THE GRANDFATHER CHAIR

It sat in the corner of the girl’s room. A dilapidated wreck really: a large old leather chair.

"You like old things, Don't you?" was my father’s question. He had decided on the answer already.

His mother’s eldest sister had given the chair to my mother and him. The chair along with the mattress on the floor and the baby bassinet that carried my oldest brother the only furniture my parents had when they first moved into our old home. Perhaps that the chair go to the eldest grand niece was in Dad's mind.

The chair was bundled up along with my mother’s treadle sewing machine with some other memorabilia in a crate that also held a few treasures my husband has from his father’s estate.

Once it arrived the task of having the chair repaired confronted us. The damage to one leg left it a sharp barb and the leather was beyond redemption with the colour worn away stuffing peeping through.

Ernest was enrolled to repair the frame. His right hand with several fingers taken at the stump carry’s a cigarette. His working man’s accent and a large black dog accompany him. He comments that this is a grandfather chair, made of Australian Cedar probably dating from around 1880. He says there should be a grandmother chair, smaller but with similar design somewhere to be found.

He returns the chair some weeks later the frame repaired with the timber gleaming warm honey gold, new casters fixed to the front legs. The stuffing, leather and springs are returned.
We now need to find an upholsterer who will bring it back to top condition.

The chair frame sits and patently waits. A few quotes determine that more patience is needed, but finally there is clear air and we call the upholsterer again. He comes with samples and bundles of enthusiasm for the task and takes the chair away.

Again it is clear we are working with a man who is careful and diligent in his craft.





The grandfather chair arrived this week and sits proudly now is the corner of the living room. It is a grand chair to be sure. My father and great aunt would be pleased no doubt.

GENEROSITY, SCHOLARSHIP AND FRIENDSHIP

I have been thinking a lot about the gifts I have from my friend . I struggle somewhat with the words but with some reflection here goes:

The love of Purple Green and White.
Pottery beads, hand crafted and withstanding the heat of firing. Hands that are steady when life is turbulent.
My blue coffee cup: raised money for Amnesty with a gathering in the garden.
The pots that hold my paint brushes.
Dyed silk that holds a natural dye. A way of going forward when confronted with bad news.
Northcliffe: an adventure for five year old boys curious to find tiger snakes!
Later a respite in the winter with the wind whipping round the house as I sit and read about women in Early Modern times.
Things that must be said.
A coffee or green tea in a generous round cup.
Conversations in the garden, the front room , floating in the pool, at the beach, art days and finally where she is most comfortable. And it is not just idle chat and we both Knew that.
A deep understanding of the importance of writing. Endless encouragement to do this.
A shared view of how important the children are. Her own son and his partner, her grand children, others' children not to mention my own son, and even those in early modern times.
Love that was unconditional and promoted a fair go.
Freshly baked bread, a hearty bowl of soup, or delicious salad and a table shared.
A book plate to prepared to keep me busy whilst I grieve. I am grateful that she sees the proofs.
Generosity, Scholarship, Friendship.
Lastly her gift of the friendship of her life-long partner: his warm affection, calmness and special way of saying Hmm.
My hat goes off to you.

April 17

I am muddled and think it is the 16th today after a week full of domestic challenges.

The phone rings. It is my sister to announce she is at my front door. I did not hear the door bell as I am in the back.

She arrives with a bundle which includes tapes my father made of my aunt playing piano. There are some with my Mum, and surprisingly of my son and I also playing.

My sister has been hard at work sifting through the last of the things. Since Dad died having taken on the task of finding a home for the various sentimental items my sister is almost done.
She says Dad had a habit of pressing the record button, so we did not know he had taped us.

There is the painting that sat in the dining room at the old house. The paint is falling off the board. I recall the lesson was to prime to board well so paint would stay stuck. What material did we have to hand in the classroom which indeed meant the effort was in vain. It is a basic still life and I ponder about restoring this wreck. I had thought I said to let it go, but perhaps I had been ambivalent at the time. So it has travelled wrapped carefully all the way across the country.

There is a cookery book we both shared for domestic science. Covered well with brown paper with magazine cut outs then protected with plastic. I look at is more closely a little later. It includes some hand written recipe for plum sauce in my Aunt’s hand writing and another for French dressing in my mother’s hand.

It is the smallest of items that has us both in tears. It is a small gold baby bracelet that had been mine.

My sister and I spend a good part of the day together, just sharing some tasks; some shopping to be done before returning to make a sandwich and share some recipes. We are asked to come to dinner. The fish market has fresh muscles on offer. My brother will be by himself tonight as the others have already gone ahead for the bush wedding. I call my older brother before we leave. He is still on work time though.

It is a good evening with some gratitude to be shown for a difficult task done.

I am reminded of the distance there is between us and of special times to be shard as I have been sitting this week with my dying friend who is showing me how you can live every moment of your life well.

It is four years since our father’s death.

What will become of us all

 

"To worry about the inevitable is to speed up the process." -

Marshall Silver

Amazing Stich Photograph doing the rounds

 

This truly amazing photographic work by Julian Kalmar shows  the glory of the fully restored Piaristen Church in Vienna built circa 1715-22

Unique about this photos is it is actually not one but over 250 photos stiched together using very clever technology to make a 360 degree view of the church interior so you you can pan from any angle. It is also so dense that you can zoom up close and see very fine detail.

For the panning It uses the same technology you have seen Google earth and their street maps that join house photos together to make a contiguous imagine of a street with 360 views This is Known as Stich technology

The photo size is  51644 x 25822 pixels to make it a huge 1.3 gigapixel and just a bit big to download. 

For camera buffs Kalmar says he set his up for this shoot with the focal length at 70mm, the exposure: between 5sec. and 1/160and  using a wide aperture setting at F11 The processing speed was  ISO100..

Most cameras now amaze us with photos using less than 10 megapixels (I Gig is 1000 times a meg) The technology for this is quite incredible to exceed the gigapixel barrier.

Check it out, Just click in the snagged picture I pasted above to take you to the authors original in his web site. The make use of the buttons to pan up and down and around and zoom to get a sense of all the beautiful detail . For panning you can also simply hold the mouse pointer down anywhere and move the picture around..

if the embedded link fails for some reason use this one:

http://photoartkalmar.com/Photoart%20Kalmar%20high%20res/Gigapixel/Piaristenkircheflash.html