Sunday, 4 January 2015

The soft glow of fairylights and a yearning for chipboard.

As the New Year stutters into normality I'm hanging on to the fairylights.
Much as I'm jaded by Christmas and have never embraced tinsel, the fairylights make January less grey.
But I've missed my six foot boards.

I'm a big fan of the boards, chipboard at its finest.
(Although I admit to being sceptical when my dad appeared on the doorstep last year, brandishing said boards and announcing they would change my life).
Well, they didn't change my life but they certainly expanded my workspace!

These boards were unsurped by the Christmas tree, a bargain from the one-step-away-from-the-shredder section of the Christmas tree plantation.
Rejected, due to a chunk missing from the back, but who looks at the back anyway?
And I have a pile of pinstripe and flowerpower fabric to sew, fresh from a new year rummage down Bricklane.
Yesterday morning I woke to soggy conifers and icy winds.
With an overwhelming urge to be back in London and away from a Gower shrouded in grey mist and festive drizzle.
6 hours later I was in Paddington, my gateway to urban sanity.
And finally got to the Horst exhibition I've been meaning to see for ages, just a day before it closed.


I love photography, and these were strong images.
The strong lines, the lighting...the staging.
For Horst I can tolerate a queue stretching down the South Kensington tunnel.
I'm glad I went.

On a photography theme, December has been the month of the swan for me.
Move over quirky ducks, I've fallen for the elegant lines and effortless grace of the swan.
And the crisp yellow light of late December was perfect for stalking swans at a local park.

December has also brought the rediscovery of a box of old slides from the 60s and 70s.
I find slides quite magical, so retro and so of their time.
The one below was taken in 1969, and is of me and my mum.
A moment in time.



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