get all limp and listless.

Lucky for you guys I also took a lot of photos of Toot before I trundled it out the door. Here you go.

Springs made by Herbert Terry of anglepoise fame.

Naked lampshades.

London City Council chalks.

Lurid.

Science equipment for scientists . . . or maybe just a nice vase.

A hand knotted string bag: an achievement to aim for

A bevy of hand mirrors. And one hand.

A Horlicks mixer - also useful for other things mind: could also be used to mix Ovaltine.

Fetching paint palettes: already sold to one of my most charmingly eccentric customers.

Beautiful weaving.

A most dashing pot stand: reminding me of an electricity pylon.

A Maclamp - which I thought I maybe should keep, to cement my status as 'blogger' . . . but then I sold it.

A comptometer badge. Comptometers were early calculators.

A bird plate

A bird

A most handsome pair of ladies shoes.

Beautiful book cloths.

And another book with a very fine cover.

The End.

Now go and do something. x

ding-dong.

I was dead pleased recently to open up this very dry looking manual and find inside . . . A whole glut of glorious coat hook porn.  I do like a handsome coat hook, anyone else?

Happy Dad Day.

Lots of love today for anyone who is a Dad, has a Dad, or once had a Dad. 

But most of all lots of love to my Dad.

Poste restante

I am contributing this large table cloth that I made to the Poste Restante project at Nomadic Village 2013. The brief was to make a piece based around nomads and the nomadic lifestyle.

standing on the sofa

The print is of a pair of cotton trousers, that I got at a car boot (naturally). They reminded me of clothes I bought when I travelled to live in Africa: they are cotton (cool for hot countries) but look awful on me. Before I went I bought clothes like that because I felt I wouldn't care what I looked like when I got there. I was ready to go to this hot place where everything was different. And when I got there a lot of things were quite the same . . . including me feeling like a proper nob in all my big cotton clothes. So I guess I chose the trousers because I'm not a nomad: I'm a rubbish traveller, I easily feel out of my depth and constantly misjudge things - especially when I travel alone.

Doing something that isn't just holding it up.

So I chose to make a table cloth because I imagined the routine of dining as a bit of a balm to my fears of travelling. I imagined spreading the table cloth as a routine you could take from place to place, for making things familiar and easy. You could spread it on the ground, on a bench or a tree stump and host people for food.

The trousers with the splendid gusset.

I'm pleased with the print because it is liney and wonky and blotchy but the overall pattern is bold.

A portrait of Jack taken through the cloth.

And now I will send it off in the post and it will never come back. Sigh. If you fancy going to Nomadic Village maybe you could spill some wine on it from me. 

Blimey!

Would you look at that! Bettina has used my fishes in one of her photo shoots. Pretty damn snazzy - go have a look at the rest on her blog, if you want.