here comes the sun.

credit: ruehl family collection

houdini.

by kimberley veart


I've been bitten by the travel bug, and I don't think there is a cure. Places of cosy childhood familiarity no longer satisfy with one eye always on somewhere else.


However I have just come back from a trip which means, of course that I am pretty much broke. Therefore some cheaper means of escape have had to take the place of planes, clouds, and far away exotic destinations, at least for now. 



calendar girls.

by charlotte guest

Each member of my family has their own calendar.
  • This is where we spread out our respective to-do lists so that we feel like busy, busy people. My square for today boasts "return dvds", mum's has "shopping" (we're talking groceries), and dad's has "golf", like every other square of his.
 We also have ‘the family calendar’.

  • The family calendar is a collective work. It stores the more significant occasions that we feel the other house-mates should know about. Today is blank.

pulse.

credit: samuel montgomery

sculptures & soundwaves.

by kimberley veart

“Certain paintings make me imagine what they sound like as music. Often they suggest music that doesn’t exist yet – and invite you to make it.”  - Brian Eno

There is something thrilling about that unexpected collision between mediums. This is never more apparent to me than in art galleries where one of my favourite things to do is switch my mp3 player to shuffle and wander around (by that I mean methodically make my way through each piece in the gallery, I am not French, I am not a flaneur).

the pakistan desert, 1969

credit: guest family collection

slovos.

by charlotte guest

For all your horizontal Sundays, I recommend using babelfish1 to translate sentences from English into Russian, and back to English again.

I was looking for sofa-thrills, kicks with my feet up, but instead of being dim for an afternoon I was accidentally bright. Yes, I think I've cracked the humour code behind Anchor Man.

hiding.

credit: veart family collection

(re)calling history.

by kimberley veart

Today I was reminded of just how much I forget.
Saved into the temporary annals of my phone are notes that I've written to myself, important at one point, and now blinking on the screen.
One note begins without introduction:
“Paule vezelay construction: grey lines on pink background.”

gentlemen.

credit: guest family collection

the soiree: a recipe

by charlotte guest

You will need:
  • a play-list of jazz, blues, folk – music that invites relaxation and conversation; think“tunes” not “tracks”
  • dresses and chinos and button-up shirts and nice shoes (preferably with closed-toes but hey it is your party)
  • people
  • a dimmer on your lights