Sometimes I am such a dough-brain!
Doubled Up
There are certain things in Life which I find annoying, but which have to be done. Like cooking, for instance.
There are other certain things which I don’t like doing/have no skill for, but which somebody else will do for me. Sewing is high on that list – I hate sewing with a passion!
Ironing, however, I quite enjoy. I don’t overly indulge in this unusual pleasure but nevertheless after very many years of faithful service the cover for the ironing board had become a bit more than threadbare.
My ironing board is bigger than normal, so buying a replacement cover was not an option – I would have to make one, or get one made. I threw out the first option with never a second thought, homed in faster than a racing pigeon on the second, took advisement on a suitable material from Material Girl and enlisted the skills of Susie.
In less time than it would take me to thread a needle Susie handed me a brand new cover. It was like a big envelope with a thin foam layer in the middle. The old cover only had one layer, with foam on the underside, so it was effectively a table cloth for an ironing board. The new one, because of its shape was no way going to slide on over the top of the board. The board would have to be inserted into the envelope. I looked at the board. I looked at the cover. There was no way I could slide the cover over the board and accommodate the board’s legs.
I sat down and thought. The only way I could see to overcome this anomaly was to cut a slit in the underside of the new cover. I could not believe that Susie had made such a schoolgirl error, so I Whatsapped her. Sometimes my brain acts in a completely different way from any normal person, but Susie didn’t know that – she was perplexed by my perplexity. She explained, in words of one syllable, that it wasn’t an envelope into which the board must be inserted, it was a double layered tablecloth – it went on top, not all around.
Aah! Now I understood! It never crossed my mind that it went on the top in a double layer, with the foam between the layers.
So now I have a splendid double layered ironing board cover in a pattern of jaunty squares.
I wonder how I managed all these years with a single layer?
What happened next? (Part one of the story)
Mythical Beasts #2
I was surrounded by the huge number of wherewithalls that it takes to make a dragon out of pool tiles.
My kitchen table was nowhere to be seen under the assorted accoutrements necessary for this task, and now came the moment of truth – I would have to transfer the pool tiles from the abstract design on the plastic to the finished work of art on the big tiles.
Not only is this a fiddly job, but as everyone knows dragons are more sinuous than square, so I would have to nip the tiles to make them the right shape. I selected Mick’s tile nipper from the array before me (he’d lent it to me for my dragon project) and commenced nipping. Nipping is fun! There is a slightly destructive element about it, added to which the end result is so satisfying!
In no time the dragon was finished and stuck down. Full of a sense of my own cleverness I stood back, admired it for a minute or two, and commenced the other mythical beast; the Unicorn.
My concentration was absolute, broken only by the click of the nippers and an occasional short word as the glue went where it shouldn’t or I dropped a tile, or both. Any Roman expert in mosaic floor laying who had time travelled from the early centuries AD and landed in my kitchen would have hitched up his toga and stood back in admiration.
The only things missing were the eyes for both dragon and unicorn and the unicorn’s horn. I wanted iridescent for both these; everybody knows that dragons have glowing eyes, and unicorns have sparkly horns! As yet this problem is not resolved – they are eyeless and the unicorn is hornless.*
Mick, he of the nipper, duly put my masterpieces up on the wall without comment – he’s not stupid! But Dave, when he arrived to minister to my wind damaged pergola, was not so savvy. Maybe Mick had not pre-warned him.
‘Did you notice my mosaics?’ I enquired in a voice that oozed pride.
‘Er, yes’ he said. ‘That’s a….’
‘Dragon.’ I interjected helpfully.
‘But I can see this one.’ He turned his attention to the unicorn. ‘It’s a cow.’
*Anyone got any iridescent pool tiles? I need about a dozen. Marbles won’t do, I need flat, so that they can be stuck on the flat surface of the big tile.
Or marbles will do, as long as someone has squashed them flat!
Those of you who know me will agree that my grasp on reality can be a little tenuous. Hence the proliferation in my garden of
Mythical Beasts
It seemed like a good idea at the time. I had a quantity of swimming pool tiles in a bucket outside, and one day inspiration struck and I decided what I was going to do with them.
Like a fool I rushed in, ignoring the angels who feared to tread where I was going. I found a large piece of stiff plastic, put it on my long-suffering kitchen table, gathered my tiles together, and commenced Mythical Beast #1, a dragon.
I had 2 sorts of light blue tiles, some dark blue tiles, and some white tiles, and in no time a multi-hued dragon took shape, but without an eye. I decided he would look good with a green eye, which would tie in nicely with the green background I had planned for him.
I betook myself to Indalpool to buy green tiles. ‘We haven’t got green tiles’ said the helpful Antonio. ‘We can order them for you, but you’ll have to buy a boxful. Try Angel Oller.’ So I did. They too would supply me with green tiles if I ordered a boxful, the chica assured me politely.
Now, for the first time, I actually gave some thought to the practical aspects of my project. Green tiles were not going to work, but nevertheless, inspiration struck; I would get a green floor tile, and stick the dragon on that. Easy!
I recommenced my search, but changed the parameters to a green tile, large enough to accommodate the work of art which I had created on the kitchen table. Rodrigues seemed a good start. The assorted chicas and myself searched through all the display doors and all of the sample books without success.
‘Perhaps if you were to look round the yard at the back you might find something.’ They suggested. I did. I found 2 tiles of the right size, not green but a pleasant light grey. I bore them home, and had a short think. Now I was getting to the nitty-gritty; I had to stick the little tiles on the big one, but how?
It’s not what you know, it’s who you know. I trundled into Simply Art – if anyone knows how to stick tiles on to an exterior surface, it has to be them. Debbie did, so I followed her advice and toddled of to get some silicone at the Ferretería up the road where she got hers.
Tubes of glue need a special gun, but I had one! I knew it was in the big shed; I also knew whereabouts it was in the big shed. And it was, which was a minor miracle in itself.
Now I had: The tiles. The big tiles. The glue. The glue gun. Nothing could stop me now.
Or could it?Mythical Beasts (Part Two)
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