Of course, I love the idea of all those other lives remembered in the layer upon layer of paper. And those lovely bright red berries ... Or are they buds?
Monday, 30 January 2012
Paper memories
In a burst of doing-it-himself, the Boy has uncovered some very sweet old wallpaper in the communal hallway.
Of course, I love the idea of all those other lives remembered in the layer upon layer of paper. And those lovely bright red berries ... Or are they buds?
Of course, I love the idea of all those other lives remembered in the layer upon layer of paper. And those lovely bright red berries ... Or are they buds?
Sunday, 29 January 2012
Anglepoise
Yesterday, we went to Crystal Palace Antiques & Modern and looked beautiful mid-century and Georgian antiques that we covet but can't afford.
Now I am fixated on vintage desk lamps:
Now I am fixated on vintage desk lamps:
All images from Etsy, all lamps for sale there:
- Vintage Tensor Adjustable Hinged Arm Desk Lamp | prilbot
- Small Vintage Task Lamp | WhatsNewOnTheMantel
- Vintage Desk Lamp, 1930s | HartongInternational
- Art Deco GooseNeck Rodale Leviton Lamp | ThePretendDen
- Jet age "Eagle Hi Lite" desk lamp | Route11vintage
- Vintage Yellow Mobilite Desk Lamp | TheeLetterQ
- 70's vintage desk lamp (green) | Jordenski
- Vintage industrial blue gooseneck desk lamp | AnnaLouVintage
- Vintage Italian industrial orange gooseneck table lamp | AnnaLouVintage
I think no. 9 is my favourite. Which is yours?
Plus, I just discovered a whole thing about Anglepoise at the Design Museum. Love.
Friday, 27 January 2012
Living in a Ghost Town
Today I walked to work on the other side of the road. I know, a change is as good as a rest, right? And guess what, I looked up ...
I am slightly obsessed by ghost signs. I love the Peter Ackroyd-esque psychogeographical concept of layers upon layers of local history. And I hanker back to the days of drapers and haberdashers. Tesco Extra just isn't the same.
Clearly I am not alone:
Faded London | Ghost signs
Jane's London | Ghost signs of Camden High Street
Google Images | Ghost signs of London
Sunday, 22 January 2012
Friday, 20 January 2012
Goodbye Kodak
Lunchtime browsing brought me to this lovely slideshow on The Guardian of Kodak ads through the ages.
And this rather lovely collection of readers' Kodak pictures.
Goodbye Kodak ...
Bells, bursting into stars
Delicate pink bells, bursting into stars. Lush green spikes, triumphant.
My hyacinths have opened: come on, spring!
My hyacinths have opened: come on, spring!
Sunday, 8 January 2012
Saturday, 7 January 2012
Reading List
It was a good Christmas for books, thank you friends and family.
I have already rampaged through P.D.James's murder mystery sequel to Pride and Prejudice, Death Comes to Pemberley. Despite steering clear in general of 'sequels' and other related imaginings as not possibly anything other than second-rate cash-ins that toy unforgivingly and insensitively with the themes of the original, I risked this one - I think due to the genre shift, it seemed safer that my impression and interpretation of the original would remain intact. Brilliant read, although I could have managed without the didactic digression on the history of the jury system and judicial appeals...
The Vintage re-release of Westwood is also a thing of beauty and a joy forever: a lovely matt paperback with lustrous thick cream pages and a evocative front cover. With Stella Gibbons's best known novel Cold Comfort Farm being one of my standard rainy day / 'mean reds' books, I naturally expected similar scouring literary satire and witty, quotable lines. Not so. This is maturer, sadder - as cynical, yet bittersweet and melancholy. Perhaps because it is a later-life novel, perhaps influenced by the impact of the Second World War. Beautiful reflection on infatuation, love and the intersection of seemingly unconnected lives.
Guardian Style has already been dipped into post-prandially over quite a few dinner tables. Finally, I know how to spell Gandhi (never Ghandi) and what the singular form of referendum is.
I am plunged into Claire Tomalin's biography of Jane Austen right now. I love her. Claire Tomalin, I mean, although, of course, also Miss Austen. Her biography of Nellie Tiernan (The Invisible Woman) was, for me, the first to open my eyes to alternative insights to the myth of Dickens, National Treasure. Already, the Austen novels' emphasis on money, class and power is becoming beautifully contextualised and Jane's only just been born.
Back to the sofa, I think, to pick up where I left off...
I have already rampaged through P.D.James's murder mystery sequel to Pride and Prejudice, Death Comes to Pemberley. Despite steering clear in general of 'sequels' and other related imaginings as not possibly anything other than second-rate cash-ins that toy unforgivingly and insensitively with the themes of the original, I risked this one - I think due to the genre shift, it seemed safer that my impression and interpretation of the original would remain intact. Brilliant read, although I could have managed without the didactic digression on the history of the jury system and judicial appeals...
The Vintage re-release of Westwood is also a thing of beauty and a joy forever: a lovely matt paperback with lustrous thick cream pages and a evocative front cover. With Stella Gibbons's best known novel Cold Comfort Farm being one of my standard rainy day / 'mean reds' books, I naturally expected similar scouring literary satire and witty, quotable lines. Not so. This is maturer, sadder - as cynical, yet bittersweet and melancholy. Perhaps because it is a later-life novel, perhaps influenced by the impact of the Second World War. Beautiful reflection on infatuation, love and the intersection of seemingly unconnected lives.
Guardian Style has already been dipped into post-prandially over quite a few dinner tables. Finally, I know how to spell Gandhi (never Ghandi) and what the singular form of referendum is.
I am plunged into Claire Tomalin's biography of Jane Austen right now. I love her. Claire Tomalin, I mean, although, of course, also Miss Austen. Her biography of Nellie Tiernan (The Invisible Woman) was, for me, the first to open my eyes to alternative insights to the myth of Dickens, National Treasure. Already, the Austen novels' emphasis on money, class and power is becoming beautifully contextualised and Jane's only just been born.
Back to the sofa, I think, to pick up where I left off...
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