tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71895542829552298362024-03-06T05:24:36.765+00:00somewherealwaysClaire Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17122084492388576832noreply@blogger.comBlogger81125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189554282955229836.post-10001348229765391062012-03-29T17:49:00.001+01:002012-03-29T17:50:37.066+01:00Worth it<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiySJyT2-o147FOuu6gModb1F3o7DJIHXPDxX8YzbhnJxoewYcgchwGqokVNGBu_XRa6H_Aq023ebzmaMQHfgkoweG2vOD5nxeQs_ZGJbNSx3FzQa4Z8DbXYYJS2K9L9guUZEaaNbdOaU/s1600/IMG_0043.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiySJyT2-o147FOuu6gModb1F3o7DJIHXPDxX8YzbhnJxoewYcgchwGqokVNGBu_XRa6H_Aq023ebzmaMQHfgkoweG2vOD5nxeQs_ZGJbNSx3FzQa4Z8DbXYYJS2K9L9guUZEaaNbdOaU/s400/IMG_0043.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">First lifts last Monday in the Arlberg. At the time I was resenting paying for my lift pass like a normal holiday maker and not being tucked up in a warm chalet hard at work. But then with height came snow, the snow brought powder, which in turn brought fun and tumbles. First impressions may not impress but a bit of patience brings the good times.</div>Claire Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17122084492388576832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189554282955229836.post-72401252762200613892012-03-09T09:50:00.000+00:002012-03-09T09:50:23.567+00:00Cabin porn<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOU5gXOvy3qD2EkTl6PSgPZa7eXVcH470fSRIFWvSIyOfLYdqbmFgIRpvFW30qtIENadMLy_I3NkA1ru2Kor2K9xlizbLB_iOOaa-qzT_wz8G99IlEIB6FuQbNcdZPjqmJiSdG40wV5R4/s1600/cabin2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="395" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOU5gXOvy3qD2EkTl6PSgPZa7eXVcH470fSRIFWvSIyOfLYdqbmFgIRpvFW30qtIENadMLy_I3NkA1ru2Kor2K9xlizbLB_iOOaa-qzT_wz8G99IlEIB6FuQbNcdZPjqmJiSdG40wV5R4/s400/cabin2.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Through the wonder of social media that is twitter, I found out about this <a href="http://freecabinporn.com/">wonderful website</a> featuring incredible cabin and huts hidden away from everyday life and architecture. This image was taken by Kevin Bauman in Michigan. For the past few months I have been living in a 'shed' that would not be out of place amongst these images, if it were not for its close proximity to five multi-million euro chalets. Living in what once was a logs shed to one of these chalets, has been an experience somewhat simliar to living in a wooden caravan. There was not one inch of wasted/forgotten about space. Once inside, however, you could easily imagine being transported far far away from the established town of Val d'Isere to a small clearing in the middle of a vast woodland area where moose and bears meandered, oblivious to the wooden structure as it calmly blends in to it's environment.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div>Claire Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17122084492388576832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189554282955229836.post-50601822773213447112012-03-08T10:27:00.001+00:002012-03-08T10:28:04.637+00:00Ndege<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTT7rN3M7Ss-q08dA78cL3qq7CNkTcW-G-BpFlq9uTwxS_Bi2fjzZZMwb-SMZBdDEn7q50CsROhj7g7fFyIvjnMri-s8WpO0YG-QMRdrfdc_sw18etbRJPdkXMEdSHGFfT9taw9wTTao0/s1600/img0020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTT7rN3M7Ss-q08dA78cL3qq7CNkTcW-G-BpFlq9uTwxS_Bi2fjzZZMwb-SMZBdDEn7q50CsROhj7g7fFyIvjnMri-s8WpO0YG-QMRdrfdc_sw18etbRJPdkXMEdSHGFfT9taw9wTTao0/s400/img0020.jpg" width="395" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A bird carved (not by me) into a tree at <a href="http://www.mustaphasplace.com/">Mustaphas Place</a>. Photographed (by me) on slide film. Left back-to-front. </div>Claire Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17122084492388576832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189554282955229836.post-20657775746548716922012-03-07T17:25:00.000+00:002012-03-07T17:25:45.377+00:00Entrance stones<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyMIS_re5TCilBvT9cD3VJ5fqn8Ki06MF82addYX25LYJv5g8tdlVme-f2cE2M69EL_BJk0QfdroPBXw-mvb9ypc7FU7XOtaFTRyjUwA3lRaiZfPf2_Xk4erUBXE175jJWWfEBzJ9pzuI/s1600/mousehole.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyMIS_re5TCilBvT9cD3VJ5fqn8Ki06MF82addYX25LYJv5g8tdlVme-f2cE2M69EL_BJk0QfdroPBXw-mvb9ypc7FU7XOtaFTRyjUwA3lRaiZfPf2_Xk4erUBXE175jJWWfEBzJ9pzuI/s400/mousehole.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This is the beautiful threshold to a shop in Mousehole which is a funny little fishing village on the Roseland peninsula of Cornwall. Details like this make me smile as essentially this space has the purpose of people wiping muck of their feet before entering the building. But it is also the first impression of the building and it's owners. When visiting Zanzibar last autumn, I learnt that there it is traditional for family homes to be split into two: the front half of the house for communal living and visitors, and the second half for personal, private living. The front half will be spacious and fitted with the bare essentials needed to entertain and to share sumptuous meals, decorated will colourful paintings and meaningful kangas, whereas the rear of the house will contain modest, functional rooms. These are the rooms however where husband and wife will throw religious caution to the wind and be allowed to give in to their natural desires and see each other in their natural form and show displays of affection and attraction. Both halves as important as the other, but in different ways. No wasted space over there. I wonder how many homes here are fully used: every room, corner, hallway and inch of floor space?</div>Claire Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17122084492388576832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189554282955229836.post-81797364162247650312012-03-05T19:06:00.001+00:002012-03-05T22:45:32.399+00:00sthira sukham asanam<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVuoGbn7grG4Cegy0BKvv5CGLcRxSXbjOpfUJmr5EFHkY4PLVoZ6Du43Jq8x6zWYyc7vIjYMfLVUwO_tw-gZz-R_nJYN9DhZp7VhLurY8XkO6quj2mwkL77FKWQFTnhZ46Bb2HgTyW60k/s1600/photo01-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVuoGbn7grG4Cegy0BKvv5CGLcRxSXbjOpfUJmr5EFHkY4PLVoZ6Du43Jq8x6zWYyc7vIjYMfLVUwO_tw-gZz-R_nJYN9DhZp7VhLurY8XkO6quj2mwkL77FKWQFTnhZ46Bb2HgTyW60k/s400/photo01-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The posture is ready, steady and comfortable. Stable, resolute, with the ability to pay attention and be present. Joyful, happy, relaxed. </div>Claire Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17122084492388576832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189554282955229836.post-40094977039954400242012-02-17T20:33:00.001+00:002012-02-17T20:34:38.871+00:00Approx. 1550m above the waves<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpzHn-NjcdZjJtv93QLHwgIy5Nwqhmk3Cn5Tlgq9umbBGe4ZIjvVBNrQW1pCmMFosyp2T_wWWBlv0Ba0RwmCdpBnu0D6IXOs-uFhyphenhyphenmsyUtf4OQ7ao8nWd7qxnJx0N284onLv5ETYajAAU/s1600/dam.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpzHn-NjcdZjJtv93QLHwgIy5Nwqhmk3Cn5Tlgq9umbBGe4ZIjvVBNrQW1pCmMFosyp2T_wWWBlv0Ba0RwmCdpBnu0D6IXOs-uFhyphenhyphenmsyUtf4OQ7ao8nWd7qxnJx0N284onLv5ETYajAAU/s400/dam.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNqy24ZBVKEdOWa9wFuSw3f7avBM1EBi54GEFLyPZmq-n6KMPL03RWYKLU2xKle72U3Wm_ODFucii38U6vdioPDCV08NklRN3F6-09RRIhH5g_2EVL7xnfvLCXH8QP0z2tU18S1I30FV0/s1600/le+brev.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNqy24ZBVKEdOWa9wFuSw3f7avBM1EBi54GEFLyPZmq-n6KMPL03RWYKLU2xKle72U3Wm_ODFucii38U6vdioPDCV08NklRN3F6-09RRIhH5g_2EVL7xnfvLCXH8QP0z2tU18S1I30FV0/s400/le+brev.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Feeling poorly. Snowboarding not good for the health right now. There are worse places to be when you are feeling sorry for yourself. At least my eyes are healthy and can been in awe of the surroundings.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Claire Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17122084492388576832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189554282955229836.post-84276476435956539332012-02-16T15:26:00.000+00:002012-02-16T15:26:10.336+00:00A baguette a day..<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy2Dhz1cOyWLoKDrooev7JrbN5RWDkOQmlbOvTOjJKsvGRHfR5a2tHijSp_Kvb7uNYZJMj3hIMP548vD9URk2Zq3I4UVLUhaoyRUPl1K9TElq_EKQ2ZOE9OuLEfSAuSlA1QG5BEnABbog/s1600/patisserie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy2Dhz1cOyWLoKDrooev7JrbN5RWDkOQmlbOvTOjJKsvGRHfR5a2tHijSp_Kvb7uNYZJMj3hIMP548vD9URk2Zq3I4UVLUhaoyRUPl1K9TElq_EKQ2ZOE9OuLEfSAuSlA1QG5BEnABbog/s400/patisserie.jpg" width="400" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzykWVoWT7JD21ZdGE4Y8DV3alw9R7NdKppVBaI7Dwb7P3pJBclSoVhp8VROj6Bb7vzn86nkpzSq4ibeplNNGCNQo9hp6gF5ajmXLuwgCrB1UbdEkq9kkUbL0jJB8yACYx9QGaib1gerw/s1600/tignes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzykWVoWT7JD21ZdGE4Y8DV3alw9R7NdKppVBaI7Dwb7P3pJBclSoVhp8VROj6Bb7vzn86nkpzSq4ibeplNNGCNQo9hp6gF5ajmXLuwgCrB1UbdEkq9kkUbL0jJB8yACYx9QGaib1gerw/s400/tignes.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Back in France. But not long left. I have seen lots of places and faces and built lots of tales to tell in the last year. There have been waves, snow, storms, tents, monkeys, sea urchins, dawas, bake sales, bike rides and lots of fresh air. At present my world is full of cold air, pate d'ours, baguette and butter, scotch and ringing phones. </span>Claire Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17122084492388576832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189554282955229836.post-52332391982622801252011-02-04T22:30:00.000+00:002011-02-04T22:30:53.108+00:00Lost for a while<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTXmXSDBAsFknE1FIva6pm88IdR1y8pPCIr44-R_uGxc2J6cGvv5kJwXWICSfnqk-eFEw5pgOzYSAtXcVthJL0WpeI4HKrgNbxTAU00QD8keZE-XB0VmWuk-Xt9GcxtijovK3_vxZIKvQ/s1600/stuben.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTXmXSDBAsFknE1FIva6pm88IdR1y8pPCIr44-R_uGxc2J6cGvv5kJwXWICSfnqk-eFEw5pgOzYSAtXcVthJL0WpeI4HKrgNbxTAU00QD8keZE-XB0VmWuk-Xt9GcxtijovK3_vxZIKvQ/s400/stuben.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>For the last few months I have been floundering around back in St Anton, Austria and have somewhat neglected those things that are important and rewarding and that mean something. My body and mind have been challenged and pushed passed their limits to the point at which returning to normality seems like an impossible concept. But today the light shone bright and a very clear reminder of how amazing and wholesome enjoying yourself is. And from now on everyday will be an enjoyable one (not necessarily all of it, but at least a part of it) so that I feel a sense of satisfaction for the day completed and excited about the coming one.Claire Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17122084492388576832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189554282955229836.post-15467575408455041212010-11-03T00:17:00.001+00:002010-11-03T00:17:26.664+00:00"The time has come" the walrus said...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7FuuO5tWBDhNYRcf57wn50Apu377kp_TF9mU0-y_VYxhEdfzg2SnabK0fStoXaI-oQAdGAf7srFOL0SBgzIwOM3H9X5f-cqvSlASOptmR_vyvm6prefK2m_Qba-K9NBqhoPdNJEjfppE/s1600/Summer+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7FuuO5tWBDhNYRcf57wn50Apu377kp_TF9mU0-y_VYxhEdfzg2SnabK0fStoXaI-oQAdGAf7srFOL0SBgzIwOM3H9X5f-cqvSlASOptmR_vyvm6prefK2m_Qba-K9NBqhoPdNJEjfppE/s400/Summer+2.jpg" width="400" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWIj8b1s9Yj2Ga1p17_ScD0qEDvTV_d_6mMc6yUE3BD4othP4ZxzNmH7sAsmK1zsXe4fPcauINsQCBGK2hKzqTaXzigfFQ6IyfM5T1cIj6jcalf9Jmx7k4LLDkvv5BiAOwKD04ACxUhUE/s1600/Summer+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWIj8b1s9Yj2Ga1p17_ScD0qEDvTV_d_6mMc6yUE3BD4othP4ZxzNmH7sAsmK1zsXe4fPcauINsQCBGK2hKzqTaXzigfFQ6IyfM5T1cIj6jcalf9Jmx7k4LLDkvv5BiAOwKD04ACxUhUE/s400/Summer+3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPRAw6WJ1bwoKEbsEDRRRTKpPyRTtWlDI8JGlDe4R4p6GxC0Wsvv1iC4IpXJoESitkAocNRMd1iIyoPhEH-m5959UnvbXtQC02hBrFm9dv4sQgYfyHmXi0Bt8fP6y5TdlE3OkgD1EiKv4/s1600/Summer+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPRAw6WJ1bwoKEbsEDRRRTKpPyRTtWlDI8JGlDe4R4p6GxC0Wsvv1iC4IpXJoESitkAocNRMd1iIyoPhEH-m5959UnvbXtQC02hBrFm9dv4sQgYfyHmXi0Bt8fP6y5TdlE3OkgD1EiKv4/s400/Summer+4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQKj9cmxGIwzgSsfv_PoAIi2QN95UiZLUZaHxHm709aOZWXCxH325HxfNcnRDrd59NLYqcwf58B1Ya6x9sGY6gY5L2npBAUEE6KXvkt40rg0fVAEQ4jKu9fP0xQu8eOgl5iGnSGVyr2s4/s1600/Summer+7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQKj9cmxGIwzgSsfv_PoAIi2QN95UiZLUZaHxHm709aOZWXCxH325HxfNcnRDrd59NLYqcwf58B1Ya6x9sGY6gY5L2npBAUEE6KXvkt40rg0fVAEQ4jKu9fP0xQu8eOgl5iGnSGVyr2s4/s400/Summer+7.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">That time of year has come around again...the time of excitement, apprehension, a butterfly filled stomach, nervousness and delight. It is time to head to the mountains. This summer has been a wonderful one (I know it is November, but I work one a bi-seasonal basis: winter and not) and I can take to the hills with me many beautiful moments and memories. Beaches, surfing, strolling, evening sunshine, sleeping in tents, breakfast on gas stoves, farms, ice cream, road trips, bridges, bike rides, English monsoons, living with the best friends and more than I would care to share so as not seem like I am showing off about how incredibly lucky I am feeling right now. I think it is healthy not to get unnecessarily stuck in unwanted mud. When it is time to keep your feet and head still, I believe it will be clear. But until then...I am going to keep getting excited about the next thing. </div>Claire Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17122084492388576832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189554282955229836.post-73349893771956496222010-10-28T23:52:00.004+01:002010-10-29T00:09:19.149+01:00Not mine<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKwEEHIQO56vrLexZLz03qrAQClNuodiVFxVicMKw9u3FBPbtr74SJyw1zTiLIit-SIA41nmabvlc4zhUalVQOxluwaQLrpWmpFvreKuvIZGtuz7BdBIvamelXmmZ-yS0k1NIyjbHkuu4/s1600/dog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKwEEHIQO56vrLexZLz03qrAQClNuodiVFxVicMKw9u3FBPbtr74SJyw1zTiLIit-SIA41nmabvlc4zhUalVQOxluwaQLrpWmpFvreKuvIZGtuz7BdBIvamelXmmZ-yS0k1NIyjbHkuu4/s400/dog.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNsQLGknHF0ZfR3tOnYzCIWcfWUNJJ39PqdVi3Y5Nzmc25FtFcwCwoCjIH-c695EAfdU7wd2JXc5Y6qByDQoolDphZO6XQSPUr6E6BgM8ds6L3Oo44j9HUBgxfurMvamVh8KuR94Qojq0/s1600/dog2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNsQLGknHF0ZfR3tOnYzCIWcfWUNJJ39PqdVi3Y5Nzmc25FtFcwCwoCjIH-c695EAfdU7wd2JXc5Y6qByDQoolDphZO6XQSPUr6E6BgM8ds6L3Oo44j9HUBgxfurMvamVh8KuR94Qojq0/s400/dog2.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPKXGb2laQWZdH5OEvK9x2sG-vcvYtXUEfuQPnGy4WnIx-MFiBZKyoAP3nyRgD5fqxczS_SVXDD93sPCi9321Vfm53T-tlBno0vdeeKyx0LkrSsXpiiO1pD4aczBiGxLmjEWE5TTWlDEg/s1600/bird.jpeg+" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPKXGb2laQWZdH5OEvK9x2sG-vcvYtXUEfuQPnGy4WnIx-MFiBZKyoAP3nyRgD5fqxczS_SVXDD93sPCi9321Vfm53T-tlBno0vdeeKyx0LkrSsXpiiO1pD4aczBiGxLmjEWE5TTWlDEg/s400/bird.jpeg+" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">When Mum left Surrey last year, the gentleman who lived opposite kindly gave her a camera to pass on to me as he longer had a use for it. As a camera hoarder I gratefully received the thoughtful gift and added it to my much loved collection. The pattern of my photo taken is somewhat sporadic, taking out different cameras each day. So when I picked up a set of photos at the beginning of the week, I nearly turned quickly on my heal ready to shout obscenities at the kodak staff for giving be the wrong prints. Then I stumbled across familiar scenes and remembered the gift and realised that there had already been a film in the camera. It is a bizarre and slightly intrusive feeling owning the images of someone else. Having said that, I intend to pop them in an envelope along with an overdue 'thank you' note so they land in the lap of their rightful owner. I think I am more thank ok with the ill-fated birds not being mine, but I would quite like the dog.</div>Claire Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17122084492388576832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189554282955229836.post-14836385670752265532010-10-20T19:25:00.003+01:002010-10-20T23:58:46.498+01:00Happy 100th Birthday...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvovoTPm3TrAN-a-6nNn2_JO_TsZbj6vh4mo4UxzCn1HbWrVM3-bh5aIdzhyphenhyphenlPI-_X5guVtxxMuzrJXocScWwFFBVVvdsGAwaxjuuephgPnXJgCn_4sxD1Gx-t1Kp0hx9FWRNxJWD2SOU/s1600/brownies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvovoTPm3TrAN-a-6nNn2_JO_TsZbj6vh4mo4UxzCn1HbWrVM3-bh5aIdzhyphenhyphenlPI-_X5guVtxxMuzrJXocScWwFFBVVvdsGAwaxjuuephgPnXJgCn_4sxD1Gx-t1Kp0hx9FWRNxJWD2SOU/s400/brownies.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>...Bristol Brownies! Cycling home from work this evening I suddenly found myself amongst a mass of mustard and then realised that Bristol Brownies were celebrating their 100th Birthday in the Wills Memorial Building. Once I had realised who I was surrounded by (thanks to the beautiful, giant, hand-crafted sugar paper and glitter birthday card displayed for all passers-by to see) I then acknowledged the somewhat highly evolved uniform these energetic and excitable youths were wearing. Long gone are the cotton culottes, branded belts, stuffy shirts and pressed sashes. In their place are vivid synthetic fleeces, bubble writing logo t-shirts and boot cut trousers. With the fast ageing kids of today looking like mini twenty-somethings (get me my slippers and arm chair) I had pretty much forgotten the existence of the Guiding world. Growing up on a campsite that was born out of the Scouts, this organisation was very much prominent in my childhood and I guess I associate it with that period in time when kids were kids who climbed trees, made dens and wore clashing clothes. It was refreshing to see this organisation still going and parents making time in their children's busy schedules to partake in wholesome activities which teach morality, kindness and hardwork.Claire Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17122084492388576832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189554282955229836.post-25188254134562697022010-10-19T22:31:00.001+01:002010-10-19T22:32:05.805+01:00Big love for October<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7JVZiRsanAjEfQekOuJcKvbshVphJeyBMWGwwhrrjZF1nYqYBMui14U7D5YouBEvt-zBh5z5jlXZ7Q6QlEJjL4APeUTLkaBN54wZtfM9H7lyIBVtpFBs3pQ2CcFABXWQnpmO8oTBy0Sc/s1600/october.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7JVZiRsanAjEfQekOuJcKvbshVphJeyBMWGwwhrrjZF1nYqYBMui14U7D5YouBEvt-zBh5z5jlXZ7Q6QlEJjL4APeUTLkaBN54wZtfM9H7lyIBVtpFBs3pQ2CcFABXWQnpmO8oTBy0Sc/s640/october.jpg" width="425" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I think October is my favourite month. Maybe that is a tall order, but it is most definitely one of the best. The scenery looks like 80's tinted photographs of my childhood...not exactly sepia, but tones are softer than reality and everything looks like it does under early morning sun. When you step outside in the morning a gentle chill sweeps over you reminding you to dig out your mittens for tomorrow as you remember how frosty your hands got cycling to work yesterday morning. Frosty...not yet freezing, otherwise you would go back inside and find them. But the cycle ride in is fine without them. More than fine in fact as your breather is very nearly visible and extra caution is noted as your wheels spin over the burnt orange carpet created from the layers of fallen leaves. As much as I am quietly excited and looking forward to returning to the mountains for the winter, I am very much enjoying this colourful, calm time of the year. It only happens once and passes quicker than I would wish which means it must be appreciated and absorbed before it is starts to give way to November and mornings demanding the wearing of mittens.</div>Claire Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17122084492388576832noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189554282955229836.post-42144399320766751912010-10-14T08:25:00.000+01:002010-10-14T08:25:23.289+01:00Knitting<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcPl6Y6v40q8-KEltwu3nyFOgpbmqVVC2kdxANnjW0lOllA_6ukHpaJzcUBl5_2HbSZu1BEQhLWX2owfzNFKnIsi1sU2jVRFFLb0cduRCi2QKUjAValW5egpWVePP_0A_TLgSoPrzjnIo/s1600/boblbe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcPl6Y6v40q8-KEltwu3nyFOgpbmqVVC2kdxANnjW0lOllA_6ukHpaJzcUBl5_2HbSZu1BEQhLWX2owfzNFKnIsi1sU2jVRFFLb0cduRCi2QKUjAValW5egpWVePP_0A_TLgSoPrzjnIo/s400/boblbe.jpg" width="295" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOvyd8A4M6gkCagE55vql4Iq2rTfqkzAA2aRW05EKW3bpO8_9Z3MVqUMuJiQ-FHD-ZwQ6GGXvgQ94Z65iapnyxgY0qxc8hyphenhyphenLER8nnVK6G4xDD2NA8ODW5DsRasdl9XhOcS9hVTNJREruQ/s1600/robyn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOvyd8A4M6gkCagE55vql4Iq2rTfqkzAA2aRW05EKW3bpO8_9Z3MVqUMuJiQ-FHD-ZwQ6GGXvgQ94Z65iapnyxgY0qxc8hyphenhyphenLER8nnVK6G4xDD2NA8ODW5DsRasdl9XhOcS9hVTNJREruQ/s400/robyn.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Having finished my rather suspicious scarf a little while ago, I went straight in for the bobble hat. Edition 1 could have been used as a watermelon warmer it was so large. Edition 2 had unwanted holes in it. Edition 3 was the winner. The bobble may be a little on large side and it may by slightly too long (if however, I ever end up with a headful of dreadlocks, there is room to accommodate them), but I think there is a place for it in my life. Aurelia reminded me of a beautiful book of hers <i>By Hand</i> which features the guerilla knitting artwork of <a href="http://www.robynlove.com/">Robyn Love</a>. This is definitely something to aim for.Claire Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17122084492388576832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189554282955229836.post-58570795683889705782010-10-03T22:25:00.001+01:002010-10-03T22:25:33.069+01:00Le Clic<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgADQi_isg_BGbYx0EJcPARKU4n29ZLLjMJLBMPREl-rsJb7Ik33ZNuYUMRGhBaSnEk_0kcpP7whz1qrsvlcEYVQZ1zKbl5DUhtD6uIfFjokeaBraLpu0o6-f6KdS9W57nqPinp5maZJz0/s1600/clic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgADQi_isg_BGbYx0EJcPARKU4n29ZLLjMJLBMPREl-rsJb7Ik33ZNuYUMRGhBaSnEk_0kcpP7whz1qrsvlcEYVQZ1zKbl5DUhtD6uIfFjokeaBraLpu0o6-f6KdS9W57nqPinp5maZJz0/s400/clic.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Meet my new friend...Monsieur Clic. He has recently been residing in the St Peters Hospice shop until I snapped him up for a mere euro. Well....its was actually a pound, but same same. I think we are going to have a lot of fun together. Tomorrow I'm going to feed him a nice plate of slide film, take him out to play and let the relationship blossom. I will keep you updated on how our love is going/ growing/ not going. Hopefully not the last one. </div>Claire Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17122084492388576832noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189554282955229836.post-44911411030653633732010-09-29T22:26:00.004+01:002010-09-29T23:38:58.999+01:00Treats<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMfwDWDqNZk_7Q8G_iYOmD9XHhb2rLWy8i8dYd1cB_HI45Hw3tpFX_edYwHvig8gToJoa8YLTCULol_8OEi5-kHJW7EsstwFE27YU_fAmklmxMVOE5SDEOZUX98Ee0NQuBRN8-ao6LF7I/s1600/dolomites.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMfwDWDqNZk_7Q8G_iYOmD9XHhb2rLWy8i8dYd1cB_HI45Hw3tpFX_edYwHvig8gToJoa8YLTCULol_8OEi5-kHJW7EsstwFE27YU_fAmklmxMVOE5SDEOZUX98Ee0NQuBRN8-ao6LF7I/s400/dolomites.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMgy9S9M7X6EM77UdoK-ElnGH7Kc5JGxdbNq4zh9pxMu8aO7uJPKbbB3zRG_saj1EXUaLvljjjYOduzwNVSyb4fuQY4Q6Hz1qe7WvWXDvQcOQDWo3DpAlvcEdI2X1khe29MA-_1xtXpfY/s1600/italy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMgy9S9M7X6EM77UdoK-ElnGH7Kc5JGxdbNq4zh9pxMu8aO7uJPKbbB3zRG_saj1EXUaLvljjjYOduzwNVSyb4fuQY4Q6Hz1qe7WvWXDvQcOQDWo3DpAlvcEdI2X1khe29MA-_1xtXpfY/s400/italy.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I got a disposable camera developed today which contained many forgotten about happy good times. There were photos of melon smiles, bear hugs, mountains, feet dangling over water, much missed friends, road trips and a man with a perm and fancy waistcoat. And a few of the inside of my bag. I am starting to worry about all the other hidden away times that are stored inside my head but are only brought forward and remembered when triggered by a specific symbol. What if something incredible happens which is swept to the corner by a higher density of other less amazing occurrences? I guess it's that age-old debate of quality vs quantity. One amazing memory may take up the same amount of space as six less brilliant memories. But maybe what we value at the time isn't the true value. Maybe hindsight and time allows us to re-evaluate and re-order our experiences. Like in <i>The Five People You Will Meet in Heaven </i>by Mitch Albom. If you haven't read it, I would strongly recommend it. It is one of those books you read and tell people about but keep your copy for yourself on your bookshelf as you know that at some point in the future, you will want/ need to re-read it.</div>Claire Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17122084492388576832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189554282955229836.post-42278724632750410362010-09-22T20:02:00.001+01:002010-09-22T20:03:51.238+01:00Bike shelf<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWjKjh3hyphenhyphen4qt0xkY1FvQCLlxqm4IHY57pueCPVZPE4EWiKD_ZJ8cIVQCSJyCblI_ODMZ3RUFGJ2YnfP0iA7rSX0wEmDxtpSq-gkkMfNUmivr0IPyQp5PvFrMzYeyUwXBLbzFge3X6vr-A/s1600/bike+shelf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWjKjh3hyphenhyphen4qt0xkY1FvQCLlxqm4IHY57pueCPVZPE4EWiKD_ZJ8cIVQCSJyCblI_ODMZ3RUFGJ2YnfP0iA7rSX0wEmDxtpSq-gkkMfNUmivr0IPyQp5PvFrMzYeyUwXBLbzFge3X6vr-A/s400/bike+shelf.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Pretty cool. Have a look <a href="http://knifeandsaw.wordpress.com/2010/09/08/bike-shelf/">here</a>. Functional and aesthetically pleasing. Simple and practical. I wonder how long it will be before you see this beauty in Ikea.</div>Claire Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17122084492388576832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189554282955229836.post-56198082632825141552010-09-21T22:10:00.007+01:002010-09-22T20:02:53.220+01:00Real bad guys<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: monospace, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><object height="310" width="380"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/w1FgpBxXho4?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/w1FgpBxXho4?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="380" height="310"></embed></object></span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: monospace, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; white-space: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I was 12 years old and pretty much living in an ice-rink, I took part in my first National Team challenge which saw Teams of over-energetic youngsters skate their (our) little socks off in order to win a super-shiny medal to proudly hang up at home. This debut saw 12 of us appear from the inside of a giant 1920's car made of mdf with wooden splurge guns in hand. There was also feather bowers, spats, braces and badly drawn eyeliner moustaches. The early morning Sunday rehearsals definitely ruined my love for the film, Bugsy Malone, but 14 years on I am ready to curl up and watch it again. Although now I am older than all the actors, a sense of inadequacy and some what lack of accomplishment is present as opposed to young aspiration and inspiration</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;">. </span></span></span></span></div></div>Claire Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17122084492388576832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189554282955229836.post-77754272047194239032010-09-18T21:11:00.002+01:002010-09-19T00:38:13.968+01:00Bike show<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuHlFnrqe-UH_ipiGvRQA_kFgXOPmodfbVLQ2biKSCaROosk7NlWuSzr2IJqU5M7M0Hy95VcTtN6sIqkT8a4FZZfZ-iiP01MS0x-v8S3zai5K9qEiquFQIY5vSPSINC3mBiz96MyZKM2A/s1600/CNV00020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuHlFnrqe-UH_ipiGvRQA_kFgXOPmodfbVLQ2biKSCaROosk7NlWuSzr2IJqU5M7M0Hy95VcTtN6sIqkT8a4FZZfZ-iiP01MS0x-v8S3zai5K9qEiquFQIY5vSPSINC3mBiz96MyZKM2A/s400/CNV00020.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxFYjRfRMQcQvYnTrzzVDm1XmKy_TbsBYHgZbFhG-EzEDzCF_652oB9pnxGpQhYBCGB1eto8-jRw6dcndwTbi5sXPCxfljAZVnUPrdvJ7fw8kZUV4RP2dP3J5UMECwJvuUg7dV-RXusTc/s1600/CNV00027.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxFYjRfRMQcQvYnTrzzVDm1XmKy_TbsBYHgZbFhG-EzEDzCF_652oB9pnxGpQhYBCGB1eto8-jRw6dcndwTbi5sXPCxfljAZVnUPrdvJ7fw8kZUV4RP2dP3J5UMECwJvuUg7dV-RXusTc/s400/CNV00027.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFJNa1SSChJTU7BO6AlKHk-uIRA2trbR4KpDRToEGDHI1JOzC8ItSpBVafsVg7iYnkwlgFlSXWbN1JQW_B5o0AgOX3Ch1-HaZT3SzYO9zJL5xoOuqlzxpqOZ2gtKr6J28vSfkRn4wwYwc/s1600/CNV00028.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFJNa1SSChJTU7BO6AlKHk-uIRA2trbR4KpDRToEGDHI1JOzC8ItSpBVafsVg7iYnkwlgFlSXWbN1JQW_B5o0AgOX3Ch1-HaZT3SzYO9zJL5xoOuqlzxpqOZ2gtKr6J28vSfkRn4wwYwc/s400/CNV00028.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Bristol cycle festival started last weekend and was seen in by the opening of the Bicycle Exhibition initiated by <a href="http://boneshakermag.wordpress.com/">Boneshake</a>r at howies...so on my day off I went back to my place of work for a beer and a good look around some brilliant bike artwork. The walls are still full of all these treasures so go along and have a look. Above you can see some of the hand sewn cycle caps by Jen Harrison, a pinboard of work from the guys at Boneshaker and collection of images from <a href="http://www.thebearded45.co.uk/">45rpm</a>. Come and have a peek abce <a href="http://www.howies.co.uk/">howies</a> on Queens Rd, Bristol.</div>Claire Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17122084492388576832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189554282955229836.post-9945622269101050302010-09-17T23:31:00.011+01:002010-09-17T23:43:56.388+01:00Slapton sands<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKnKOer-2oyBhFHGc9WftXGMW1CAFyncaaIN2LOKg9s85wwxJAaE3DXHWvQkhen2qBpLHDkk6Kidwv6c-0TBBpmCcCephbOpHFGIfUQ-QqNgRmAshYfJWJWOQ4r7F5Gj-60jMI6TE2648/s1600/slapton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKnKOer-2oyBhFHGc9WftXGMW1CAFyncaaIN2LOKg9s85wwxJAaE3DXHWvQkhen2qBpLHDkk6Kidwv6c-0TBBpmCcCephbOpHFGIfUQ-QqNgRmAshYfJWJWOQ4r7F5Gj-60jMI6TE2648/s400/slapton.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A few weeks ago I had the pleasure of staying with a very great friend in the middle of nowhere in Devon. It was super good. Her house was the most wonderful homely space I have ever been lucky enough to spend time in. We slept in the summer house which looked straight out on to the richest green field with sheep happily munching away. We went to Slapton sands in the evening and drank ginger beer on the pebbles. We ate homegrown vegetables for dinner and fresh-from-the-chicken eggs for breakfast. We went surfing. We had an indulgent picnic. We laughed. And the sun kissed all of our cheeks. </div>Claire Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17122084492388576832noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189554282955229836.post-24624140437628558022010-09-16T23:24:00.001+01:002010-09-16T23:28:42.780+01:00Forgotten now foundHere are some excerpts from my "Bad Photo" album. To be honest, I had forgotten I had it...it was an album created at uni for all the 'bad' photos to go into. But it seems that they aren't as bad as I thought they were when I condemned them. They must just not have been right for the purpose they were taken for. Now I don't have to take photos for a purpose or to fulfill a brief. I just take them because I want to. Of what I want. When I want. Can you tell I am an only child?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMjAThiCI0CsXnfFqKxzm00nElwj3xOR62GtDUh_mhx6GGTaNOUXRRQ_Rr3etz9rtSupM-3UnNZJ92fgWzoOxNo6QbrH1plJyqkM0czDVwqPzL-YdBa6AJzrkG7sW5bcoirtYR5Xc2WQU/s1600/bad3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMjAThiCI0CsXnfFqKxzm00nElwj3xOR62GtDUh_mhx6GGTaNOUXRRQ_Rr3etz9rtSupM-3UnNZJ92fgWzoOxNo6QbrH1plJyqkM0czDVwqPzL-YdBa6AJzrkG7sW5bcoirtYR5Xc2WQU/s400/bad3.jpg" width="400" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI25iljUCek0y1gAXwG0-HXWVO7GGaBaugbJr1HFDV37bYgW10P7IGl8w-TW88hnfTMLOFRGKeGPhKe9BDlGEirlfru_NflFnF5dWY8NYXUwJLfUhk3Y77vjsVoEF0UKaiG2IfgE5A1Bc/s1600/bad2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI25iljUCek0y1gAXwG0-HXWVO7GGaBaugbJr1HFDV37bYgW10P7IGl8w-TW88hnfTMLOFRGKeGPhKe9BDlGEirlfru_NflFnF5dWY8NYXUwJLfUhk3Y77vjsVoEF0UKaiG2IfgE5A1Bc/s400/bad2.jpg" width="400" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFyFakCkGbOJUZ4TY80h-XuGAdmFF7C4O3Vp4wNi7OT3SbBXFtVHRi2GK5bLP5MR-lnfxtke93okNjNhYoOJMrWOMsZgeK_UOwT3YHBvSibpunpCu9uRe5zP8cw3eSsPy7T5CJrIpW5P4/s1600/bad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFyFakCkGbOJUZ4TY80h-XuGAdmFF7C4O3Vp4wNi7OT3SbBXFtVHRi2GK5bLP5MR-lnfxtke93okNjNhYoOJMrWOMsZgeK_UOwT3YHBvSibpunpCu9uRe5zP8cw3eSsPy7T5CJrIpW5P4/s400/bad.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Claire Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17122084492388576832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189554282955229836.post-91417936443085049532010-09-15T22:22:00.004+01:002010-09-16T23:28:58.519+01:00Winter woolies<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The mornings are get chillier and the evenings getting shorter. Its the time of year when we start to rummage for big cosy jumpers, not leaving the house without a coat and feel less guilty about staying indoors infront of the TV at night. It is also the time of year when I go on a bit of a knitting rampage, convinced I can knit myself a whole new wardrobe and save the world in my determined mission. More realistic in my achievements this year, I have given myself one scarf to polish up rusty skills before attempting the hat. Having spent the passed few evenings clicking the points of my needles and redecorating my bedroom with wool, I feel I have gotten to a level of competence where I am now comfortable to take on the challenge of creating a piece of headwear. Maybe not to Philip Treacy's standards. But it will hopefully keep my head warm and my dark nights in more interesting. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiINB4gtlDittsC4n6LuomFvL6ExxbXpthyrXx6AH7MXnqwShs-8UQyM0FwlOMFBN1vIOrlUAzwMXFlFHKNBMPd-O7QnP0Sso7KzXfH8zD-mlPjFgHHHioxel7YMJJ81rY6A4MG379AOmI/s1600/knitting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiINB4gtlDittsC4n6LuomFvL6ExxbXpthyrXx6AH7MXnqwShs-8UQyM0FwlOMFBN1vIOrlUAzwMXFlFHKNBMPd-O7QnP0Sso7KzXfH8zD-mlPjFgHHHioxel7YMJJ81rY6A4MG379AOmI/s1600/knitting.jpg" /></a></div>Claire Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17122084492388576832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189554282955229836.post-33453456995147368262010-09-12T23:05:00.001+01:002010-09-16T23:29:19.505+01:00SkillsWhilst browsing the bookshelf at work last week I came across this beauty. Not only is it an absolute treat to look at, but it is surprisingly educational in it;s content. Initially picked up and flicked through in jest, it quickly became apparent that the term 'housewife' described a completely different role in 1963 (the year it was published) than it does nowadays. This book features an array of everyday crisis solutions: quick party canapes, how to re-grout tiles, treating poisoned patients, fixing a broken pipe, how to love animals, making a dress and how to make your home a loving, welcoming one. Im pretty sure if there was an equivalent now it would focus more on personal grooming and the use of a microwave and mobile phone to delegate all household problems to others.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIqclrcgqJe0FquG4gnItdwLFeDAmxRdyX15TPOPCK2RrOI3yqjv_xTuTg4CNmsaOgREVl-lkltXJwX76kq6aMpEE_ce3XFg3dQin22N4mqipvAOD4di_JFzupjP-xJ5DSPf9n_StX600/s1600/housekeeper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIqclrcgqJe0FquG4gnItdwLFeDAmxRdyX15TPOPCK2RrOI3yqjv_xTuTg4CNmsaOgREVl-lkltXJwX76kq6aMpEE_ce3XFg3dQin22N4mqipvAOD4di_JFzupjP-xJ5DSPf9n_StX600/s400/housekeeper.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>Claire Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17122084492388576832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189554282955229836.post-26276019159084806472010-09-10T09:32:00.003+01:002010-09-10T09:34:30.879+01:00PeachHave a look at <a href="http://www.peachmag.be/">Peach</a> magazine. It is laid out beautifully in a very obsessive graphic designer fashion, but features some brilliant imagery of the girls ripping it up. I can't comment on the text content as unfortunately I don't speak Dutch. But I'm sure that it is just as brilliant.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTpGYw3r-Yj5K_GpZ00qc7LDPnPwOtcrRwKHF8yAxyP0pQWRSeqezKXv67_c1mwZ_lT5DVoUNs4C5GxSnq5HmYs-GK2QDup0bfhfGt1jxRjs1PQ8FkOKDWm0_jTfB3VCKW83RdS6lNR-Q/s1600/peach2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTpGYw3r-Yj5K_GpZ00qc7LDPnPwOtcrRwKHF8yAxyP0pQWRSeqezKXv67_c1mwZ_lT5DVoUNs4C5GxSnq5HmYs-GK2QDup0bfhfGt1jxRjs1PQ8FkOKDWm0_jTfB3VCKW83RdS6lNR-Q/s400/peach2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz-6iyxHR6__9NxtDkPcDcuLQiWjLZ1yUccNhSOtJ1UcTkxORKfyFI5IBgU4BLk1JQbuipPNe6f7FvDlQfr-mjoJHy3UEGvBWa2RFKNPn24TNX6-JFmgwr9I4YE5A_Vlq1Zp2CISjMkHQ/s1600/peach3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz-6iyxHR6__9NxtDkPcDcuLQiWjLZ1yUccNhSOtJ1UcTkxORKfyFI5IBgU4BLk1JQbuipPNe6f7FvDlQfr-mjoJHy3UEGvBWa2RFKNPn24TNX6-JFmgwr9I4YE5A_Vlq1Zp2CISjMkHQ/s400/peach3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuv-jbvoPuRrQukAogRrTnYIbTHkCxR1mCtmGi3y6auKKOiTZBWUAEG42RULkfMf4x83woUl7Ma8rSM47r9QSJ85qnE-TXiLpMgFBsNimal5onbv41Vi_LFJcOPqvkPTxt0M0HW9sf4to/s1600/peach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuv-jbvoPuRrQukAogRrTnYIbTHkCxR1mCtmGi3y6auKKOiTZBWUAEG42RULkfMf4x83woUl7Ma8rSM47r9QSJ85qnE-TXiLpMgFBsNimal5onbv41Vi_LFJcOPqvkPTxt0M0HW9sf4to/s400/peach.jpg" width="305" /></a></div>Claire Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17122084492388576832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189554282955229836.post-69094926873820539632010-09-06T19:27:00.005+01:002010-09-11T04:47:53.429+01:00Childhood dreams<div style="text-align: left;">Last night I watched a <a href="http://www.channel4.com/programmes/strictly-bolshoi">documentary on Christopher Wheeldon</a>; one of the youngest and most successful choreographers of contemporary ballet. The Bolshoi Ballet (one of the oldest and most traditional companys) invited him to create a new piece for them. He takes two of his closest dancers/ friends with him to document the experience who prove to be more useful in the creative process than he planned. The way in which Wheeldon works as an artist is highly organic and exploratative, whereas the dancers he is working with are used to being taught predesigned sequences from previously established pieces. This is made evident right from the start and causes quite a ripple amongst the company and within Wheeldon's creative process.</div><br />
Watching this documentary was a pleasure as well as inspiring. Not least because my childhood dream was to be a Prima Ballerina, but also to see that even the most successful, high-profile artists are often challenged by their own routine and processes and still have to adapt to ever-evolving situations. Just because you are a national star or prodigy, does not mean that performing and creating at the same pace and in the same way will hold your success status. Being successful is about constant challenge and development.<br />
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Having my memory stirred by remembering my childhood dream resulted in a late night trawl through youtube to find footage of a German TV series aired in the late 80's called <i> Anna.</i> My life after the discovery of this series was changed forever. Mainly with my questionable fashion taste being based on that of Anna's. Actually, it probably still has a glimpse of influence still now. Despite the original being as badly dubbed as <i>The Moomins</i> and the German version now only available, I can still remember nearly ever word. Especially from this scene...one which was recreated hundreds of times in my living room with the sofas pushed back and the carpet rolled up. Which I am off to do right now. Enjoy.<i> </i><br />
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</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: monospace, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; font-style: normal; white-space: pre-wrap;"><object height="310" width="380"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/89fhxoBvG6c?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/89fhxoBvG6c?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="380" height="310"></embed></object></span></i></div>Claire Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17122084492388576832noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189554282955229836.post-44757407878756813162010-09-01T08:44:00.005+01:002010-09-16T23:29:54.466+01:00Sunny September morning<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: monospace, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><object height="310" width="380"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZreAq0beEfM?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZreAq0beEfM?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="380" height="310"></embed></object></span></span></div>Claire Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17122084492388576832noreply@blogger.com0