Auntie Dreary

Auntie Dreary is the advice column of Dreary Cushion, the agony aunt for the popular publication Soft Furnishing And Psychology TV Guide, a weekly magazine devoted to all things psychologically comfy.

Dear Dreary,

I have recently noticed an object looking like a six foot bean bag on my settee that refuses to go away. It's really started to annoy me as its always there when I come home from work, it never moves, occasionally it grunts and worst of all it's now started to demand food and steal the remote control. What is it Dreary and what can I do to get rid of it?

Concerned of Dulwich

Don't worry dear, it's a common problem, there is even a special name for it, your six foot badly stuffed beanbag is called a husband. Unfortunately they are quite stubborn and take some shifting, other unfortunate sufferers of this problem, called wives, often swap tips on husband removal and you should seek their advice. Withdrawing food and water will get them to move occasionally but only as far as the kitchen, my best advice to you is to get a nice little flowery throw and whilst its sleeping cover it up.

Dear Dreary,

My best friend has suggested I get a tattoo on my bottom to make me more desirable, I however have doubts, I don't want the small person from Fantasy Island drawn on my nether regions and much prefer a butterfly, how do I tell my friend I didn't like Fantasy Island?

Big Butt Bertha from Brum

Calm down dear don't get all in a lather, you are forgetting that he also played Nick Nack in the James Bond film, Man With A Golden Gun so having Tattoo on your bottom is actually quite cool, you could even use your ample arse as a pretend cave so Tattoo could be peering into it or out of it depending how much pain you wish to endure. As for your friend buy yourself a nice little throw and every time she mentions Tattoo or Nick Nack simply cover her with it.

Dear Dreary,

I have several cushions on my bed that match my feature wall, should I buy a throw for the end of the bed to match?

J.Oke of Tunbridge Wells Knitting Circle

No,No,No dear, your problem is your bedroom and its lack of use. I recommend a healthy dose of man action to restore your confidence. If that's a problem then visit those nice people at Sann Hummers, they have some excellent ways to bring back the spicy things in life and pretty soon you will be swinging from the lampshades. Next time don't be afraid to talk about sex dear, it's quite natural you know.

Dear Dreary,

The spark has gone out of my marriage, my husband dresses up in my clothes even when I'm in the house and leers at passersby from the bedroom window whilst shouting obscenities. I'm at my wits end, what can I do? Should I leave him or seek professional help?

Desperate House Pet of Pontefract

It's perfectly fine to dress windows with pelmets and curtains when you have more than six cushions on your furniture. Maybe a nice woolly rug would distract from your decor, alternatively buy yourself a nice little throw and some doilies for the backs of the sofa. One large cushion surrounded by six others can make a dramatic centre piece in any living room. Be bold with colour dear and you will feel better in no time at all.

Dear Dreary,

I am repairing my car and need a single 2mm sprocket grub screw but only have a 3mm grimble clip and a piece of rubber tubing, will it work as a replacement?

Mike Canic of Garage

If you shave a little off the grimble clip you will find the rubber tubing can be attached perfectly. I take it you have a Ford Mustard V2 judging from the use of a 2mm sprocket so on that basis, yes it will work. Just make sure you have a 6mm crocket anti clockwise spring to hold it all in place and everything will be fine.

If you wish to receive professional advice from Dreary Cushion then comment below on this blogs Facebook entry or alternatively write your problem on a ten pound note and post it down the back of the sofa.

Bye bye Dreary fans!

 

www.petersmithcollective.co.uk Home Of Everything Impossimal

Big Bunny

On Friday I spent most of my time using a hammer to bash in my thumb, I mean really bash it and whilst I was at it I decided to hit a few other digits too. Don't get me wrong, I'm not some kind of sadist no matter what my local DIY store thinks, it was all down to the nightmare that is cable clips.

I was installing a webcam in Bunnyopolis so we can get bunnyview 24x7 which involved thirty five metres of cabling, quite a long run and as most of this was around the outside of the house it required quite a lot of cable clips to secure it properly. Here's where the problem was, in this world of infinite cheapness we seem to find now days any 'improvement' to a product is invariably made to a) save money and b) cause inconvenience and it was so with the humble cable clip. To save 0.0000001p per clip the nail that secures the clip had been shortened that far that only children under the age of six months could hold it. Not only that but the plastic arch withered under the slightest hammer blow. I compared them to the ones I bought last year and yes, they had sadly been improved so resigned myself to a few hours of pain halfway up a ladder.

So I found myself testing the resilience of my left thumb accompanied by a varying degree of potty mouthness depending on the severity of the blow. It's quite amazing how much pain you can take, mere glancing blows soon felt like fairy taps and it was only the ones that drew blood that I noticed. Finally with a thumb looking like Spam hit with a rolling pin I flicked the switch and...

...Bunnyopolis flickered into view. Live bunny action, well, live bunny sleeping most of the time to be honest, lit the screen. So we found ourselves glued to the screen last night, we can even view it on the move which is nice, Aaran, Jura and Iona were completely unfazed by all this technology although they did seem to be showing off a little more now that they were on camera.

This was taken around 8pm, followed by another eleven hours of sleeping lolling bunnies, broken only by the occasional nosey out the bunny flap if a noise attracts attention and of course to go and munch on the hay bar. Unfortunately it completely discounted my theory that as soon as we walk away and shut them up for the night they put on slippers, smoke pipes and chat about us and the strange things we get up to. I'm convinced that when you get really close and nose poke them their fur smells of fine cigars but Jayne just says I have an over active imagination.

Unless of course I am right and they now do it all off camera, that unfortunately shall forever remain a mystery.

 

www.petersmithcollective.co.uk Home Of Everything Impossimal

Who Ya Gonna Call?

CASE NUMBER 435 - DOUBLE TROUBLE

The first we knew of the event was when the Toastbusters hotline rang. A full soft white farmhouse slice apparition had appeared at an undisclosed location, they are terrifying at the best of times but this had a new twist, it was in the shape of Elvis. Witnesses say moments before they glimpsed a power cord snaking around the corner and feared it might be the beginnings of a Toastergiest infestation.

We climbed into Breville One, the official Toastbusters vehicle and loaded our biggest toasting fork and our toastergiest pack.

Specially developed our toastergiest pack contained everything needed for taking down bread based apparitions and Toastergiests. Tongs allows us to keep a safe distance, a wide spatula for crumb capture, a tomato shaped timer so we know when a toastergiest is about to burn and finally a small cheese knife. Actually that last item is just for us, we do like a bit of cheese and Toastbusting is hungry work indeed.

We arrived at the scene, a kitchen in a typical house but the evidence was quite clear, a white bread Elvis, classic Toastergiest grade one activity was still there. Carefully using the spatula we placed it in our click'n'lock lunchbox, specially created to hold sandwich spirits, although not many people know that and use them to keep food fresh, a waste really, they are precision storage units and must not be operated by untrained individuals.

Just then we heard a noise behind us...

A cup had mysteriously appeared on a nearby cupboard, it wasn't there moments ago, at least we don't think it was there, not that we really noticed as another noise made us turn back to where Elvis was found, amazingly our Toastergiest had another trick up its sleeve.

Tea cup lining or as we in the trade call it Teatoplasmic activity, a mild version of Parabiscuit activity. For it to show this amount of Toastergiest activity it must be close.

'There, it's here!, quick!' I yelled as the Toastergiest whipped around a corner. 'Get it before it disappears or worse starts Toastoplasmic Ejection!'

In hot pursuit we chased it up and down the stairs and readied our tongs for a full frontal assault. When all of a sudden it disappeared leaving behind a trail of untoasted medium white in its wake.

It obviously wanted us to follow. Slowly we crept around the house following the bread based path until we had found our way into the hallway. We heard a 'plink' and several white shapes flew past our heads missing by inches. 'Toastoplasmic ejection! watch out one of those things could cause a nasty scuff!' Squares of bread were now furiously flying at us from the lounge, one lethal looking Warburton half and half toastie cruised past at lightening speed taking out our cups of tea.

I stuck the camera around the corner and fired off a quick snap for the records, the Toastergiest was in full ejection activity.

Whipping its flex furiously slice after slice whistled through the air, how much more can we take? Using the spatula as a shield we decided to charge the Toastergiest, if we could jam the tongs in the toasting slots we would have a chance of disabling its defences, only then could we deal with it using our Hoovervax Dust Bag Cyclones, specially developed vacuum cleaners that when the streams are combined create enough suck to strip bark off a tree.

We rushed forward, tongs extended under the merciless assault of a thick crust battering.

It was a trap! Hidden behind the sofa was one of the most feared apparitions, a dreaded Binshee. With a terrible howl that we will never forget it disgorged its entire contents in our direction foiling our attempt and scaring the bejeebers out of us at the same time.

We didn't mean to run but let's be fair, would you want to tackle the fearsome combination of a Toastergiest and Binshee under an assault of crusties?

The case was closed the very next day when the occupant of the property decided they had had enough of Bakernormal activity and asked me not to disclose their location. So on that cheery note if you find a bread Elvis or suddenly find a cup in an odd place, beware, you coud have a Toastergiest.

You have been warned.

Don't have nightmares.

 

www.petersmithcollective.co.uk Home Of Everything Impossimal

Jimmy Tar Brush

As you can see we received lots of quality catalogues through the post today. Did I say today? yes, today, at the ungodly hour of 5:30am when the letterbox rattled to the sound of these being forced fed to our house. Who, and let me say that again, who on earth leaflet drops at 5:30am? Who are they employing, foxes?

I know times are hard but allowing foxes to leaflet drop is a bit harsh, next we will have hedgehogs delivering milk and squirrels delivering the mail as the cut backs bite. Did you know we even had a leaflet through asking if we as a responsible householder would have and guard a salt bin on our property? Can you imagine that? It further added that the salt was for the highway only and although it may be on our property we should under no circumstances use any of the salt for our own benefit. Well, I'm glad they cleared that up as I would be tempted to use some on my fish and chips.

As you can see, today I'm mostly grumpy and it's all down to the events of last night when I visited a local DIY chain...

I hate self service at the best of times but it seems that our local DIY branch has decided it's better to employ three members of staff to watch you struggle with the checkout service rather than man it themselves so it was with no surprise when I scanned my first item, the roof sealant pictured above, it screamed for attention because, and get this, I needed to be screened by an assistant to confirm I was over 21.

'Ha,ha,ha' said the assistant, 'That's a new one, you're obviously old, I'll just check it through for you'. She missed off the 'enough', 'old enough' is a lot better than 'your obviously old' but I was more taken aback when she then said 'You're not a pervert are you?'

'Wha! Scuse me!'

'Well, it must be used by some perverts or something otherwise it wouldn't have aged checked you'

Again, there are times in my life I stand gobsmacked, it's black roof sealant, even with my twisted mind I cannot think of any sexual deviancy that requires black tar unless of course gutter plugging is a common term and I'm naive. Either way I don't want to find out.

'They must get up to some disgusting things with it' she carried on.

'Thank you young lady, I'm here to buy sealant to seal things not talk about the potential thrills you can get from household items. Do you want to check my other things? I have a small bit of ducting here do you want to ask me what I am going to do with that?' I ashamedly realised I had used the term 'young lady' placing me firmly in middle age.

'Why, what are you going to do with it?'

'Well, I might stuff it up my bottom and pour in the sealant whilst hammering these panel pins into my testicles.'

'There's no need for that.'

'You started it.'

'Yes, but I thought you were a pervert.'

Now you can understand why I'm grumpy today, I have visited the DIY store many times only to find they have everything I don't need and are out of stock of the things I do, not only that over the course of the years I have been accused of being a varnish sniffer after wanting to buy yacht varnish, questioned over my use of glue and finally this, being branded a pervert who nails his tar covered nuts to a table for thrills. Just great, I bet they have me on file somewhere. Watch out for this bloke, he's a varnish sniffing, glue fetish pervert who sticks plastic items up his bottom and has creative uses for nails and tar.

Bet he's an artist too it adds, almost as a prediction.

 

www.petersmithcollective.co.uk Home Of Everything Impossimal

Bonkers

I have a particular fondness and obsession with the intricacies of the written word, fuelled I'm sure by the late great Ronnie Barker who's genius wordplay in his comedy sketches are second to none. I mean, who could forget the classic hardware store sketch some of which is below.

(Ronnie Barker enters the shop, wearing a scruffy tank-top and beanie)

BARKER: Four Candles!

CORBETT: Four Candles?

BARKER: Four Candles.

(Ronnie Corbett makes for a box, and gets out four candles. He places them on the counter)

BARKER: No, four candles!

CORBETT (confused): Well there you are, four candles!

BARKER: No, fork 'andles! 'Andles for forks!

The four candles, fork handles play on words is actually called a oronym and is a british dialect homophone, I know all this is a bit much for a lighthearted Thursday morning blog but bear with me. There are plenty more that could have been used, ware, wear, where for example are interchangeable but change the context of the sentence. 'Where's the soap?' and 'Wears the soap' changes context when you imagine two nuns in a bath saying it to each other.

Anyway, one fun thing I discovered when I was young was YYURYYUBICURYY4ME, way before text speak was the norm and I used to try and make these up. It actually says 'Too wise (YY) you are too wise you be, I see you are too wise for me'. An old one I made was I82CUPB4ME, which is actually quite lame and based on the far superior LOLOAQICI82QB4IP. Did you get it? The first one is 'I hate to see you pee before me' and the second is 'Hello, Hello, a queue I see, I hate to queue before I pee'

The alphabet is an incredibly complex code, if the alphabet is written down the normal A to Z way it can be reordered a staggering 403,291,461,126,604 times without repeating a sequence. Which brings me to my next obsession, numbers.

I wasn't particularly good at mathematics at school, it wasn't that I couldn't do it I just did it differently to get the same result, not good when you are asked to show your working out. Some of the things I used to puzzle over was questions like how many times could ten men sitting next to each other change the order they were sitting without it being repeated. The answers always fascinated me, it's 3,628,800 times by the way, but I used to go one further and calculate how long it would take if one change was made each day. Unfortunately they wouldn't live to see them all as it would take 9,935 years, forty days and be an incredibly pointless pastime not to mention a hinderance to life. 'No sorry dear we can't get married on the 24th, I have to go and sit in position number 22,536, it's my turn again to be second from the left and I simply can't miss the chance. Sorry.'

I once read a brain teaser that kept me occupied pre-calculator days for a number of hours, quite simply it said 'Arrange the numbers 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8 and 9 to add up to a hundred exactly. Grouping numbers I worked away in blocks looking for a pattern, I even used my trusty ZX-81 and wrote a small routine to crack it. Eventually it came up with the answer which was unashamedly easy looking back, 1+2+3+4+5+6+7+(8x9)=100

All this though has been a bumbling dribble to explain the background to this.

A new chapter of intrigue, Back To Front, pulls together eight stories and my obsession with letters and numbers to open up a larger timeline in the Lost Impossimals universe. The paintings will take a while yet to complete but the stories are well underway. Secret societies, unbroken codes, royalty and even the odd scientist all play their role as we discover just where the Sherlock Sidewinder went, who has the key to the secret garden and what on earth is a Chocolate Crackercat.

 

www.petersmithcollective.co.uk Home Of Everything Impossimal

Oh No, He's Back :-(

You thought it was all a bad dream but no, the Doctor is back with his greatest adventure yet!

Travelling in his extraordinary postbox shaped time machine that moves through time and space under severe restrictions such as only being able to travel between 9am and 5pm on the same day and only being able to transport the Doctor to supermarkets Doctor Do's adventures are legendary amongst Do Do's, the Doctors biggest fans, let us join the Doctor on his latest adventure.

For those of you unfamiliar with the good Doctors adventures you can find the previous episodes below

Previous episodes available

Episode 1 - Doctor Do And The Horlicks - click here

Episode 2 - Doctor Do Run Run And Rise Of The Garlics - click here

Episode 3 - Doctor Do Goes Dogging - click here

Episode 4 - Doctor Do And The Frankenfood

Sat in the gloom of the Tardydis the Doctors Casio watch barely illuminated the inside of the postbox. It had been a while since he had bothered to leave the confines of his home and he lived entirely on what he could find posted through his slot. He knew he had to move the Tardydis before people became suspicious that their mail was not being delivered, which was a shame as he had enjoyed a small box of birthday chocolates posted that very morning and had become very tipsy on the liquor filled ones.

The Doctor pressed the special button to destinations unknown and swiftly the Tardydis vanished leaving behind a circular pile of rubbish that would confound scientists. Normally the Doctor would know precisely where he was going but after snapping off the control stick pretending to be a bus driver when he came home drunk a few nights ago all he had left was a small stub that could be barely moved. The broken article joined an assortment of coins, lint and Werthers Originals in his pocket.

It was a rough ride, the combination of chocolate, alcohol and last nights kebab rode his stomach like a giddy flatulent goat when suddenly the Tardydis landed with a thud. 'Jesus! my guts!' Exclaimed the Doctor as he gingerly opened the postbox door feeling rather worse for wear and letting out the foul odours that had been trapped inside.

'I need something to settle my stomach, that last tequila whiskey brandy slammer may have been a mistake, besides I used the last of my giro buying it.' Stumbling from the Tardydis he stepped straight into a dog egg and spent the next ten minutes gagging whilst he removed the worst of it from his shoe with a stick. 'Great, just great, I travel through space and time in a revolutionary machine breaking the laws of physics only to fall foul of a poop prize.'

The Doctor had landed outside an upmarket branch of Waitnose, recently refurbished everything was shiny and new, something not lost on the Doctor. 'Wow, it's come up trumps, I have been transported into the future! I wonder how that happened? It must have been the stick I broke off.' The Doctor pulled the broken control stick from his pocket still not realising it was actually the same article he had cleaned his shoe with.

'Smells funny but I can't see anything unusual that would alter time travel.' The Doctor pocketed the stick once again and strode purposely into the supermarket marvelling at the swish Star Trek style doors as they automatically closed behind him. 'Amazing, I wonder what date it is? If this is the future I should have a look around and get the lottery numbers.'

The first problem came when the Doctor reached the stairs, they were not stairs, they were escalators. 'Well I never!' Exclaimed the drink addled Doctor, 'Metal hills that move! How cool is that. I bet they have robots that shop for you, pills you eat for a full Sunday dinner and an automated checkout that you do yourself. Maybe not that last one, that's a little far fetched, I mean allowing you to checkout your own items, it's like working for them isn't it?'

The Doctor unaccustomed to the new technology stepped on the escalator and tried to walk up them. After a few minutes he realised you needed to step on the ones going up to get anywhere and not to try taking a trolley with you. Sliding down the rubber belt that was the hand hold was a mistake, with two rubber burns on the insides of his legs he strode cowboy like further into the store. Everything seemed vaguely familiar although there was plenty of new items on the shelves he had not seen before and even further in the store he found the meat counter. 'Hmmm, Billy Bear meat, I wonder what animal that comes from? Maybe a genetically modified beast called a Billy, yes, it must be now I think about it, if I remember correctly they have Billy farms where they herd them together and feed them up on flamingoes to give the meat its distinct off pink colouring. Hmmm, Olives? I wonder why they are called a colour? Now this looks interesting, black pudding that looks neither black or pudding like, what curious things they have in the future.'

In the bread aisle the Doctor was in for even more of a surprise. Tiger bread. 'Bread made from tigers! They have even used the stripes! In my day tigers were considered endangered and now, in the future they are used to make bread!, shocking, just shocking, whatever next? chocolate biscuits made from Penguins?'

'OMG, in the future our food is made from endangered species, this cannot be happening! Chocolate made from frogs!, they even call them by their pet name, this poor one was called Freddo and look at this, a Lion bar! Mankind must be warned, it's tampering with the Eco system, we must save the animals for future generations so our kids today don't look back and think bulldogs are just clips or foxes are just mints!'

Wary of shoppers identifying him as an animal activist willing to stop the vile practice of turning endangered animals into ready meals the Doctor immediately armed himself by stealthily sliding a pepperoni stick up his sleeve for a handy baton and pocketed a few eggs to be used as grenades. 'This must stop, I need to take these items back to my time as proof.'

It was with this heroic thought that the Doctor began stuffing his pockets with evidence. 'Crab sticks, oh no! All those crabs losing their sticks it doesn't bare thinking about, Tiger Prawns taken away from the jungle and made to swim, Chicken of the Sea, those poor, poor sea chickens and Dolphin frendly tuna, poor dolphins have had their best friends taken away people, don't you care!' the Doctor screamed, immediately drawing attention to the fact that his pockets were stuffed to the brim with goods.

After a brief chase the Doctor found himself cornered in the bakery department in the futuristic hell he had landed in. Brandishing a French stick and his pepperoni sword the good Doctor challenged all comers to 'Come and have a go' according to the arresting officers notes. Several witnesses came forward to describe the Doctors final moments as he furiously beat off security with blows from his rapidly disintegrating bread, one security guard ended up in hospital with severe bruising after receiving several pepperoni stabs to his arm and yolk injuries from an egg granade which exploded on the nearby cake counter.

Over eleven pounds worth of damage was caused and several floured baps had to be removed from display after it emerged they had been poked by a contaminated stick.

'You are in big trouble Sir.' said the officer pointing to the Doctor sat in the managers office. The manager just shook his head and opened his drawer. 'You seem to be under the illusion that this is the future, you do know that it's not real don't you Sir?, Sir?''. The Doctor was not listening, his attention was drawn to the manager who had reached to the back of the drawer and pulled out a Yorkie bar.

'Dog murderer!' Shouted the Doctor as he leapt up and broke the managers nose with a concealed cucumber, a weapon hidden for occasions just like this.

Ahem, now I have got that off my chest don't forget that today is the last day to enter the Children's Christmas Card Competition by Evergreen Art Cafe with a chance for the winning entry to be on sale in Waitrose! Full details can be found by visiting my website and clicking the link or visiting www.evergreenartcafe.co.uk.

Christmas With The Impossimals events seem to be expanding as more galleries climb aboard, we will now be adding The Original Art Shop in Trentham to the list with a special appearance on Sunday the 16th December, I'll post full details of all the appearances later on this week on the website.

 

www.petersmithcollective.co.uk Home Of Everything Impossimal

Forever

Inspired by the never ending fun that is Bunnyopolis and its residents Aaran, Iona and Jura, three continental giants that became our fur kids in 2011 Jayne decided to have a go at creating a little bunny plaque called 'A Hoppy Home Is a Happy Home' to go in Bunnyopolis. It was to be made out of wood from an old palette that came with a few slabs we layed in the Summer

Well, one thing led to another and Jayne made the plaque, then another, then another. Pretty soon she had moved in the studio with me and we began to work side by side, Jayne making anything and everything she could think of bunny related whilst I painted Impossimals. Then one day Jayne said 'I could make our three in wood' which seemed a splendid idea so out came the paper and pencils and we sketched Aaran, Iona and Jura as simple side profile views.

The palettes were stripped of their wood so she had plenty of raw materials to begin with, the thicker bits left for the bases of the bunnies and she started to saw away.

Once cut out the profiles looked rather simple, what was required was a bit of work to make them look attractive. Rather a lot of work actually that Jayne got stuck in to.

Through a combination of trial and error slowly a particular style started to take shape using everything from paint, pens, pencils and wire.

A little bit of fabric finished the bunnies and she ended up with this...

And so Foreverbunny was born, hand made bespoke rabbits with a real vintage feel. I'm really proud of Jayne doing this single handed, all the products look great and now include wreaths, freestanding buns and even fabric all made with a love and care as if it was going in our own home.

The Foreverbunny website went online a few weeks ago with events starting to be lined up this year and next. The first of which is on the 17th November at the Arrow Farm Christmas Craft and Food Fair, Steetly, Worksop, Nottinghamshire. Further events will be added as soon as we get confirmation and can be found at www.foreverbunny.co.uk or by clicking here. All are welcome on the day to see Jaynes Foreverbunny range for the very first time.

So I thought it would be only appropriate to celebrate it with a special Impossimal original called 'Meet The Family' featuring our own special Foreverbunnies...

'Meet The Family'

 

www.petersmithcollective.co.uk Home Of Everything Impossimal

Quadrapossimal

Over the weekend I was delighted to receive a friend request from Stuart Wilson, a collector of my work for many years who had spent the last three turning his 1965 Lambretta in to a mobile piece of art. It really is a piece of work and just like my Impossimals it's been put together with love, care and attention. I asked Stuart for a couple of words about the reasons he decided to decorate it this way...

'The artwork was done by Kevin Bambra, he decorates a lot of the show ground rides, and works from a small workshop in South Shields. My aim was to make people smile, not enough people smile these days !

Everyone seems to think that naked ladies and vampires are the in thing at the moment - I like your Impossimals.

Kev painted the bike and Phil Stewart put it together. Both deserve a lot of credit.

It got its name 'Nutty As A Fruit Cake' from the first description my Father in Law, Brian said to his daughter Diane, now my wife, " Your not going out with him from the bottom of the estate, he is as nutty as a fruit cake" - and here we are, happy and still Nutty !

On the front mudguard is a family picture. Annabel, Diane, Rachel and myself, looking down onto the road. A copy of a picture that hangs above my bed. Nice to think their always with me.

Front legshields have a my Daughters Annabel (with pink bow) and Rachel (with Blue). Fantastic fun people.

Horn casting has eyes and nose of an immpossibel, I suppose its me.

Inside the leg shield is a picture of me pushing a roundel up a hill - Its suppose to show my struggle to keep my company, family and the country going in the right direction, not sliding down! Strange but thats the way I feel.

On the tool box door is a Cat with red and white stripes - My love of Sunderland Football Club.

On one side of the side panels it shows my Mod mates who I grew up with, a great mix of The Jam, Quadrophenia, Clothes. Nesty (Gary Foster), Phil Johnson, Steve Worgan, Bill Shepherd and Myself. I only see Phil now.

On the other is shows Diane and myself in the lake district - our favourite place. Home of were I discovered your art - Treeby and Bolton in Keswick, great for food and art.

The back light is my favourite piece. We have alway had a house Rabbit, the most fantastic pet. Biscuits is shown sitting on my head."

What a great piece of work Stuart, thanks for sharing it with us and of course whilst I'm out and about I'll keep my eyes peeled for you :)

 

www.petersmithcollective.co.uk Home Of Everything Impossimal

Chester Appearance

With only two weeks to go to the first Christmas With The Impossimals event in Chester on the 10th November and guess what, we get snow. In 2010 we were on the It's a Stripe Thing tour when the same thing happened, only then we had a whopping thirty six inches in two days to contend with that lasted over a month. Lets hope it's not like that this year although reports from America are talking about a Frankenstorm, a combination of a snow storm and a hurricane combining. Normally we get the fallout from these storms a week or so later. Brrrr!

Anyway, for details of the event you can go here, you don't need an invite, just turn up on the day and the gallery will be full of Impossimals both new, rare and special originals with both myself and Jayne on hand to tell you the story to your piece or do a personal dedication to go with it.

Should be fun!

 

www.petersmithcollective.co.uk Home Of Everything Impossimal

Trollied

Supermarket trolleys have come a long way since the rickety random wheeled variety from many years ago although our local does occasionally like to throw one in every now and again. They are quite cheap though, you can get one for a pound at our supermarket, I really don't know how they do it, although the wheels do jam if you try to leave the car park with it which is quite inconvenient as is the burly security guard that wrestles you to the floor. Anyway, trolleys of the shopping variety can occasionally cause other problems so let's visit one occasion when Jayne visited the Twilight Shopping Zone yesterday.

Shopping went as normal, you walk up and down numerous aisles tutting at the new supercons, did you know for example that when you buy that big bag of peas on offer that you need to check the weight? Yesterday we found the same brand had conveniently priced a larger bag to look good value but buy two of the smaller bags and they work out at the same price but get this, you get a third more, go figure.

We went to the checkout and was greeted to the normal chit-chat, 'Hi, are you ok?', personally and this is just my point of view, I want this kind of question from a qualified medical professional not at the checkout when I'm stood next to two bags of peas, six bottles of wine and a small comb. Another thing is when they ask 'Did you find everything you were looking for?', no, not really, I lost 10p in spare change and a small bit of lint down the back of the sofa six years ago and was disappointed to find you don't have a replacement, more to the point just when exactly are you going to stock hats for cats?

'Cash back?', yes if it's free but it never is is it?. Jayne carries on and enjoys this kind of thing, I personally are a bit of a grump at the checkout but saying that I still prefer a real checkout rather than those robot ones where you become unpaid staff and it tells you silly things like 'Unexpected item in baggage area' when a zephyr of a breeze wafts over the scales.

Out we rolled and back to the car through the obstacle course car park, you know the type, all speed humps, grids that shake the contents of your bottles to bursting point and inconveniently placed pathways to foil your escape. The car was loaded and I sat in the drivers seat. Jayne on the other hand was returning the trolley, I could see her quite clearly as she tried to fit the trolleys together to retrieve the pound coin only this time they didn't quite fit.

Again Jayne pushed the trolley into the first line and it bounced back, another push and it bounced again hitting her legs. I know Jayne and this was a game changer, it was no longer an inconvenience it was now more of a challenge, so thinking logically she pushed the trolley line to make sure the metal that should move out of the way was not jammed by anything. Good thinking. Yes, it did indeed move out of the way freely so rolling back a little she gave it an almighty shove. The trolley line buckled under the force like an arcing caterpillar and launched the trolley back into her midsection nearly picking her up off the floor.

Boy was she getting angry, I went to get out of the car and was waved back in, obviously letting me interfere would be defeat so instead I made myself comfortable, picked up a banana and watched. By now she had moved onto the second line with the same results, even kicking it in didn't work, she was a little more wary of the kickback this time. Then I saw a lightbulb moment hit Jayne, the trolley park has two sides, if this didn't work maybe the trolley lines on the other side would?

A second later she was around the other side expecting an easy time, not so, same problem, different line. Wham! Dust fell from the covered trolley park roof as it shuddered under the impact, trolleys started rolling away and passers bye stopped and stared at a red faced Jayne who was nearly bent double after her attempt at a run up roll with triple backflip and split kick met the same unmoving obstacle. Even at this distance I could see 'Why doesn't the bloody thing fit?' written on her face.

Turning the trolley around she had a new idea but found the little bit of chain that held the pound freeing device wouldn't quite reach any other way so as I got out of the car to the tune of trolleys smashing together every couple of seconds Jayne was repeatedly ramming anything and everything to try and get it to work. Nothing was safe, small children ran away screaming, grown men wept, dogs howled, you know the type of thing, maybe that last description was a tad dramatic but she was creating quite a din. From a distance it must have looked like some nutter was loose in the car park and it was only a matter of time before they started on the cars.

I walked around and prised the trolley from her grip, lifting each finger off one at a time as the trolley demolition derby carried on to the chant of 'Fit!, fit!,fit! godammit!'. Once freed I pushed the trolley smoothly into the third line and clipped them together to retrieve the pound coin.

'I thought we had done the big shop.' said Jayne as some kind of explanation as to why for the last ten minutes she had been unsuccessfully ramming a small trolley into lines full of big trolleys. Silently we walked to the car.

'Don't you dare blog about this.' She said and the temperature of the car dropped several degrees.

 

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