Whispered gossip behind shuttered windows ...

Have a look at Jilly Bennett's "Hidden Lives". Then, take a look at Virginia Jones' "Shuttered". Through the eyes of an Englishwoman who has lived in the South of France for over 23 years. An American woman who dreams of a life in Paris. And, me, an Australian woman, born and bred in Sydney.

A window on the past [1/4]

On my meanders back from High Street, I try different 'ways through the woods'. This way had me looking through windows with a view on the past, a favoured view. This week the focus is upon a selection of awning windows on Federation houses in Bedford Street.

Shut the door, they're coming in the windows ...

My departed father used to sing the ditty of this post title, with its two circular lyric lines, bounced among four melody lines. I enjoyed it mostly because Dad was so crap at anything remotely musical!

So here we are knee-deep in our wellies among the California Bungalows of Willoughby, just across Eastern Valley Way from where I now live. Streets and streets and streets of lovely examples of simple renovations to a wonderful model, such that a tacky job stands out like the proverbial. I guess if you buy a house, what you do is up to you, unless there is a heritage order of some sort. And if so, why buy the house in the first place. I only get to critique the street frontage of these houses. I fully expect the rear to be altered beyond all recognition, seeing the heyday of the CB was the 1920s and family living has undergone just a smidgen of change in that time. This last image is a doozey ...

Rampant fertility

This bay window is atop the rise of Bourke Street, just down from Taylor Square and adjacent to the newly refurbished Beresford Hotel. The motif, here, strikes me as bordering on the pagan. Maybe this was a witches coven during the latter decades of the nineteenth century. See that metal ring on the right-hand-side? That was for holding the electrical cabling for the tramway cars. Could it be that the window is made from lead? If so, how come it is still there after all these years and not crow-barred off in the dead of night by some Surry Hills Steptoe figure?