Aliens, a mirror, and the plan chest top…

But first…
Dulltown, UK: Today’s wrinkled old black and white snapshot is the one of me and Charlton Heston sitting eating bananas by his chariot on the set of Ben-Hur in 1958. (BH)

I found that I was about fifteen minutes early en-route to visit a couple of friends of mine; I was going round to help them screw a heavy difficult mirror to the wall of their hall, and also to measure a plan chest for a top (with additional storage) that it had never had; it had once been the bottom half of a double-decker plan chest, so it hadn’t needed a top of its own.
A visitor arriving early is almost as annoying as one arriving late, don’t you think?
Right then, I have just enough time to wash my hair before Dave comes, splash, splash, gurgle, drip, damn! Who the hell is that ringing the bloody doorbell?
So I was walking down the road deliberately slowly – it is quite difficult to walk slowly when you normally don’t – and it’s no good looking at your watch – still fifteen minutes early! You then check to check that your watch hasn’t stopped.
Ah, but look, here’s a charity shop (what I believe in the US they call a ‘thrift store’ – those Americans really don’t seem to like the word ‘charity’ for some reason, perhaps it smacks too much of ‘socialism’?) perhaps I’ll pop in and browse the bookshelves for ten minutes.
Hm… Not much here, the inevitable cluster of copies of Fifty Shades; plenty of fat historical novels with gorgeous covers; and as many large bright glossy gardening books as you could shake a dibber at – this is that sort of area…
Oh, but what’s this? What a great title! A slim hardback in very good condition, and only 75 pence – UFOs, and How to Spot Them. I am tempted to buy it just for the title, I am also tempted to respond to the author with, Well, it’s not difficult – they look like UFOs…
I suspect that there isn’t any real need for this book, I suppose it tells you the best way to stand in your back garden all night with a flask of tea, gloves, a pair of binoculars, a camera, and well-peeled eyes – and also how to treat the neck-ache that you suffer all the next day.
I thumbed through the pages, there were lots of grainy old black and white photos of blurred discs, as one would expect, and plenty of dense text, but I hold back from buying it, I don’t really need any more silly books cluttering up the place, but, I will quickly make a note of the title, I might use it in a future blog post. What’s the time now? Hope I’m not going to be late…
Anyway dear reader, the heavy unusual mirror (‘artist designed’) was a three person struggle to get on the wall, but it did stay there, despite one of the wall plugs going into soft Victorian mortar – doh!
As for the truncated plan chest mensuration, that went well too and I drew a nice three-dimensional (oh, what’s that word? Ah yes, isometric!) preparatory diagram of the thing, complete with dimensions… I couldn’t wait to get started making it!…


About Dave Whatt

Grumpy old surrealist artist, musician, postcard maker, bluesman, theatre set designer, and debonair man-about-town. My favourite tools are the plectrum and the pencil...
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9 Responses to Aliens, a mirror, and the plan chest top…

  1. I am in love with plan chests! I didn’t know what they were called before reading this post (thanks for educating me!) but I have seen them online and always coveted them. Also Nick Knack shelves with all the tiny compartments. And I bet you secretly did buy that UFO book after all, heh heh! 😀

  2. Jheron Bash says:

    Well, I do like this blog a lot! What a busy life you lead, Dave – your altruism knows no bounds. I particularly like the plan chest diagram. I bet it fitted a treat, didn’t it? Maybe you could get a picture of the finished article for Scribbleartie to covet.
    Heavy artist-designed mirrors eh? What are they like?

  3. Charlton Heston eh?

    Used to stay in a hotel in Park Street (Mayfair, London, UK, for the benefit of people who arent uk geographically inclined). Always refused the doorperson’s offer of help, Heston was getting a bit doddery in the late 80s, but was perfectly happy when my partner said something on the lines of ‘Ere grandad, want a hand?’ It may have been more polite but there’s no telling.

    Doorperson said later, ‘You do realise who that was, don’t you?’ (He hadn’t)

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