Kitsch Kitschy Coo

There have been a few (accidental) plate breakages recently around here the cupboard was looking kind of depleted. Given that there is bound to be further breakages in the years to come I didn't really want to shell out a whole lot of money on replacements. But I couldn't quite face Ikea either. So at last Saturday's flea market I looked out for something that would do for the time being. At the very first stand I found a set of 14 Christmas plates (1975 - 1988) all with blue and white images of a nearby town called Darmstatt. At first I was struck by the fact that someone had been able to find 14 separate scenic shots of Darmstatt to photograph (clearly there's more to Darmstatt than I had realised), then that someone else had chosen to turn the somewhat bleak images into plates, then that someone had bought them at great expense(one of the plates had the original price still stuck on the back - 67.50 Deutschemarks). Then, as I gloried in their incredible kitschness I realised the most astounding fact of all: I had to own them. Yes. All fourteen.


Thieu managed to talk the man into selling the lot for 30 Euros - which works out to be just over 2 euros each. Bargain. Of course, Thieu started googling when we got home to see if they were worth anything but, surprise surprise, they're not. I don't care though. I'm dying to use them. They even have hooks on the back so perhaps I should hang them on the wall when they're not in use? I kind of like just casually telling people to grab themselves a plate off the wall when they come around for dinner.


I have subsequently spent a lot of time thinking about the plates, wondering if there are other towns with Christmas plates (presumably there are) and how far back in time they go. I've also wondered about the previous owner. Some of the plates were still in their boxes. Maybe they were unwanted Christmas pressies to a mum or grandma? Or maybe they're shop remnants. I wish I knew. Of course, kitsch and it's associated high risks of pathos and sentimentality is almost definitely bad for the digestion. Oh well. If people start weeping during dinner at least I can blame the Darmstatt Christmas plates and not my cooking.


The weather is cooling here in Frankers and I have a feeling summer might be over. Just like that. At least this year I felt like I was onto it, wearing skirts even when I was actually freezing, going for picnics and swims in the local lake. We were going for lots of bike rides too until Thieu's bike was stolen from the back yard. Bummer.

We are off the Norway for three weeks on Monday. Auntie Hil said that Norway always reminds her of Adrian Mole's poem and once she pointed that out I couldn't stop thinking about it either:

Norway! Land of difficult spelling.
Hiding your beauty behind strange vowels.
Land of long nights, short days, and dots over 'O's.
Ruminating majestic reindeers
Tread warily on ice floes
Ever aware of what happened to the
Titanic.
One day I will sojourn to your shores
I live in the middle of England
But!
Norway! My soul resides in your watery fiords fyords fiiords Inlets.

I plan to keep an eye out for ruminating majestic reindeer plates while I'm there.

Still here...

Yes, much slackness on the blogging front and this is just a placeholding post to say I am still here, I'm not abandoning the blog, just dealing with a pressing deadline. Hopefully all will ease off mid July.

It's summer. Finally. Today it even reached 30 degrees. I know! Insanity. Some kindergartens even closed early owing to the extreme weather conditions. The beer bike is back doing the rounds. Perhaps I'll celebrate meeting my deadline by taking one out for a spin.

The Long Haul

As we settled into our plane seats in Frankfurt last Monday afternoon, about to take off on the first leg of our 22 hour journey, the kid said 'I'm not going to watch any television on this trip.' I felt my stomach drop. 'What?' I said. 'Why not?' Mads shrugged. 'Don't want to.' 'What about the ipod?' I said. 'There's lots of stuff on there for you to watch or play.'
She shook her head. 'Nope.'

I then found myself entering into one of the surreal reverso topsy-turvy conversations I often seem to have with my daughter. I began pleading with her to at least try watching some television, just a little bit maybe. Perhaps she'd enjoy it. There wasn't much else to do on a long haul flight after all. I even explained to her, in quite a bit of technical detail, how the whole 'eyes going square' thing simply doesn't happen on a plane. I may have even said; 'If you don't watch television you can't....' But what could I threaten exactly? On a plane? None of it made no difference anyway. She was firm. No TV.

'You realise,' I said to Matt, 'that we are the only parents in the history of parents who have tried to force their child to watch tv.' It reminded me of the time that I'd heard myself saying to her; 'OK that's enough broccoli for today.' She'd eaten almost an entire head of it. Raw.

'So what are you going to do to pass the time?' I asked. 'Because mummy's going to be watching a lot of television.'
'And so is daddy,' said Matt. Mads pulled out the flight safety card.
'I'm going to look at this,' she said. Then she smiled. 'I really hope we get to use those inflatable slides this time.'

She stuck to her word about the no tv. The only time she watched anything was when they played the obligatory 'Welcome' videos as we approached KL and then Melbourne. I'm not exactly sure how the rest of the time was spent. We drew. We read. We made a book to give to Sally Rippin called 'The Magical Fat Man and his Hat.' We made a rattle for the niecephew out of a juice bottle, some paper and a hair elastic. We played a game with the two toys I'd shoved in her bag at the last minute - a manky My Little Pony (handed on to us pre-manked by another child) and a plastic brontosaurus called Hungry. Do you know how hard it is to make up a game involving a glittery pony and a brontosaurus? I was really wishing I'd grabbed at least one carnivore. I used my old favourite plotline and had one be mean to the other one and then the two of them made up and put on a concert.

Just as we were doing the big finale number the steward came over with a small orange bag. 'For the baby,' she said, smiling at me sympathetically. Mads and I looked around in alarm. Had a baby somehow managed to sneak into the seat beside us? But no, the steward meant Mads. And the present was a rattle with a blue elephant's head. When she left Mads whispered; 'She must know about auntie Hil's baby.' 'Yes,' I agreed, so, so thankful that Mads hadn't hit the roof about being referred to as a baby. She's kind of touchy about such things.

There are positives though, of course. Luckily the kid slept for the KL to Melbourne leg. Luckily we didn't get to use the inflatable slides. Luckily we're here - here where the birds look like jewels and sound like they're screaming obscenities, and where old ladies smile at your kid rather than looking at her like she's some kind of pustulant growth. Luckily I made it here before the niecephew arrived. And luckily it's several weeks before I have to get back on a plane and go through it all again. Hooray-ness.

Preparations

The volcanic ash seems to have cleared from the air so it looks like we'll be boarding a plane on Monday. I can't say I'm looking forward to the flight - I always smile bitterly when they say 'Now, sit back and enjoy your trip.' Yeah, what fun. I'm also becoming a much more nervy traveller in my old age. It doesn't help that I spend way too much time with air traffic controllers who blithely say things like 'we're due for a major air disaster you know. Hasn't been one for a while.' Thanks for that.

Still.
It will be worth it once I get there. There will be babies to admire and people to catch up with and shops to visit. I remember last time it took me a few days to adjust to understanding everything that was going on. It was way too much information all of a sudden. I wonder if it'll be the same this time?

OK, better go and pack.

Spring Fever

It was Wald Woche at Mads' kindergarten last week, which meant they spent every morning in the nearby woods. Mads, despite a firmly-held love of sticks and a new-found passion for the Faraway Tree books was not keen on Wood Week and protested loudly each morning as we headed off. So on Friday she said she didn't feel well ("my eyebrows hurt...") I assumed it was a wood-avoidance technique and used the very same lines used on me all those years ago by my own mother: 'Well, get up and see how you feel after breakfast" - the follow-up to this being "Well, you're up now so you may as well go." A magic, unbeatable technique. I didn't have a single day off school until I was 14.

When Thieu picked Mads up after lunch she silently wrapped her arms around his neck and put her head on his shoulder. Oops. The eyebrow ache had developed into a headache, her cheeks were pink and hot. She had a feverish sleep last night, calling out strange, random things like 'But I must get to the boat!' and around 1 am she held out some invisible item of clothing and asking me to assist her putting it on. Consequently I have spent most of the last 24 hours either reading or patting (and of course, adjusting the invisible clothing).

While she was dozing yesterday afternoon I sat on her floor and made the little characters in the photo above, being deeply inspired by this blog post. My idea was originally that Mads and I would do them together, but she's not up for it right now.

Outside it's glorious. In here the shutters are closed and the kid is asleep.

Bookish

Is there a nicer person in the world than Sally Rippin? Seriously, I think you'd be hard pressed to find one. When I heard about the new series she was writing for Hardie Grant called Billie B Brown I knew I needed it. I had planned to buy it during our Oz visit next month but Sally beat me to it. A set of Billie B arrived in the mail today. Such happiness! Thanks Sally. I already love them and I know Mads will too.

There are a few other books I need to pick up when in Oz. My sister Hilary's new series, Space Scout, for one. And also Ebony McKenna's book Ondine. My own bookish news is that the first of my Tweenie Genie books has been picked up by a German publisher and will be released, fully-translated and re-illustrated (in a more German style) in Spring 2011. Most exciting and good.

Something Missing

The air traffic in Frankfurt is so constant that you don't notice it most of the time - except maybe on very clear, blue days if you glance up and see the sky completely criss-crossed with contrails. From our dining room window we can see a constant stream of planes - as one leaves the right-hand side another appears at the left. So it was strange looking out the window on Friday morning and not seeing a single plane anywhere. I had a brief moment of claustrophobia, and then I just enjoyed looking at the smooth, perfect sky.

The weekend was fine and we spent most of it outside, in our upstairs neighbour's Schrieber Garten on Saturday and walking to a beer garden in the forest on Sunday. What we kept noticing was the silence - no rumble of planes except for the occasional whirr of a light aircraft.

At the end of our forest day today as we neared the tram there was a familiar noise above - 747 approaching Frankfurt. It looked strangely unfamiliar and wrong.

We enjoyed the quiet and the perfect blue skies for three days - but at the same time I am hoping we will have no troubles getting to Australia in early May.