A very nice man died this morning. Long before his time.
Since we live in the tiniest house in the world, we have a rule regarding furniture. It’s quite simple; if something is introduced to the house, an item of a similar size must leave.
A couple of years ago, we discovered a second hand furniture shop in Ouseburn, just round the corner to the Ship Inn. It’s actually a charity venture, a sideline specialising in older furniture and oddities.
We visit every now and again, not looking for anything in particular. After all, a purchase could result in the agony associated with deciding what should leave the house. A couple of months ago, my second in command was taken with a glass and wrought iron table lamp, but indecision led to our departure without it.
I also liked the lamp, although not as much as my beloved. I was unsure about its age; it appeared to be hand blown and had something of a late 60s/early 70s Eastern look about it. Someone had rewired it, but the original (only partially intact) fitting was still in place.
The lamp was still there on Saturday, so it returned home with us. I began to doubt my estimate of its age since, on closer inspection, the fitting was made from an old, dark brown, hard plastic. It wasn’t bakelite, or I don’t think it was, but it appeared to be pre-60s.
I’ve replaced the partially incomplete fitting, but could only find a white fitting in the slightly non-standard size. I shall continue to look for a black one though, since white does look a little out of place.
We’re attempting to learn more about the lamp’s origins; google images found a similar, smaller lamp, apparently sold on ebay (long since weeded).
It’s not a great picture, but you can see that the cord is fabric covered, so it could be as old as the 20s or 30s. Our new acquisition is actually a lot more ornate (and nicer) than this one, but the design/construction is identical.
We shall continue our research.
I’ve developed the deepest respect for stonemasons. After another few hours working on the shed, I ache pretty much everywhere.
Rebuilding a stone wall isn’t easy. There’s a lot of walking backwards and forwards with heavy pieces of stone and lifting and rearranging to get the right fit.
It’s extremely slow progress and I’m going through a ridiculous amount of sand and cement. But I’m sure it’ll be worth the effort.
And at least the rock pile in the garden is now smaller.
If you’ve not stumbled across this, it’s worth a look.
Occasionally, usually when at a bar, or shopping, I’ll creep up on my second in command, put my hands on her waist (or back), and make a zombie-like noise in her ear. Sometimes, I’ll attempt a mock bite of her neck.
Such an opportunity presented itself at breakfast this morning. I approached with my usual stealth while she placed an egg on her plate. I opted for her waist and a small growl, since there were a lot of people around.
She didn’t jump as high as usual; I realised that she may have become accustomed to my attacks. And then my second in command appeared from behind me, offering a plate. At this point I noticed the poor woman I’d just assaulted, looking around in a confused manner.
An apology was proffered.