Well, whatever it’s called, I like it! But feel free to lodge any complaints in the usual place.
Remember that poor, homeless block of paper which has been languishing
in a refugee camp on my appropriated dining table? Very soon, its housing application having been granted last week, the Fabriano Rosapina will have its very own home!
What started life as the door from laundry to back deck has been cut down (exposed for years to the weather, it had developed creeping rot) and The Man is re-fashioning it and some scrap timber to become a paper storage box. Yes, a cabinet of drawers would have been wonderful, but where the bejeezlehoop would I put such a beast?
And the resident carpenter has been busy today…
the carport floor
Castors will be screwed to the base so that the “box” can be rolled away under the spare bed. Anyone care to place a bet on the cats thinking it’s just their plaything….
A neat little segue to my early foray into the book-making world…long before I began making artist books I made the other kind of book.
New Zealanders do love a little flutter! And in the years just after the war ( WW II, that is) despite the hard times and scant money, people loved the races. Horses, mainly, but greyhounds had a niche, especially among the working class.
I used to spend holidays with relatives in a predominantly coal mining town and several miners had greyhounds. My cousin and I used to hang around with a neighbour who’d let us walk his two dogs and on race days he’d take us down to the track.
In those days there was no formal (read: legal) betting system. That didn’t stop P. and me from running a modest book! Penny-ante stuff, but we usually made a bob or two.
Winning sixpence or sometimes more was good, but what I really loved was watching those dogs run. Sadly, I have no photos from those days. But I think Google might oblige… and here’s a link to the adoption group.
image from http://www.greyhoundsafetynet.org