Housekeepers Carousel

By Alison March 4, 2010 1 Comment 5 Min Read
Welcome to my second Housekeepers Carousel: a quick round-up of all the things that stirring my emotions this week…
*First up, Sulamith Wulfing. When I was a little girl my Mum owned a book called “Childhood” which combined Khalil Gibran quotes with images, like the one above, that at once bewitched me and sent a little shiver running down my childhood spine. The other day while hopping around the internet I came across that same beautiful art all over again, and for a little while I was a girl again, stirred by the beauty but still bewildered by the sorrow in the eyes of the children described.

* Next, music, because I feel like dancing this week. And throwing every window in the house open and saying hello to my chamelia which has finally got around to blooming and wearing a frilly pinny to serenade the mop brush, and having a little cry because relationships are so bloody hard, and seeking comfort in yesterday and worrying a little bit about tomorrow and mostly just playing First Aid’s “Ghost Town”, the first song in the player above, over and over again because the words spike me, then mixing it all up with a whole dose of happy and memories and the kinds of songs one should really only play in the car so no-one need ever discover just how ludicrous you really are. And yes, I am talking about Rupert Holmes “Pina Colada” song. Click the arrows to hear whats on my (eclectic!) playlist this week…

* Watching Vanity Fair with Reece Witherspoon as I write. Eating a tiny lunch of gouda cheese and yellow plums. Considering getting off my bottom to walk to the post office and procure a Cadbury’s cream egg. Waiting for the delivery of The Nine Rooms of Happiness and Keeping the House, because rumour has it, it is some kind of wonderful. But rumour could of course be wrong so I will keep you posted!
* Thrilled by the Joy Junket manifesto. Making room for (even) more joy. Waiting with bated breath for mail order to arrive at Anthropologie.Co.Uk (Any minute now!). Feeling overwhelmed by the possibilities provided by WordPress. Irrationally excited for Cath Kidston. Horrified by the bitterness of Middle England in their reaction to her success. Making this Mark Twain quote my mantra…
“Any so-called material thing that you want is merely a symbol. You want it not for itself, but because it will content your spirit for the moment.”
* And seeing a bit of everyone of us in this snippet I found I don’t know where, (but please feel free to enlighten me if you do)…
” These are the kind of girls who hang dream catchers above their bed, who eat pomegranates and read old history books for fun. These are the kind of girls who take pictures of their hands with disposable cameras and wallpaper their bathrooms with pretty roses. These girls sketch eyes and mouths and little drawings all over things, they look you right in the eye and almost through you when you speak to them.
These girls camp out in their backyards for fun, they light candles everywhere, and if you visit them at home they usually have all sorts of animals. Their wardrobes are filled with silk robes and bows and hats, they drink tall glasses of milk and snack on chocolate while they watch the sun rise. These are the kind of girls who ride bikes through the city to the cinema that plays old movies in the middle of the day. They watch “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” and “Rosemary’s Baby”. These are the kind of girls who are quiet in public. They were the kind of girls who put too many marshmallows in their hot chocolate and when the sun came down, lit the fire and pretended to be in the North Pole. They would water colour things they couldn’t see, and eat French toast for lunch. These girls were the kind of girls who always believed in unicorns, they believed in the power of love and dreams. They were the kind of girls who gazed out of windows at bigger worlds, and rain made them think of faeries and tree houses. In the Summer they read Jane Austen and listened to Fleetwood Mac while sipping cold tomato juice.
They told ghost stories under huge floral sheets, candles glowing beneath their faces. The spooky endings made them scream and laugh. They huddled together so they wouldn’t get too scared. Every sound outside made them jump.”

1 Comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Skip to content