It hardly seems possible that a week has gone by since I was last here (though I have been assiduously following blogs each evening for relaxation after some very tiring days). Thankyou meanwhile for many kind comments; I had hoped to respond 'in person' and don't know where the time goes. What with writing a 2,200 word article that had been delayed due to the computer crash - still not fixed; attempting to clean the house, or parts of it; massive food replenishment shopping (Saturday) and another exhibition on Sunday - this time 'Focus on Imaging' (photography), there has not been a spare moment. Plus more writing Monday and Tuesday - finished article, and then back to the FoI yesterday (Wednesday), for neither Raymond or I had concluded our camera investigations.
The outcome as far as I was concerned was that I did NOT need the new camera I had promised myself. I decided that no amount of new gear would improve my photography; it's the person behind the camera that needs upgrading! Instead I invested in a sturdy tripod. Saved myself no end of money. In between, we've been assessing all the garden maintenance that needs doing, and talking about the next major house refurbishment, all of which entails jobs-within-jobs: to do job a: we first need to do job b: and that for us ALWAYS means throwing out items collected over the years that are no longer needed. (Who, for instance, wants or needs a printer's image-setter sitting in their kitchen? It's been there since 1999, because it did not reach its reserve when we retired ten years ago and auctioned our publishing and printing business, and R. is STILL convinced it has 'value'.) I guess I could recycle the copper wire inside, as I did with a burned out coil from another old piece of machinery. That shiny, malleable wire sits in a bucket in the laundry room awaiting use for binding hand-made books.
I love to recycle unwanted items (but not the d----d image-setter, the size of a very large and useless cupboard that cannot be opened!) My latest find has been ten tiny mother-of pearl buttons, all shimmery like the inside of the sea-shell from which they were cut or punched. Incongruously, they were stitched to a plain white stretch-cotton cardigan obtained at a charity/thrift shop. I buy these a sack-load at a time for Raymond (not for him to wear but for the fabric); I cut the garments apart so that he can use the pieces when he is polishing the beautiful furniture he makes in his 'spare' time. I always remove the buttons which are usually quite ordinary, but these are special and minute, and will be perfect on some small fabric book.
Serendipity really, as you can read in my other blog on journaling - when I have written it as I seem to have gone down today with some sort of lurgi and feel terrible. Dear R. has offered to cook a fish-pie supper (I was going to make him pizza, putting the dough to rise on a wooden board he made me, by the wood-burning stove). Maybe with his offer I cam snuggle by same fire and write other blog-post.
Meanwhile - the 'large and small' of this posting's title: the wood-mountain which we negotiate - nails and all - to source our firewood, and the strip of tiny buttons that has been added to my stash.