As soon as Fixit walked in the door last night, I told him he had to make a trident for Climber to carry at the Bookweek parade tomorrow, and handed him the nice long cardboard fabric-roll stick I'd scrounged that morning from Rathdowne Remnants. Then I got going with sewing Cherub's Harry Potter cape out of the $6-metre of crushed velvet (you see how I can whip things up now? I even put a little wand pocket on the inside at Cherub's request) and putting dinner in the oven and testing Climber on spelling words for the test tomorrow and getting Cherub to choose which of the sticks I'd picked up by the side of the road he wanted to use for his wand. Meanwhile Fixit had not immediately seized the cardboard stick and set to work, so I've said come on, make the trident because then we have to paint it. Which caused him to mutter something like when is this parade and how long have you known about it? I mean, as if that man is not perfectly capable of knocking up a really good stable trident in the space of half an hour! And then supervising the paintwork and sanding the side-of-the-road-stick into a good looking wand. What is this advance notice he thinks he needs?
Harry Potter (sans glasses, the one item I couldn't actually knock up at home, and why if wizards have all this magic do they need specs anyway?) and Percy Jackson (son of Poseidon, hence the trident because otherwise his chief costume accessory is a ballpoint pen.)
For ANZAC Day this is so beautiful and tender
12 hours ago