venta

Heading home the other day I spotted someone doing... something outside the block of flats I live in.

Something that involved kneeling on the floor in the driveway. Which is odd.

Once I got up close I realised it was my neighbour David, doing a brass-rubbing of a manhole cover. Being an inquisitive sort, I asked him why.

It was, he said, an unusual and pleasingly-designed manhole cover and he quite fancied printing it on a t-shirt.

Now, this combines three of my favourite things. That is: (i) close observation of easily-missed everyday objects, (ii) batshit creative projects, and (iii) actually taking one's ideas from armchair to execution. So naturally I got down on the floor too, to examine his work.

It was, he explained, not going that well. He'd tried chalk, and he'd tried some weird-arsed squashy oil pastel affair that seemed about the consistency of tofu. Neither had been very successful.

"What I really need," he said "is a wax crayon."

Well, now. I was pretty sure I'd have a wax crayon. I'm not much of an artist, but I was a kid once and I am shocking at throwing out anything which might one day be useful. I scooted indoors to rummage in a cupboard.

Yup, in the first place I looked, there was a tobacco tin full of very battered-looking crayons. The mother always referred to them as "chubby stumps", which I really hope was a brand name.



Incidentally, what do kids from non-smoking households keep stuff in? How do they find anything? I had stacks and stacks of Gold Block tins, in which all kinds of bits and bobs (including wax crayons) were kept coralled. Anything too big for that (Lego, Matchbox cars, miscellaneous oddments) went into giant plastic catering tubs that once held margarine. I recently asked my parents why on earth they bought margarine in such epic quantities in the 70s. What the hell were they doing with the stuff? "That's just how it came," shrugged my dad. But I digress.

Anyway, I proffered my tin of crayons and David chose a black one, tested it out and agreed it was a vast improvement.

He felt the cover design was clearly t-shirt-worthy, and was planning to do some looking around online to see if anyone else had hit on the same idea.

"Don't Google 'manhole rubbing'," was my advice, which got me rather a funny look. Must remember that not everyone operates with their mind trundling along in the gutter the whole time.



Anyway, he gave me the experimental version done to test the creation, and unrolled a new section of paper. I left him happily rubbing the design out in black wax. I haven't seen him since to enquire how the shirtination went :)

Having mentioned this to a friend yesterday, she tells me that using street furniture for clothing is a thing now, and furnished me with an illustrative video on Facebook.

On Saturday, I bumped into philipstorry and we scooped snow_leopard off her train for a day of wombling round museums. Our principal purpose was to go to the Man Ray exhibition at the National Potrait Gallery.

( Black and white )

And then we noodled round a bit more of the NPG, and lunched, and fitted in some more light noodling round the British Museum before SnowLeopard had to hop on her train home again. Altogether a very pleasant day. I seem only to go to proper, paying exhibitions when SnowLeopard organises me into it... must demonstrate non-cultural-vacuumness by self-propelling on occasion :)

I've written here before about going to Cake Parties - the principle is simple: make cake, take cake to party, eat cake. Then we tried a pie party, which worked pretty well. This time the host decreed we were going to have a Christmas party. She would provide us with turkey curry and mulled cider, the rest of us were to bring Christmassy cakes.

The trouble is, once other guests had bagged mince pies and Christmas cake, I couldn't think of anything else. Stollen? Christmassy, but the party includes a lot of marizpan-haters (and I suck at yeast-based cookery). Chocolate log? Meh, I can't get that excited about chocolate.

Then, sitting in the pub a few weeks back, Jamie said "why don't you make a gingerbread house?"

( Er... yeah, why not? )

Hurrah for whoever TfL commissioned to do their advert for Notting Hill Carnival. I think it's inspired, and clever, and rather endearing all at the same time.

For those who haven't seen it in the wild in a tube station, there's a small version on TfL's page about the carnival.

I think it looks better - and a bit less awkward - at poster size. But even so. Hurrah. I like it.

I've been wandering in London again. Mostly in Greenwich, where I was delighted to discover that the Observatory is free. Maybe it's some kind of reward for people who manage to walk all the way up the hill to get there.

One of the best things about free museums is that you can tackle them piecewise. On Sunday, we poked and prodded at all the interactive sciencey bits in the North half of the Observatory. Then we wandered off; the South half can be another day's trip out some time. Had we paid, we'd have felt obliged to cover the whole museum in one day - and missed out on ( ambling and food. )

We caught a boat up the Thames to Westminster, then wandered back along the South Bank to the Royal Festival Hall where we once again found a ( fantastic art exhibition )