Smallest Tea House of the August Moon ever..

...For some time now, my yard ( or to make it sound a bit more classy - my cortile) has been veering towards the East. I've always loved Japanese style gardens and without being really conscious of it, our patio has taken on something of that look. And when we put up the bamboo fence ( you know, the Day Before THEY Came) the whole thing just fell into place. Talking of THEM, I hear we aren't the only people in the condo who are looking at the builders with a jaundiced eye. Various people are invoking their solicitors for various reasons, I'm certainly not entertaining any thought whatsover of spending money suing their sorry asses but shall content myself with holding back part of the final payment to cover the damage to the brickwork on the ground. No respectable Tea Garden has great big concrete and primer stains on its walkways after all.
So. My idea now is to have a small water feature at the opposite end to the shed. OK a bowl of water then. No carp pond obviously as anything with any sort of vital sign doesn't live long in our garden (witness the amount of geckos I've saved or not these last few weeks). It will be a shallow basin raised off the ground, with some stones, pebbles, bamboo etc as deco, and I'm going to try and find or make something that looks like a rain chain, again just as deco. The Tea House - my new uber romantic name for the little shed - will actually be functional as we are planning to put a camping cooker in there; admittedly this mainly to boil octupus and grill squid rather than have tea ceremonies, but hey ho, lets be imaginative here.

Another decor moment occured yesterday when I spied an impressive amount of driftwood on the beach just round the corner. I kind of hinted to Himself what a wonderful find this was but He seemed relieved that it was in a totally unaccessible place and therefore beyond my grasp. You'd think wouldn't you that he'd know me better than that by now.Where there's my will, there's always a way.

Here's a lush bit of inspiration, designed by Bryan Albright and built by Rhino Rock Landscapes for the Hampton Court Flower Show Courtyard Garden category in 1995. Let's see how the Sardinian version shapes up.....

No, I won't say it....

....and anyway March wasn't THAT long ago for goodness sake. You know, after the debacle of the hard disc being eaten alive by aliens I tried to keep a kind of land-based blog.On paper. Writing with a pen. Oh I forgot, that's called a diary or something. And this was mainly to keep me from wiping down the kitchen work surfaces for hours at a time or talking to the cats or watching crap on the tv at 5.00 in the afternoon....you know, the Desperate Hours when re-runs of 24 seem fresh and new. And didn't I regret reading those Millenium novels in a week when I still had the computer and could have eaked them out a bit? When I could have wasted some of that reading time playing Farmville or doing random on ImdB?

At one point I found myself thinking hmmm this isn't too bad and maybe if I don't get a new computer I could become a real housewife with real life 'interests'. That lasted as long as it took Himself to suggest we went to Trony and checked out prices . I've always spurned lapdog in favour of Big Desktop with Accumuled Junk accessories but this bitty little notebook is growing on me. The touch pad caused a few pangs until after hours of searching 'My Touchpad keeps freezing' and advice relating to new drivers ( what, already?) I realised that I tapping over the on/off light. Sigh. DO take time to read the instructions Frankie, please. And anyway I have a USB mouse now thank goodness. It still seems like I've started from scratch though, as if everything that was is no longer and I should start again. Hell I've even revived the never used MySpace page which is a terrible place to be with no friends. I'll stay away from Twitter I think.

So that real life diary? Apparently I watched 21 grams (superb) and House of the Flying Daggers ( ah Takeshi) and cried in the shower over the building work 9th circle of hell. I actually had to go and make some coffee during The Grudge (is film fear age related?)and that wasn't even the original version. I enjoyed that Tim in Project Runway was dubbed into Italian by the same voice as R2D2 and to brush up my reading in Italian skills I laughed out loud all through the Codice Da Vinci- possible the most stupid book ever written. And this was off the back of Sir Noel Cowards fabulous dear boy Diaries so the culture shock was almost the death of me. But now I have this darling little notebook,all fresh and uncluttered and I'm loving the novelty of having Mahjongg at my fingertips whenever and wherever I want.

And I can't WAIT to get the cute pink bag to keep it in.
Happy Days..............Here's Takeshi seeing to the old bamboo...

Redux

No I'm not going to start this post with 'Oh dear it's been so long...' because I really must stop doing that. However to recap, my love affair with Twitter was very short lived - I realised I can't function in soundbites every five minutes, and it was all too clever dicky for me anyway.

So I'm still waiting. Waiting for this interminable, cold miserable winter to end. Waiting to get rich, waiting to wake up as Monica Belluci, waiting to read the next book that will take my breath away, waiting for the right time to fly home and spend loads of money.

I haven't been on a plane in over a year and you know something, I really miss flying, even if the trip back here last time was somewhat historic- not being able to grasp, at 4.30 am, how to use the check in machine and actually faking whiney and old ( not that it was an Oscar winning stretch for me) when it came to paying for the inevitable excess baggage.( Ah, but those Ikea curtains were worth it) Now, today, as I sit here, I cannot believe that the words '..But I haven't got any money..' actually shot out of my mouth. And my nose didn't grow an inch either. What on earth possessed me to tell such a huge filthy lie? And what must I have looked and sounded like for that woman to let me off? I detest dishonesty, cheating of any sort makes me really angry, so what happened? When I related this top tale in my hall of shame to a friend on my return he burst out laughing and said 'You see, Francesca? You've become a real Italian!'. He's Italian too, so that makes it ok.

I haven't become so Italian that I can drink the tea though - it'll have to be two tea bags per cup until I can get on that plane back to blighty and get stocked up. It needs to be soon because we are scraping the bottom of the Bisto tin and that can't be allowed to continue..........

Today's pic is a real hoot - here's hippie-ish me back in the day before computers, cell phones and digital cameras when I thought long hair was all that. I was on holiday in Broadstairs with Nan and I fell in love for a few minutes with a young,married man, who I realise now must have fallen in love with me for a few minutes - because if not, what was that sweet kiss all about? Well yes, looking at that photo, it could have been pity I suppose.

I just wanted to tell you........

.and now on Twitter I can. But you know, it's a weird thing - if I tweet someone who is famous in some way I feel quite nervous and embarrassed. It's akin to the feeling I would have if I saw a famous actor in a restaurant say and wanted to ask for an autograph. Actually not a good example because that's something I would never do - firstly because I hate invading someone else's privacy, also because I would be too shy and finally because I think autographs are...er, I don't know.I'm even quite shy of writing on fan pages on FB, it doesn't fit too well with me. I don't want to be a nuisance and although I know that these people probably never look at their FB pages and probably read only 1% of their tweets anyway, I still get that uncomfortable apologetic feeling.

I really like to think that if I was stuck in a lift with a celebrity or ended up sitting next to them on a plane that I wouldn't say 'Oh my god I cannot believe it's you' I remember reading in Michael Jackson's autobiography years ago how this used to amuse him and he would say something like '..why not, I have to be somewhere in the world, why not here?'. I can relate to that. Of course in my dreams there would be a witty, informative entertaining conversation but knowing myself profoundly I suspect there would just be silence on my part. I'm not a great twitterer for the same reason that I'm not a really active blogger or FBooker, I often lack commitment and quite often lack courage. I feel terrible if I don't give everyone my attention and although I know that probably doesn't matter to them, it racks me with guilt. I once had a virtual chihauha ( yeah I know that's spelled wrong and look at me going with americanised 'spelled') on FB and taking care of it worried me so much I had to give it up. Boh.

It occurs to me that outside of my previous work obligations, I have never actually had a celebrity encounter of the close kind.. Now that George Clooney is dating Elisabetta Canalis, it is actually possible that he could turn up in Alghero at some point - I hope I don't end up bumping into him anywhere - what the hell would I say?
And I especially hope Stef wouldn't be with me, because I can tell you, he wouldn't be backward in coming forward oh no.

Our car passed it's Mot again this week - it must be about 18 years old by now and it just flies through -I swear it's going to outlive us and damnit, that chocolate brown Fiat 500 with the cream interior is destined to remain just a dream.

Unless we win the lotto of course but then Stef says he's getting a Ferrari.But that's entirely another story.

6.00pm and not a child in the house washed.....

So. I see that I haven't been here since May which even shocked me. I suppose that between twittering away on Facebook and twittering away on...er Twitter, and writing bits and bobs under my Polyvore sets and all the rest of it, I felt that I had been fairly active. Then a contact on PV mentioned how much she liked my blog and I was consumed by a wave of guilt, having turned into one of those people who keeps a link on her page to something ancient and wrinkly. Must do better in future.

You know, seven years down the line from giving up work and slinking off into the dubious, bureaucracy ridden ikea-less sunsets of hinterland Sardinia, I still haven't been able to structure my time in any manageable and useful way. And like anything unstructured and formless, time slips and slithers and steals away like the thief in the night that it is. Good intentions are not something I have ever lacked. I always intended having one of those composite wardrobes or whatever they're called, outfits that mix and match and take you anywhere, one good pair of shoes, one great bag, the essential this, the classic that. If you buy me a Kelly bag, that would be a grand opener. Take a look in my DVD library and the proof that I always intended devoting an hour every morning to Yoga and Pilates is right there. I have watched those DVD's. Once. Watched, note.

And yes, at least once a week I have this internal convo that goes like this...
OK - mornings, get up really early, get washing on, do housework, no I mean do proper housework because wiping over a work top in between fags and coffee does not count, which will leave afternoons free for .....actually opening those paints and unwrapping that canvas, using those bagfuls of paper and stufffff for the collages, and getting started on that dolls house I want to build, plus an hour of brisk twittering and facebook, plus one Polyvore set a day if possible. Then later in the afternoon when the light isn't so good, some reading. Two hours a week to get to grips with the Italian conditional and really I must learn Dante's Inferno and at least make a start on I Promissi Sposi. The evening will then be dedicated to spending at least half an hour marvelling at how amongst the wealth of 110 channels that are available there isn't one thing I want to watch and having to re-watch Sense and Sensibility on DVD for the 100th time ( or Titanic if I have been a particularly shitty wife today and need to make amends to himself).

But see, by the time I've had that internal convo, I'm exhausted and need to go to Mindjolt games to recharge my batteries. Which could mean at least two hours when himself could come into the room and tell me he is leaving me, a body could fall past the window or the flat could burn to the ground around me and I wouldn't even notice aymi.

Well fiddle dee dee, I'll think about it tomorrow, because tomorrow is another day and all that and I can't go back to Tara anyway because tonight there is...X Factor! But that's another story entirely.

yip

I've kissed the despond of Slough goodbye for the moment as summer is trying to be official which always cheers me up and because I'm learning to fill my day with nice things. This instead of rushing, stressing and forgetting that hey I don't work anymore and it isn't absolutely necessary to try and do everything on Sunday mornings. Yes I know I've not been working for nearly seven years now but that's how hard it is to let old and long sustained habits die.

I'm having a hugely enjoyable time still on Polyvore, it really has added another dimension to life in general. I didn't realise quite how badly I needed a creative outlet and how empowering it can be to find one that fits the bill. And thanks to Lila I can now copy off my sets, save them and print them out. Ok, it's just FUN right? But I can tell you I have learned more about colour and design in the last couple of weeks than I ever did in four years at art college. True.I know feel loads more confident about creative real life stuff, to which end I went out this morning and spent another shitload of money on paints, brushes and the like. Just goes to show that idling away hours on the computer isn't a total waste of time after all.

Lila has also alerted me to the powers of Feng Shui (?? sorry I know that's wrong!)I'm hoping it's going to help me plan new colours for the apartment but one thing it has opened up is that maybe we are sleeping in the wrong room, which fits in with my original plan to move the sitting room to where the bedroom is. Well we shall see.

No news on the bloody TV. Just when I thought it was safe to start combing the shops for a new one, S gave up on giving up on the old one and rang the repair man to see if his beloved old flatron could be repaired after all. Naturally its all a different story now, the guy is now unsure if he can do the work and advised S that the cost of the repairs would buy a new tv anyways. Yes we know that and I suspect that our ( as I now realise) top of the range tv has probably already been repaired and rehomed. We shall see on that one too.

I'm currently very enamoured of Mark Rothko and Jackson Pollock - two artists that I had never really thought about before. I'd like both of them on my walls, something to add to my when-we-win-the-lotto-jackpot wish list along with a dog and a caravan ( oh sorry, mobile home) in Hullbridge.

A small dark scribble on the horizon looms - the computer smells hot. I hope this doesn't foretell some kind of melt down damn.

Watched The Grudge 2 last night which scared me silly in the moment, but this morning I had forgotten I had ever seen it till S mentioned his nightmares. They don't make them like they used to. When I saw the Exorcist I stayed scared for about 20 years.

The Slough of Despond

Only marginally better than being in the despond that is Slough UK, this is me in a very meme moment and feeling emo - although I'm too old to be emo surely? I've had a cold since Easter Monday that comes and goes with the weather and of course has nestled nicely in my abused 30-a-day lungs - in every increasing moments of paranoia I think about the pork chops we ate this week and swine fever which just goes to show how mass media coverage can gain the ascendancy in our weaker moments.

Add to the cold the demise of the beloved flatscreen LG. Did I make the right decision in not going ahead with the repairs? OK, a new screen would have cost €400. I know there are 36" tvs around at the moment that cost €399, decoder integrated ( but interactive- I don't think so?) and you know I always reason that once something has gone wrong, something else will surely follow. Stef points out quite rightly that all of the new models ( within our budget) have black plastic skins ( unlike the silvered non plastic departed) and seem to have integrated speakers and no dolby ( unlike etc) I, who once was so decisive and stuck by my decisions whether I had second thoughts or no, now feel incapable of making the right decision over anything. At some point this weekend I had to call in Stef for the final word on where to position a vase of flowers for goodness heavens sake.

And these tiny weeny things spread out ripples that turn back into the Tsunami of the Big Bad Decision that largely ( no, entirely) rests upon my shoulders. Did we do right to move here? Every day I regret it for at least a couple of hours - balance that against the few minutes every once in a while that I think it isn't so bad after all. Maybe it's the weather and I'll feel ok again about it all when the sun starts shining. Maybe I won't. See? I just can't decide.

I bought and watched Quantum of Solace last night and what do you know, I can't make up my mind about that either. Was it because I watched it on our small notflat screen tv that I couldn't visually decipher the extreme action sequences? Am I out of touch with the language of film? I remember watching The Prince of Tides with mum years ago and I could tell that she couldn't 'read' how the flashbacks were presented - is that happening to me? Is Thelma still editing Scorcese? Surely is she is, then I should be able to follow a carchase? I know I didn't like Q of S as much as Casino Royale anyway. It seemed to me that Daniel Craig only spoke about 10 words in the whole film and his Bond was more frightening than Jason Bourne. You certainly wouldn't want these two painting your apartment anyway. Speaking of which - one wall soft dark grey or soft mink brown in every room - still not decided hahaha.

One enormously bright spot in a miserable week - I got 3rd place in my first Polyvore comp. I was ridiculously pleased and after some poking about online I see that the Cutter which enables you to pick images from the web is not only unavailable to me. From the amount of whingeing and whining on Flickr I think there might be a copyright glitch. It never ceased to amaze me how the same people who happily broadcast their photos on Flickr and etc for us all to fall back and over in admiration suddenly ascend to the level of Fine Artist that one usually associates with the likes of Leonardo, Picasso and Hockney when they think their Work - you know, those photos of sweet peas coming up or dad burning sausages on the bbq- might have been 'stolen' by someone to include in their Spring Fashion set on Polyvore. They should feel honoured.My attitude is you put it out there in the public domain and it becomes public property get over it already. This same thing came up on Yahoo 360 about creative copyright etc - people threatening to sue over so called Works of Art that I'd be embarassed to put my name to. If you don't want it out there, stick it where the sun doesn't shine - I mean a photo album of course. Personally if anyone manages to 'steal' my Flickr pics and use them on Polyvore they are more than welcome. Rant over. Back to work.