In the kitchen looking down the other way
You will see one of the two things of shelves. (NB: Do not get floating shelves from IKEA for books. They are not strong enough and you will need a pathologist, extra screws and even, if your walls are soft like tofu, some brackets.)
You will also be able to see with your eyes the fancy-dan windows that open up onto a balcony, currently populated by bird plops, 2 window boxes of dead herbs and a box that should have box hedge in it full of dead lettuce. Other than that, it looks fucking ace. (The lights in the corridor are still available for anyone who wants them, if you pick them up. The picture on the right I will not dwell on - it is an OK drawing of a nudey lady. On the other side are some photographs of trees and whatnot.)
The desk that in my head I am writing things at in manner of Anne Eliot with a pen and inkwell, when in truth I am on the sofa in front of "Location Location Location" on BBC Canada with a knackered 5-year-old PowerBook G4 on my knee
Chair, desk etc all from the England, given by Monkeymother and Monkeyfather. The print is astonishing - a wedding present from my brother, 17th century I think, of Amsterdam canal engineering. The books are on the desk because they look nice, and are mainly my grandmother's. The postcard is David Shrigley, but not this one. On the right of the desk, homeless pictures; left foreground, one of the bookshelves.
Books and that
Book disclaimer: In the year before I moved to Canada, I got rid of about 400 books. The wonderful Bookseller Crow even gave me advice on where to sell them - in the end 400 fucked-up paperbacks weren't worth anything, so I released them into the community. But there are still boxes full of the fuckers in the cellar because there wasn't enough shelf room, and another 200(ish) in the country.
Anyway, I brought with me books that:
- I loved and would read again*
- I hadn't read
- Were useful
For the purposes of this vitally important contribution to the internets, I look 3 photographs. They are unedited, not all arranged and taken where it was light enough to see stuff.
In other news, I am secretly working on another web-blog which is different to this one and more about work. It is very 'with-it' and I think the young people will like it a lot. If anyone wants a sneak preview let me know - it is not privit, but I am not releasing it into the community until it is tip-top 100% ace (according to at least 2 people that I am related to and/or are in my pay.)
Coming tomorrow: a photograph of my bed and some recipes. It is very relaxing, having nothing at all in your head apart from old buttons, custard creams and fog.
Pip pip!
NWM
P.S. Still no news of the badges, but do not give up hope yet; if they are not here by the end of the week, I will "kick up a fuss".
* at least a week's worth of screamingly boring posts. Bref (as they say in some French-speaking countries), I only really like Nancy Mitford, Jilly Cooper, Anthony Trollope, A S Byatt and the Pullein-Thompson sisters. I hate Thomas Hardy. He's an idiot.
15 comments:
I love these house pictures. Dang, that's a lot of Byatt...
Glad you are liking them. There will be more! Re. Byatt sometimes it's like swimming in peanut butter but ... oh my.
OK. I take it back. My old place in NDG did not have windows. Yours does. Methinks this is why I am pale and have rickets
I have the 'English Love Poems'. I've had them more than 40 years.
Boooo!
Photos of people's unstaged (and unedited) bookshelves maybe? To go with the excellent collection of Walk/Don't Walk men and Biscuits I Have Known and Eaten?
As it goes Megan that did cross my mind. I am not joking!!! Lord Philth, sorry about the rickets. I have an orange. Would you like it? Or is that scurvy? I am very tired.
Oranges for scurvy; cheese, milk and sunlight for rickets. I dare say if I eat too much cheese, it will bung up my tripes. Custard creams or bourbon creams?
You must be one a them intellekchells. I can tell by them fancee buuks.
Chairwoman, forgive me - it is very beautiful and I bought it only for the cover (which is why it's facing out), bringing me to ...
... Zoe: no way, man. I am too fond of US magazine Hello! Canada ("Who is that? Who is that? Who is that? Why is the Queen everywhere?"), Australia's Next Top Model and daytime property television programmes to be an intellekchell.
Christ on a bike, Lord Philth, you sound EXACTLY like my friend David. Our entire correspondence for 6 months before we met (long story involving internet dating, bad haircuts, trailer parks in Australia and a ferry) was about biscuits, including a dangerous debate on what constituted a 'fancy' and what constituted a 'plain'. (Neither, but since you ask, custard cream.)
Oddly enough, I have a PhD in biscuits with an elective in milk chocolate Hobb Nobs. Custard creams are hard to come by in Montreal. The closest came once was along the following lines:
Some batard nicked me lines, which went as follows: Avez vous un biscuit de creme anglais? Quoi? Un quoi?Un biscuit de creme anglais. Qu'est que c'est? C'est un biscuit avec creme anglais. Non. Tabernack.
It was funny at the time anyway
Fucking amazing.
Garibaldi biscuits
Ringing door of shop bell
Bonjour monsieur
Bonjour madame
Comment vas-tu?
Très bien merci. Avez-vous besoin d'aide?
Oui. Je cherche des biscuits de mouches mortes.
Des biscuits de mouches mortes?
Oui. C'est un biscuit simple, rempli de mouches mortes. C'est super-bon.
etc.
Zut alors! C'est incroyable.
How spooky, your house looks just like I imagined it did. Maybe I am clairvoyant? Or maybe I have been astral-projecting to Canada in my sleep? Or maybe I have a split personality and the other half of me - who I am not currently being and have no knowledge of when I am not being - is stalking you? Or maybe my original imaginings were exceedingly vague and therefore transposable onto most photos of any half-reasonable residence? And anyway now that I think of it, this looks like I imagined the veterinary person's house in the country. I hadn't actually imagined your flat at all.
PS Biscuits de mouches mortes, hahahahaha. Je croix que je dois visiter France seulement pour poser cette question.
(Excusez s'il vois plait mon Francais des pigeons).
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