Accoutrements (a.k.a.: junk)
We are moving home, soon enough. From the Dutch family built 1920’s character farmstead villa of inbuilt furniture, flour bins and spaces appropriated to modern life: To a 1970’s Lockwood (also Dutch!) with chalet influences, it’s 1990’s kitchen, and it’s infinite wood.
I can’t wait to instal full height shelf in the sitting room, two-storey of wall awaiting a ladder and a shelf of worthless and irreplaceable …junk. I try and maintain a relatively austere and minimalist existence, yet, my preponderance to acquire and amass curios and talismans shoves me askew of this lofty ambition.
This time one year ago I was packing past-life in Northern Ireland. Now I am planning a future-life in the Waipa, what have a collected in the last 12 months? A macabre mould of my mouth, a $1 succulent from a roadside stall. New novels and instructional tomes, a laptop, a camera (or two…) and a portrait.
Odd and sods accumulated which are mementos of days been, zeniths and nadirs, the middle ground too. To me a treasure, yet another: junk.