Despite the lamentable weather, My Good Man still persevered with fishing on the Robe Jetty both days of the weekend. He caught some undersized Flathead, which he threw back after they inserted their spines into his fingers.
Apparently he also caught a shark; but there was no evidence to support his claim.
We ate battered snapper at Robe Seafood and Takeaway, instead.
A few months ago I read an article about The Whistling Fish Bookshop & Coffee House in Country Style Magazine, and made up my mind to put it on the list of must-see places. So when my family planned a weekend away in Robe, on the Limestone Coast in South Australia, I knew that I would have to visit.
With the gang rounded up and determined to spend a couple of hours wandering the main street, we went in vain search for The Whistling Fish – despite having an address, we couldn’t see anything resembling a cafe and bookstore along the street. Then, as luck would have it, my plan to have coffee there was overthrown by the mutinous relations who were already breezing into another cafe by the time I’d finally located the bookshop. Damn.
So I contented myself with thoughts of a visit there, camera in hand, after a pot of Earl Grey tea at another fine establishment. On my way to the front door I stopped to chat with a handsome whippet and his owner – I find it hard to walk past any sight hound without a bit of gratuitous ear scratching; then I entered a delightful world, where books – old and new – cohabited with collected vintage china and tasty treats (though this was only ever hearsay, as – alas! – there was no room in my belly for tasty treats by this time.)
Now, although I am always happy to be in a place where books feature, my work in a public library makes me loath to actually buy any; for me the real joy was in examining – and snapping – the many touches the owner – JJ Aitken – had added to the store, from the shelf signs created from scrabble pieces, to the whimsical bookish decorations on the tables.
Usually I find the owners of such establishments are quite comfortable with a weird girl taking photos in their stores; but it’s always good manners to check with them about this. Happily, there were no problems on this occasion, either, and it gave me the opportunity to speak to JJ – mostly in tones of great admiration for a Job Well Done.
You can find The Whistling Fish online here; better yet, take the weekend off and find it on the corner of Smillie and Davenport Streets!
On my way to a friend’s farewell party, I was arrested by the unexpected sight of a superb lineup of a dozen or so vintage beauties – mainly Fords and Chevrolets – in the main street of Harrow.
While My Good Man nipped into the store to collect the Sunday newspaper, I made off with my camera to steal a few snaps.
To my shame, I hadn’t re-charged the battery after the big Portrait of a Lady shoot; but worse than that was the discovery that my spare battery was also almost flat. Horrors!
Working quickly, with a depleted battery and the need to attend a prior engagement, I rushed up and back along the street, managing to gather only a few cars for my collection.
My favourite Corvette, a 1958 model (I believe) – such a
sweet shape, and oh! those adorable rear brake lights!
The Corvette was a stunner, but I really coveted this steel grey two-door (Ford?) from the 1930s, with sublime new red leather upholstery.
While not usually excited by hot rods, I did particularly like the flaming eight ball detail on this sweet yellow coupe.
Looking forward to a fossick though a place I like to refer to as “heaven”, I hung the Olympus round my neck and left my bag and whatnot in the car out of harm’s way. For Edenhope Antiques presents a mobility challenge not to be taken lightly: bring your even-the-kitchen-sink bag at your peril, for there isn’t room in the warren of antiques-filled rooms to swing even a handbag-sized kitten.
As I walked up the overgrown pathway to the front door, I mentally set myself a brief: take photos for a “Portrait of a Lady” post. I knew there were plenty of models; but it was only when I started shooting that I realised how very many there are – and figurines, and dolls, and…
Selecting Program Auto mode, I decided to set the camera to face-priority. Turned out, that was a boon, as it began recognising faces everywhere I turned. Hundreds of them, in fact!
I would be lying if I didn’t confess that it can be disconcerting to walk around room after room full of relics whose eyes seem to follow you with suspicion. Times like that, you have to tell yourself to buck up.
Oddly, this reminds me of Gustav Klimt’s Goldfish painting
This is the back shed, brimful of wonder, which you arrive at after you’ve been through the crystal and china up front, the room of hats and vintage lace trim, the jewellery room, the back verandah, the kitchenalia shed, the “dress shop”, and past the cockatoos shouting “hallo!” at you as you wander down the jungle path to the book shed and beyond. Phew!
Peering across the valley of vintage chandeliers, Sappho spied a cabinet crammed full of treasure begging further exploration.
The store’s owner told me how a friend of hers had renovated many of the models in the shop years ago, giving them some rather lovely makeovers.
A dreamy-looking Gloria Swanson
Hideous ancestors? Fake it with vintage family photos!
‘…as Jesus once famously said, “that ain’t no lady;
that’s my mother!”
Not only did I find a lot of ladies to photograph; I also found a marvellous hat that begged me to take it home. And, after a happy few hours of camera “picking”, and the exchange of a few dollars, I did.
Out for a walk between showers at lunchtime, it turned out that there wasn’t really enough between, after all. I sheltered on the porch of a church to wait out the rain, and decided to amuse myself with taking some photos, again in monochrome.
As is often the way, the first shot I took was the one I liked best. It was only when I’d seen it full-size that I realised the raindrops were visible as streaks. While I quite like the camera’s monchrome mode, the photo looked a bit flat, so I applied a touch of Holga effect in Picasa, and warmed it slightly also.
derəˈlikSHən:
The state of having been abandoned and become dilapidated
One of the subjects I best love to photograph is dereliction, or the idea of dereliction. Close to where I live is the U-shaped homestead of one of the area’s oldest agricultural stations. It is not derelict – it is still someone’s home, the land is still farmed – but there are some elements which suggest dereliction. Such as the gracious veranda, with its handsome chairs, which are clearly enjoyed by the local swallow population.
Whatever I do, I generally find the easy way to do it. It’s a matter of personal economy – even when I have plenty of time, I still prefer the easiest method. This is never truer than when I’m in the kitchen, and I have a favourite saying that I’d rather read a book than cook. Reading about cooking is just asking for trouble, and often a delicious-sounding recipe seems much too tiresome to even begin.
So here’s a tip from me: if you’re lazy but you really want to bake, boil it. What I mean is, if I’m baking a cake, slice, biscuits, whatever, regardless of the instructions given I always use the saucepan method to melt the butter/oil together with sugars, spices and any dried fruit then let it cool a minute before adding an egg if required, then stir in the dry mix – usually plain flour, sometimes with ground nuts, and any raising agent. Not only is it fuss free (no rubbing-in! no mixers!), there’s only one saucepan to clean. Awesome, right?
Today I wanted to make my favourite Dutch cookies, Speculaas; but who can be bothered with rubbing in butter, then chilling the dough, before wrangling it into windmill shapes? Not me. So I found a recipe I liked the sound of, and adapted it to the saucepan method, and it worked really well.
Here’s how I did it:
Lazy Baker’s Speculaas, drop-cookie style
I bake in a slow-combustion oven beneath my wood fire, and the temperature varies quite a bit – it just means the baking takes more or less time.
*While I did set out to write a photography blog, there’s nothing that says it can’t sometimes be a cooking / lifestyle / reviews blog sometimes too!
50 Shades of Grey: trees in fog: shot on the fly,
monochrome setting in camera + effects in Picasa.
Inexplicably, I found myself reading the notorious best seller on the same day this week that I decided to commit to using my camera’s monochrome setting. Coincidence? I wonder. Though I haven’t finished the book, perhaps you’ll allow me the luxury of a bit of a review.
Apparently, 50 Shades of Grey started life as a piece of Twilight fanfiction which went beyond regular vampiric bloodsucking into the more sadistic realms of BDSM, and was therefore deemed inappropriate for many of the younger Twilight readers – and quite rightly so. While Twilight was actually quite chaste (there was no bedroom scene until the couple reached honeymoon island, deep into the series; and even then it wasn’t explicit), 50 Shades is all about highly explicit bedroom dungeon scenes, beginning around the 100th page (just to make things easy for you!). The similarities to Twilight are immediately obvious: wan, Classics-reading, inexperienced heroine meets immensely powerful, attractive, dangerous older man, and he can’t leave her alone: he must possess her. She falls deliriously under his spell as willing captive; and yet their differences appear insurmountable. Can their relationship possibly survive the strain?
Not only does 50 Shades trail along humming the Twilight theme, but – as with the Twilight saga itself – there are references drawn to classic English Literature. Here there are references to Tess of the D’Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy (a text with which I am unfamiliar, though now my interest is piqued). There are even passages of Bridget Jones-esque email repartee between the couple, and you may recall that Bridget Jones’s Diary was based on another great classic, Austen’s Pride and Prejudice.
But such allusions don’t save the book from being rather dull – and before you become indignant, I might add that ice water does not run in my veins, and yes the frequent sex scenes are adequately torrid; but that isn’t enough to make this good reading, in my, er, book. For heaven’s sake, I couldn’t even find a decent description of the cars mentioned; whereas Twilight at least did justice to the bevy of beauties in the garage. Oh, and speaking of which, both heroines drive clangers (Bella a beat-up pickup truck, Ana a VW Beetle), which are replaced by their controlling lovers.
Another point of irritation is the awful frequency of Ana’s thought exclamation: holy crap! or holy shit! or even – forgive my uncouth language – holy fuck! FFS, STFU. There are other oft-uttered inanities thoughout, but this one really did grind my gears.
The winning edge to books like these is that, for all their lack of literary quality, they are fast and compelling reads which bring a touch of the Classics (and other interesting subjects besides!) within easy reach. And for a large demographic who are reading 50 Shades – time-poor women, who may not usually find time to read for pleasure – they are a Godsend for renewing an interest in reading.
I also recently read Jane by April Lindner, a modern retelling of Jane Eyre. It was remarkably similar in style to the other books mentioned above, and equally readable-yet-unsatisfying.
My verdict: I’m bored. I don’t think I’ll bother finishing book 1, let alone complete the trilogy. Read the classics for themselves, and choose something a bit more original if you want to go over and see how things are done on the dark side.
What’s next on my reading list: Changeless: an Alexia Tarabotti novel by Gail Carriger. Werewolves, vampires, and a soulless heroine (who is slightly too swarthy, and her nose a tad too Roman, to be considered appealing to Victorian English sensibilities) promise a fun and witty romp that I’ll probably even read to the end.
I was admiring the recent black and white work of a photographer friend, which was taken using her camera’s monochrome setting, and resolved to take my camera out on a monochrome adventure. So this afternoon I drove across to a neighbouring town to find a church My Good Man had suggested might be a good subject.
I decided to set my Olympus to spot metering, which I’ve not used before, and took a couple of shots. Returning home, I was disappointed with the photos, so jigged a couple – just slightly – using Pixl-r-omatic. I particularly like the first image, showing the roof detail above the foyer.
The photo of the nest, below, is untouched.
What are your tips for using your camera’s monochrome settings?
precious ruthless captures 