Blog / Journal Items

Harry the sage - stuffed with wisdom

Being on a quest to be more involved in life - something left of centre, something straight out of the sewing box, I joined a local doll making class. I know, I'm hardly the doll making type but I like to keep my psyche on its toes. Cheaper than therapy. I rocked up to the class to find there were two of us. After 15 minutes the other person left. Seems she had phobia issues and completed stuffing her doll in the privacy of her own home. I told the dollmaker I wasn't interested in making one of those poe-faced flat country dolls with the lacey aprons. I wanted something with a bit of attitude. If alive it would be wise, be able to recite the Rubyiat down the pub and, of course, drive a ute... not too much to ask, huh? She raised her painted eyebrows and said 'Each doll gains a personality as it is created.'  Righty-oh. I stuffed and prodded my doll with the wrong end of a pudding stick till he had the strength of character of any human I'd known. Having grown up with the right end of a pudding stick, I know how character building it can be in the hands of a flava bean lover. I digress. Perfection is a hard ask but Harry is the result. He's a white haired, sculptered doll with wrinkles, screwed up nose and many imperfections. His hair is white wisps of uncarded angora and his red velvet hat is scrunched and secured into wise calico head. His half lidded beady eyes follow me from his pride of place in my office. When I have a question, his eyes say it all. I swear, sometimes, they roll up into his lids. Shhhessh, everyone's a critic.