Interesting article about the trend to thrift. Good to see that Prudence is back on the map. She's never been off it in this neck of the woods. Boynton lost the habit of haute habit years ago. Hazard of living close to a thrift "emporium". Anything over a dollar now seems totally decadent. (via the null device)

There are about 4 "dead" phones crouching ominously in a high corner of the wardrobe. 2 beautiful black rotary dial phones that lasted a few months each, a grey model - and a very chic grey bakelite number. Perhaps a bit too glam for Boynton? Perhaps she should regard it as a "hope chest" (or as we prefer "glory box") article - ready to be activated when her own life takes a glamorous turn. Interesting that the Australian term displays more optimism. None of the acerbic, dry, battler slang evident here. Unless of course the irony is so greatly embedded it has eluded Boynton.

Bought a "new" telephone today from my shop to use the term favoured by Boynton's father and siblings for any thrifty outlet from Salvos to Hard rubbish (tip). In this case the local op-shop. I had asked my friend there if they still get telephones in (electricals having been removed due to litigation worries). She said: yes, we do, they come in all the time but you have to be...lucky. (Not generally one of Boynton's strengths) However today there they were, 3 ugly phones of the transitional period between rotary dial and slim-line. The square type with buttons. Boynton remembers when they first appeared and were considered so state of the art. Depressing square buttons seemed altogether so much more efficient and american . In matters of technology we were always being told we we "20 years behind America" and would watch The Patty Duke Show like some sort of world fair to see what appliances we could expect to be using in due course. Anyway - hope the phone works - as Boynton only receives about 10 calls a year, it's perhaps a symbolic gesture.

Another day of high wind. I read once wind is "feely" - you would certainly be feeling something if you got hit with a piece of roofing iron I just saw running explosively along my neighbour's house. Upon venturing outside I see two bits of their roof now standing on either side of the fence like 50's neighbours. One of the pieces landed in a spot favoured by Bronte the Jack Russell terrier. She seems peturbed by the sudden appearance of an alien shape. The whole rogue piece of corrugated iron scenario does not bear thinking about - shades of Mary Leunig.

Just testing new settings - an old girl shouldn' give away too much y'know. In case you're wondering - Boynton is a minor character in a Shirley Temple film Our Little Girl. She has a vigorous crush on Shirley/Molly's Dad (Joel Mcrea) but in his distracted indifference (and despite her pleas to the contrary) he only ever calls her by her last name. Exasperated, she finally pleads " I do wish you wouldn't call me Boynton. I really have a name y'know. It's xxxxx" He refuses and pushes on with the surname - made slighlty more unflattering given Joel Mcrea's flat drawl. It begins to take on a kind of bouncy percussive quality that he emits/expels at irregular intervals.
It can symbolise the depths of indignity the spinster with a crush sometimes has to endure.

A beautiful blue sky day in Melbourne today where Boynton lives in her small cottage with two canines. Quiet out there today - a friend whose business is unusually slow believes that this is an effect of the Bali bombing. People are retreating in shock, inside, and not feeling the same characteristic urge to get their electricals repaired promptly. I've noticed the empty eastern boulevards the last three evenings - akin to the blockbuster TV effect. The empty streets on grand final day. The strange domestic shockwaves of terrorism - a collective stunned retreat

welcome to Boynton - a blog.