Paintings, Rock 'n Roll, Peacocks

This weekend the Solid Gold Dancers, their parents and grandparents, hung at the Queensland Art Gallery.

We were there for one reason only, and that was to marvel at our gorgeous Aunt who was giving a lecture tour of the Portraits of Spain exhibition.

We all learned a lot and basked in her intellectual cleverness.

Then we headed back to her place and cut loose with my brother, who for want of anonymity, we'll call 'Dr Rock'.

I found myself transported back to circa-1996 when I used to do a lot of, for want of a physiological term, 'rock fingers'.

Dr Rock's just returned from touring the States.

 He has instruments coming out of his proverbial 'subwoofer'.

 

 It was all very rock-and-roll, and we all chilled under the artworks, and spun some LPs like it was the 70s all over again.

 There's been some gift-receiving lately. Thank you to those lovely ladies who've been so kind and generous.

I'm not sure there are many more books with the heroine 'Martha' for Martha's Godmother to give her, but somehow she musters one everytime.

And I picked up this little beauty on the footpath yesterday (not the bear, the chair). I think one of our elderly neighbours made it by hand. We knocked on their frontdoor before we stole it, but no one was home, so I won't know for sure.

And while we were cruising around our inner-city suburb this afternoon looking for more junk, we literally did a double take. We saw what we thought was a stuffed peacock in someone's driveway. Because sometimes people like to have stuffed peacocks in their driveways. But after a speedy u-turn we realised, much to our shock, that it was a real peacock strutting about. 

I asked a woman, who was chucking what I'd call 'rubbish' on the footpath, what the story was, and she said there was an ostenation (my word not hers) of peacocks in our locale. Dumped by some thoughtless aristocrat in years gone by ...

 

We even spotted his girlfriend.

I hope no aristrocrat's dumped any panthers.