Stuff is happening ....

Why is it, that sometimes I really get on a roll with blogging and posting and uploading photos and commenting and whatnot, and then something happens that takes the wind out of my sails, and thereafter the blogging has to pause a little bit? Why? Why is that?

Stuff is happening right now, you see. Some of it's good stuff, and some of it's bad stuff. And none of it can be discussed right now, but I can say this much: the good definitely outweighs the bad.

Hopefully, I'll be able to reveal all in a few days time. Til then, more sewing and less thinking.

The perfect black coat.

Jeeeeeeeeeeeeez it was cold today! A whole thirteen degrees - thirteen. It was horrible.

I was very glad to be snuggled up in my new wool winter coat. For the last three years I've been searching for the perfect black coat ... something a-line, something with a big collar (or a funnelneck) that I could do up right to the top, because I hate draughts on my neck - something that would protect me against the cold.

I sought it here, I sought it there, I sought the right coat everywhere. But no luck.

Then, on the weekend, after I had nearly turned blue with the shock of being back in wintry Melbourne after the hot and sunny environs of Kununurra, I went into town with determination in my heart, and I found it. There in Anna Thomas, I found it.

At last! The perfect winter coat!

And as I put it on, it was as if the sun came out and shone a ray of realisation down upon me. Understanding dawned. The heavens opened and choirs of angels sang.

The reason I haven't been able to find the perfect black winter coat, is .... (and it's so obvious)...... because I can't stand black. I've never really liked it. I don't wear it well, and I don't have a lot of it in my wardrobe. So every black coat I've tried on has been utterly, fundamentally wrong. At a cellular level.

 I don't know what I was thinking. I mean, there's a place for black clothes, but usually it's not on me. I must have just been suckered into the whole winter = black mentality that pervades so much of Melbourne, especially around the area I live and work in.

So here - happily, rebelliously and defiantly - here is my new, perfect winter coat.

Back in the sewing saddle

Finally, after six weeks apart from each other, my sewing machine and I have been reunited. I missed its needley goodness! I missed its oily little insides! I missed its whirring cogs and wheels, oh yes I did.

We spent some true quality time together over the weekend. I made four cushions, seven new Owl Babies (they're half the size of my usual Hoots), and started a brand new product line of Scarflets. How good is that?

Sewing for the first time in six weeks felt like I was letting out my breath at last, after holding it and holding it and holding it. I nearly went blue with the effort. 

Ahhhhhhh .... insert sigh of contented happiness here. And expect more crafty goodness in the next few weeks, as I madly try to make up for lost time AND stock up for the five markets I have in the next five weeks. Hm, some things change, but some things stay the same, don't they?

The photos here are two of the cushions I made, modelled on my Snugglebaby Cot Quilt style of colourful piecing work - oh, and an Owl Baby. All three are accompanying me tonight to the Carlton Craft Market at Borders bookstore in Lygon St. Come and have a closer look, if you feel like dropping in to say hi and inspecting my new-found tan........

Melbourne, I heart you!

Seriously, is there anything better than coming home after a long time away?

 I love seeing that autumn fell while I was gone, all the trees have lost their leaves and the streets look completely different. I love that there's a nip in the air that bites my cheeks and that I'm wearing long sleeves for the first time in six weeks. I love that I can have a cup of tea and not die from heat exposure. I love that my house is warm and cosy and that walking into it feels like walking into a big, comfortable hug.

I especially love coming home to packages. Packages totally rock, especially when they're from my mum and they have presents inside. Presents! More mittens! A jumper for the stall! And a kiddies' cardie!

And something else - I present (ha! ha!) to you the second half of my birthday twinset.

I am rapt with this cardigan, it is wonderful and the perfect complement to my short-sleeved top which arrived before I left for the top end of Australia (and which I have consequently not even worn once).

And Grimth clearly approves of it as well.

I had put it down for less than ten seconds when he arrived, like some sort of supersonic-twinset-sensing-machine - he truly can smell cuddliness at a hundred paces, that animal - and he took up residence immediately. As is his natural right, of course.

Erm, Grimth, that's MINE, and I do NOT appreciate you furring it up for me before I've even worn it! Humph.

Goodbye Broome

And now, all too quickly, it's time to farewell Broome as well.

Things always look different on the last day in town. They appear through a different lens, almost as though I've left already - they're at arms length, and no longer "there" as part of my experience. It's when I'm no longer engaged in what's happening, but observing it instead..

I celebrated my visit with the time-honoured tradition of a camel caravanserai along Cable Beach. Here's my camel, whose name is Mission. We wandered up and down the beach together .... and I've just realised I've been here three days and I still haven't swum in the ocean. Is that bad?

One thing I did do was buy pearls, as one should when in Broome - mind you, let me qualify that: I found the tiniest little seed pearl earrings I could. But now I can proudly say I own pearls from Paspaley, and it's true!

Home to Melbourne now, to the cold and the wet, and to autumn which will have fallen while I was away. Home to the lovely pussins, who will hopefully remember me, and to the Amateur Actress.

Home to my job; which feels a lifetime away from where I am now.

Kicking back(packers) in Broome

So here I am in Broome for a few days of rest and relaxation before heading back to Melbourne. Beaches, coconut palms, pure white sand - perfect.

My first impressions are that it's flat - very, very flat. Broome sits right on the edge of the coast; it's basically a sandy outreach between the sea and the salt pans. The dirt is incredibly red, and the water of the Indian Ocean is an astonishing turquoise, kind of aquamarine colour - I've never seen anything like it. It's truly the stuff that postcards are made of.

Broome is also windy - which is novel, after Kununurra which most definitely wasn't. Kununurra is meant to get one wet day in the month of May, and at last count I think we had at least eighteen, which is some sort of record. It certainly wasn't the weather I was expecting .... I wanted a month of sun! Not a month of persistent rain, the kind of rain that Melbourne hasn't seen for years. And it was  rain combined with heat, too, so everything just sweltered, and the landscape developed this kind of wet and tropical smell, of things gently rotting. And on the days that weren't raining, the air just hung there - sodden with humidity, moist and enervating - what I would have given for a sea breeze like the ones here in Broome, to sweep it all away.

Broome is also positively infested with backpackers - in the very short time I've been here I've heard more European accents than I can count. There are Aboriginal faces too, but locals of all kinds are greatly outnumbered by the tourists. There are tourists in Kununurra as well, but while I was there they were mainly of the grey nomad variety - older Australians, and fewer overseas visitors. Here in Broome, everyone is 21 years old, long-limbed and tanned, and European. It feels a bit like I'm in Ibiza. Broome ordinarily has a population of around 16,000 static citizens, but in the tourist season - which started yesterday - it swells to around 48,000. I wonder how the locals feel about that? Tourism can be both a blessing and a curse.

Tonight I'm off to the Sun Cinema, Australia's oldest outdoor picture theatre, and I'm going to see Bran Nue Day, the Aboriginal musical with Jessica Mauboy in it.

Did you know it was filmed in Broome? And there's even a scene at the cinema itself - so it feels like the best place in the world to watch it.