Worship

That moment when you glance out the window, and are compelled to grab your camera, pad across damp grass in your socks, kneel and worship at the alter of Sunflowers.

*sigh*

Piles of Pennies For Piggy Bank Kids

About 6 weeks ago DorkyMum launched her brilliant pennies for babies initiative for Piggy Bank Kids, and we decided to join in by first making our money box and then saving loose change.

Loose change. Funny expression that, now you come to think about it. By definition change that is loose would be change that is unrestrained, not held in, free to roam. Thing is, I'm pretty careful with the pennies and I round them up and keep them safe and tidy in a purse. I suppose having a purse in which to keep the pennies is a bonus. The Mr on the other hand, is traditional and does not have a purse, a man-purse or any other kind of purse. He has pockets and that is where his change is kept in check. Again, not really roaming loose.

Pennies left abandoned on the top of the washing machine however, rescued from certain drowning in deep pockets, are fair game. As are coins spotted lurking down the back of sofas, where they have made a bid for freedom from the same said pockets. Then there are the ones spilled from strangers pockets or purses, teasing us from the pavement.

The content of our piggybank is mostly from a weekly clear out of my purse where I have been lazy and couldn't be bothered to count out the right money at the till and handed over whole pound coins or notes instead. Does anyone else still do that? Count out the right money? Do I look tight by doing that? I suspect I do. I also suspect that I annoy the sales assistant who then has to count my pennies before putting them in the till. But then the sales assistants who give me my change on top of the receipt annoy me, so that makes us even.

We also cleared out small change from the children's money boxes. Their idea. I can't tell you how chuffed I was that they wanted to do that.

Here is the pile of pennies. Not mountainous I grant you but a large enough pile to have caused a small calamity if they had been allowed to roam free and be true to the term loose.

Oh, and we found a sixpence in the stash. Absolutely no idea how that got in there. Time travelled possibly.

And the grand total is ..... *insert sound of drum roll here*

£9.95 (and a sixpence)


I am a smidge embarrassed that it is not more but every penny counts doesn't it.

If you have a small stash of loose change that has escaped your purse or pocket and is looking for a home, please consider donating it to Piggy bank Kids where it will be put to very good use. There is a simple donate page on their website.

You can also make a text donation to PiggyBankKids by texting 70070 with the message PIGY10 followed by the amount you want to donate eg  PIGY10£5, or PIGY10£10 etc.

365Project Week 37

This weeks collage is a collection of moments.

Moments when...
I wanted to throw my laptop through the window.
I enjoyed guilty McDonalds.
my patience was tested by a toddler who didn't fancy sleeping in his own bed.
I looked left and noticed a pub window for the first time.
I let my creative juices flow and tried out block printing.
I realised Summer was over.
I relished being child free but missed them.


Joining in with The Boy and Me.

If you would like to see any of this weeks photos in more detail, head over to my 365project.

Silent Sunday

Saturday is Caption Day

I spy with my little eye a perfect caption opportunity!

What the dickens is going on?


Suggestions in my comment box if you don't mind x

Queen of Captions Mammasaurus kindly requests the pleasure of your company over on her blog. Off you toddle.

Spectacular Speculations - Graffiti

I speculate.

I have written before about my love of people watching, how I imagine little back stories for people I see in restaurants, how I speculate about how things got to where they are now (like a single shoe in a gutter or half a pair of glasses on a bench) or where our neighbour goes every morning with his daughter (at least we think it is his daughter. See. Speculating again) in one car, but returns later, alone, in another car.

So when I see this graffiti on a fence:

I have to speculate.

Here are my alternative speculative theories regarding it's authorship and intended message.

Theory 1:

Thinking his captors have not missed him yet and not realising civilisation and potential rescuers were merely yards away, the mute escapee took his can of red spray paint that he'd carefully concealed for just such an occasion, and started to write 'HELP'. Unfortunately, his captors were fast to realise the handcuffs they were holding no longer had a hand within them and caught him before he could finish scribing his desperate plea. Hope he's okay.

Theory 2:

Her passion for abstract art and her strict Renaissance loving parents were not a happy mix, so the rebel in her would sneak out early in the morning to get a quick fix of urban creativity. Sadly on this occasion, her father had slept badly after a heavy curry the night before and taken Rembrandt, their elderly spaniel, for an early stroll. He happened upon her before her she could complete her urban cityscape. I have taken the liberty of anticipating what the finished artwork might have looked like.

Theory 3:

It had been a particularly tense match at the bridge club and Geoffry was still confounded how Lionel had pulled that winning rubber out of the bag. He had replayed the match over and over while he sipped his sherry in the bar afterwards and became certain that foul play was afoot. He knew his wife wouldn't want him to make a scene so instead, he made an excuse to pop outside to the car park. Armed with his red biro he located Lionel's car and set to writing "HE CHEATS" on the fence with a large arrow pointing accusingly at his Vauxhall Passat. Geoffry would come back next week and finish his expose just as soon as he had bought another dozen red bics.

You may now vote for your favourite theory ;-)

Beauty

When I look at this photo I see a thing of beauty.

Sleek smooth rounded lines. Soft sky blue curves polished to perfection. Headlights winking, teasing me.

I walked passed her. I walked back again to admire her. I paused and dared to touch her. I entered her and sat upon her upholstery.

Her owner pulled a couple of catches and revealed her hammocks suspended from above, and then he dropped her drawers to demonstrate how they became a stairway by which her hammocks were oh so easily accessed.

Honk.

I love her. I want her.

She was not for sale.


Joining in with The Gallery at Sticky Fingers.