Dish dashery and a small excitement.

Well, dash my wig – the Exemptions Schedule has been passed! 

The Flower Garden, etched engraving by M Darly 1777

Actually it came through a few days ago but tardiness, thy name is Pimp.  What this effectively means is that we now have permission to do works that we are, in fact,  required to do.  Only repairs, mind; none of your naughty changes.  No bathrooms upstairs, nor holes in walls.  Oh no no!  All that sort of stuffage has been submitted separately and soberly as a ‘Section 60’ and, having been scrutinised by the lovely Heritage Officer for Housing, has been sent to the Heritage Department and from thence it will make its laborious way to the City of Sydney. Much scope  for waylaying and maundering in dusty corners. But let us hope not.  Let us have our optimistic hats on and bask a while in the glow of the Exemptions Schedule.  

In fact, a few changes of optimistic headpiece:

The Extravaganza, or, The Mountain Head Dress of 1776 by M Darly

Le Strategeme Amoureux, ou la Toilette a la Mode, Anon

Miss Prattle, mezzotint by Carrington Bowles 1771

Top and Tail 1777

The Donry or Top and Tail Turn'd About by Miss Heel 1777

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6 Responses to “Dish dashery and a small excitement.”

  1. Can’t wait till we get to the Council meetings and you have to make a presentation on why you want a loo upstairs. We could sell tickets.

    • Yes! It will a drama in three acts. With method acting. And wigs.

      • May your appearance be in a fantastical one like The Mountain Head Dress on madam above. It would be sure to impress and maybe distract, so all they do is sign and then chat about what dash my wig represents. (A cunning way to ask the question for ourselves is hidden here).

      • Dear Cunning and Cunning, I have my rustication head on so I’m not sure I’m fully understanding the question. Or maybe it is so devilish clever hidden that some of its outline is obscured. Dashing ones wig is something that happens a lot in our house and Mr Etymology in particular likes to take full advantage of it. Around these parts it’s more of an expostulation, cause we’re not proper Uh Strayans and can’t rightly say “bugger me!” Originally, I think, it was 18th C, and evolved as a way of swearing without blaspheming. I imagine a gentleman throwing his wig to the ground in the throes of a very fine tanty.

      • Yes, I think your floors must be positively strewn with wigs. Periwig axminster! And definitely the bunting must happen. A street party. Guided tours for all who have toiled.
        The country is wonderful, thank you – it has its dun coloured coat on and is throwing water at us. We have retreated to log fires and a generally wigless state.

  2. Stone the crows-we have got it now. We are a little afraid we may have done quite a bit of wig dashing in recent times over our restoration. All the more reason to perhaps re-instate that washing line behind your house and organize for Clover’s mob to hang heaps of colourful bunting out for all to celebrate when we cross the finish line.

    How is life in the country? It’s a bit drab here.

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