Kranz in a box
All boxed up with somewhere to go…eventually…

 

Everyone who has ever moved house will know: not the most desirable of activities. While the idea of removing oneself (and The Cat) can be highly invigorating for about a minute or two, the thought of ALL THOSE THINGS which need packing simply deflates any buoyancy in no time. Shifting your life (and The Cat) is one of the best examples to demonstrate the ENORMOUS gap between the beauty of theory and the nastiness of reality…as you imagine yourself (and The Cat) exploring new surroundings, cupboards and the nearest library, acknowledging the lack of fairies and imaginary very strong friends sorting and boxing up your stuff can be utterly traumatic.

Aardvark on the mooove...
Getting there…just a stray aardvark here and there awaiting capture…

As this means YOU HAVE TO DO IT ALL YOURSELF. Unless you pay some people who not-so-lovingly tend to throw your things around just a tad too expressively…causing the demise of my nice German amp all those years ago…RIP.

Well. Shoes are packed. ALL OF THEM. Ideal Husbands ready to be shipped out of the tropical anti-environment…TOOLS are packed…looking forward to some soothing moments of cleaning them all up, removing the surface rust…and once out of the tropics, it won’t come back after 2,5 minutes…brilliant. BOOKS are backed…and the list goes on. Surviving with a bit less style and hardly any decent teacups left for another week or so….

Having shifted houses with a regularity which right now right here astounds me, I fondly remember the days when all my gear could be maneuvered into my fabulously stylish old Mercedes Benz (he of the deliriously enticing fake leopard fur interior…those were the days! Germany and England…without those animal prints places hardly worth living in…) to be whisked away to the next shared house of horrors…and of course, to set up the next studio…always the preferred spot of sanity amongst the comings and goings of life, people and missing personal belongings.

So yes, there is trauma. And torture. And that endless mortifying issue of leaving the place neat and clean and as beige as possible…

Having a cuppa in Darwin
Having cups of tea with the housemate in between packing and packing and despairing…and even more packing! And this cup is SOMEWHERE in those boxes…Dino will follow tomorrow…

Yesterday, my beloved car had another moment of glory emerging from its last Darwin registration inspection/ check up with a clean (slightly dusty) bill of health…to quote a mechanic: For a car THAT old, she is in good nick…considering my own vintage and the fact that the Landcruiser is 20 years younger than my last car (a FABULOUSLY vintage Ford Falcon 1964) and all of that coming from a mechanic under the age of thirty…well, it’s a compliment somehow!

love my car...
Beloved and trusted friend for years and years…timeless beauty!

Sadly, after 8 rustic and very rewarding years, I have made the decision to leave the car in the Territory…handing her over to a woman of substance with the right appreciation of its value residing in Alice Springs…and an apparently very good mechanic somehow nearby (which could mean everything within 500km down there!). I am sure there will be more adventures around the corner…albeit with another person on the wheel (who will have nicely toned upper arms in no time thanks to the non-existing power steering…but then, power steering is for wimps/ men…).

Eight years with Phil
The end of an era…for all the three of us…

 

Here you can see Mr Phil Kerr, myself and The Car – a photo taken yesterday when I picked her up knowing it’ll be the very last time for the three of us…as Phil has sold the business and has plans to enjoy his retirement, I will be leaving Darwin in a couple of weeks and The Car – will belong to Corinne! Happy AND sad, that is for sure. And very glad that we’ve got that picture lined up…getting a bit emotional now…now where is Bruno when I need her?!

Well…not with me but guarding the territory….

Cat business
Bruno supervising the neighborhood…last days in Wagagaman!

Well, where was I…somewhere carried away on some saddening romantic vision road tripping the Landcruiser into the sunset with a non-approving Bruno next to me in the passenger seat…lots of dust and some scratches later and STILL in the Territory millions of flies descent…somehow the vision just started to become a tad less vibrant….oh, look….another stretch of road with NOTHING besides and on it …but now it’s mosquito hour….romance? What romance?!

Most certainly it is time now to steer this blog towards its end…which usually involves a link to some shoe designer or other. And since we’ve been dwelling a bit in the past here, may I introduce someone who has been around for a while…Mr Jean Paul Gaultier, he of French origin, he the wearer of the striped t-shirt, he driven by fabulous creative madness, he the creator of THAT CORSET Madonna wore all those light years ago…and he of some rather astonishing shoe designs as well….and he is still doing it!

Have a look at some of his shoes here….

Good night everyone! Back to packing now....arrgh...
Good night everyone! Back to packing now….arrgh…
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