yonmei

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July 20th, 2009

11:09 pm: Giving things away and keeping things
My mum had located two boxes of stuff in their house - and a bag with my old sub aqua gear, fins / mask / snorkel - which were mine. I collected them on Sunday, opened them up, and discovered that my plan - to put contents directly into bag for Bernardos to collect today - was more complicated:

This was my old collection of boxes, wrapped for packing sometime years ago. Goodness knows how long ago: most probably when my parents moved from St Catherines's Place, where I lived till 1986, and they lived till 1988. (By which time my sister had also left home, and my parents had a too-big house which was really too expensive for them to run.) That wasn't itself a problem: these was stuff I'd not seen in over 20 years, and I figured if I hadn't missed them in two decades, they could go to charity and be bought by someone else.

The problem: Some of the boxes had things in them. Some of this wasn't intrinsically a problem - a collection of sweeties, hard sugar from quarter of a century ago, some old old chestnuts, a box of tea - all of which could go, and did: but, what I kept, eventually, was:
- a box of buttons (my sister collects them); three wooden elephants of varying sizes ([info]afrai might like them); the straw hen that hatched stray foreign coins and banknotes (on the basis that it's slightly foolish to throw out money without looking at it); a small chest with hares painted on it that I had used to store shiny jewellery (Ajay's having a party on Sunday: this would make a good pirate's or princess's treasure chest if she wants one); - all of these with the plan to get rid of them shortly, either to the named recipients, or just to a charity shop.

But what I kept, and mean to keep:
- my first chess set (pure sentimentality: I don't even play chess much any more);
- a box with halfpennies and one half penny (because it still strikes me as amusing);
- a memento mori box, which I had - beginning, I think, when I was about 12 - put things into that meant something to me. For about four years. Some of the items I still remember what they meant to me: some I have no idea. But it's an odd collection, odder even than the fourth box, which was:
- a small box with smaller items in it: four discs of metal mesh, that I think once looked golden; a flat portrait in china of a red-cap mushroom; a minature beaded scarf in two shades of green; a tiny brown china jug; two small dominoes from two different sets, one black and one green, both with pips adding up to seven, though different patterns; a wooden knight and a pawn from a travel chess set that long since disintegrated; a bead made out of an irregular shape of wood like a ring of bark; the head of a glass penguin; two tiny plastic wineglasses; a pin with a black glass head; a tiny fork, two knives, and two spoons, from a dollhouse set of cutlery the rest of which is long since lost; a rooster and three wise monkeys, both made of yellow plastic, out of a Christmas cracker; four counters for a game, two red, one green, one yellow (tiddlywinks, I think); and the jawbone of a stoat, that was old and dry when I found it, about three decades ago.

But everything else, along with two bags of other stuff I'd been piling up for a while, got put out in front of my garden, with a sign on it for Bernardo's, and they came by some time during the day and collected them and now they're gone. For good.

There's a free shop at the Forest this Sunday and next Sunday, and more stuff is going then. Yay.

Current Mood: contemplative
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February 27th, 2009

01:20 pm: Atheist Toast, Satire, Elephants

Because Toast is Truth.

Binyam Mohamed's statement on release:
I have been through an experience that I never thought to encounter in my darkest nightmares. Before this ordeal, "torture" was an abstract word to me. I could never have imagined that I would be its victim. It is still difficult for me to believe that I was abducted, hauled from one country to the next, and tortured in medieval ways – all orchestrated by the United States government.

While I want to recover, and put it all as far in my past as I can, I also know I have an obligation to the people who still remain in those torture chambers. My own despair was greatest when I thought that everyone had abandoned me. I have a duty to make sure that nobody else is forgotten.

Also, Barbara Ehrenrich on Binyam Mohamed:
I am not histrionic enough to imagine myself in any way responsible for the torments suffered by Mohamed and Padilla - at least no more responsible than any other American who failed to rise up in revolutionary anger against the Bush terror regime. No, I'm too busy seething over another irony: Whenever I've complained about my country's torturings, renderings, detentions, etc., there's always been some smug bastard ready to respond that these measures are what guarantee smart-alecky writers like myself our freedom of speech. Well, we had a government so vicious and impenetrably stupid that it managed to take my freedom of speech and turn it into someone else's living hell.

If the Great British Circus comes to where you live, please boycott it. Elephants do not belong in circuses.

Tell me five things you associate with me.

Current Mood: moody
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January 2nd, 2004

08:24 pm: Hot tea with whisky
...is very very fine stuff.

Mmmm.

Even if you don't really like whisky, which I confess I don't, the flavour blends wonderfully well with the flavour of tea, and, as Uncle* would put it, leaves you feeling warmed and braced. Gleamhound could have done no better.

Also, my printer problems are resolved (thank you [info]glitterboy1), and I don't need to continue the saga.

===
*Uncle is an elephant. He's immensely rich, and he's a B.A. He dresses well, generally in a purple dressing-gown, and often rides about on a traction engine, which he prefers to a car.

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