Confessions of a Glider Groupie – my Glider Collection

Part 4 – Segler quercus robustus

Today I am featuring my biggest glider, the monstrously huge Segler quercus robustus, also known as the Bruiser of the Sky.  This glider has no pretensions of beauty or elegance, but what he lacks in style he makes up for in sturdy robustness.  He has a wingspan of about a meter, and is made, believe it or not, of solid oak!  Not hollow, not veneered, no, solid oak all the way through.  He weighs a lot, obviously.  I paid twice in shipping what I paid for the glider himself.  I discovered him in Germany, in a junkshop masquerading as an antiques dealer on Ebay.  He came wrapped totally inadequately, just shoved as he was between two pieces of cardboard loosely taped together – both his wings stuck out!  But if anyone could handle such slapdash treatment it was this glider, which was build to last.

 

I rather suspect he was made in the 1930s as a toy for children, rather rambunctious high spirited ones, who were hard on their toys and destroyed them as like as not.  Perhaps a doting grandfather, intent on raising his grandchildren to be good glidermen, carved this sturdy sailplane for them to play with.  And play with it they did, for the Sky Bruiser is pitted with any number of bumps and scars, and even lost the top part of his tail.  Perhaps he was painted at some time, a few remnants of yellow paint remain on the wings. 

At first I considered sanding him down and effecting a few repairs, but then decided to just clean him up a little and give him a polish with Danish oil.  He is what he is, and has nothing to be ashamed about.  His scratches and holes are come by honourably, and bear witness that he gave good sport to his little owners who liked to play rough.  It would be nice to restore the missing tail portion, but I am worried to do it wrongly, so have done nothing about it so far.  Perhaps one day MDL can be prevailed upon to heal this injured old trooper – he has worked miracles on far more damaged sailplanes.

But damaged or not, the Sky Bruiser is very welcome to his spot in the ceiling of my Nostalgia Studio.  I like to imagine that he has a gruff but chivalrous nature, and should any intruder ever menace me in that room I have no doubt that my Segler quercus robustus would slip from his harness and impress my hapless assailant with his stout oaken nature by braining him!

A Day in the Life of DB

Yesterday was one of those wonderful days where Nature seems to have pulled all stops to create perfection, like one of those haughty self centred young artists who throw their completed masterpiece at the feet of their uncomprehending audience proclaiming, ‘this is my heart’s blood, take it or leave it, see if I care, you geekoid masses!

Usually Nature does this on a weekday, when everyone is shut up in their offices and can’t go out to appreciate the effort that has gone into creating the perfect day, and then Nature goes into a huff and it rains for ten days.  But this time it was a Saturday, so I rose to the challenge! 

Every Friday evening I resolve to become a better person and adopt virtuous habits.  I promise myself that I will stay at home on Saturdays and do the dusting and hovering and laundry, and not leave everything to the last minute on Sunday night.  And every Saturday I get up, take one look at the sluts-wool in the corners and the dirty dishes in the kitchen sink and the overflowing laundry basket, and instead of getting stuck in and shifting the grime I avert my eyes and skip away.

But yesterday morning I had an excuse!  How could I possibly be expected to clean the house on a beautiful day like this?  It would be a sin and a shame and cry to Heaven for vengeance!  When it comes to avoiding housework I have many excuses.  Well, I figure, as long as it gets done eventually, like in the evenings when it is too dark to see the dirt properly so I miss half the accumulations, who cares?  I don’t think God wants me to waste my life cleaning the house.  He wants me to be outside and play and be happy!  That’s what I think.  A happy heart is more important than a clean house.

So as I was saying, yesterday morning I skipped from the house at an early hour, having found the perfect excuse:  My Mushroom scarf needed an airing!  I am very fond of my mushroom scarf, it is the first quality scarf I bought, many decades ago when I was a poor student.  I never wore it, because I was so frightened I would damage it.  Instead I took it out of its box occasionally and admired it in a reverend attitude.  Finally I spotted another one on Ebay, and since I now have a spare I actually wear it sometimes.

I had a very special reason, too, for wearing it – it was a perfect colour match for my newly finished waistcoat!  The photo does not really capture the colour of the waistcoat very well, so you just have to take my word for it.  Both scarf and waistcoat are a beautiful rich grass green, the sort of green one mainly sees in spring, the green of young beech leaves.  Simply gorgeous!  Of course pedants might argue that mushrooms are more of an autumn phenomenon, but I am not a pedant, and anyway the scarf is art and art knows no boundaries.



So I folded my scarf such that it displayed the nicest mushrooms  to best advantage and took it for a walk.  We walked up the Hill in the cool morning mist, beneath a blue sky and a strengthening sun.  The birds were singing, flowers bloomed everywhere, and everyone I met was in a good mood.  Half way up the Hill I found a penny! 

After half an hour I directed my steps to Café Noir, to partake of a light breakfast and their free newspapers, but alas, they were closed because of some electric problems.  I speculated that they had forgotten to pay their electricity bill and went on to another café, which supplied me with an acceptable breakfast but no free papers, so I had to buy one myself – duh! 

Then I hit the charity shops, there are half a dozen up the Hill and I searched them all with a fine tooth comb.  I am at heart a hunter & gatherer, I hunt for bargains and gather freebies.  On this occasion I found a lilac cardigan which should come in handy during the summer and a cat by Perry Lancaster, he who made the Cat & Mouse statue that lives on my mantelpiece.  This was a real bargain at £2.99 – the Cat & Mouse one retails for £90!  Anyway, I thought the cat could keep an eye on the Green Mamba, it is quite a sturdy looking fellow.

Then I walked home again, offloaded my treasures and took another look at the cleaning situation.  Pricked by my conscience I cleaned the kitchen, but after that I got restless again and went to town to discuss The Perfect Handbag with my long-suffering handbag guru in the Covered Market.  I only allow The Bridge bags into my house, and even those have to meet tight specifications.  My handbag guru maintains that The Bridge bags are of a better quality than most designer bags, and they are of course much cheaper and look better and don’t scream ‘Look at me I can afford a designer bag!’ all over town. 

I am not a fan of designer labels.  I do wear some, but I try to use them such that no one can see the labels.  I don’t want some idiot mugger thinking to himself, Hey look at this woman wearing a designer scarf, I bet she is loaded! and try to steal my handbag.  An intelligent mugger would think, Hey look at this woman wearing a designer scarf, I bet she is broke! which would be much nearer the mark.  Least of all do I want a fellow scarfie try and steal the scarf!

Having concluded for the umpteenth time that my current assortment of four bags – one small for evening events (strap only), one middling for long walks (strap only), one middling for elegant city breaks (strap & handles), one large for work and inelegant city breaks (strap & handles) – were Perfection Profundis, I walked up a different hill to visit Z.  Z had houseguests and needed a break, so we went for a long walk along the river and gossiped.  Then I walked back home, decided I was too fagged for any more housework, having walked for about five hours that day, and barricaded myself in the Nostalgia Studio. 

Once settled down I decided to watch a nice movie.  I am currently watching several movies, all in French with French subtitles, still trying to force French into my stubborn brain cells while knitting waistcoats.  Anyway, the movie had barely started when I noticed – Shock!  Horror!! – that the newly acquired feline was eyeing not the Green Mamba as instructed but the Tiny Visitors who were just then resting on the Clocktower!  Well, the tower is high and the cat is heavy – made of Goncalo Alves wood – so I figure the Tiny Visitors are quite safe, but it is a little disconcerting all the same!

Confessions of a Glider Groupie – my Glider Collection

Part 3 – Planeur fruitwoodii elegans

This beautiful sailplane is La Dame de Vol.  I discovered her in France, mounted on one of the ugliest stands I have ever seen.  Needless to say, as soon as she arrived at The Little House I unscrewed her from the stand, drilled a hook into the ceiling of the Nostalgia Studio, and gently slid her into a harness of thin but strong string. 

All my suspended gliders are held in harness, rather than permanently affixed to strings, so they can slip out and have a little soar around the room when they feel like it and I am not watching. 

My elegant lady is towards the back of the room, behind the mobile, partly so she can keep an eye on the Tiny Visitors and partly because she doesn’t want to be too close to Segler quercus robustus, the Bruiser of the Sky, who hovers near the window and rather fancies her (the feeling is definitely not mutual).

As to the exact race and species of my fair lady, I have no clear idea.  I rather suspect she was crafted in the seventies of the last century, of a fruitwood, possibly pear.  The shape seems to suggest that she was made in the likeness of an early German glider – her wings are slightly curved, like a seagul’s.

Despite her corner location, La Dame de Vol manages to sway gently in the breeze when the window is open, and even the odd thermal created by the radiator sometimes causes her to move a little.

View from my bed, head on pillow!

I found Gold in London!

OK, now that I have your attention ….  Yesterday I was in London, doing my usual stuff, you know, glamourising around and doing the kind of stuff other people can only fantasise about, like walking around in Hyde Park, using the toilets in Selfridges, discussing the best way to knot a 90cm carre with a charming young Frenchman, looking for coins in Knightsbridge, and so on and so forth.

After having glimmered around London glamorously for a few hours, I met up with K to see the Spider Silk Exhibition at the Victoria & Albert Museum.  Wow Au AU!!!  Incredible, simply incredible.  I took some photos, and am adding the link to a film Z found on the internet as well.  The exhibition is on until early June, if you don’t go to see it you will regret it until the day you die.

The textiles shown are made from the silk of the Madagascar Golden Orb spiders.  The silk is naturally golden, the garments have not been dyed.

http://www.vam.ac.uk/content/articles/g/golden-spider-silk/

The Return of the Green Mamba

Some time ago The Third Triplet came into possession of three green mambas.  They were incredibly inquisitive, and kept cropping up where they did not belong, like other people’s letterboxes.  One of them made its way into The Little House, and I had my hands full trying to control it.  I rather suspect it had its eyes on the frogs inhabiting my pond!  After several months of fruitlessly trying to keep it out of mischief, I smuggled it through Customs and into the Palatial Abode of the Esteemed Ancestor.  There it was joined by its fellow triplets in due course and remains to this day.  Last I saw them they all resided on top of an old clock, companionably intertwined, and I thought I had escaped the Green Mamba threat well enough.

Until today.  I return to The Little House, fatigued and hungry after a hard day’s work, and what do I find but a soft envelope stuck into my letterbox.  Why Bless My Soul, I intoned, some kind Friend & Relation has decided to send me a small present!  I felt it appreciatively, and noticed that it was rather soft and yielding – like a silk scarf!  It was from The Third Triplet.  Well really you shouldn’t have, I thought, How very thoughtful and kind!  A new scarf is just what one needs when coming home from work.

Upon opening the envelope I was, alas, sadly disillusioned!  Instead of a silken square a Green Mamba emerged from the torn paper!  And as you can see from the attached photos, it lost no time getting into trouble.  It is still a little shy, and confused from the long travel in the envelope, which is why, I assume, it headed straight for various green environments to hide in.

 

First it slid into my house slipper whence I ejected it because I wanted to wear it.  Then it snuggled into an almost finished waistcoat – I turfed it out because I want to work on it tonight.  Then it curled up in an armchair, where I left it, glad to be rid of it for the time being.  But when I went upstairs it got lonely and followed me into my Nostalgia Studio.  It nosed around for a while, and finally settled in one of the clivias.

Thanks a lot, fellow Triplet!  I wonder whether The First Triplet got one, too?  Not sure we can dump them again on the Esteemed Ancestor, his Palatial Abode is too cluttered as it is.