chickens, wordlessness, pictures and bridesmaids.
A piece of chicken I ill-advisedly ate in Canberra has left me drained of words (and euphemisms). Instead, here are the pictures from July’s Issue of Country Style magazine, shot at the house. Do you think the model looks a smidge grumpy? They all seem to. Maybe it’s the dust and dirt and Hanging Ceilings of Babylon what does it.
The picture above was taken in what I HOPE will be the top floor bathroom. I’m presently looking for baths anyway. With my fingers crossed.
Taken (above) on the top floor landing. That bunch of fake yellow orchids seems to have insinuated itself into most of the pictures. Its friend was a birdless birdcage but that seems to have got lost.
Sometimes I feel destined for life as an eternal bridesmaid. You know, sidekick to the fab and the glam.
A while back I took my Linn Sondek into an audio shop for repair, and from the excited attention it received from the staff you’d have thought I’d taken in an ageing star of the silver screen. It happens when I walk Remington, who also draws crowds like a (very unassuming) minor celebrity. And recently we got a letter from a journalist on the Sydney Morning Herald, wondering whether we’d be willing to do a series of articles about our journey with the house. We would, I think.
Actually all the talk of bridesmaidism is disingenuous because I hate to the be the centre of attention. To the point where, submitting to my mother’s desire for pictorial news when we moved here from London, I used to don a vast feather hat for the videotapes. I know, something I should have taken to my training analyst. So anyway, when we received a call from Grand Designs a while back, my heart skipped a fretful beat. Mr Pimp contacted them way back when, in the first flush of enthusiasm after the auction. We didn’t hear and we didnt hear and we didn’t hear a bit more, and assumed they were not interested. Then we forgot about them completely. Mr P is still keen, and Ms P is keen, which is fine, but they’re not HERE (or won’t be) and so it would be me left to rabbit on in front of the camera. Anathema! Could I fish out my feather hat again, maybe? A veil?
Remington is, as you can see, terribly excited by it all.