I've been writing a story for almost a year now (since March 2009) about selling my father's family home and all the memories which that process triggered - 'That Ordinary House' 1 to
16 (so far) and more to come.
I've also become more interested in photography over the past year or two. My trusty Panasonic Lumix digital takes simple photos.
I'm interested in the simple.
I thought why buy an expensive digital SLR camera when I still don't know the capabilities of this simple little fella.
And what, I thought, if I decided to turn my camera on my backyard and my house/home rather than seek startlingly original images across the whole city as others do so effectively. What if my ordinary house had a story to tell?
That's going to be quite a challenge I thought as i started to snap randomly. It may even be boring I realised as I tried to find the interesting amidst the familiar. But, I thought I'll give it a try. What's to lose but some friends on the net!
Thus 'This House' is born.
I live in Brisbane in an inner city suburb full of small cottages, large houses, the occasional mansion and a series of ever expanding apartment developments.
My house is approximately 90 years old (i need to do some more research), constructed of timber with a tin roof and sits on high set stumps - originally hardwood now concrete.
This week it has been driving the neighbourhood nuts as the source of unstoppable noise and mayhem - banging, thumping, drilling, metal screeching against metal - as a new corrugated iron roof replaces the old.
I have been very nervously supervising this make-over as my judgement was knocked for six at Christmas just after I'd signed the contract with the roofing company. It was a good price. Too good to be true perhaps?
On Boxing Day I was in a conversation where roofing came up (as it does at that joyous time of year). My sister-in-law's nephew and his wife were relating their tale of woe about the roofing experience they'd recently had. A disaster! A bunch of incompetents!
Yes you guessed it - the same company. So now I wake each day in a sweat. I follow the roofer around like a puppy. I check each detail obsessively. I expect the worst. So far it seems to have gone well. Three days done and one last day to go.
And then wait for rain.