Tag Archives: childhood


I woke up today in the same mood I went to bed with the previous night. That mood was a bit black, not pitch, but certainly a moonlight free night with only the occasional pinhole of starlight black. So with my dark cloud hovering at a jaunty angle I consumed a cup of coffee and a bowl of Froot Loops (don’t judge me). Wearing my best fugue, I headed off to get some check the opshop and get some more milk, as I had used the last of it in the aforementioned sugary breakfast treat. 

I arrived at the opshop, found the carapace that wasn’t being taken up by someone incapable of parking between the lines, not as easy to find as it should be. I mean the reason they paint the lines there is to show you where to park, but hey you’ve got a great big fuck you 4wd you can just do what you like, you don’t care if people think you’re a wanker…. ummm where was I? Oh yeah that’s right the opshop. So I do my regular search pattern, records, bric-a-brac, furniture, jewelry and books. That order is not arbitrary, it is the most efficient plan of attack for that particular opshop, and the most efficient way to get to all the good stuff before the meandering no plan losers that miss all the good stuff. Yes I am a model of efficient bastardry when it comes to opshops, markets and garage sales. 

I had almost finished the lap and was coming up empty handed, and my mood wasn’t improved by the lack of endorphin inducing bargains. So I’m at the end of my opshop dance routine, comencing the grand finale of a quick scan of the book section. My last chance for a small hit of thrifty satisfaction lay in the musky bit. 

And satisfaction was had, while checking to see what edition a copy of Life, The Universe and Everything by Douglas Adams, one of my favorite authors. I found this –

…and my day suddenly seemed a whole lot better. Something about finding that signature triggered some of the good shit in my brain. My first time reading Hitchers, watching the TV show with my Dad and stepmother in a terrace house on a tiny TV. My visit to Highgate Cemetery to leave a pen at his grave. 

A long dark tea time of day was suddenly a plentiful with fish.

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The Shed down the Back, Saturday…..

A taste of summer in spring here today… Maybe the blue sky gave me the courage to venture into the shed down the back? Maybe I just needed a reminder that there was still a bit of sorting to do… With the house largely junk free, and the front studio/garage almost organised, I figured it was time to asses the hoarder zone that is the back garage….


Not great but better than I remembered, In fact the carnage is largely due to things not being organised…. A lot of under utilised shelves and half filled boxes…. nothing a team of 5 people in has-mat suits couldn’t set right in a couple of days…. I suspect there is at least 25% of it that could be donated to charity or tossed… Stuff that the profit vs effort graph would tell me to dispose of… but there is also a bit of gold in there of course, it just needs to be excavated and given a fancy price tag on a hip market stall…

A lot of this stuff is market stuff, and it does well at markets around xmas, as people look for a gift that says I am quirky and cool and a much better friend than the person who got you a gift voucher… What hipster wouldn’t love a vintage 70s “as seen on TV” knitting machine?


A very small selection of the vintage boardgames that have been amassed in the name of retro dealing…. The main issue here is the requirement to make sure they are complete… or to build complete games out of incomplete games…. but i am feeling motivated again… maybe the nice weather is reminding me of how much fun it is to sit a well stocked stall of other peoples childhood memories, and chat, and drink coffee… and to see the childlike smile on the face of a 40 year old as the see a toy or game that brings back a flood of memories… memories that make them forget mortgages and credit cards and divorces… It was a very positive way to spend a day, and I miss it….


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I want to be a Cowboy….

….or in this case Zorro…. I am not sure what my cousin wanted to be…. But she didn’t grow up to be an almost spherical cowgirl….


As I have not, to my knowledge, rescued any villagers oppressed by wealthy overlords of late…. I will assume that childhood dressing up did not result in a career…. This is probably a good thing, as a child my tastes in dress up would also have seen me as a bad guy from Blakes 7… And a cross dressing cowboy….

And somedays I still wear an eye patch around the house, and dream of liberating Spanish gold…. Being a grown up is just as dull as seen on TV… I suspect I will be the last man-child standing, probably on one leg, with a fake parrot…

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