Tuesday, 27 January 2015

Museum Day



One of the delights the kids go for in a big way are stones!  There is nothing in these except coloured stones!  Just bright coloured stones of little value (70 pence each) but loved by kids and adults also. Once there were a wide variety of such but it became impossible to deal with a dozen excited kids and attempt to identify and price each stone so we appear to be letting it slowly die off except for these cheap colourful beauties.  
This does reflect the wide variety of material that comprises the earth on which we travel through space. A lump of stone, chopped up, polished (not by hand surely) and sent on its way looking marvellous. Quite a number of places sell such stones, usually larger ones aimed at adults, but few around this part of the world.  Hippies loved them because they were of mother earth and brought peace man, except when they through them at one another, some believe different stones affected the mood and I suspect sat holding different stones in an effort to remove ill emotions, bad vibes and warts.  I doubt this would work myself.  
They are just stones, delightful right enough, but just wee stones.  I like them but have no need of them.  Hold on, I just remembered, I have some stones picked up when in Israel long ago, something many people do I suspect.  These were marked with sticky notes to indicate when each came from, all have long since fallen of and I know have a handful of bits of small rock!  These originate somewhere in Israel but no longer can I separate them.  Not bright and shiny but nice to have and surely we all have something like this as a memento of places?  
"Stone me, what a life!"  A phrase not to be used in Saudi Arabia.


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4 comments:

Lee said...

I thought I'd lost my marbles...but you had them all the time!!

Carol said...

Very pretty pebbles. 70p you say? I will take two please.

Adullamite said...

Lee, You have lost yours, their stones!

Carol, In the post now, addressed to Carol Aussieland.

soubriquet said...

You made me laugh. I had, maybe I have still, somewhere, a box of stones from various travels, I have a piece of Tugtupite, a rather obscure red crystalline beryllium material , which I picked up high in the Kvanefjeld Plateau, in Greenland, and when i hold it in my hand I see the ice-sheet, clean and bright, bare glacier scraped rock grooves as if by a master chiseller, and, far below, an orange ship, on dark-blue water, picking its way between startlingly peppermint turquoise/white icebergs.
Thodse little pieces of rock, nothing much in theirselves, yet packed with meaning if you pick them yourself, at the right moment.