...in the bottom drawer
I knew I'd lose it so I put it in a safe place, and now I can't remember where it is.

currently stashed in: Cheshire Street, London
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October 24, 2004 || 4:47 pm

Another action-packed Saturday. A catfish fry in Mason's Bend, a small community that is becoming known as the Rural Studio Village due to the number of projects that have been built there. The reason for the get-together was to spend time with some clients for houses this year, the communtiy matriach Willie Bell Harris and her family (her daughter Christine, currently homeless, is also getting a house).


It was really fun, lots of eating and talking to real people which is always refreshing after a week in studio glued to the drawing board. A community group from Uniontown was visiting some RS projects and joined in the lunch, and I spent quite a lot of the lunch talking to three sisters. Further to yesterday's entry, I asked them what they thought of the RS houses and how they might feel about having houses like that. They loved them - 'I want a cardboard house in my back yard so I can escape from my kids' and 'If I ever can redo my roof I want to make it like the Butterfly House' and 'I think if one person in Uniontown got a house like this, everyone would want one' were some comments, also illustrating the point that the attitude of the questioner is definitely reflected in the answers you get!


Then home, and more Cara-Mae breadmaking while I dug in the back yard the start of a garden, working off all that good food. And a great surprise when Ted Whisenhunt, of the Kudzu String Band turned up with friend and we had a little jam of some old-time music...great fun and hopefully lots more to come with these cool musicians.


Then later on it was piling into the back of a truck and off to Club 28, a pool/music bar on Route 28, for lots of beer and bourbon, pool playing, jukebox-djing and dancing with/fending off the owner's one-armed step-father (pictured below in the cowboy hat). Carol Mockbee definitely had the best (or worst of it), being spun around to some lively country music. Eventually when he got too persistent (and the feel of his stump got too weird) I had to resort to 'No', repeated loudly. Phillip won a Mustang Oil t-shirt from one of the over-testosteroned men who dared him to kiss him on the cheek. Such are the crazy Saturday nights in West Alabama...

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