Dotty PPs’ surname

2009 November 21
by feral cat

Dotty travels

You might recall the last time we saw Dotty she was getting a service.
Well, she had a wonderful time at the shop, and came back all pumped up and easy to ride. She felt great!

So what was stopping the girl that rides her from taking her on that promised long adventure?

Dotty believed it was because the girl that rides her was spending her weeks saying goodbye to the boy that bought her. (He was leaving.) She remembered that boy- he’d come into the shop excited and he was always full of surprises- some good, and some- sadly- very bad.

Dotty knew that the girl that rides her had spent a long time liking the boy who bought her, so understood, and felt sad for her that he was leaving.

However, Dotty didn’t feel sad about not seeing that Kirk anymore! Kirk was the bike that the boy who bought her rode. He was a pest!

They had fallen out when she lightheartedly called him Captain Kirk. He had taken great offence at her reference to star trek and - as he was devoid of all humour - didn’t speak to her for days. She would be forced to lean against him in the dark hallway for hours in stoney silence, waiting for the girl that rides her to take her home. It was most uncomfortable.

And to make it worse, Kirk was an elitist. Dotty hated this. He was a good quality mountain bike, and because of this, he was convinced he was the coolest ever. Tut tut Kirk. Dotty had to keep her pride intact on these occasions, and make sure that Kirk wasn’t too snobbish towards her.

It is a good job that Dottys surname is Proud!

Ah but we digress. This one is the story about the lovely diversion that Dotty and the girl that rides her took from all these dramas.

A sunday trip to the local deli…

where a dear friend Lissa met the girl that rides her and drank coffees whilst Dotty proudly stood in front of the deli taking in all the sights and sounds of consort road. After that, they all went down the infamous peckham rye lane.

What a happily revitalising afternoon!

home

2009 November 17
by feral cat

the last goodbye

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my friends are truly amazing. I am so blessed that they are in my life.

when the glass looks half empty, synchronicity astounds me and it appears half full again.

tears
and
treats- the last last last last last last last last last last last last last goodbye:
adios a ocumare

books

2009 November 15
by feral cat

' A room without books is like a body without a soul.' Cicero.

Can you guess that I want a new bookcase?

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(more bookcases)
and after some hunting- I’ve found it. Its not the complete 100% ideal- but an affordable and space saving solution. The little sapien number (above right) is one day to become an addition to the montpelier household.

On an afterthought, I note the less than original title. Nothing else inspired me.
However, whilst thinking of the word book, the word worm sprang to mind, which in turn my dears, reminded me of this Beth Orton song.
This is a tribute to all the sisters that have lived it. click here for our Beth and ‘worms’
below is Thomas Heatherwick

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bluebeards castle

2009 November 8
by feral cat

bluebeards_castle_gallery My wonderful friends invited me to the opening night at the coliseum of bluebeards castle, and the rite of spring.

a mixture of fairytale, ritual, dance and opera, was so exciting. masks, beautiful choreography, breathtaking beards- and lots of willy.

Bluebeards castle is one of my favourite fairytales of late, (in all its interpretations, from angela carter, margaret atwood, clarissa pinkola estes), but this interpretation was ham-fisted, misogynistic, too busy and generally disappointing. however, the same can’t be said for the rite of spring. was the best thing i’ve seen for a long long time.

The dance company that did the rite of spring interpretation are: fabulous beast how talented are they!

magic ?

2009 November 7
by feral cat

click here for the magic roundabout (or the number 12 bus?)
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We went to Wales at the weekend, and what with the wet weather and it being autumn, it was (amongst other things) a fest for little mushrooms that grew.

Indeed in many corners of our nation do these blighters grow- including - as discovered -this morning- in our upstairs bathroom.

Anyway, these photos were taken in homage to my wonderful Italian friends who went porcini mushroom picking in italy.

As a virgin porcini mushroom picker, my friend Fra was rather excited to be going on this adventure. All day long they trudged through the damp and hilly forests of Italy filling their bags with 4kgs worth of these rare and tasty specimens.(quite the opposite of the things that were growing on my bathroom window sill.)

It was only at the end of the day that they came across some bad news.

It was national no picking mushroom day, and the forest guard not only fined them, but took all of their precious mushrooms off them!

my Nonna always says….

2009 November 3
by feral cat

when a door closes, a window opens

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On Photography- missing pages

2009 October 28
by feral cat

Whilst reading Hotties copy of the fabulously articulate and inspirationally intelligent Susan Sontag book-On Photography, my sense of frustration grew - there are no photos to look at.

This blog is dedicated to my peace of mind.

Diane Arbus:

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Weegee:

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weegee-lovers

August Sander:

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Fox Talbot:

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Paul Strand:
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are you ready?

2009 October 19
by feral cat

It has been a month!

What feeling should one have when realising one has been ‘blogging’ for over a month?

a.) slight shame at the triviality of the content? (especially when thinking of the hours spent on it.)

b.) joy to have managed to put some thoughts together?

c.) excitement at the possibilities ahead?

d.) aloneness as there really is no accessible way of finding other blog bloggers… ?

e.) frustration in STILL not being able to get a slide show or video on here?

f.) satisfaction in having a place to put all of my favourite things?

September was National Emergency Preparedness month.
Would time have been more wisely spent putting this into action?

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Am slightly bemused as to why a disposable camera is an emergency item?
And how practical is it to have a toilet in a basic emergency kit. Imagine national disaster ensuing- be it evacuation/ fire/ tsunami/ earthquake- words to the effect of:
“Quick , quick, lets go”, and father in the background shouting;
“Not without the toilet- expert advice says we must have a toilet in the kit.” ?

Dotty PPs’ middle name

2009 October 13
by feral cat

home - the bottom of the garden
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It was a bright, crisp autumn day, and Dotty PP was excited. The girl that rides her had promised to take her in for a long awaited service.
She was looking forward to having her front tyre pumped, her seat fixed and her gears checked.
She also liked the prospect of seeing her friends at her old home.

But what especially excited Dotty today was the promise of her first true adventure.

She was going to explore with the girl that rides her after the service.
Finally a long ride! And the plan was to go to the cemeteries.
Dotty had never been to a cemetery before. She didn’t even understand what one was. What were graves? Ah, not to worry, she would find out soon enough.

The girl that rides her told her of the wonderful colours that they would find in the leaves at the cemetery, of the trees and of the photographs she would take whilst Dotty rested. She talked of the peace there, and of something called eerieness.
There would be paths that they would discover together.
Dotty was thrilled and imperceptibly quivered in anticipation.

But there was bad news. A disappointment to her -and to the girl that rides her.
The service was going to mean Dotty would have to stay at the shop ALL night.
What to do? Dotty had to go in for a service- and her tyre was too low to go for a long bike ride….

It is a good job that Dottys’ middle name is Patient!

As an alternative, the girl that rides her decided to take Dotty on an almost adventure to the bottom of the garden- where they enjoyed the sunshine and took pictures. Dotty even saw a fox. She looks forward to her first proper adventure, but in the mean time asked if the girl that rides her can post some of the photos taken at the bottom of the garden.

And now its time for Dotty to return her old home for the night!

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home

2009 October 8
by feral cat

drawing lines in the snow:

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I’ll tell you a secret.

In my younger years, winter could be a real drag.
Mainly because of the incessant and the surburban grey.

Grey drizzle, grey flat, grey dull, grey patina, grey mantle, grey gaze,
grey day - in - grey day - out.

Monotone Manchester.

Or that is how it felt.

Luckily my imagination was fertile. Dreams were harbored and nurtured amid interminable grey.

One simple and humble dream was to find freshness, excitement, colour and joy in the winter months.

It was found!

May working on ski resorts never be underrated.

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