Vicki's Vapours

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Pigs and pigtails

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Today Al and I visited his friends Howie and Toni. They are establishing a very (very, very) nice indeed 5-acre property. Their swimming pool alone is huge — and deep, albeit currently devoid of water — but I digress.

Howie and Toni have a pig. It is a mighty, monstrous pig. I thought I liked pigs but this one looks more than slightly nefarious. It has a very small, beady eye. (Actually I don’t know that it was particularly beady, but “small and beady” in association with “nefarious” sounded good.)

Al told me a rather convoluted story about how she (the pig) was the (indirect) cause of the demise of her husband. I shut my ears to the tale of what happened to their dear little piglets. There are some things one does not need to know.

Pigs seem to be have been a theme in my life in the last couple of days. First I told Al the story of the 15-year-old me who wore very short shorts and hair in pigtails to go doorknocking for charity. There was one house where a man answered the door and dug around in his pockets… disappeared for a moment and about 5 other blokes appeared with him, all digging into their pockets and having a gawk.

My Dad subsequently forbade me to wear those shorts again. Pfft. I’m sure it was the pigtails, not the shorts…

Yesterday, Al and I were in town for the Egyptian antiquities from the Louvre: journey to the Afterlife exhibition. (Note: I am not sure if this link will work after the exhibition finishes, so I’m also including the link to the official Egyptian Antiquities site.)

It was an amazing exhibition and I found the whole approach to religion, death and the afterlife fascinating — but back to pigs. On our way home, we drove through Northbridge and Al suddenly pulled in at Horseland. I never really believed my dreams had come true and Al had suddenly decided to fulfil all my horsey desires — and I was right.

He wanted to visit a place on the corner that sold a lot of old things… along with things that go well in old homes. There were some (iron?) pigs that caught my eye. They looked so cute and happy! (Most unlike Howie and Toni’s pig, I might add!) This made me think of my school friend Sally, who was my bridesmaid and with whom I have, somehow, carelessly, and genuinely tragically, lost touch altogether.

Sal had a “thing” about pigs. In our day, before email, we used to write on paper. (Heaven forbid!) Sal’s “signature” was a little drawing of a pig. It was a fat and happy pig with a squiggly tail. She collected pigs (not real ones) and they were all cute and fat and happy. Sal was a dear and very special friend and she and pigs are ever intertwined in my heart. (Sounds glib but is actually the truth.)

So I really wanted those pigs. Which, it goes without saying, cost a fortune.

But perhaps it is cheaper to just buy a real pig? Al certainly has the space. I am cackling madly as I type. I must find out.

Toodle pip, and cheers, my little piggies.

Carpark Voyeurism

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Yesterday morning, Al and I went to the Melville Carpark Markets. I’d never been there before, and while I suppose it’s not that different to most carpark markets, we definitely got there earlier than I’ve ever been to markets on a Sunday (although later than Al would have liked… pfft!) and there was a pretty good selection of wares.

What really fascinates me about these markets is that it’s a kind of voyeurism. It’s almost like we’re peering into people’s homes. I don’t know about you, but I love it when people leave their curtains drawn at night and I can sneak a peek into their home, into their lives. Of course I try not to make my stickybeaking overt, but I find it so fascinating to see how other people live.

Carpark markets are kind of like this. You can see into people’s homes, except you don’t see the home itself. You can even catch glimpses of their history, to a degree, when their wares display a degree of age, gender and ethnicity.

But what I loved most was the old glassware and crockery. Some of it was very beautiful and the evident age only made it the more attractive. And it makes me wonder what meals were served on those plates, and what dinner-time conversations were held over those meals. Who sat together over a cup of tea, with those teacups and saucers? What confidences were shared? What joys and trials and tribulations were discussed over those cups, glasses, dishes, plates, all those years ago?

Al, however, seemed most interested in the plants and we came away with sage, mint and… something else. Argh I am such a bad girlfriend, not remembering the plants he bought! I’m sure I’ll remember as soon as I’ve posted this!

;-)

We were only there for an hour or so but it was a most enjoyable time and I have a feeling if I’d been on my own I would have indulged myself with more than one useless item. :-)