What do profiteroles, gladioli and nuns have in common?

Us!

Number 2 son is celebrating his 6th birthday today. And every year the birthday cake request is always the same - pwofiteroles, I mean profiteroles (his Elmer Fudd speech impediment is still the same too).

We did not disappoint the poor dear. Again, The Australian Women's Weekly is my choux pastry recipe of choice.

Our garden was flush with gladioli and after the heavy rain, they were all droopy and almost touching the ground. I picked them all and put them in a vase.

Profiteroles and gladioli

Mr Rooney also took a picture of what he has done with our concrete rubble chez the Nuns at Nundah. I kid you not - Nundah has to be the most perfect suburb to find nuns.

Anyway, the rubble is now in a much holier place than ours.

Backfill at the Sisters of St Joseph
Image courtesy Mr Rooney

What goes around

I saw Mr Rooney, our eco-warrior builder, this afternoon. 

He has been ripping up the concrete near our side stairs for the past two mornings. 

It's great. We need the old concrete to be out of the way for the new stairs to be built and Mr Rooney needs the rubble for the Sisters of St Joseph. They need backfill. Mr Rooney is assisting them.

I hadn't realised that Mr Rooney removed more of the old concrete this morning. He said he dropped in while I was out doing the groceries.

Under the side stairs

He's a very fast worker, because I was only out for an hour or so. And the morning before while I was running a few errands, he was just as quick and left before I arrived home.

A bit of a Scarlet Pimpernel is our Mr Rooney.

(We seek him here, we seek him there,
Those Frenchies seek him everywhere.
Is he in heaven?—Is he in hell?
That demmed, elusive Pimpernel)

So far, he's removed over a tonne of concrete rubble from our property and the nuns are just over the moon with their backfill (I'm making an assumption there).

I'm loving this reciprocal relationship we are having with the nuns. They give us their unwanted RSJs for our stair landing and we give them our unwanted rubble. 

Soon we'll be tweeting together. What are the chances?

p.s A big HELLO to dear sweet Alex! xx

Claytons Eames chair

I bought a new chair. No, I'm lying. It's actually old. I bought an old chair.

But doesn't its shape remind you of an Eames lounge chair?

Anstey leather lounge chair with leather ottoman circa 1972

image from here

Our new  old chair is a Claytons* Eames - the chair you have when you can't afford a vintage Eames chair.

Anstey were a very good quality Brisbane based furniture manufacturer during the 60s/70s.

They are super-comfortable and it will be fun piece to have around for a while. It's probably too large for our little rooms as I didn't anticipate it taking up so much space. Another furniture re-shuffle will be in order.

007 Jason will be pleased to have a place to recline with his vodka martini...shaken, not stirred.


*Claytons is part of Australian and New Zealand vernacular. Check out its origins here.

p.s. For those in the Brisbane area, there are two remaining chairs available for sale. Contact me, if you'd like the details.

Visiting the dead

It's Halloween today. We don't really celebrate it, athough I'm partial to the odd ghoulish story.

I've been trying to do a little research on the original owners of the Sow's Ear  - the Stables family. It was owned by two sisters and their bachelor brother. I've written a little about it here and here. 

They seem to be an interesting bunch, particularly paranormal Zoila who used to have out of body experiences. Spooky, huh?

Recently, I found a death notice on the National Library of Australia newspaper records for the patriach of the Stables family - William Cordukes Stables. He was buried at Mount Thompson Crematorium in 1935. It appears he also lived in the same street as his children.

funeral notice for William Cordukes Stables from The Courier Mail 1/08/35

This morning, I went to the Crematorium to pay him a visit. I'm good like that. Actually, I thought that I would be able to find out whether the rest of the Stables were buried there too. 

Unfortunately, the crematorium office was closed today, so I couldn't view their records or obtain a map of where to find the plaque. 

It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack...but for some unexplained reason, a strong force lead me to the West Chapel of the gardens. 

Mt Thompson Memorial Gardens - courtyard

I entered a small courtyard to the right of the chapel and was instantly drawn to a simple fountain.

And, remarkably, I found William's plaque. It is quite a large ornate plaque which indicates to me that he was perhaps a man of some wealth. 

Sadly, there were no other plaques for the Stables family surrounding him, which was the main purpose for my visit.

I will have to wait for the Office to re-open to see if the rest of the family are in fact there. However, some sixth sense tells me that they are not...

My avatar

I've been blogging for a little while and you know me by the name of Brismod with a profile picture of a lady with a flower in her hair.

Let me introduce you to this lady - I found her while sorting through my packing boxes.

Mum as a young woman growing up in Tahiti

I don't know why I packed it away. It is the loveliest studio photograph.

I did some sketches of this photo which I then painted on canvas. My efforts are no where near as lovely as the photograph though - I've decided it should hang in the house.

The rough sketch of this photo is my profile picture. There you go, you've learnt something new.