Pity me, dear RR, I am a broken woman whose fragile but fondly held illusions about not looking her age have been thrown to the floor, smashed and casually stamped upon. 'Why?' you ask. Well, this morning's jaunt to the car boot sale was going quite well: I had bought enough goodies to put me in a contented, complacement frame of mind and was quite unprepared for the ego-denting one-liner that was about to come my way. I came across a stall which had some nice silk and velvet fabric pieces on it and I was admiring the same wondering what I could do with them when the (male) booter said 'you could take those silk pieces home and make a waistcoat for your grandson'. Now, I know I wasn't wearing any make up and the morning sun, when it's in my face, really shows my age, but 'grandson'? Surely not!
I did, however, score a small victory over the male sex at another stall. I picked up two jugs, asked the price and was told '£2 each'. As one of the jugs was quite badly chipped I offered £3 for the two instead but the owner counter-offered with 'no, but I'll take £2.50'. I paid and left ....
Now for the latest buys....
Lots of boxes, chocolate (empty), fabric covered and carved ...
And birds ...
The shawl is hand-embroidered wool. These bird pictures are painted and then feathers are added - there's a fine line between artistic and awful and I think these pictures may just have slipped over it. Here's a close-up so you can make up your own minds ...
And more birds, this time embroidered onto silk and framed ...
and ...
Finally, some lovely vintage wooden salt and pepper sets.
That takes care of the eponymous boxes and birds, but what of the bubbling mud? Half term was two weeks ago and Northern Man and I were off again, to Iceland this time. When told that we were going there most people said 'why?' or even 'what for?' and I have to admit it wasn't my first choice but I was quickly smitten. Landing at the airport was not unlike arriving at Inverness after leaving London - such clean air and so much sky. Having spent so much time in the north of Scotland, the absence of trees and the harshness of the rock-scape didn't worry me but I can imagine it is a shock to many visitors.
We stayed in Reykjavik, very near the city centre. It is far more like a large town than a city, compact, clean, very safe and almost cosy. The older buildings are covered in what Northern Man referred to as 'crinkly tin' painted in lovely colours ...
We swam in hot pools, gasped at geysers and hot springs, walked through open air saunas made by steam fumaroles and picked our way over lava fields. Unfortunately there was no bubbling mud and I didn't get to see a glacier but we did visit the City Museum in Reykjavik where I found myself wondering if I'd been transported back to Colonial Williamsburg ..
The early population of Iceland must have been very hardy and inventive. The earlier houses had turf roofs and great stone buttresses on either side to keep out the weather and stop the wind blowing away the building ....
And some ingenious beds ...
which extend and contract depending on how much room is available and, presumably, how tall the occupant was. There were also some that could be widened to make room for two people to sleep together.
My favourite Icelandic idea was these ...
... knitted woollen shoe liners - brilliant!
The real reason I bought it is inside ....
