high up in the trees

owl skins & new things

{Olive guards her cds.}

{An extended parliament.}

It's been a week of many, varied things... from playing billiards (admittedly rather badly) on a tournament billiard table of giant proportions for the very first time (and after a healthy serve of ribbon sandwiches) to peeling turnip after turnip (and sometimes alternating with a swede after thick bulbous swede) for pot after pot of hot Winter soup.

Culinary highlights also included, a rare big breaky treat of fruit pancakes ensuring LJ & I managed to eat breaky meets lunch before the clock struck 2pm. Recent night owl tendencies have thrown the normal menu out of balance... we've been tinkering, toiling, weaving and working on a batch of hammer & daisy owl pinnies, stuffing the tricky little skins to the tune of "I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice-cream!" as Tom Waits, John Lurie and Roberto Benigni share a New Orleans jail cell in Down By Law. Stuffing a box of fifty or so owl skins resembling a forlorn troupe of finger puppets longing for guts, has become a routine night-time activity. Equipt with one of Granny's size 5 knitting needles, I push and mould the stuffing into their little ear pockets until it's time to saunter off to sleep. Every once in a while, as with the previously mentioned turnip swede shuffle, I alternate an evening at the owl factory with a spot of journal making. A new pile of A5 and A6 size journals in need of knotting has kept the local chemist in business... wrapping each finger in three or more band-aids to cushion them as I knot the exposed spine churns through a box quickly. My right index finger now has a permanent crease and a muscly disposition (in comparison to the left).

{Bigness.}

{Filling the tank at M&D's place.}

New furry friends are also in the neighbourhood, Pricilla the Chinchilla (from several houses along) has wandered down to say hello once or twice, temporarily casting aside her aloof ways in order to rub my shins with her scrunched up nose and brush her whitish grey feather duster of a tail against my legs, for a serve of biscuits. Our neighbour too, convinced our good animal deeds will see us first in line at the pearly gates, is also minding a blue heeler kelpie cross for a spell.. the dog sniffs at us through the gaps in the fence as the local cats sit up high on the roof surveying his every move.

So, here is a somewhat thin Five Senses Friday for you to sink your teeth into... and feel free to add any of your own in the comment section too.

to see:
An overwhelmingly large plate of sugary berries and pears completely covering a pile of pancakes.
Anticipating seeing New Orleans Music In Exile, as part of the Melbourne International Film Festival.
Watching a team of Smooth-coated otters fend off a giant Mugger crocodile in another beautiful episode of Planet Earth, Fresh Water. (Extra otter bits: Otters on Mt.Kailash in The Hindu online newspaper... and featured here on the Friday Animal.)
Rediscovering behind the bookshelf a fallen postcard of Wim Wenders Lounge Painting #2, Gila bend, Arizona, 1983... Five chairs "involved in deep conversation amongst themselves".

to hear:
A favourite potted succulent takes a tumble as Misha jumps up on the window ledge by the computer to rub her whiskery chin against the glass.
LJ folding, scoring, splicing and cutting her way through an ever growing mountain of paper. (Glean a little more here.)
The soundtrack to Gadjo Dilo - un film de Tony Gatliff, on the ipod as I cut fabric.

to feel:
The warm Winter sun on my mat - scoring one of two sunny spots in yoga.
Relief - at not gouging a hole in the Billiard table cloth due to not being the natural, first time expert player I'd secretly hoped I'd be. This is not how I looked, however I did attempt to strike a pose similar to the lady in the pink dress... in doing so, I think I elicited a laugh from the casual onlookers. (Waste a little time playing online here...).
The sticky residue on my hands after removing the many band-aids from my fingers and thumbs.
Guilt - at not joining Dad for a post birthday beer at Hound Dogs Bop Shop over the weekend.
Frustration - at writing emails and postings fluently in my head whenever a pen is not at the ready.

to smell:
The burnt smell of an escapee red lentil falling onto the hot plate on the stove overpowering the smell of the hot soup bubbling and simmering.
The smell of citrus and mineral turps in my Mum's studio.

to taste:
Fresh black licorice - my weakness.
Ripe mandarins - still a favourite.
And of course, the last slice of white chocolate mud cake.

Happy weekend all!

{Please meet a Ooldea Dunnart, Sminthopsis ooldea, in jailbreak stripes. Little is known about this particular species.}

in the treetops

For all the round bellied possums... and for all the sparkly chested hummingbirds - this post is for you.

A family of active, chubby little brushtail possums live in the overgrown canopy of our two red and pink flowering bottle brush trees. High up in the tangle of dead jasmine vines which join these closely planted trees together, they reside, happily feasting off our scraps of stale bread, old apples and slightly mouldy oranges. I'm enamoured with their little pink noses and large ears. With the wonderful sense of play they approach each snack with. With their swinging prowess and their tiny claws. And those little shiny, black beady eyes. Magnificent.

We've only ever seen three, and are on familiar terms with the papa possum. He comes up to the backdoor to inform us that the bird feeder, suspended from the white flowering hibiscus from which they feast, is empty, and the cat bowls too. It is not unusual to find me topping up this hanging smorgasbord of possum treats at the witching hour in order to keep the peace, even though I know you are not meant to feed them. It all began somewhat accidentally when the possums started to nibble on what little the sparrows, pigeons and blackbirds left behind in the feeder. Now, in the morning, all that remains are a few rogue orange skins flung on the bricks below, any remnant of flesh sucked, chewed and chiselled off. Since we've taken up this occasional feeding, they've let the potted succulents be... and no one, ourselves included, will touch the fruit from the stubby, curly leafed grapefruit tree. Each small harvest we lament the purchasing of the grapefruit which only yields tiny, sour green produce... if only we'd planted an orange tree.

{The Hummingbird Case, Melbourne Museum}

A recent trip to the Museum afforded me a further peek at possum lovelies and their furry friends, as well as several fine, colourful mushroom displays and a Hawaiian detour, resort wear from the "golden age of aloha wear". Of the vintage Hawaiian costumes, I've narrowed it down to my favourite two... one "designed exclusively for Valerie's Surf Shoppe out of rayon, a green sarong dress with matching bolero, oriental print featuring kimono clad men & women meeting by the water's edge with surrounding pagodas, bridges, weeping willows, lotus flowers and floating junks". And the second, a white label Alfred Shaheen brown cotton "Bird of Paradise Border print strapless sarong dress with detachable stole, with a background Tapa print with gold screen print overlay"... whilst I'm not sure these descriptions do either justice, neither do my yellow photographs.

A detour through the Living Forest before reaching my favourite display, a beautiful freestanding black display case with a central branch seemingly buzzing and flapping with the movement of over 200 hummingbirds of all different varieties. Each one has been wired in place, mid flight, swooping, diving... wings extended, sequin like chest glittering in the half light. I manage to take a few sneaky photos of the one thing I never tire of seeing, I'd happily take it off their hands if only they offered. They can keep their giant tortoise shells and wasp wings from the Andes... all I want is this.

Leaving the Museum and walking through the Fitzroy Gardens, we were lucky enough to discover several recently cut, large tree branches. We selected the mossiest and curliest of the branches and hastily carried them back to the car... for reasons to be revealed late August. The cats are now busily giving these various tree parts the once over... tree branches which no doubt many a possum has scampered over.

Follow your own possum trail...
Wear your possum - clothing from NZ, where the Australian Brushtail is an introduced pest.
Which possum is that in my garden?
A new species of Mountain Brushtail Possum is discovered.
Learn to love your possum neighbour.

A favourite hummingbird myth of mine, that each year they migrate across great bodies of water by hitching rides on the backs of geese. Find your own Hummingbird titbits...
The Hummingbird Limited - from the Museum of Yo-Yo History.
A Sword-billed Hummingbird from Colombia, 1886.
A pair of 30 million year old Hummingbird fossils are discovered.
Anna's Hummingbird - Tucson Botanical Garden, Arizona.
A female Ruby-throated Hummingbird and friend.

{A Squirrel Glider with pearl-grey underparts, this little chap is mostly silent.}

{A Long-tailed Pygmy Possum, he shelters in a spherical nest of leaves in a tree hollow or sheltered cranny.}

hooray!

Today is my Dad's 63rd birthday (hip, hip, hooray!)... so in honour of this, here is a short, frightfully short, largely visual summary of the many sugary, iced and dusted cakes that have graced the table and whetted our appetite for sweet festive birthday treats over the years.

To all those celebration cakes... thank-you for making my teeth 'zing' with too much sugar. Thank-you for inducing a sweet buzz... and thank-you for the post sugar blues (of which I am anticipating the arrival of, any moment now).

There, I warned you it would be brief...

Happy weekend all, and should it be your birthday today - Happy Birthday to you too!

coral & snail mail

This is where I'd rather be today... wearing an oversized pair of yellow goggles and swimming in the ocean. Skimming the clear blue surface, eyes peeled for beautiful coral as brightly coloured fish duck and weave in-between my limbs. A holiday in Port Douglas, snorkeling at the Great Barrier Reef one warm day in 2003, is just where I'd like to be today. Bobbing up and down in the water, adjusting my goggles so they perform their function... I'd give (almost) anything to be dipped in this moment today. On our fridge, held in place by an old 2005 Hawthorn Footy Club fixture in magnet form, is a photo of L & I, in our goggles with salt water curled hair. It's covered in a fine film of cooking grease, and is beginning to curl at the corners. Taken with a cheap underwater camera purchased from a dinky little touristy shoppe... it greets me every time I reach into the fridge to grab another carrot to chop up and fling in the pot of simmering soup on the stove. As friends E & P enjoy a rare holiday at this very place, I think I'd like to be there too.

Today my travel experience comes in the form of a beautiful and unexpected brown envelope of mailart from Frips in Belgium, An envelope heavy with a Lambert Lombard (1506-1566) painting on a 0,65 stamp, several 0,005 stamps of a yellow and black faced Cirl Bunting and a trio of hand-drawn geese on the 0,46 stamp. Jostling for space too, are several sourced images of swimming fish and reproduced copies of relief prints. Inside, several postcards for us to "add to and return...thanks, frips", one each... and a little collection of images held together by a blue strip of paper, some bearing a now familiar fragment of a relief print, some are dated "30 JUN 2006"... on others, a curled up fat cat in red ink, also stamped with www.frips.be and "no meat! today" in a variety of green and red inks.

What about croxhapox? Curious? Copy on and pass... Send your own snail mail only collage or "poetry - sound - video - photo - drawing - painting" to:
croxhapox/frips
Halvemaanstraat 113
9040 Gent
Belgium

So, today after my imagined dip in the briny deep with an ill-fitting breathing apparatus and a baggy t-shirt as per slip, slop, slap, I think I'll continue the chain of mailart, dig out my large box of hoarded potential source material and sit crosslegged on the floor, to create a few new croxhapox inspired works. Two collaborations in the one week - on my!

{A Brown Rat - an excellent swimmer and diver, he swims with his tail held out for balance.}

{A Water vole - often mistaken for rat, however they have rounder bodies and little hairy tails. Ratty of The Wind in the Willows was actually one of these little guys.}

Who went into the woods - a collaborative mushroom project

Who went into the woods... we three did. A collaborative mushroom project initiated by Shari via an emailed photograph of a beautiful, luminous white mushroom... a mushroom in need of a feathered or furred friend... to LJ & I, not too long ago.

So, here today, are the results of our little mushroom exchange, billed as a forthcoming secret collaboration late last week on the glass doorknob. Posted simultaneously, 10am Monday our time (Melbourne) and 8pm Sunday in North Carolina. Follow the mushroom trail from wherever you have entered to the glass doorknob and elsewhere and back again to find our many mushroom creations, collages and drawings. You'll find an Australian blushing Sugar Glider peering out from behind a mushroom and a rosy cheeked Emperor Goose en route to Kamchatka along the way. A little bit of Choose Your Own Adventure madness to start your week (NB:The Mystery of Chimney Rock by Edward Packard was one of my favourites, exploring a supposedly cursed house said to be occupied by the cat of a dead woman).

Inspired by a singular mushroom - a blushing Eastern Pygmy Possum from Australia scampers in search of a new home, before settling into a watercoloured landscape by James Faed of Loch Neldricken, Scotland... (please click to enlarge).

Since receiving Shari's mushroom photo, I've been exploring various fungus forums and sites created by those devoted wholeheartedly to the science of mycology... Mushroom Cultivator, Funguscaping (landscaping with mushrooms), Spawn Or Grow, Shitake Showdown, The Secret Lives of Spore-Bearing Plants and even the delightfully off the track Truffle Trees Inc. in my search for mushy facts and delights. Some fine specimens I stumbled across which you may wish to peruse at a later date, should this collaboration have sparked an interest to pursue all things mushroomy:
Omphalotus olivascens - Jack-O-Lantern
Galerina autumnalis
Chromosera cyanophylla
Sarcoscypha coccinea - Scarlet Cup
Amanita muscaria
Amanita citrina
Calocera viscosa
Colour Plate XIII: Russula Emetica (Poisonous)
Colour Plate 1: The Deadly "Amanita"
(From: Mushrooms, Fungi & Mycology)

I've also been plumbing the depths of my childhood books to find further evidence of what occurs to those who have the misfortune to step inside a fairy ring of mushrooms, with a toadstool throne for the King. And along the way I've been reintroduced to characters such as Tinsel, who has an office inside a spotted toadstool, and Bella the Witch who sleeps beneath a blanket of baby possums nestled on top of her, rising and falling with every breath she takes... and to goblins who paint the leaves and berries in Autumnal tones come the end of Summer, thanks to Peg Maltby's written and illustrated Peg's Fairy Book. I'd all but forgotten "that a tiny pair of golden slippers is to be found at the foot of the rainbow" (Goblin Market, Peg's Fairy Book, originally published 1944). I've been well and truly sidetracked by this topic... and now am in need of finding my own comfy mushroom to slumber upon, a little like this one (A Midsummer Night's Dream, a postcard by William Barribal, originally created as an advertising commission for Schweppes).

Enjoy your journey!
{collaborative mushroom project on flickr here...}

five overseas senses

{all the way from durham}

{moroccan mint tea awaits}

Time once more to swing the old lasso around the five senses, which this week have a distinct stars and stripes theme to them owing to a brown parcel all the way from Durham, North Carolina. A parcel from Shari arrived on our doorstep mid week, sent via a convoy of snails and sea pigeons from her neck of the woods to our little corner of the world. A big brown box full of none other than friday five senses.

The folk at Customs clearly had a field day with this brown package of potentially 'suspicious' items that go bump in the night. A yellow sticker marked "Quarantine Matters! Opened for Inspection" plastered on the outside and a handy DL sized flyer on the inside listing some of the many prohibited items from birds' nests, Christmas decorations containing bark, moss and other plant material through to mooncakes containing eggs. The 2lbs of Crook's Corner Grits, all the way from Chapel Hill must have looked too suspicious a package to pass up... and they clearly fancied the soft expanding foam Farm Animal Capsules to be of an equally shifty nature. Both packages have been neatly prized open and inspected before being taped back up again... which leads me nicely to touch.

to touch:
Magic Farm Animals contained in clear plastic capsules. Eight soft expanding foam capsules in the three primary colours, plus a token secondary (forest green) await a glass of warm water and a dose of curiosity to bring them back to life. Thus far we've each popped one capsule into a glass of water, Louise picked yellow and I opted for a red one. Dipping my finger in the glass and poking my slowly dissolving capsule with my left hand as the right hand holds the camera... waiting to see what our animals will be.

A few moments later and voilà - Louise's yellow pill of condensed foam has been magically transformed into a crowing rooster and my ruby red dream issued forth a dancing rabbit. Had Louise of been born in the Chinese year of the Rooster it would have been perfect pairing. My little red rabbit, now drying out, capable of showing both his left and right profile, though rarely at the one time, and able to dance to the East or head to the West, sits watching over the room. He's flat and flipable, reversible and adaptable... and I've named him Bertie.

{animals take form, if you please}

{animals appear}

to taste:
The dissolvable Farm Animals capsule, or lumpy remnants of, at the bottom of the glass I later, after not rinsing properly, drink from. A gluey sediment at the bottom of the glass.

Grits from the wonderfully named Crook's Corner... in a white paper packet too good to open. (Is there really such a place as Crook's Corner and do you have to keep your hands firmly gripped around your wallet?). The recipe for Boiled Grits, Old-fashioned Creamy Grits, Cheese Grits and Shrimp & Grits on the reverse side covers any concerns, accompanied by a handwritten note recommending the cheesy option. Paula too, has recently received a generous delivery of Grits from Shari.

to hear:
A cd of mixed tunes wrapped in nothing less than Russian seafarer finery, is also contained within the box which appears to have no bottom... it's proving to be something of a never ending magic pudding of a parcel. We pop the disc on (including three homegrown tracks ♥) and make plans to make a concertina journal out of the striped fabric.

to smell:
Teas from Chapel Hill... ahh, feels just like travelling via this little brown box. 2oz of Ginger and a further two of Moroccan Mint (gunpowder green tea and peppermint leaves). The unopened packets alone fill the room with their fragrance before the kettle has even begun to boil.

to see:
Handwritten words on a handmade port2port card with two turquoise butterflies for company.

The arrival of a package from overseas, bringing with it all the excitement of travel... even if it's only the prospect of travel. For now it's time to stretch out on the floor for a spot of 'armchair travelling' thanks to the above described, most generous, pirates haul, and via another episode of Planet Earth. (Last weeks scene of a baby elephant separated from its herd by a dust storm in the Kalahari was heartbreaking... seeing him find and follow his mothers footprints in the wrong direction, back into the desert and away from water and the others.)...

Happy travels all, wherever that my be to... and thanks again Shari! Louise has a visual response to your package coming up shortly as well.

{rufous spiny bandicoot}

{common striped possum}

Summon your own little patch of blue sky

{miss olive}

{housewarming with burnt tunes & paper rodents}

A patch of blue sky amongst the rain clouds today... leafing through four days worth of papers from Saturday onwards, spread out on a grey rug from the local Army Disposals store, a mug of coffee full to the brim beside me. As the rain falls, I remain dry and toasty indoors, only venturing out earlier to collect the post, put out the recycling bin and rearrange some terracotta pots on the windowsill so that Misha can now comfortably prop there. Two whiskery companions to my left and right curled up like little balls with their bellies pointed up to the heavens... it's proving to be a luckier day than the previous few:
A cinnamon tea cake which remained firmly adhered to the cake tin (due in short to improvising 'unsuccessfully' without the aid of grease proof paper)...
Which was followed by an overly syrupy batch of Anzac biscuits (which required several extra teaspoons of syrup to bind the 'failed' and crumbly mixture - happy housewarming Miss C)...
Missing the World Cup due to muddling up my dates (3am Monday as opposed to 3am Tuesday, which incidentally, if you're curious is, after a Temporary Close on SBS, the riveting Weather Watch And Music). Perhaps if I'd read the papers on their allotted days, or we'd driven home late Sunday evening via Lygon Street, we'd have clicked, the penny would have dropped firmly in the place where pennies drop, in that elusive place everyone else has long since understood. It wasn't until we were half way to yoga on the Monday morning that we realised... a car pulls up alongside us at the lights, a large Italian flag proudly streaming from its window... and then the announcement on the radio (damn!).

{new hammer & daisy owl pinnies take shape}

{kitchen bloopers}

So rain on good luck... for tomorrow it's off to see The Mai Tai Malihinis present Souvenirs from Paradise, a collection of Women's Hawaiian Fashion from the 40's & 50's, and Time Goes By: Rebecca Horn in between all my Wednesday toing and froing.

Summon your own little patch of blue sky...
Look to the moon when she is round,
Luck with you shall then abound;
What you seek for shall be found,
In sea or sky or solid ground.

If it's too overcast or polluted in your neck of the woods for you to catch sight of the luminous moon above, you'd best hope you catch sight of a white horse instead... "Good luck to me, Good luck to everyone I see". Or, do as the Romani do, carry bread in your pocket for protection against bad luck... though be careful not to disturb any Sparrows eggs while you're at it... that's mighty unlucky.
(Thanks Shari, my mind has been on superstitions and lucky amulets all day long).

{a nocturnal common planigale & a pygmy mouse no bigger than your thumb}

{a fawn antechinus who lives in a tall open forest in monsoonal tropics}

(Psst, new A7 scribblers have arrived to our online store... plus seven new debris bags which seem to fly out of our hands faster than we can whip them up.)

five (slightly soggy) friday senses

to hear:
The sound of the knife struggling to cut through a wilted head of broccoli, which is being cut up into handy bite size pieces for our resident possum.

The squeaking background noise of the recently repaired vulcan gas wall furnace. Since its repair, it wheezes, whines, creaks and groans with varying degrees of loudness. At best, it sounds like a whisper in your ear as you sit before it to read the papers. At worst, it sounds as though a chorus of chihuahuas are yapping behind its metal grill... waiting to burst into the room. It's in danger of sending us (possibly, further) round the twist and has become the sole focus of many a conversation: "Can you hear that?... What's that noise?... What is... Is that... Misha meowing at the window? What is that squeak?". If it proceeds any further we'll never know because we'll have bored ourselves into a deep slumber as the conversation languishes. Our constant referencing of the giant vulcan has become ridiculous... and has us questioning its namesake. So far we've failed to be reminded of Vulcan, god of fire and volcanoes.

The sound of claws sharpening on the flywire screen outside our window. Misha has recently discovered that if she jumps onto the windowsill she can simultaneously peer in at us whilst sharpening her talons on the screen. This click, clack, thwock, click, scratching blends almost seamlessly with the whoosh, whiz, squeak, yap and whistle of the vulcan. Just another tranquil early evening of sounds.

to smell:
Kitchen aromas filling the house... coffee brewing, toast browning and a pot of vegetable soup simmering on the stove.

The delectable fragrance of Peru Balsalm and Rosewood hand cream.

The slightly singed smell of washing too close to the bar heater. Two pairs of socks arranged neatly like sausages on a grill, are now as stiff as wooden boards. Tiny white remnants of soap around the toes adding to the overall effect.

The unfortunate, sour smell of dog wee on the front door greets me as I step out in the morning. Clearly a prolific clump of dogbane growing a stones throw from the door is proving to be a tremendously ineffective canine deterrent.

to taste:
Enjoying fruit toast with S for lunch at a little cafe by the name of Palomino in Northcote. L opted for a free range boiled egg on sourdough, served in a cute white egg cup with three cherubs beneath it struggling to hold up the egg... and S, grilled roast pumpkin on toast. Sitting in a sunny spot by the window until it was time to part ways.

The last serve of Cafe Du Monde beignets made up and promptly polished off after a Saturday morning yoga class full of cobras, dogs, tigers, bows, holy fig trees and planks.

to see:
Eagerly anticipating seeing C's new 2nd floor flat this weekend as well as driving down the coast to meet and greet some of LW's many animals and other works as part of Selected Works 1990-2006 at the McClelland Gallery.

The first patch of snowbells have reared their heads in the backgarden beds and other bulbs are beginning to follow suit. The green tops of hyacinths, jonquils and daffodils pushing up through the soil.

to feel:
The feel... hmm... of matchsticks propping my eyelids open as I watch the 5am soccer match, Portugal vs. France. The inevitable snap of said matchsticks as I fall asleep in the second half.

Slowly changing all the light bulbs in the house over to more energy efficient ones and enjoying the 'do good' buzz.

The damp coats of the neighbourhood cats as they brush past wet garden foliage in order to be first on the veranda and thereby first in line for a spoonful of cat biscuits.

Pins and needles in my right arm, the result of stubbornly refusing to reposition myself whilst lying on the floor reading Andrey Kurkov's The Case of the General's Thumb.

Reaching over Omar to type on the computer, his furry rump placed in-between myself and the keys... ensuring I have to pat him with every word.

Tearing down large sheets of paper for small scale drawings... which resulted in...

{Please meet - a House Mouse of the world... a nectar and pollen loving Honey Possum... and a critically endangered Gilbert's Potoroo.}

pointe shoes & pointy snouts

After pouring over old family photos last week, I've since moved on to three dimensional objects, pulling out all my old pointe shoes from the cupboard... reminiscing over ballet classes and examinations long ago. If I live anymore in the past, I'm in danger of never quite catching up.

My favourite pair, the second last pair I owned, are frayed at the toe... the pale pink satin transformed a dirty grey through use and on the inside, rusty brown blood stains. The ribbons too, are stained. They have become yellow from liberal doses of hairspray used to fasten knots in place, and are now stiff to touch. Lambs wool moulded to the shape of my toes can be found in the most recent pair, a vague attempt to cushion my toes and accompanying blisters, to prevent them from rubbing. The distinct, though faint smell of resin on the block intrigues Olive. Her nose twitches overtime as she investigates the many treasures pulled from the deep, dark depths of the cupboard. The most recent pair still fit me, so I try them on barefoot... they look ridiculous with my pyjama pants.

Since gushing over photos of my parents old MG motorcar, which we can't figure out from the red covered Maintenance Manual and Instruction Book if it's a series YA (1947-1951) or a YB (1951-1953), I've also unearthed that in the days prior to my arrival on the scene, my Dad used to get about in an Austin Healey Sprite. If only both had been conveniently stored on bricks in a garage... who knows, perhaps I may even have learnt to drive had these two numbers been waiting in the wings for me. However, after a quick glance over the List of Contents... Jackall Hydraulic System, General Instructions for the Fitting of Oil Seals, even a whole chapter devoted to Special Tools... perhaps it's a good thing. I wouldn't know what to do with a Jackall and an Oily Seal if I were ever to meet one face to face.

Aside from the red manual and an appearance in the family album, the only physical memento of the MG is the black start up button which needed replacing. And, as with the pointe shoes, it too looks odd and out of place in the house today. An ineffective black start up button lost without its car body.

New Australian mammals to slowly start the week... who would no doubt fancy the recent harvest of mandarins from the tree. The mandarins, with their green stalks and leaves, are ripening in a bowl, tempting us with their almost ripe skins. Small, homegrown treats which any Pygmy Glider and a Long-nosed Potoroo would enjoy.

{Please meet - a Pygmy Glider, sans whiskers, who uses his bristled tail as a rudder... and a Long-nosed Potoroo fond of eating underground fungi, tubers, soil arthropods, some seeds, fruits and green vegetation in general.}

Psst... just incase you missed it, a mouse riding upon the back of a frog in floodwaters in Lucknow, India here.