Tangerine and chocolate florals - groovy retro wonderfulness!

Today is a lazy day.
Lazy as in it's after 3pm and I'm still in my pyjamas, but productive as in ideas and inspiration.
Those invisible things that no-one sees - they just see the pyjamas and Hotel Chocolat wrappers and assume lazy.
Okay - partly true!

I loveHotel Chocolat - and I especially like the shop in Cardiff, with its free samples and close proximity to Wally's Deli - another shop that can leave me short on money and with a surprisingly small bag for the outlay.
But what I don't like is the new look Oxfam.
Oxfam is not a boutique.
It is a place to rummage and unearth a treasure without the inflated pricetag that appears to be applied within these new style boutiques.
Gone is the bland cream and green decor synonymous with Oxfam nationwide, and in its place is a black interior, complete with piped music and hiked up prices.
If it wasn't for the vintage haberdashery section, hidden away in a dark recess, I would have left immediately.

But that was yesterday, and today I have taken a scissors to a fantastic, groovy 1970s eiderdown that was still in is original packaging, and started on a range of retro cushions, doorstops and sausage dog draught excluders.

I love this fabric.
1970s decor seems to divide people into two distinct categories.
There are those that think it should stay firmly in the past and those who worship it.
And I worship it.
Absolutely and completely.
Long live tangerine and chocolate florals!

A groovy vintage owl awaiting feet.

https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/185971096/marigold-a-36cm-tall-owl-cushion-owl?ref=shop_home_active_2

Loitering on a street corner.

Crofty Industrial; quirky, mildly eccentric and quintessentially Gower.
Home to various independent businesses and fiercely guarded by the cockle lady, resplendent in welsh costume and laddered tights, loitering with intent at the entrance.
It has a unique charm all of its own, with sheep sharing roads with delivery trucks and abandoned buildings rubbing shoulders with surf shacks.

I may crave urban, but you'd never find a Crofty in London!

Dear diary....Sunday, 21st July 1991. Musing on hitching.

...and after the usual hiccups with arrangements I'm finally sprawled on my bed at the King George Hostel, Jerusalem.
I still get goosebumps on the approach to Jerusalem, even after all this time.
It's the cream stone, the green amongst the scrub - the chaos and bustle after an empty road - it's special.
But never, ever straightforward!
First, I only discovered yesterday that today is supposed to be a public holiday, but no-one seemed to know anything about it!
What if everything was closed?  No buses, no shops...no Underground!
Oh my goodness - but even a closed Jerusalem would be better than desert isolation.

Luckily, everything ran as normal, but it wasn't till I saw my first Egged bus that I could relax.
Not that I had the slightest intention of catching a bus, but it was a reassuring normality.

Trine, being very organised, got a straight lift from the kibbutz, organised the night before.
I was not so organised.
Having made plans to hitch with Emma's boyfriend, who was visiting family up north, I was surprised to find myself hitching solo at 7am.
He'd pulled out over the phantom holiday confusion.

A long wait for a car, but when it did arrive it was a moshav car going straight to BeerSheva.
Great - till it dropped me off at a desserted desert junction in the middle of nowhere, the driver pointing to the Jerusalem road along the Dead Sea.
I could feel my heart drop like a stone - there are two roads heading north from the desert - the new road and the old road, with the old road renouned for being dangerous for hitching.
I was being dropped at the old road.
Very apprehensive I left the safety of the moshav car and joined the two soldiers already there, prepared for a long wait and alot of hassle if they got a lift before me as there was nothing around for miles!

There aren't many rules for hitching, but the one I do remember is the avoidance of cars with blue number plates.  But - if I was stuck in a desert with no traffic and very little water I'm not sure about that rule anymore.
Incredibly, a car appeared within minutes, complete with shiny yellow numberplate and heading straight to Jerusalem!

He took all three of us, a crazy, crazy driver - thank goodness for an empty road - and I was at the Central Bus Station by 9.40am!
Who needs buses anyway???
That's the thing about hitching - it's addictive.
It may be dodgy and unpredictable, but the adrenalin rush you get from a good lift is amazing - plus, it makes my money go further!

Trine appeared at 11 and we spent the afternoon walking our feet off, battling a cold (Trine) and an eye infection (me).
Still no space at SdotYam, but looking hopeful for next week.

And tonight...The Underground.
That'll be beers and straws then.

The Underground.