Electric Stove in the 30s.

These days I’ve been so busy, not from doing domestic works, but putting up ads of some toys and gadgets we’re selling, organising catch-ups with friends, preparing some letters of complaints, etc.etc…..well, it’s been one of those times where everything happens at the same time and you have to organise so many things at once.

I was so flat out when I found something really old and interesting.

It’s a little cookbook titled “Cooking on the Moffat Electric Range”

The book was in fairly good condition considering it was left in a box in the outside garden shed for over one year, and god knows where it had been prior to that.

Anyway, when Ian saw the book, he said that it must be from the 50s. Judging from the paper condition, it was a reasonable guess. But the pictures in some pages looked more old-fashioned.

I’d never heard of the name “Moffat” or “Metters KFB”, you know how it’s like. It caught my curiosity and yep, I punched in the keywords “Metters KFB Moffat Electric Ranges” into Google straight away.

Oh I’m telling you. The information that came up was astonishing.

This was a cast iron electric stove manufactured in Melbourne by an Australian manufacturer called Metters KFB, and this book was published in 1937. 

1937?  No fuck'in way!

This company no longer exist. It was taken over by the US firm Email LTD, according to the information on Museum Victoria website. 

An electric stove, in 1937. That is unbelievable as it is, since not many Australians would've had electricity connection at home back then. - and it's a beautiful stove, isn't it?

It must have been belonged to Ian’s grandma. Wow, she must’ve had a lot of money, eh!

Obviously you can find this book in National Library of Australia, and there I believe, you can find one with the book cover still on it whereas this one we’ve got doesn’t have the cover.

Check out the page with her handwriting on. 

Hey she got “recipe” misspelled!

Another junk I fell in love with.

When was the last time I bought 'junk' home...? June?
So I hadn't been bringing any old junk home for over 4 months, which is a pretty good record.

えっと、前回ガラクタを家に持ち帰ったのはいつだったっけ。。。？　６月？
っていう事は、もう４ヶ月以上もガラクタ持ち帰ってないんだ。結構辛抱したんだなぁ。

What I got yesterday was the box of old game cards.

昨日ゲットしたのがこの古いトランプ。

Is this some sort of promotional stuff? It has the B.V.D.(male underwear brand) logo with the advertising line that says "NEXT TO MYSELF I LIKE B.V.D. BEST".

なんかのプロモーション商品だったんだろうか？　B.V.D.という男性用下着メーカーの商標と宣伝文句「自分の次にB.V.D.が一番好きだ」と書いてある。

The box itself is in the questionable condition with sticky tape to patch up the hole on the surface (can't been seen in the photo). Hm, Made in Australia, hey!




箱自体はどうかなぁという状態で、表面に開いた穴を隠すためにテープが貼ってある。(写真では見えないけどね)
あ、オーストラリア製？　へぇー！

I have no idea how old this might be, but I love the distinct smell of the old paper.


どのくらい古いかは見当もつかないけど、古い紙特有の匂いは好きだな。

I find the joker cute.
Well now, I'll have to fight back the temptation for another 4 months, I guess?

ジョーカーが可愛いと思う。
ま、あと４ヶ月、誘惑と戦わないといけないって事だね。多分。

Late Night Reading.

'I've been skipping the English pronunciation exercise for a while', I thought as I was watching channel 7 last night. So I took my voice recorder out of the chest of drawer and looked for something to read.

The book I picked was "The Self-Destruction Handbook". Of course the author isn't serious. It's all piss-take of those self-help guidebooks that are flooding in the market. (and I've got some of them, too. Such as Dr. Pill (sorry, I think I got the name wrong.))

Just as I said, it's not meant to be taken seriously, it's so absurd and you'd lol for sure, and yet, it's strangely compelling...because it guides you and challenges you, HOW FAR YOU CAN GO to destroy yourself.
If in any chance you get tempted into trying some of the help-tips, for fun, out of curiosity, this book is a potentially dangerous catalyst (:@)
You'd have to be the right audience in order to find it nothing more than a hilarious rubbish.

As you may guess from the photos above, the contents are fair bit controversial for us Japanese - unthinkable, almost. But these things actually happen here...not very often but.

Occasional LOL guaranteed.


The next book I chose was Richard McLean's "Recovered, not cured".

This is a self-expose book written by the artist who suffers from paranoid schizophrenia.
The ex-dope addict started hearing voices, it seemed like just another drug-induced illusion at start, but as the symptoms progressed, he increasingly became delusional. Those delusions to him felt so real and he began to suspect there's some evil conspiracy going on.

He was aware that there was something definitely wrong, but he couldn't trust anyone, because everyone around him was part of the conspiracy against him...another delusion.
The journey from the onset of symptom, to the gradual deterioration, to the struggles with the voice within his head and to the slow development of the trusting relationship with his doctor, is so painful and moving.
There are a few postings sent to him shown in the book, too. At times these postings reveal the inner voice that patients are hearing.
Richard, the author was determined to get himself back on track, and somehow recovered with the help of medication. Not cured.

This book uses his artworks effectively to show the flame of his mind at each particular moment. These are not quite aesthetic pieces but really something.

When I was in the writing course there was this schizophrenic guy who wrote some really violent, sexual stuff, a bit like Brett Easton Ellis.
Most of my classmates couldn't accept his style, as it was the very revelation of his delusion. But I personally find it very powerful and gripping.

Years later, my friend bumped into him in a suburb called Fitzroy.
Just like Richard who wrote this book, he got his life back on track with the help of medication. (I also have a good friend who developed this condition, at the worst time it was so painful to hear her talking, and I didn't know what her problem was until I read this book. Now she's recovered.)

Humans have many potentials,
Sometimes it's the ultimate enlightment,
or ultimate self-destruction,
Or simply being aware of yourself and living your own life.

Wish I Were Good at Needlework!

There is an old woman who comes to the shop every now and then.
She brings in her hand-knitted baby clothes in various colours and everyone raves about her talent and goes, 'wow' 'that's so cute!'.

When she was young she was a dress maker; once upon a time, every girl could saw, knit and crochet. That used to be part of girls' virtue, I guess.
People say, if you want to learn how to knit, ask your granny.
Both my grannies are long gone, but my mum and auntie are genius knitters.

Well...knitting is COOL now!
You see young chicks on some trams knitting frantically.
Their fingers and needles, rolling, moving, like the magician's hands, quickly turn the yarn into an exquisite piece of work.

Long long time ago, my mum used to crochet clothes for me.
I have to confess that I didn't like them.
I couldn't understand what was so cool about knitting and crocheting.

All I could think of those clothes was; they're so daggy.

Having said that, there was a particular hand-crocheted vest with the cool hippie colours, which somehow appealed to me with its unusual look.
I always liked going out with that vest on.

As I proceeded into junior high and high,
I saw other girls talk about knitting sweaters and gloves for boys they fancy, with the kind of contempt - well I won't do such a girlie thing.

Such an insufferable, aloof bitch I was, I still watched my mum and auntie doing needlework with full of wonderment, and after a while I started finding it pretty cool.

Auntie taught me the basics of knitting before I left Japan, but still all I can knit is scarves, and now I have too many scarves I would scarcely wear.

When it comes to crocheting, I observed mum doing that every so often and by the time I became interested I knew all necessary terms and tricks.
Crocheting turned out to be a good fun.

Last night I stayed up late and was trying to make a beret, the kind I saw on the train the other day, not the traditional beret but somewhat looks closer to beanies in the shape and hangs a bit loosely at the back. The first two attempts have miserably failed.
I needed the pattern.

Fortunately I've found a cute one on a website this afternoon, and I'm ready to go for my next attempt.

My Secret? Passion for Op-shops

I'm an op-shop freak as well as being an op-shop shop assistant.
It's no surprising that 99% of my wardrobe come from op-shops in different suburbs and occasionally, even different states.

I have this strong belief that many old clothes were made to last.
Among those we sell there are many brand-name clothes, some of which are Australian-made or even Italy-made vintages.
If you go to Myers, David Jones or DFO, you'll realise how hard it is these days to find something made other than in China.

Some people may go to Vintage shops to find something of good qualities. But why would you go there to buy old clothes expensive while you can get the same thing at a dirty cheap price? (I think ours is one of the cheapest.)

With the economy still unstable, more brand-new clothes are coming from closed retail stores. Yeeesss...*wink**wink**wink*
I would personally go to op-shops in my local area, because they sell good stuff at lot cheaper prices than ones in the city or inner-suburbs.

For someone who loves old collectables, there's a good chance you'll find something you like at op-shops at less than half the price of what specialized shops (or antique stores) would ask for.

The reason is simple. For people who don't know the value of those items, they all look like old junk. Op-shops are run by volunteers, and we don't know what those items are worth...which explains a lot, doesn't it?

Among my collections are a 30s carl-zeiss binocular, a Japan-made 50s binocular, a 60s royal typewriter and a Globemaster soda cyphon by Sparkles England.
  We get old type-writers every now and then. They are all in good working condition. Last week a glossy black portable typewriter in a bulky carry case (leather) caught my attention. I was really tempted and actually, might get it myself if it's still in the shop tomorrow...because I know it's possibly from the 30s and could worth more than the one I have. I'd be spewing if it's already gone...uhhh

Coming to Terms with Reality.

It was gone!...I mean the typewriter I wanted. There was the other one that's probably from the late 60s or possibly 70s...nothing really significant.
Looking at the bright side, it saved me from spending again, and prevented my house from getting 'over-crowded'...yeah, sure.

Anyway, let me change the topic.
Since Tuesday, I've been managing to NOT stay up late.
Usually if I start reading a book and cannot stop halfway through the story, but these past few days, I've been forcing myself to put a stop to it at a certain time.

'Discipline' is something that was missing in my life.

On one hand, I am super lazy, on the other hand, I can be obsessively hard-working or determined. There's nothing in the middle, it goes from one extreme to the other...for which I'm ashamed of myself.

This morning my boss asked me to take charge of the shop while he's out, to which I was cool, but in the afternoon he told me to take some break...because I was working compulsively.
 
What was I trying to prove?
It makes me feel good to know that I can do something well.
It sort of makes me feel proud when I could finish reading a book within one night.

I clearly see the pattern in it.
I am subconsciously trying to rewind my time...to when I wasn't epileptic, when I could read a book within a couple of hours...when I could do many things so effortlessly...
I lost all those abilities because of this damn condition.
I thought I accepted the inevitability and I wasn't.

Am I really aware how fool I am?
Who the hell am I kidding?
It's getting late.
You know what? It's the time to tell myself 'STOP'.

Night night everyone and sweet dreams. zzz

Perfect Exercise

It was sunny and warm this afternoon.

I thought, hmmm...maybe I should go outside.

I hadn't been doing much exercise since cold weather kicked in, which was a worry. Sure enough, my belly started bulging (not from pregnancy), with the unwelcome love handle drooping out of my jeans...not a pretty sight.
I tried yoga in the morning, then a brilliant idea came up in my head 'eureka!'
'I'm gonna do weeding'.

It should've been done ages ago, and I had already procrastinated too long - each time using a different excuse - yes. I had an excuse for everything.

But not this time. The invasion of the lawn was out of control and anyone could see it would be a nightmarish task to pull them all out and, it was.
The root was spreading to multiple directions, creeping under the logs that have been used as partition. Grass roots were tightly bound to other plant roots, just as I had anticipated.

I dug about 20cm with spade, then I had to hand dig about further 20cm to trace the deepest of roots. I can't even remember how many times I fell on my bum while I was pulling them out...but, the hard work paid off in the end. I managed to get rid of 90% of roots...well still 90%, but it's impossible to eliminate the stubborn grass, which is strong enough to push up concrete.

After one job was done, I took a brief break to shoot these photos.

My husband came home early and decided to mow the lawn.
So I went on tidying up the edges with grass shears. (I looked for pruning shears but couldn't find it.) - what a great job we've done, the garden looks so good.

I'll be expecting some muscle pain tomorrow, but for the moment, I feel exhilarated.
My body desperately needed this exercise. I hope the pain won't be too bad.

Reminder to myself

After 2-hour non-stop recorder practice I found my performance level was lifted.

From what I think, the reason why I hadn't been able to hit the top 2 notes consistently was, that I was skipping the basics and trying to get it spot-on too fast.

Today I practiced scales to start, did it for 30 minutes at least until I was able to hit all notes consistently, and then went on playing the actual music. It sounded heaps better than last time.

The fingerings for this new recorder is slightly different from that for the old one, as I noticed, and it might take some getting used to.
That means I'd have to stick to this 30-minutes warm-up practice whether I like it or not, and I'd have to continue doing it even when I get hold of the new fingerings.

It's still a long way to the solid performance level. I gotta be patient.

Practicing is such a pain in the a*se.

I spent most of this afternoon practicing Lenny Kravitz songs on my recorder.

The reggae-ish song 'Eleutheria' contains top note D - and I have problem producing the D and D flat.
After trying to hit top 2 notes, I was completely utterly out of breath and started having problem even with C.

It's like with English, once I make one mistake I start anticipating the mistake again, which makes me even more nervous.
But sooner or later I'd have to shake off and overcome the fear.

Again and again, I reminded myself to feel the song, to play it from heart.
It always helps. Focusing on performing perfectly doesn't seem to work, rather, it makes the problem worse.
But still it is important to single out the part I have problem with and keep working on it until I get it right every time.
Unfortunately there's no short cut or easy way to achieve the goal.

That's what I didn't do with piano, and haven't done enough with English.
It's so damn hard to start from the scratch, though.
Articulating the thing I want to tell someone is sometimes really tough. For example I want to talk about computer and if the person isn't familiar with pc, how would I explain the same thing? I'd have to come up with some other way of explaining it.
Sometimes, the hardest thing is to use simple words properly.

Then my mind stops working and can't structure the simplest sentence...on the spot.
My weak points will be exposed. A few minutes later, I'd think that I could've said this and that.

Well, I guess I'd have to go through some more humiliation before I get better, wouldn't I?

The special recyclable bag.

Since the area supervisor was due to drop into our shop today to give a presentation, we did some cleaning up before he came.
As soon as I got there in the morning, I cleaned the shelves and sorted re-usable bags that was cluttering around the corner of the working area at the back of the shop.

There were all sizes of bag piled up like junks lying on the floor, and tidying them up was not an easy task. I was going through that massive pile in frenzy when I found something that caught my attention.
On the bag it said 'Ansett Pioneer's coach/jet combo tours'. It was a small but very study bag, made of 100% cotton.

We usually use recyclable bags to put purchased items in when customers buy heavy stuff.
However some of them are really fashionable and almost too good to give away.

The bag was definitely one of the best-est (<-there's no such word on the dictionary). First thing I thought was; 'Oh my god, is it for real?' I couldn't believe that I found something so rare like this one, not under the pile of junk. Ansett is the airline company that went bankrupt in 2001, indeed, I came to Melbourne via Ansett domestic flight from Sydney earlier that year. To me it was something very special so I decided to buy it - but the supervisor said that I could just take it home for nothing because it was meant to be given away to the customer to begin with. So here's the bag - I don't know how old it would be, but just watching the picture of Ansett airplane takes me back to 2001... 

It's neat, isn't it?

My New Recorders!

Playing recorders has long been one of my most passionate hobbies along with writing.

I always hesitate saying that because whenever I tell people about my enthusiasm for recorders they respond like, ‘Oh, recorders - that’s interesting,’ with a hint of ambivalence. I know what they think. People think that recorders are for kiddies.

They’re mistaken! Recorders are neither MADE nor MEANT for children but HAPPENED to be used for music education for kids. (For which I’m actually thankful because I’d never have developed this passion for the instruments otherwise.)

I had been using my plastic recorders over 25 years, the ones I was provided at my elementary school. Over the years my skills have improved, but I had never bothered buying GOOD recorders till this year.

For an amateur, I’m a fairly fanatic player and I personally think I’m quite good. :D
I noticed that I can control the sound by the way I move my lips, how deep I suck the mouthpiece in or the amount of air I blow in.
I've even experimented with ‘broken’ or ‘piercing’ sound to give the edge to many non-classical pieces.

Since my husband played in bands for many years prior to our marriage, his passion is to play guitars. I sometimes accompany my husband’s guitar with my recorder and have found out that the sounds of two instruments blend nicely together.
Recorders are also easy to carry around in my suitcase, so I can perform with him when we visit his family. :)

It was my husband who suggested that I should upgrade my recorders. I wasn’t as convinced as him at first but I wanted to push my performance up to the next level.

Well, the plastic ones are okay as long as I only play the lower to the middle notes, however I've noticed the tunings of my plastic YAMAHA recorders a bit higher than how they should be and the high notes are inconsistent. Those notes always tend to break and sound awful when it happens.

But I had always thought it was lack of my technique that caused the problem.

Early this year I started to check out some recorders on Internet, and came across with the comment in which a guy said he could produce high notes effortlessly with his new recorder – and he always thought that it was his fault he couldn’t hit the notes.

That was when I seriously started considering buying new recorders.
Recorders, which I initially thought would be inexpensive turned out to be fairly expensive. Popular-brand recorders could cost thousands of dollars. Plus there are many different recorder woods to choose from, which affect the sound.

Recorders don’t have big demand in Australian market. High-quality recorders are hard to come by as they’re not manufactured in Australia, and shops don’t keep them in stock.
For that reason, you can’t try them first to find out which one suit your style the best.

I checked out YouTube to listen to some recorder performances, read reviews and advices by recorder fanatics, recommending buying the ridiculously expensive Moeck Rottenburg series in ebony or rosewood – Yeah, sure I would if I were a millionaire (and if I were a professional performer who solely plays classical pieces.)!

The genre of music I play ranges from classic, rock, bosanova, jazz to some Japanese classics, thus I wanted my recorders to have the flexibility and versatility.
Around that time I came across with Mollenhauer (german) recorders.
They were a lot cheaper than above-mentioned brand, but the reviews were good.
The brand’s Denner series had the solid reputation in the quality and its precision tuning, but what appeared to me most was a comment by one music school student describing the sound as ‘flexible and more interesting (or words to that effect)’ than Moeck.

After setting my mind on Mollenhauer I selected the wood carefully.
I wanted the warm, soft and open sort of sound for treble (alto), and clear, vivid sound with good overtones for descant (soprano).

The new recorders arrived on Monday! :):):)
It took three months to import from Germany due to the disruption caused by the volcano ash debacle. But it’s no longer an issue.
They definitely were worth the wait.
The treble in boxwood has the warm, soft sound I wanted and the descant in rosewood has the clear, rich and resonant sound, both with easy high notes response.

They both look and sound beautiful. YEAH!!!

For the Love of Old Stuff

This morning I was using my Royal 200 typewriter to write a draft.
It's the late-60s one which I scored for $3, and it works perfectly.

I love the 'ting' sound which I think is somewhat cute - the similar sound to what old cash registers used to make - and the classic typography. (although I have to admit the keys are very heavy for someone like me who is used to using PC)

I bought this from one of many op-shops I find along the Melbourne tram 86 line, but you'll see more interesting places in the area, if you're like me who loves things from good old days.

There are so many shops to check out - secondhand shops, antique shops or just shops that sell things appear to be old junk (or treasure depends on the way you look at them).
When I have some time to spare I just hop in and out of those shops just for fun.

Travellig via tram is rather fun, as it runs slowly enough to take notice of things you'd often miss when you're on a train, bus or a car.
It's also better for just enjoying the outside view a bit longer - and you'll never know if you stumble into something that catches your curiosity.

First time I took the tram to the city I saw an old theatre that intrigued me with its facade still radiating the air reminiscent of its golden era.

It's Northcote Theatre.
On the ground level I saw restaurants and a cafe, where perhaps something like a dance room used to be, while the top part of the building looked pretty much empty through the tram windows. Yet I could see with my mind eyes, the boys and girls dancing (old-style) and watching films. - Maybe there are some happy ghosts dancing along to "Thriller" nowadays.

Those old derelict buildings appeal to me for a reason I can't explain well.

Many of them are milk bars.
Milk bars are something like small-size supermarkets. They sell soft drinks, junk snacks, bars of ice cream, newspapers and other daily needs. Slightly larger-scale milk bars are also called 'general stores'.
Milk bars are still around, but not as many as they used to be - people around me say.

Milk bars often remind me of a local tobacco shop or a junk snack shop I used to drop in on my way home from school when I was a kid.
I remember parents and teachers were not too happy to see us kids going into the shop with friends.

Last year when I passed by the place near my family home in Japan, I saw the shop was gone.
I can't find words to descrive how I felt.
Ah, the shop had a special spot in my heart - there are memories attached to the place.
Everyone who went to the school I did would remember the shop and probably feel the same.

It's funny that the reality that now the place doesn't exist anymore has made the memory even more special.

That's maybe why I sometimes go to the local milk bar.
All milk bars seem to have this sense of familiarity and warmth that large supermarkets don't have. It makes me nostalgic and takes me back to my childfood.


P.S.
According to the link I attached, Northcote Theatre had been restored by the previous owners, although the place no longer serves its original purpose as a theatre.
I can't wait to check this place out!

The new member of the family!

Drooper. That's his new name.

He is a stuffed dog whom I rescued from getting chucked yesterday.

The op shop I work for receive so many stuff everyday and, most of those donated goods are too grubby or torn that they cannot be sold in the shop.

Most of those unfit for selling go to countries that suffer from poverty, but stuffed animals like him are usually destined to get thrown as rubbish.

He was the third one that I took home since I started working there 6 months ago.
People donate them probably because these soft toys get too old and damaged, but they just don't have the heart to throw away things they loved for so many years.

As I looked him closely I immediately noticed his distinctively adorable face, with those two eyes of his begging me to save him. (lol)

That was the time I decided to take him home with me. It was obvious that he needed a serious operation and a good washing.

So I did.

Today was a beautiful day.
It was a nice sunny winter day - cool and gentle.
I soaked him in a nappy san solution over-night.
He was a bit too big for the front loader I have, so I used the bathtub to wash him.
(It was such a cute sight!)

Once he was clean and dry,
I filled him up and stitched up where the rips were.

Then him, other old teddies and me all waited together for my hubby to come home.

Drooper. That's his new name, named by my hubby. Drooper, with his droopy ears.

Here are some photos of him after the operation. :)