This evening I took Cherub to meet my Dad at the house my Grandfather built. Tomorrow it will belong to a new family. Today was the last chance to see it, to walk through it again, and to remember the old days.
My grandfather was a carpenter, and this house is full of the most wonderful cupboards. I dream of good cupboards. Rental houses tend not to have helpful storage solutions.
As kids we were fascinated by this revolving kitchen cupboard. If you were small enough, you could go right the way round. I wouldn't let Cherub try it tonight though.
Dad says these ones in the main bedroom, shown below, were french polished. To be honest I'm not quite sure what that involves, but it sounds posh, doesn't it? They're a bit knocked about now in places, but still lovely and glossy.
This is my Dad in his old bedroom, with the cunning little drop desk. The bedroom seems tiny to me, hard to imagine two boys sharing it comfortably, but then it does have wonderful cupboards. There would have been a place for everything.
Imagine building your house, your whole house. If I wear a dress I've sewn, I feel quite proud. But just think how you must feel, looking at a house, with clever revolving kitchen cupboards and dropleaf desks and drawers on bedheads, and a garage and a garden shed, and knowing that you'd made that. Wow.
One of the discussions we had at our last Craft Camp was about the nature of making.
I think it was Janet who said that, statistically, people who make come from people who
make. My Mum has always made things, for as long as I can remember.
Wonderful, quite adventurous cooking for the day (curries from
scratch! ginger beer!), gorgeous colourful crochet, the best jam you've ever eaten, beautiful handpainted silk scarves, t-shirts,
painted t-shirts, sculptures, drawings. My Dad didn't do the regular cooking, but every so often he'd do a speciality, like baklava. And he has always been keen to
potter in the shed, preferably with power tools. And my grandfather built a house!
Thinking about all that makes me feel happy and part of something. The satisfaction that I feel as I
attempt hot cross buns from scratch, or make clothes for me and my
family, or even, like a madwoman, take on the costuming again for
Cherub's forthcoming school concert, is a gift that has been handed to me from my family. That's really special.
Both my boys are makers too. I hope they always are. Especially if the Climber can knock up more delicious dinners for us, like he did tonight: Lamb Cutlets with yoghurt on couscous, from the Year 7 Food Tech textbook! Mm-mmm.
For ANZAC Day this is so beautiful and tender
8 hours ago