Still in Cairo but no idea where. I like it though because it’s kind of Art Deco.
The Ivan Franko was a Russian cruise ship built in Germany in 1964. It was named after the Ukranian poet of the same name. There were five ships built and named after Russian authors). That’s my grandmother on the right with two other ladies looking pretty happy about getting on it and it would have been pretty flash because this was in 1964 so it was brand spanking new. It used to cruise between Odessa in the Ukraine and Kingstown in Saint Vincent and the Grenadines (which is somewhere in the Caribbean Sea).
It was scrapped in 1997.
Jason was one of our dogs. That is definitely not his tail so there must be a cat lying behind him. I took this photo with my little olympus pen about, oh wow, 38 years ago. Lolling at the look on his face.
Jason was the son of Nellie, one of our good old working dogs who was well loved by all the family. She was run over one day out on the road running behind dad on the tractor. She swerved out and was hit by a car coming the other direction. Freak accident really as hardly anyone travelled that road except the few farmers who lived on it. I remember Emjay was so angry and upset at Dad about it but he must have been heartbroken himself.
At the time Jason must have only been a week or so old – Mum spoke to the vet and was told that there was no way he could survive, he was still just so new. But Mum took him under her wing and fed him with a baby bottle with a tiny teat and he survived. He was bitten by a brown snake a few years later but he survived that as well. I was away at a school camp that time and Mum wrote me a letter and told me that it had happened and that he might not survive. (Yes I know you’re wondering how long I was at school camp that I could have time to receive mail, I can’t remember exactly but I do know I also spent time in hospital there with some illness).
Anyway, when Mum would feed Jason she would put on an old dressing gown and as he was sucking on the bottle he would close his eyes and pump his little paws in and out of her tummy in the dressing gown like puppies do to their mummies. We moved house when he was about six years old and when we were cleaning out the laundry Mum found the old dressing gown and she threw it out on the path and we found him there lying on it pumping it.
I think he died of heart worm in the end.
Such funny little characters I’ve had the pleasure of knowing over the years. I had one of those autograph books when he was little and dad wrote in it – To Jane and Jason, I hope they play some. Lol, we did.
Nan and Papa departing on one of their cruises. I don’t know if it’s 1957 or 1964; hard to tell by looking at them because Papa always looked the same age to me from the time I can remember him until the time he died.
That’s him at the front on the right – big tall guy – holding a camera of course. He’s next to the lady in the blue dress and Nan is on his other side wearing the hat.
I always know it’s Spring because the bush orchid my father gave me years ago flowers without fail within the first few days.
He gave it to me in 1996 – in that same pot that it is now exploding out of. It doesn’t ask for anything; Mum tells me they live in the wild and manage without people fussing over them so to leave it be for now but I’m to send her photo’s so she can further analyse the situation and decide if repotting in the future is required.
However I have a fondness for things that are a bit worn and rustic – especially when combined with something perfect and delicate.
I didn’t end up buying a new lounge. I couldn’t be bothered waiting the sixteen weeks to get it and I realised there were a lot of things I’d rather spend my money on. Which is why I’m going shopping this morning to buy some new jeans (to replace the white ones that became mysteriously smaller about the waist).
Shopping for pants is an experience for me that always carries a high risk of failure; I’m some sort of weird body shape that pants makers haven’t developed a pattern for as yet. Slim hipped but sway backed, pot bellied and short legged. Please don’t try to picture that in your mind – it doesn’t look as awful as it sounds but it just makes it hard to find pants that fit. I saw a sewing class once advertised in a shop window called – Pants that Fit! and I was tempted to attend and probably would have if my sewing skills were slightly more advanced than zero.
I also like my pants to be comfortable and basically for me that means I like the waistband to be higher than my bum crack. I like to know I can bend and squat without showing my bum. I’ve reached a difficult clothes buying age it seems; I’m not ready to shop in the more mature lady shops but I’m well past the age of shopping in Supre or any other place where I feel inclined to tell the sales assistant that their music is too loud.
Which is why I should probably stick to buying chairs. I decided to buy a beautiful yellow chair. I like chairs because no one else can sit with you or lean all over you or try and put their feet on you. I also liked this one because it was in stock and I could have it straight away. I also like that it sits under the window and catches the sun all day. I have also (amazingly) taught Chicken Little that she can’t get in it. – although I bet when no one is home she hops straight in.