On A Plate 2013: 151

Felpham.

On A Plate 2013: 150

Felpham.

On A Plate 2013: 149

Felpham

OrigamiSpaceMan: Thing for Storing Round Flat Things In.

This is a test fold of a CD holder.

I used a 15cm x 15cm sheet which made it to difficult to complete the final folding.

It works though.

On A Plate 2013: 148

Bognor Regis.

On A Plate 2013: 147

Stenying.

On A Plate 2013: 146

Felpham.

On A Plate 2013: 145

Littlehampton.

On A Plate 2013: 144

Felpham.

On A Plate 2013: 143

Felpham

The Force Is With Me

I appear to be able to manipulate 'The Force'

So just watch it, or else.

On A Plate 2013: 142

Felpham.

On A Plate 2013: 141

Felpham.

On A Plate 2013: 140

Bognor Regis.

On A Plate 2013: 139

Worthing.

On A Plate 2013: 138

Flansham.

On A Plate 2013: 137

Bersted.

On A Plate 2013: 136

?

The Photograph.

I was attending to the duties todays Modern Cloak-Room Attendant has to attend to when providing Premier Cloak-Room Attendant Services to, let's say, a charity ball (in aid of something or other).

I was buffing up the Cloak-Room counter top, having given it a good blast of Mr. Sheen (now with added something or other).

Hmmm...  Shiny, also silky smoooooth.

I was interrupted in my shiny counter stroking reverie by a photographer.
The photographer was there to take pictures of the guests.
He had the works with him.
Tin-foil umbrella with a flash bulb in it.
A special backdrop for the subject to stand in front of.
He had some fancy dress clothing for the guests wear  there by adding an element of amusement to the finished photo.
He would then have to sell them the photo.

I set up a 4' table for him and coved it with a green baize cloth.
He put his printer on it.
Here we see him examining his whopping great camera:

All well and good, but back to his interruption of my joy.

"Could you just stand in front of the screen while I just check everything's set up right?"

"No problem, sir".  

I stand in front of the screen, he aims the camera at me, and the flash goes.

The photographer examines the camera's view screen.

"Just one more, please".

"Happy to oblige."

All over.

I continued preparing my work area.

I gave the shiny counter another stroke.

The photographer came up to the Cloak-Room window and handed me a framed photograph:

It came as a bit of a shock I can tell you.
That's naked that is.

Have you noticed how you can look at your self in a mirror, but still never see yourself.

Photographs are different.

It reminded me of my first school picture:

There's, give or take a month or three, 50 years between these two pictures.

I tried to think about what on earth I could proffer in the way of advice to that happy little lad.

I'm still trying.

On A Plate 2013: 135

Aldwick.

On A Plate 2013: 134

Shoreham.

OrigamiSpaceMan: Senbazuru, 1,000 Paper Cranes. Updated

Me folding the 1,000th paper crane:

Senbazuru

This is what 1,000 Paper Cranes looks like when it's split into 25 bags of 40 cranes.

More updates to follow.

On A Plate 2013: 133

Felpham.

I Am Iron (ing) Man.

I like wearing ironed clothes.
I won't go as far as to say I 'like' ironing, but I don't mind doing it as the results are beneficial.

When I'm ironing I use the equipment shown in this picture:

We live in a high-lime area so I use distilled water in the steam iron.

I iron my underwear.

Because crumpled underpants are unsightly and uncomfortable, until you've worn them for a while by which time they have to go back into the washing pile.

I iron the bed linen.

Because by getting into bed clothes that have been ironed I can almost fool myself into imagining I'm in an expensive hotel.

My advice to would-be ironistas is don't try to iron bras.

It just doesn't work.

How To Buy A Guitar.... (if you're into that sort of thing).

Mr. Mick's Bourgeois guitar had developed a distressing problem in the fret-board area.
I won't elaborate as any description would soon deteriorate into modes of communication only Mystic Rog or Mr. Mick understand.
All that needs to be understood is that Mr. Mick asked Mystic Rog and myself to accompany him to the Acoustic Music Company shop in Brighton.
(Slap-up fish n' chips nosh included).
"Yes, yes I will go".

Getting in and out of Brighton by private auto-ma-car is tedious.

We arrive in the Kemp Town area of Brighton and enter the unprepossessing shop.
This shop sells high-end guitars and mandolins full stop.
No strings, no plecturms, no capos.
In a nutshell, this narrow product range is aimed at keeping time wasting riff raff out.
And should you want to buy a guitar or mandolin here, bring money, lots of money, and then some more money.
You will need it.

Mr. Mick explains the problem with his guitar to the repair guy in the shop.
The repair guy seems to completely understand what Mr. Mick has said to him and takes the guitar into a cupboard and closes the door behind him.

Another person appears, the 'owner' I believe.
He and Mr. Mick discuss various guitars.
Mr. Mick says he's thinking of buying a Gibson L200 Emmylou Harris edition.
The shop owner derides all Gibson products and the L200 in particular.
Mr. Mick's Gibson nostalgia bubble takes a hit.

While we're are waiting it would be silly not to try the exotic range of guitars in the shop.

Here we see Mr. Mick surrounded by guitars, each more perfect (and expensive) than the next as Mystic Rog looks on and listens:

Mr. Mick pulled out all his test tunes:

Anji (if you call yourself a guitarist you should be able to play this. Both Mr. Mick and Mystic Rog can play it.)

Classic Gas

After a while I began to notice that I could actually tell the different sound qualities of each guitar.

After a while it became apparent that one guitar stood out above the others.

I think it was a Ken Franklin Elsie 

In the meantime, Mystic Rog has fallen in lurrve with a 1920's Gibson Mandolin:

We break for lunch at the Regency Fish Restaurant:

Before we went back to collect Mr. Mick's repaired guitar we called in at GAK music shop.

Surprise, surprise they stock Gibson acoustic guitars and have a model very similar to the one Mr. Mick thinks he would like.

He tries it.

We are all three agreed.

It's shite.

Mr. Mick's nostalgia bubble bursts.

Back to the proper guitar shop.

Mr. Mick tries his adjusted guitar.

He doesn't feel the problem has been solved.

He trades it in, gives the shop owner a VERY LARGE AMOUNT of money and buys the Ken Franklin Elsie.

Mystic Rog continued his lurrrve affair with the Gibson mandolin:

The astute will notice that this shop did not sell ukuleles.

Truly I am a saint.