Animals Strike Curious Poses

Another fantastic image from my cyber friend over at Black and White - I have followed his blog for the last couple of years and it only becomes more beautiful there.

My skin is moisturised. The sun is shining and the sky is blue. Beyond my window a tiny bird is singing to my bird feeder as a prelude to stealing its peanuts. Ida Maria sings to me from a freshly borrowed library cd (what an amazing service the library is - you should use it more). The Loft is tidy for the first time in a month or so and fresh laundry dries in front of my seventies gas fire. This looks like a picture of domestic bliss, at last.

Kate's blog is back online - yay! Check it out and send her healing vibes as she recovers from New Monia in New Zealand (see what I did there - does the fun of The Daily never stop??). And while you're strutting so confidently around the blogosphere, stop off at Psyconym's blog, too - her signature image at the top of the screen is just amazing, and her posts make me feel like I'm living inside a Daniel Clowes graphic novel. Actually, I kind of fancy me and Psyconym as alternative Enid and Rebecca's - bugsy the cat mask.

Despite the many joys in the world, I am antsy. Still too busy thinking of what I desire to notice what I have. It's such a cliche to miss the obvious, and a capital error, as our Sherlock would say. I'm back at the Doyle collection today after spending the morning there yesterday with the new records project manager, Michael. I spent an hour researching an obscure skotographer called Madge Donohoe.

But what is a skotographer, Sarah, I hear the gentle readers cry (I keep typing it as scatographer, which I'm too afraid to look up in the dictionary, quite frankly).

Well, a skotographer is someone who takes pictures without the use of a camera or light, in Madge's case by pressing packages of photographic plates to her head. This is how I currently spend my spare time, analysing the pictures of spiritualist photographers, and I wonder my dreams are so haunting?!

Following my adventures with Madge, I spent a couple of hours cataloguing pictures of a medium called Kathleen Goligher, who was famous for producing ectoplasm, but trust me, you don't need me to get into that with you.

I find me impossible right now. Try as I might to outrun me, I'm always here waiting when I get home at night. Damn my persistence.

I'm flirting with Ida Maria. Her record label describes her as a cross between Amy Winehouse and The Strokes, which seems too frightening for words.