Let’s talk “make something on any day you feel like it – probably not Monday.”
In my second hand search for frames I accidentally picked up some dreaded clutter*.
After a search round the ever fabulous Deptfort shit market failing to find anything I could honestly say I wanted to bring into my home but still looking for that buzz of “finding a jewel amongst the crap” I found a frame. A frame I listlessly thought I could use to frame our cycling boob lady but my heart wasn’t in it. I almost left it there and went home empty handed – That would have been the grown up thing to do. But it passed the William Morris test**… just.
I bought it in the end because it had a mirror and, living in a basement you quickly learn that every mirror is sacred. It had a big mirror therefore it was useful. To be honest it wasn’t an ugly frame. I was basically boring. But I kinda think being boring is an even worse crime than being ugly. Ugly things can be fun. Boring things are, well, boring. I live my life as a mini one woman war against boring.
Sadly I didn’t take a before pic. No news there. so here is a picture of it after a lick of black paint. Previously it was a washed out unconvincing royal blue. Bluergh, “Royal Blue” -the most boring of all the blue hues.
After several months of pondering the mirror and it’s frame (which didn’t even fit my cycling girl – why do I ever leave the house without a tape measure). I discounted several ideas.
Hang the mirror frameless and paint a gothic black frame round it – might fall off the wall and kill the cat
Decoupage the frame in free tube maps – waste of tube maps.
Cover it it fabric – too chinzy
Cover it in chocolate wrappers – too grungy
Then I got it. This mirror needed kids alphabet fridge magnets. And lots of them. I’ve always had a fridge full of letters. Years ago when making a film for the amazing Zero Tolerance Charitable Trust I found a massive bag of letters in a charity shop for 99p. Over the years I’ve noticed the healthy stash of letters depleting as they disappear under the fridge, get eaten by the cat or get sucked up by the kitchen vortex. Suddenly now when I need a rainbow of lovely letters I had a bout 15. We were even struggling to single words on our fridge let alone sentences. No bs for starters – or qs for that matter. Do you know how many words that you might want to write to your husboybundfriend that include a letter b? No? neither do I. but apparently most of the words I wanted to write needed a b. And let me tell you, p doesn’t work. No matter how much you flip it over.
Buying a pointless load of plastic was obviously not an option especially when all the world and it’s granny has a stash of these letters somewhere in their kitchen. Convinced I would find another fun filled bag of magnetism at the next charity shop I walked into I stashed the mirror in it’s manky blue frame under the sofa and waited… and waited…
I had just started getting desperate – looking at pots of about 100 going on ebay for £8 (my last bag of about 300 cost 99p!!!) and even tried to buy them at their outrageous prices – if wealthy mums hadn’t kept outbidding me! Perhaps they too had frames to cover?! Just when I had finally lost hope and had hung the frame on the wall with a lacklustre boring black paint job – A mirror is a mirror down here – I found them!
The Myatt Garden Table Top sale was held round the corner from our flat and I’m not kidding, I’d been pumped about it for weeks. On the morning of the sale, disaster struck. I was so hungover I could barely move. Massive fail! I was only dragged from my cosy bed by Chris standing at the end of the bed musing on the various items that I was dreaming of finding second hand for our flat. He told me tales of how all these items might just be waiting for me at the nearby sale but were probably being snapped up by more punctual and less hungover salegoers.
I staggered round the corner propped up by my incredibly understanding and slightly devious cruel-to-be-kind man only to find that I’d got the wrong day! We were a whole day early for the sale… and hungover. that is how excited I was – I was 24 hours, well 22 hours early. The next day I was still feeling rough – it was an epic hangover which I’m still to shamed to talk about lets move on. But I can honestly say the sale lived up to expectations. While not having any of the amazing items Chris had mused on the day before it had exactly what I was looking for. Just as we were leaving the sale I found them. A whole tin of magnetic letters with a friendly 50p post it note laughing at my overpriced ebay contenders. I think I actually scared the poor stall holder I was so pantwettingly excited to buy them.
So last night it was gluegun time.
I carefully washed all the letters. I don’t know how or why but magnetic letters are also magnets for scuz. The ones I’d bought were OK but the ones on my fridge – my fridge where I keep my food – were worse than gross!
Then I realised that wet letters and hot glue don’t actually go together. Cue frantic fiddly drying of teeny tiny letters
Luckily Chris told me that dinner was ready so I took a break and after I finished filling my face the letters were dry. Result!
Cue lots of sticking and…
If I’m honest I’ll confess that the title of this post is an all out lie. I do have a glue gun but I’m soooooooo terrified of using it. In the process of making this very silly mirror I not only stuck my finger to a bright blue letter H I also stuck my knee to the floor. Pathetic.
*clutter – something you – or someone you know – once spent money or time but probably money on because you thought it would be amazing and actually turns out to be totally and utterly useless and now lies about getting in your way.
** “If you want a golden rule that will fit everything, this is it: Have nothing in your houses that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful.” ― William Morris