Her majesty is very much pleased with the pens.

When it comes to photographing and pricing the things I've bought I'm always surprised at how many items there are! I don't even post all of it up here, just the bits I think might be interesting or that I haven't shown you already. So alongside this stuff just imagine an endless stream of kitchen utensils, tins, shoes, necklaces, old boxes . . . and you'll have an idea of all the dusty, grimy objects that churn through my dusty, grimy little mits on a weekly basis.

A zither, mmm, to play the zither would be lovely. It has a sound something between a guitar and a piano - that's how I'd describe it anyway. See what you think.

I got a little lot of these rings, they're silver but the workmanship ain't great. However I love the shape of them, they sit round the shape of your hand nicely.

A vase that I think might be the perfect pot for pens - probably no one else will see that and I'll end up keeping it.

This might be my favourite purchase - it's a royal dream. Apart from I don't know who Queen Mary is, when she reigned or where. Do you?



Thumb sticks.

These tiny buttons are hand carved. I bought them from a friend who obviously didn't realise he had them at the bottom of a box of sewing bits because as I got them out he said "Ah, yes . . . those are . . . (takes them from me) . . . buttons . . . made of . . . some kind of bone . . . . . . so they're going to be a little more expensive" beforehand he'd probably have sold me the whole box for a pound.
Oh well.

A beautiful painting of pots and pans.



Some tongs especially for serving sardines.

This mysterious box is made out of a dried orange skin.

I like the back of this mandolin better than the front, very bulbous and pleasing.

And these two lamps; a mac lamp and a heat lamp. I had to separate them in the studio because they kept bickering, they just can't seem to get on, I think it's because they're so similar.

What I like best about the heat lamp (apart from that fine logo) is that you can take the top of and use it as a handheld lamp. Useful for looking under the bed, or just for shining into peoples eyes.

As I'm demonstrating here with my brother. He shouldn't be enjoying it that much though, maybe a higher wattage bulb would be better.



I like these little tubs, I'd use them for keeping hairclips in, or just other smaller pieces of toot.

and this bedhead, which I couldn't resist.

Continuing on the theme of wholesomeness . . .

Here are some fabulous photos from the forties of lots of friends having healthy fun out of doors. . .

Do you love them? I love them. I bought an enormous lot of them from a friend who cleared an artists house.

Those artists, they're all the same.



(If anyone would like to make me a soundtrack of fine manly grunting noises to accompany these images it would make me very happy.)

tying onions

When my Mum was younger she was a huge fan of the Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band, if you haven't heard them you should take a listen. My favourite is the intro and outro. And you whilst you're at it take a listen to Sir Henry at Rawlinson End by Viv Stanshall. It's all splendid stuff and incredibly English, which I approve of greatly.
Anyway. I only mention it because she's now good friends with Rodney Slater, ex member of the Bonzos.

And when I went home the other day they were out in the garden tying onions.
 
How idyllic.
 


How wholesome.
 


It gives me hope that one day I'll be good friends with Harry Hill . . . maybe we'll pickle eggs together or some such pastoral activity. That would be nice.

And still the toot keeps rolling in.

A good lampshade.
 
  A small flask, very sweet. It's already been sold to a friend, a tiny lady who collects tiny luggage and whose current handbag is an old brownie camera with it's insides taken out. So that pleases me.

A little Ercol table in a suitable state of disrepair. I like Ercol a lot, it's always so sturdy yet graceful looking.
 
My favourite thing to sit on is a step stool.
 
 An old matadors hat, as modelled by my brother.
 
 A whole family of Indian turned boxes.

That disappear into each other.

And look at these tiny tupperware tubs, what wonderful things. I was on the train recently when a woman nearby cracked open a boiled egg to snack on and had a little twist of salt in some greaseproof paper. I thought that was a lovely thing to do, if only she'd had her salt in a tiny tupperware my joy would have truly spilled over.
 




Over the summer I bought a pair of bright yellow clogs: the most uncomfortable shoes in the most unwearable colour, and I paid full price. What a knob. Since then I've picked up at least three pairs of clogs very cheaply at car boots in better colours. Sods law at its very finest. I wonder whether the same thing would happen for Lucie Rie bowls . . .

More tupperware products; long wangy spoons this time, ideal for catapulting knickerbocker glory at your loved ones.



 
And I had to photograph this beautiful plant that Sally gave me as I'm going to attempt to take some cuttings from it and I may well kill it in the process.

Sam Smith

Recently I bought this little unicorn. I'm not sure why; the fact that she has human eyes and a big grinny mouth is a little bit (very) creepy, but as a whole package I found her very beguiling. And when I got her home a little investigation showed her to be made by Sam Smith, who is a fine person to discover indeed.

There's a very good website of his work here which is where I purloined the following pictures from:

 

 I like his work a lot, it seems simple but isn't. Looking at my unicorn closely there's a real sense of ease in the making of her limbs and the way they sit together. Still, I'm struggling to think of a name for her. . .