What Home Looks Like

I don’t have proper photos yet, but thought I’d show you a few of these, just so you get the idea.

This is the dining table. What you can’t see is that it’s a 100 year old cast iron hospital table/writing desk. Adjustable enough so I can write at it sitting or standing. And it tilts to become a writing slope.
I had to put a new top on it, which is actually a single piece of Australian Red Cedar, my favourite timber, just edging out oregon. This piece of timber is really old too, salvaged from an ancient piece of broken furniture. The armrest under the window is the same timber.
Yes, that granny blanket draped over the seat is mine. Yes, I’m comfortable with that. It reminds me of my grandmothers. And that mess you see top left is usually hidden under the lounge cushions.

This next pic is looking to the rear of the bus The lounge cushions, for some reason, are up against the back windows.
The cupboard over the bed is where I keep my clothes, it’s Australian Red Cedar, and was a bugger to build there.
The doors are off a 1940s Tasmanian oak kitchen dresser. It was my favourite piece of furniture. Many photos of my kids have that dresser in the background, then it was damaged while in storage.
So I took off the doors, used the bottom doors on the cupboard under the lounge, and these doors here.. they’re leadlight with concave glass, and beautiful handmade workmanship from the 1940s. And they still have the beautiful original hinges.
The lamp at the left is a bit of Aussie history, a highly collectable Planet Lamp from Bellingen NSW. Ms iSkirt found it for a dollar at a garage sale, and gave it to me for the bus instead of selling it for hundreds of dollars. So maybe I’ll let her come with me when I travel around Australia. I might even let her sleep in my bed sometimes. If she behaves.

Below is what I see above me when I wake up in the morning. I’m no cabinet maker, but there’s something so satisfying about having made something beautiful that works. It’s a tiny home, but it’s comfortable, and it’s beautiful, at least in my eyes.
Any home is ok, a roof over your head is better than none. But an ordinary house compared to building something you love is like a churned out ebook compared to a beautiful hardcover book someone loved so much it had to be a work of art in itself.

An oregon book case, a big wide opening side door at the foot of the bed, lots of sunshine, bare feet and a borrowed dog. Does it get any better than this?

This is the first meal I cooked after connecting the gas. Mmmm… sausage, egg and mushrooms.
It shows the very modern 3 burner gas cooker and sink, with its glass top raised into the splashback position.
It also shows the oregon bench top, made from two really old painters planks. Pity you can’t see it properly, it’s really something.
And if you look bottom right, you can see a little bit of one of the 1911 hand carved Kauri Pine cupboard doors. Lousy photo of something beautiful. I gotta get some decent photos.
And at the top you can see a tiny bit of the hand carved Australian red cedar I salvaged from a broken chaise lounge.

Here’s a close up of the oregon bench top. Too close to see how beautiful the grain is, but hey, it has the remains of one of the bullets my old man threw into the fire when I last visited him.

And here’s what happens when some madman throws bullets into the fire, if you’re lucky. Yeah, I still have my eyes and all my genitalia. I was lucky.

So, that’ll do for now.
As you can see, it was originally a school bus. I moved some letters a bit, and added UN in front. From a distance it looks like COOL BUS, then as I get close people see the UN.
I did that for a joke with my kids, but plenty of people seem to get enjoyment from it, so I left it. So there it is.
My UnCool bus, seen here parked beside a pretty little creek. The best home I’ve ever lived in, and a work in progress.

What Faces Look Like

Ok ladies, here he is.
Actually, he’s a girl puppy, and that’s an ugg boot, and my very beautiful daughter would be horrified to see this pic on here, sans makeup, and seriously needing to stand a lot closer to a hairbrush.
And her name is Scruffy. Not my daughter, the dog. Thank goodness for punctuation. ( Not my daughter the dog? )
Actually my daughter calls her Sooky, but I call her Scruffy, and so do the ladies in every opshop between Tuncurry and Urunga, but that’s another story. Anyway, give me your favourite punctuation mistake.
Maybe I should have said “your most colourful punctuation mistake”, then all you Americans would have thought I’d made TWO spelling mistakes, but that’s another story too. So many stories… someone should write some of them…

What Life Looks Like

Chook struts to waterbowl, pauses, looks at water… head turns half away… Moves off… pecks at nothing, feigns another peck, pecks again…
Man watches all through shadecloth screened dunny door, sees iron lacework, recently invented shadecloth, lazy stillness of spring… he shits…. Feels time stretched all ways… life moves… somewhere…