He was an artist, our neighbour. We didn't really know him but he lived across the road in our old suburb. He was Eastern European, I think and the one time we went into his house, a lovingly restored old Canberra cottage, I was amazed. It was all light and colour, from the multitude of small colourful tiles in the kitchen, to splashes of stained glass windows casting rainbows onto the immaculate floorboards.
That's all I remember really. The light and the colour.
So when he held a garage sale one Saturday morning, I of course was desperate to dash across the road and join the masses. Miraculously, this jug became mine. I don't know how it was missed among the antiques and collectables he was off loading. When I asked him how he could sell so many beautiful things he said he was no longer interested in any of the objects he was selling, that he wanted to be rid of them.
I held up the weighty blue jug and he said, 'Ah, that. Yes, it's beautiful.'
'How much?' I asked.
Fifteen dollars was the price. As little as that? My face must have said it all. "Yes, he said. Just $15. A friend of mine made it. He is Danish, but lives in Australia. I hope you enjoy it."
And I always have. I love blue things. Blue glass. Blue bowls. Blue pottery. I have a small but lovely collection. And this was the piece that started it off. Now, it houses my needles, the straights I hardly ever use.
I love it.
Bells
|