April 2007
My lurking Womb!
It arrives and we've set it up the best we know how, which isn't saying much, and we prepare to increase our hippy credentials considerably. Trev is even talking a spinning wheel and a couple of sheep. I want black sheep; it's my colour of choice. It's such a pity I hate wearing wool. However, as the 'reed'- the fine grate in the picture - is narrow, it will limit the bulkiness of the thread/wool. And the sample of weaving (which I believe was done in the mid-fifties going by the date on the yellowed newspaper it was wrapped in) gives me an idea of how fine the finished cloth will be. I bought it on Ebay, and the first two images were taken by the previous owner. (just in case anyone thinks I'm taking credit). I'm into 'forgotten skills' at the moment. I want to learn some of the skills that are fading from memories as our society grows ever more top heavy with products of the oil age. (does that mean when I'm 80 I'll be 'fossil fuel').
Anyway, I'm prepared to be a KFC eating, weave my own wool, hippy. It all evens out in the long run.
Anyway, I'm not weaving anything yet. Instead, I'm waiting on the arrival of library books that hopefully will fill some of the very wide gaps in my knowledge.
Trev, Caleb and I have been mucking around making metal helmets with a group of people interested in reenacting or re-creating medieval battle techniques. All a lot of fun. The Dads get into the tinsmen's rivets, ball pean hammers and damage each others ears as they make up helmets, and then get into the melees (can't figure out how to put the various accents and so forth in their places) but it means getting out in an open area and going hard at each other with a (in this case padded) sword. (God I love brackets). Caleb was hilarious. He tended to live longest as he spent most of his time running away (a fine and fairly commonly used battle strategy). Self preservation came to the fore, and he hid behind trees and otherwise attempted to make small of himself. It will be interesting to see how he goes on the day of the festival, when the group will be given centre stage at Medieval Mayhem in our local town. I think he might add the comedy element. He certainly had all us spectators laughing. I was heard shouting from the sideline, 'For God's sake Caleb, don't you ever decide you want to play soccer!'. I don't think I'd make a particularly good soccer mum.
It was fantastic to see all the father/son action, especially as the project has been funded as part of National Youth Week and ACE (Adult Community Education). Kids came up afterwards and thanked me for organising the sessions, which was really nice; not to be thanked, but that they appreciated it, and had had so much fun running around with their dads, flogging each other for 4 hours. I remember reading years ago how boys who had a father figure in their lives that 'rough housed' with them had dramatically lower levels of depression and suicide in their teens. Boys need more than cuddles. Though Caleb, at eight, still seems happy to have as many mummy cuddles as he can, despite my medieval sideline behaviour.
April 27
It's been a busy week or two, and now that Medieval Mayhem is almost over (one more weekend archery workshop in an hour or two) and it's all over bar the funding evaluations and acquitals. Over 500 people turned up for the event, which was great, with all the food stalls selling out by 2.00pm and the rain held off till 15 mins before the whole shebang ended. As we pretty much guessed, even though the professionals were there and great, it was our teams of local bods that got the crowd roaring. And Caleb did me proud (all his friends were watching) and got in there and hacked to death 5 persons before succombing to padded sword wounds of his own. It was a lot of fun, and a great relief now its 'almost' over.
On the building front ...we've hit a couple of stumbling blocks, Trev and I put in the first post , hooray! several weeks back, it was big, 200mmX 200mm and 3 metres long it was a struggle, but we did it. It was the first shovel full of blue metal (aggregate) that did Trev in. He's instantly down on the ground and trying to do yoga positions that will miraculously pop his back back. But they don't. Instead he's spent the last two weeks walking sideways, as all the muscles in one side of his back pull tight to try and make up for whatevers out in his back, and he spends quite a lot of time doing very good impressions of being electrocuted, usually while his knees are buckling and he's down and out for the count. Sympathy has had no effect on his pain, nor back massages, anti-inmflams, chiropracters and as he can't seem to face a day without some form of strenous activity he has failed to heal. He has been unable to apple pick, something he's deeply ashamed about, it's one of those manly things I can understand, but not the degree of shame involved. Lots of going around muttering, 'weak bloody bastard', under his breath, usually followed by engaging in some new enterprise that results in an invisible cattle prod attaching itself to his lower back and he's jolted back into angry submission.
However the next three posts did go into the ground. I did most of the run around work shovelling fine crushed gravel into the holes and compacting it, Trev would measure, Joey, a local young man with muscle did most of the hard work with Trev and I lifting the end of the block with a crowbar under the end and one of us either side. Then we'd biff them up and slide them into the holes spend endless amounts of time with block and tackle while we used the poles like giant plumb bobs before settling them into their final place and shovelling wheelbarrows of blue metal around the posts till full.
Here comes the problem. We're still waiting on the remaining 20 posts, and it seems our dreams of using sustainable timber are shuddering to a stop. The rate in which our building material is arriving means we'll still be at this ten years from now. We have no intentions of taking ten years. We don't want to push the old fellow who is doing the timber for us, but as he is setting the pace and we can't really change it, we'll have to look for an alternative source. All very awkward, he's a lovely person, he's a neighbour, but....
The garden is producing small amounts of raspberries and strawberries (that taste as though they already have icing sugar sprinkled on them) and huge amounts of tomatoes. It's a miracle how easy they are to grow when not constantly battling fruit fly. The news this week is that they were found in fruit in a supermarket in Tasmania. I can only hope they find the place inhospitable and die out before establishing large colonies... because the thought of them here, and in large numbers is too much to contemplate. Contemplation of packet of biscuits is over. Have chai tea in hand and a well stoked fire... Main Page