a thousand million little boxes of just totally variegated semi-useful STUFF :(

reason I'm not in London to hang out with geeta is that i'm up in shropshire at my parents' now empty house -- empty of parents -- tidying and packing things up, sorting and chucking things out

they lived here a long time; it's a roomy house in a rural county of big houses, and none of us are good at throwing things away -- so i'm finding the replication of my own puzzlement, as you come to the close of a session of filing and archving... how to house the odds and ends, which are too small or isolated to merit their own file or folder or drawer

what this means, per my mum (and hers before her) (dad was much more orderly), is lots and lots of nice little boxes, full of -- for example -- a button, two beads, some pins, paperclips, a dice, a stub of pencil... you know they'll come in handy some time, so you put them somewhere "sensible", and either the time never comes, or more likely it does come and you've totally forgotten about all these sensible hidey spaces, and the items waits there sadly, like some ugly orphan out of the stationer's remake of toy story, and the call never comes...

as a warning to myself, and an angry shout against mortality. i'm going to spend most of today putting all this kibble in the same room, i think -- in uncharacteristic OCD piles

if you find the damned remote control for my media player can you let me know- i upended about thirty such boxes last night in a frenzy, buttons and loose change and odd batteries

i can bag up the remotes i've found and send em over, surely one of them would work

http://martin-waters.co.uk/

this guy makes beautiful collections of detritus

haha well i'll just clear it with the planet-killing hipster art hate-police on the crafts and luxury thread and make him a parcel: waste not want not EAT MY DIESEL FUMES as they said in the war

just found in a drawer (probably been there 20 years): a little luggage-label prize awarded (presumably) to my gran (as it;s her drawer), joke courtesy my mum but typed out by dad (when even his typing was beginning to fail):

"THE NOBEL PRIZE FOR IRONONG"<-- exactly this

awww

that's wonderful <3

Wish I could offer you any advice but I fear the day I have to clean out my parents' house for this reason also. I used to be unable to throw anything away. It got a bit better (moving to a smaller place forced me to do it), but that's for me. Throwing away someone else's belongings though... Nearly impossible.

i have to just motor on through, really -- i have another two weeks here trying not to crank up ilx too often (also friends coming to stay next week will probably be good at being dispassionate)

my dad, like most dads, has vast collections of family and other photographs and slides (does anyone make or view slides anymore?) and, even more obsolete, hours and hours and hours of camcorder videos, reel-to-reel tapes, worthless old classical lps, and so on. i am dreading the day when they all have to be disposed of, but for obvious reasons cannot bring myself to tell 84-year old pa that neither my sister or myself will ever have much use for 95% of his stuff.

being childless, i have always thought that my sister's kids will get my own collections (haha neither of them have the slightest interest in comics or free jazz the poor saps)

good luck, mark

question: is there anywhere that takes used prescription spectacles (and cases)? it seems idiotic to chuck em out (there's a LOT) but obv they're calibrated for one person's eyesight at a particular moment...

also found:

small 2x2" photo of my mum aged 2, in a garden (prob.in filey in yorkshire) pushing a little horsey on wheels -- she looks sourly cross, as she always does as a little kid in pics (so did my sister at the same age: not reflective of actual temperament then or since) -- we too have drawers and drawers full of photos going back to the 1910s at least, but that's my sister the photographer's domain...

a bottle of old school smelling salts, and plus something called 'FRADOR TINCTURE" (active constituents menthol, chlorbutol, prep.storax, alcohol soluble matter of benzoine -- it's bright red, in a tiny little vial)

haha ok not a weird antique at all:

http://www.dentalshop.co.uk/acatalog/frador.jpg

my 4-yr-old niece had a mouth ulcer when he was here at the weekend -- IF ONLY WE'D KNOWN

*i mean she

recall someone telling me they found while cleaning out their mothers house a tin labeled 'pieces of string too small to use'

http://www.reducereuserecycle.co.uk/where_can_I_recycle/glasses.php

mark i think there are charities that send old spectacles to poor countries?

cheers WmC, noodle -- sorry to crowdsource so lazily, but if i sit down at the laptop to google i won't get half of this done

forgot to add: three waxy blobs that resemble translucent chickpeas (in a drawer otherwise full of ancient spectacles and my gran's address labels) -- i'm going with fossilised maltesers

pretty much at a loss of how to deal with my own collection of this stuff. perhaps it is the OCD in me that makes me unable to just have this stuff sit there on shelves for the rest of my life.

NV & Mark, here's the details for Vision Aid overseas. apparently you can take them to any optician in the UK.

http://www.vao.org.uk/

http://www.vao.org.uk/showpage.php?id=230

sorry i missed the earlier link. it's a great thread though.

ok my sister says the waxy blobs were grandma's ear plugs, NOT SURE WHY THERE WERE THREE :\

falls out of a box of old xmas cards to my gran: an impressively unfaded photo of my grandad at school, the whole class sat at desks, in little sailor suits, schoolteacher ("mr firth") at the pack, "form III c, 1912" (he was 8 or 9; he died in 1983).

Having had to do this several times in my life, here's my somewhat brutal advice for cleaning out houses :

- anything you like the look of (photos, various bits of kipple etc) - keep, but don't end up with more than a couple of boxes worth.
- anything that looks like it could be useful at some indeterminate point in the future - chuck it, or recycle / sell if that's an option.
- anything else - chuck it.

forgot to add: three waxy blobs that resemble translucent chickpeas (in a drawer otherwise full of ancient spectacles and my gran's address labels) -- i'm going with fossilised maltesers

― mark s, Saturday, November 5, 2011 11:06 AM (5 hours ago) Bookmark

ambergris!

anybody who throws out family photos is a disgusting savage, btw.

yeah, i'm not allowed even to touch them, the photos are doctrah becky's domain

all been a bit dreary so far today, chucking a fvckton of old dried catfood, plantfood with strange mineral clusters growing on the damp cardboard etc, putting all batteries in one place, ditto candles, bulbs, pens and pencils, scissors etc

one poignant wee find, in a box full of buttons and pins: a tiny ceramic plate or saucer from a dolls' house set, no idea if any of the rest of it survives somewhere

Just found a photo of my mum's mum as a sultry teenage hottie, dark-eyed and dark-haired, sitting with her parents*, I guess some time in the early 20s. Her hair went quite white quite young, so it's always a bit disorientating finding pics of her still brunette.

*Very strict presbyterian, by repute, though her dad looks a bit of a lad to me (he was a GP iirc).

anybody who throws out family photos is a disgusting savage, btw

If you've got access to one of those colour photocopiers that also saves to PDF or JPG or whatever, scan the pics at high speed, upload them somewhere (a Flickr account maybe?) and get other family members to have a look, anotate, etc

nonfun afternoon just concluded (glad it's out of the way)

combining a visit to the town dump (aka household recycling centre) which i don't mind much, it's not just going into landfill, with a run to offload unused prescription material (old medication and other), which by law has to be disposed of the correct way, and a visit to the (old name) disability resource centre, to enquire about how/if you advertise to sell various wheerchairish and mobility items

i: this requires negotiating shrewsbury's semi-industrial northern sprawl of suburbs, of all which have mushroomed violently since i lived here, and finding my way round harlescott trading estate, monkmoor trading estate and battlefield trading estate, none of which are especially lovely, least of all on a dour drizzly day like today -- and what has also mushroomed is pushy lunatic driving on this little winding country roads bah
ii: the process of bagging up unused prescription material is a bit horrible, first because it just reminds you of the aspects of looking after invalids you most don't want to remember, second because frankly you'd rather have the invalid around still and be juggling with all this paraphernalia than what you're doing now, and third because it is unopened manufactured material which is very likely perfectly usable, except there's really no way to get it to somewhere that can use it
iii: you can take it to any local chemists, they will dispose of it -- i'd say cheerfully but the one i ended up at (i was lost), the pharmacist was clearly a little fed up at the seven bulky boxes he now has responsibility for (luckily not heavy). But it really is his job, and he remained sullenly professional.
iv: I was now thoroughly muddled in all the hideous commercial signage and pisspoor ACTUAL signage -- shropshire usually not bad at this, but it stops as soon as you enter the labyrinth of the peripherique, PLUS like an idiot i'd set out just in time to hit the end-of-school run, so it was suddenly car-queues everywhere, and a million kids of all sizes spilling out of monkmoor campus...
v: ... including three suicidal little eight-year-old dickheads playing chicken in the traffic stream (i mean literally scampering across the road competing to be the last to jump out of the way of passing cars); it flashed through my head to speed up rather than slow down but i dimly grasped that the ensuing bureaucracy would put a crimp in my schedule (the main town copshop is only half a mile away)
vi: so finally ending up playing hunt the exact right disability centre (no longer the correct name, tho of course all the leaflets i had to track them down are 3-5, even 10 years out of date
vii: to be fair all the people I talked at these various places to were utterly lovely and charming and went out of their way to draw me maps to each other, and suggest other places i can call -- but none of them actually had the answer to my query, or knew who would

just discovered that -- in the professional notes and papers i handed over to dad's old work org -- there was some more personal stuff i really wanted to reread myself, that i hadn't spotted... they assumed i was done with it (quite reasonably) and it is all shredded and gone now :(

including three suicidal little eight-year-old dickheads playing chicken in the traffic stream

As much as it may be doing a Darwinian service to run them over, and I'd be tempted to, it may be worth contacting the school. At the very least I'd hope for a talking to at assembly or a teacher properly monitoring the schoolkids leaving.

might do just that, billy -- there were countless parents and adults nearby, but ffs

You'd think after listening to my mum vent her spleen about it for all those years that I'd put two and two together and anticipate how fkn DREADFUL shrewsbury traffic is at hometime. The one-way system in town centre is a pitiless moebius strip that always cycles you back to earlier in your journey unless you grit your teeth and track the entire windy route (there are no short-cuts in other words, just lengthener cuts -- and this is a burg that's famous for its little alleys and lanes and slipwalks, known in ancient town argot as "cuts").

And then the inner ring road is a weird transdimensional shifting entity made up of an unspecified and ever-changing number of more or less identical link roads and roundabouts. There's literally -- I was laughing with a neighbour about this this morning, I don't why I said Shropshire was good with signage above -- a dozen crossroads or T-juntions you can arrive at out in the styx where Shrewsbury is indicated twice, pointing in opposite directions. (Correctly! Even though you're miles away!)

this is more about my niece -- 4 in 10 days -- than my parents: not a box, but a fancy sacking bag that rattled as i picked it up: inside, a handful of uncooked pasta tubes and a single latex glove

in fact there are single latex gloves abandoned or hidden all over the house, my niece is very conscious of sepsis

Great thread. This is vividly reminding me of what my dad went through helping his parents move out of their house, where they'd lived for 40+ years. My grandfather was a bit of a hoarder, though a very organized one. The garage - in name only since there hadn't been room for cars in there as long as I could remember - was stacked floor to ceiling with boxes, usually labeled, of assorted semi-worthless detritus - things like non-functional electrical extension cords, which presumably were intended to be repaired and reused someday.

spent several hours here, where my mum and dad worked when i was a kid, and where i lived till i was 12: it looks very grand, but we lived in a fairly poky staff flat in it, even though dad ran it -- we moved when i was 12

i was being taken round by one of my dad's successors, and being showed round as much of it as could open doors to, without bursting in on someone's bedroom or a lesson in progress -- someone of it is unchanged since the 50s (haha the plumbing, at least in the older bits), some of it much more recent: most of it is teaching areas or dormitories, eating areas, kitchens and offices: all much smaller than i recall of course, since i'm much bigger, but the basic shape of the main older building is the same inside, including wonky old wooden stairs, wide lead guttering round the top, funny little sheds and lean-tos behind the kitchen, full of firewood and such

also visited the farmer, who this org have to live on good terms with: he's the stepson of the farmer who ran it my day; his step-sister was my first love! she left my life forever when we were both 5, and moved across the county -- eventually i believe to the US; her dad was a bit of a serial marrier who had no time for his own kids, i don't remember his face but i do remember his horrible dogs

interesting meeting a series of people a few years younger than me who i would automatically assume were 'grown-ups", ie decades older than me haha -- many of the teaching staff are of course MEERE CHILDREN THEMSELVES, they were interested in me and my stories for a brief while, then busied off into their YOUNG PERSON LIVES (odd disjunction even here though, bcz i was a little kid when i was here, and the people i remember as enormously ancient were of course the same age as these amiable busy striplings...)

entertaining five minutes trying to explain the proto-photocopier the centre had in the mid-60s: the paper was yellow and incredibly expensive, had to be kept wrapped in black plastic and kep[t in a cupboard as it turned black when the light fell on it

"at this level of fine dining": my friend T round helping me make supper, only just noticed and removed a dead spider from the pan she was mashing potatoes in

tbf there is next to nothing in this house that doesn't have a dead spider in it

afternoon spent sorting out a rotting cardboard box from the back room full of rusty tools, rusty nails and tacks, picture hooks, bicycle repair kits, rawl plugs, oddly elaborate sculptural curls of wire, self-deconstructed dead beetles, and one small but very lively spider

one mini-treasure: am unopened box of vintage gillette razorblades <- i can't retire on it but it's a nice little object to find

that remote show up?

Or my cufflinks or a pack of flat batteries i know i left somewhere

Never heard of a rawl plug.

rawlplugs(tm) are those things you put in drill holes before putting the screw in to help secure it.

koogle

so far i have found eight remotes d'mac, not including those still in use: one of them MUST be yours

also many cufflinks and batteries

super stuff, ilxmailin you my address

lots of shoes to oxfam today :(

at the back of my grandma's cupboard -- in the room dad moved into after he became mostly bedbound -- i found a pair of old soft shoes with rubber soles, in a plastic bag; as i shook them out what appeared to be a piece of dry toast fell out with them, a bit startling for contents that have probably been in that bag for 15 years minimum

realised when i touched it that it was the rubber soul, gone crumbly and granular, sticky to the touch: it felt and looked like pieces of cake, in fact, and crumbs are now all stuck to the carpet

i didn't land oxfam with these shoes

The little envelopes look like they were for...show tickets? Not sure what else is that long and narrow.

Yes, we put dozens of candles on the xmas tree every year and lit em right up! BY RIGHTS WE SHOULD NOT BE HERE.

RIP foolish Victorian peoples

thanks for the additional mysteries, mark s!

a) laurel's guess sounds reasonable
b) no idea, very curious
c) lol, seriously
d) wonderful

i am checkin with my sister re (b): they were just in a drawer in dad's study, alongside the paperclips and so on

I guessed tickets for the envelopes.

And,

I'm now singing "bobeche" to the tune of Kate Bush's 'Babushka'.

I was doing The Name Game: "Beche, beche, bobeche, banana fanna fobeche ..."

For b), maybe some kind of ring-toss game, or a cumbersome take-a-number system.

just heard from my sister re. what we now know are candle wax catchers, with this cute email:

"My first thought was: I have no clue.
My second thought was: We can't hold a candle to Mom's brain power.
My third was: I'm pretty sure these aren't sewing implements.

Then, I was waiting/hoping for some inspiration so that I could reply with the answer. Too bad I hadn't followed through on my 2nd thought. Yay, Dad!"

we don't really talk about missing our mother, although i certainly miss her very much and i'm sure the others do too, so this is kind of a breakthrough conversation. another reason to thank you, mark s. <3

My wife thinks those envelopes might be for photographic negatives or similar.

the envelopes baffle me a bit: even if they are for tickets or negative, i don't understand why we have a stock of them

the sticks were a bit unfair, or so i thought, since they required you to know dad was a keen gardener, but also -- as someone with advanced parkinsons -- needed to provide detailed instructions for tasks he couldn't undertake himself: i assumed these were numbered guides to the new shape of the flowerbeds he had dug; these were the sort of pains he took when planning even as small a project

... except my sister tells me that's wrong -- they're actually part of the herbarium he gathered while researching his guide to the identification of hybrid willows: he was a professional naturalist, a botanist, and his specialism was taxonomy, particularly developing techniques for the quick identification of hard-to-distinguish sub-divisions of species; most of the herbarium was donated to a university department some years ago, but not this bit (i don't really know what this bit does, however)

i mean, i imagine they're examples -- a section or cutting of a willow branch, with and without bark (the dark section is the bark) -- but i can't tell how this helps identification, apart from size differences they all look identical to me

but i know next to nothing about botany, i always left everything to dad in that sphere

Wax catchers! Of course. Its obvious now. I thought of milk bottle covers because my nan used to have these lacey doily things, weighted round the edges with little shells or stones, that you'd drape over the milkbottle opening, I suppose back then bottles didnt have any kind of resealable lid. Kept the flies out.

And I was gonna guess the sticks were part of a quoits game or something, but why would that have multiple sticks.

i wondered whether the drips-catcher thing was maybe a jewish thing -- only because the website laurel linked to is called "judaica" such-and-such -- but the friend i asked (who is from multi-denominational background) said that in her experience it was more a scottish presbyterian thing, which is exactly what my grandmother was

haha my mum was more cranky heretical anglican, with a distinct brit-pagan nature-worship element of "BOW DOWN BEFORE THE GREAT GOD MOTH": hence the drip-catchers put away in a drawer and never used; to palliate the gods is to allow everything to run to rust, dust, moss, damp and etc. Not that you have an option in a place like this. (OK I think I am getting homesick for bright busy Hackney. exhaust fumes, smog, nightly light pollution and etc...)

It's an "embroidered table linens are so hard to get wax out of" thing tbh.

haha yes: cf also "Nobel Prize for Ironong" upthread: mum wd have won the NP for never ironing.

...otherwise known as the Nobel Crease Prize

Those envelopes look like they are american Cheque size, I have a box of them for paying the rent, wouldn't fit a British cheque, though.

every time i see this thread title i think it is the title of a Miranda July project

we are the exact same except i am cueter

mum wd have won the NP for never ironing.

hero

More mysteries:

1:Is this still a thing?
http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6228/6354503035_f963fd2cf0.jpg

2: Is THIS still a thing?
http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6118/6354502347_869345a402.jpg

3: memories of the 60s and 70s -- my sister (age 7) in the local paper
http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6227/6354502809_04e8196438.jpg

4: memories of the 60s and 70s -- domestic sculptures in cardboard
http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6112/6354501951_5c57117a5a.jpg

5: memories of the 60s and 70s -- dad's elaborate instructions for an outdoor game he devised for my 8th or 9th birthday (mum played "onya marx" and dad played "popey smike" -- and two teams of kids undertook a quite complex tracking and orienteering exercise through a small pine forest in the hills a few miles from our house)
http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6031/6354500849_f0c565d273.jpg

6: more images in the attic (painted by predecessors)
http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6227/6354498393_4b5a120b9d.jpg

#2 are Cuisenaire rods

...and are still a thing due to being surprisingly indestructible for short lengths of wood. Also because of the increased emphasis on 'chunking' for mental arithmetic.

also language teaching!

2 i remember from school. integer lengthed sticks for teaching addition / multiplication. xp

kinda delighted they're still used in schools -- i loved the colours ever since i first played with them (=1966? at primary school anyway)

also kinda delighted we still have a full set of integers, if a bit low on the 1s

http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6112/6354501951_5c57117a5a.jpg

this is actually a belbury poly lp right

xp The 1s tend to have to pull double duty as dice, if I remember rightly, and hence go missing.

my entire life is a belbury poly lp

Powerful Proustian rush from those counting rods. Now feel compelled to buy some for my daughters.

http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6235/6354739579_cff0dd3a05.jpg

^^^actually went to check the dice box, sadly no moonlighting 1s

A dice box that's shaped like a die, awesome! Also digging the backgammon doubling cube.

omg those maths sticks are awesome! I was a 70s primaryschool kid, how come I dont remember those! Maybe we did use them and I just dont recall.

i think they go in and out of pedagogic fashion also

I imagine so. Though my recall of early childhood learning was certainly full of kooky 70s style "new school" stuff, as best I can recall now. Which I'm struggling to do (aside from learning that horrid new-cursive script). All I cam remember about that time is bloody Sesame Street!

this would make a lovely book, mark s.

i am actually planning a short book about the centre mum and dad ran, and the org it was part of -- they met working at another centre in yorkshire in the early 50s, married and moved to take over the one in shropshire, where we lived until 1972, then dad was director of the whole org for c.10 years, until his parkinsons made it too hard for him

it was a fabulous place to grow up, and i want to try and talk about the social and domestic aspect of it as a community in the 50s and 60s, more maybe than the actual teaching aspect, which the org itself explores and discusses very ably -- it was a culture they pretty much had to improvise from the ground up, there was really nothing like it before

i will read that with gusto.

:)

oo nearly forgot this: the first mystery in last night's photos IS still a thing: dad (or possibly his dad) ordered it via the scientific american, and were utterly baffled by it -- it's kind of the cuisenaire rods for first-year algebraic logic (wff stands for well formed formula)

i actually studied algebraic logic as a student, as part of my course on mathematics and philosophy, tho had totally forgotten about the existence of this game (my grandad some years dead by then anyway, and dad was always allergic to higher mathematics -- he says he got stuck on integration and never stopped panicking)

lol @ leslie nielsen as the face of the explanatory video

I can't help reading WFF as WTF.

just found my other grandfather's first calculus textbook: "calculus made easy" by silvanus p. thompson, pub.macmillan 1917 (his name is spelled sylvanus on the cover, which presumably would have annoyed him had he not died the year before)

Two nice surprises for our successors (the third is rising damp, which makes for depressing photos, so I'll spare you that.

Some of the electrics are maybe 80 years old...
http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6051/6359081367_698b158be7.jpg

including vintage bakelite lightswitches (several of which simply won't switch any more; others work, with giant blue sparks):
http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6231/6359082167_6b35194912.jpg

The roof and what's below it: including a priest's way right through the top of the house:
http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6230/6359081713_d015628a95.jpg

Unless my sister went another time, I was the last person down that tunnel, wearing a safety helmet made of the inside of a riding hat someone found in the attic, actually much too tight for me and probably not especially safe as a consequence. Besides being filthy dusty and cobwebby, the passageway is too small for an adult: at the far end -- it's about a ten yard crawl, it's very foreshortened in the photo, there's a big drop into another attic room, with no proper floor, only the ceiling of the room below (actually my bedroom). Don't suppose anyone's been properly in that room since the renovations at that end of the house, 50 years ago.

Last evening up here for now: driving back to London tomorrow.

One more mystery: what is this for?
http://farm7.staticflickr.com/6092/6364243999_8922961678_z.jpg

It's a small clear plastic cylinder, slightly smaller than a thumb:
http://farm7.staticflickr.com/6114/6364243235_d26f7ca111.jpg

Stuff we made down the years:

Dad asked his younger brother to make this Go board in the late 60s (another thing he read about in Scientific American):
http://farm7.staticflickr.com/6052/6364245661_1dd8dae49e.jpg

The pieces were pebbles he and mum gathered on a Welsh beach. Not sure he ever found anyone to play against, which leaves me feeling vaguely melancholy. I was too young, then at school, then at college, then lived in London. Plus I have zero competitive instinct in games.
http://farm7.staticflickr.com/6108/6364244671_11fc6a45aa.jpg

My sister made these at school, not sure when exactly (it says: "R S 3z a hobbit" on the feet of the one smoking a pipe)
http://farm7.staticflickr.com/6095/6364239979_13f479b642.jpg

http://farm7.staticflickr.com/6060/6364241917_893cacbcec.jpg

I made this at primary school! It's a plant-pot holder of course. Sadly it has woodworm so I had to chuck it out.
http://farm7.staticflickr.com/6060/6364242767_77ae050152.jpg

http://farm7.staticflickr.com/6103/6364246313_a3c8ccfdce.jpg

Not sure the date of this game, or whose it was, my mum's or one of her parents. It has a glass top, and contain four ancient tiddlywinks, red, green, yellow and blue, as well as a blob of mercury. You had to use the blob of mercury -- which represented the army of the Land of Happy Days -- to push the tiddlywinks, the four invading armies of the lands of Hate, Fear, Envy and Worry, into their respectively coloured corners, then break the mercury up so it sat in the five little holes. The hard-to-read burg w/o an army is "Smiles Hamlet", presumably bcz its inhabitants didn't have to put up with a garrison full of soldiers.

http://farm7.staticflickr.com/6095/6364240789_13d9d4284e.jpg

I was going to suggest that the cylinder was used as a magnifying glass for reading (I've seen similar, but they were half-cylinders), but on re-reading I see it's probably too small for that. Maybe just an interesting bit of something else that he saved?

Yes it doesn't have any optical qualities really, it's not actually that see-through. I think it is a part of something, but I can't work out what.

Oh, that Go board is gorgeous! Esp the stones having been hand collected. That made me sad!

haha i saw greenaway's "Zed and Two Noughts" *with* my cousin! He hated it...

(oops wrong thread)