Love story (in a graphic novel)

I met Mr B when I had been living in New York for just one week. He was there on a conference. He'd spent the past nine years based in Richmond, Virginia, but had moved permanently back to Australia a few months earlier. What were the odds?

Two years later, when I moved back to Australia to live with him, I made him a little graphic novel of our crazy romance, for our first Valentine's Day together. Here is the Reader's Digest-esque condensed version.

(Sorry about the sometimes blurry text. I no longer own a scanner and these were snapped on my iPhone.)

Happy Valentine's Day (week), all you lovers. And if you are searching for love right now, I hope you take heart from my story. You never know what (or who) awaits you in the strangest of places and circumstances!

Favourite things - DIY if you dare

I'll be honest, I'm not a very crafty person. I know I come across all hands-on creative, because I LOVE clever handmade things. However, reality is I tend to be more of an admirer than a doer. Maybe this time... 1. Love is in the air Send a Valentine's Day paper aeroplane to that cutie across the office. Or... wear your heart on your sleeve, make a card out of paint strips, customise a jewellery box, and more. Take a look at these ideas in Country Living's Valentine's Day crafts, and do let me know if you make anything.

2. Shrinky dink necklace When I was little we used to find "shrinky dinks" in packets of chips. You'd put them in the oven and they shrank down. I don't know what was so great about that but, trust me, when we were eight it was great. Now personalising a necklace using shrinky dink technology? That's actually great in the present tense! Thank you oh thank you, Papersnitch.

3. Night houses These are so beautiful I may just have to give making them a try, despite my aforementioned lack of craft related talent and motivation. Lamps made from pictures of old houses: by Fellow Fellow, found on Poppytalk.

4. More old books Yep, it's more craft from old books. I still haven't made any of the ideas I keep bringing you. I still intend to do so. One day. I like that this particular post, from Just Something I Made, stipulates the use of Reader's Digest condensed books. These are anathema to literature, I think, so I wouldn't feel quite so guilty cutting them up for my crafty purposes.

5. Vintage camera nightlights I'm cheating, these aren't part of a DIY project. But if you had skill, I'm sure they could be. After all, they were DIY for Jason Hull who made them, right? And they are so amazing I just had to share (photo is from Flickr, while the lights were found on Happiness Is). Having covetous thoughts.

Nights at the circus

I feel as though I have been miniaturised. Deposited into a spinning top and whirled around in sickening, ever-building rainbow chaos until at last I have been spewed in glorious technicolor out with a thud. In other words, have just finished reading Nights at the Circus by Angela Carter. Like the book's main narrator, journalist Jack Walser, I am undone. Walser literally runs away with the circus, seduced by its surreal and sensual world and, in particular, by the circus' star, aerialiste Sophie Fevvers (who may or may not be part woman, part swan). Walser experiences a devastating but also liberating loss of memory and indeed self while stranded in Siberia. As memories of his former life come back to him in increasing flashes, pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, he does not recognise them as such. To Walser they are not memories, but visions.

In a way, that was how I felt while I was reading Nights at the Circus. While inside its world, the world outside - my world of work and moving house and friends and love and summer - was like viewing somebody else's dream. Then I'd be called out of the story. I would fold the page (yes, I am one of those readers) and put the book down. But it would take me a little while to truly re-enter this space, so lost was I in the circus.

Do you know the sensation I'm trying to describe? Do books ever do this to you? As a child reader, such full immersion into a story and its characters was a common experience for me. I think that was why I loved reading quite so much. Today, again like Walser, I am more of a skeptic. We are both journalists, I guess. It is not so easy for me to suspend my reality. Perhaps after making a profession of writing for 15 years, I can't switch off the editor in me. Or the student in me, seated at the feet of better writers and studying their techniques. Either way, I don't nearly as often lose myself inside a narrative these days. So this was a prodigious treat.

Let me take you there. While the circus travelled by train through the wilds of Russia, there came a "thunderous boom."

And, as if at the command of the biggest drum-roll in the entire history of the circus, the dining car rose up in the air.

For a split second, everything levitated -- lamps, tables, tablecloths. The waiters rose, and the plates rose from their arms. Sybil was lifted up, as was the chunk of canned pineapple on which her jaws were just about to close. The feet of the dark girl and the fair girl in the doorway were propelled upwards from the rising floor. Then, before shock or consternation could cross their faces, the whole lot fell down again and, with a rending crash, flew apart in a multitude of fragments.

The train immediately ceased to be a train and turned into so many splinters of wood, so much twisted metal, so many screams and cries, while the forest on either side of the devastated track burst aflame, ignited by the burning logs cast far and wide from the fire-box of the now demolished engine...

Then, amongst the ruins of the 'wagon salon', I beheld a great wonder. For the tigers were all gone into the mirrors… as if Nature disapproved of them for their unnatural dancing, they had frozen into their own reflections and been shattered, too, when the mirrors broke. As if that burning energy you glimpsed between the bars of their pelts had convulsed in a great response to the energy released in fire around us and, in exploding, they scattered their appearances upon the glass in which they had been breeding sterile reduplications. On one broken fragment of mirror, a paw with the claws out; on another, a snarl. When I picked up a section of flank, the glass burned my fingers and I dropped it.

(The waltzing tiger is by arts student Merle Hunt, from a series inspired by Nights at the Circus on her blog The Blackbird and the Lemon Curd. Quite lovely, huh?)

To market, to market

This morning we decided it was well and truly time to stock the 'fridge with fresh fruit and vegetables, after a fortnight of eating junk and takeout during the packing, moving out and moving in. First stop was the Queen Victoria Market, early before the crowds and heat could gain a stronghold. Next, we headed across to the Farmers' Markets in the idyllic setting of the Collingwood Children's Farm. It was glorious. (Yet again, I forgot to bring my fabulous new camera. Thank goodness for Instagram, but I really do need to get into a proper camera-carrying habit since Mr B was so generous at Christmas.)

Storytelling: the camera

Hello from my new home in Melbourne! I am still drowning amid boxes, fingers black with newspaper ink, wearing bizarre outfit combinations until I can find and unpack suitable clothes. We have no Internet connected yet so my online visits may be sporadic, but we are getting there. And I have some funny stories to tell when I get a moment to tell them. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this story as much as I did.

A solitary girl finds a mysterious Polariod camera in an abandoned farmhouse. She raises the camera to her eye, clicks. But as the photograph slowly emerges in her hand, it reveals a great mystery.

[vimeo http://www.vimeo.com/32655795 w=525&h=295]

The Camera (short film / original score) from Peter Lewis on Vimeo.

Let's play

In a matter of hours, we will lock the doors behind us, take to the road, and drive for eight or nine hours until we arrive at our new home in Melbourne, Victoria. We'll sleep on a blow-up bed in an empty house for two days until our furniture arrives. It'll be just like camping! Ahem. If you don't know anything about Melbourne, watch this little video. Isn't it sweet? For me, Melbourne is a city I've visited many times and always loved. For Mr B, it is a homecoming. Do come and see us soon, won't you? [youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-01Tgqy5OJM] ps. Want to see more of my lovely new city? Tourism Victoria does good ad. Here's an older one that I also thought was whimsical and endearing. [youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WaZbnWpm5aU]

Country towns

It's our last weekend in Adelaide. Everything is packed, and we've spent the past couple of nights eating takeout and playing Uno because there is nothing else to do. So, today, we took ourselves on a little exploratory trip to some country towns we're not likely to pass again any time soon. I forgot to bring the camera, but trusty Instagram kept me clicking.

Favourite things - double take

I called this blog post "double take" because that's what I did when I saw each of these clever ideas. They are all out of context. Like tents hanging from trees; travel photos... of feet; and typewriters that replace letters with colours. I think each is worth a second look, and I hope you do too. 1. Tents in trees I saw these tree tents (from Bavaria) on one of my favourite blogs, Happiness Is. They are originally from this website and I did scrawl through it to seek more photos, but my inability to read anything more than "achtung" in German defeated me.

2. Feet first Photographer Tom Robinson has documented more than 90 travel photos with his girlfriend Verity and, since 2011, with their daughter Matilda. The twist? All the photographs feature their feet. Take a look at the collection on his website. It's quite surprisingly lovely.

3. A picture types a thousand words While browsing Making it Lovely this week, I was alerted to this gorgeous piece of conceptual art. Artist Tyree Callahan modified a 1937 Underwood typewriter by replacing its keys with colour pads. It doesn't paint, but Tyree says he may at least use it to retype his artist statement.

4. Vintage suitcase boomboxes Isn't this iPod/iPhone dock amazing? It's actually a portable stereo system made from a vintage record player. Check out The BoomCase Store for this and other wonderful, evocative items. When you're done, pop on over to Poppytalk, who alerted me to these beauties in the first place. Oh and also, my birthday is in October. I'm just saying.

5. Food faces Here is your mission, should you choose to accept it:

1. Write out a list of emotions on slips of paper and put them in a small bag. Keep them with you when you go out. 2. After you eat, choose one of the emotions from the bag. 3. Using only leftover food and other items on the table, create a face that shows the randomly selected emotion. 4. Take a photo so you can share the results of your food-art, since this will only be a temporary creation.

Isn't this all kinds of bizarre fun? I especially like the idea of doing this when eating out. Imagine your waiter's surprise when he or she comes to clear things away! (Although I'd make an effort to clean up as much as I could, and leave a big tip.) One day I will convince a group of my friends to all "pick an emotion" and leave a food face when we eat out.

This funny project was on the Etsy blog this week, part of a bigger post about things to do to get and keep your creativity flowing, by Noah Scalin of Another Limited Rebellion.

Get on your bike

This little movie has been doing the blog rounds for a couple of weeks now, and I've finally caved. I simply have to share it too. What a wonderful, free-spirited way to roll into 2012. Do what you love. Love what you do. Live your passion. Share your passion. Do all this with the people you love. Hooray! [vimeo http://www.vimeo.com/34414313 w=525&h=295]

The Holstee Manifesto Lifecycle Video from Holstee on Vimeo.

Aside from making me feel all noble and hand-on-heart full of ambition, this manifesto also inspires me to get back on my pushbike. The timing is perfect, since I'll have a whole new city to explore as of next week.

The photo at the top of this post is of my ancient yellow Speedwell. I'm thinking of giving her a name. Have you read any of the Flavia de Luce books? Flavia's bike is called Gladys. Any suggestions as to what I should call mine?

And in the meantime...

What is your passion? What do you love? What new experience will you embrace this year? Who will you invite along for the ride?

Searching for ghosts

You cross the drawbridge and enter the ramparts searching for ghosts. There should be many; Carcassonne has a sad and brutal history that spans 3000 years. But if they are in the cité today, the ghosts are silent. You are in southern France, not far from Toulouse. There have been Celts living here, then Romans, who built the northern rampart of the cité you are exploring today. Under the basement of the medieval Count's Castle, Roman mosaics and sculptures still glow from the walls.

But century upon century of bombardments, murders and changes-of-hand followed for Carcassonne, from the Visigoths to the Saracens.

At the dawn of the 13th century, Carcassonne enjoyed a brief period of peace and religious tolerance. Catholics and Cathars shared neighbourhoods and even homes, and the Jewish community was not far away. But in 1209 the city fell to a wave of Crusaders, and then the horror truly began.

The Cathars believed in living lives of humility and poverty. They saw God as the creator of eternity and spirituality, while material life and even time itself were creations of evil. By most accounts, they were a peaceful people. By contrast, the religious wars declared upon them were brutal.

Carcassonne as you wander through it today belies its history. Filled with sunshine and shops and cobblestones and tourists and pointed blue turrets, it appears more Disney than Dracula.

Yet throughout its 3000 year history, this picture-perfect cité seems to have suffered under a violent curse. Turbulence continued throughout the ages. Even as recently as 1944 when Carcassonne was delivered by the Allies, many people were killed around the train station.

It is such a beautiful place, overlooking a medieval town and a wilderness beyond. You whisper a prayer that this windswept, hilltop castle and the ghosts that haunt its stone walls may now enter peace at last.