The Incredible Vintage Hoover

When I think about how long domestic products are set to last these days, I can't help but smile to myself when I consider a certain piece of household equipment which is almost deserving of a place in a museum: my Dad's incredible vintage Hoover. Perhaps it could feature in a display on 'The Way It Used To Be' or a humorous retrospective of 'The Domesticity Of Yesteryear'?* Either way, I don't think they make them like this anymore.

The item in question is a Hoover Hoover (or Vacuum Cleaner to be completely correct), with a blue bag-shaft, scuffed ceramic face and original red Hoover logo. It is a classic; a true vintage relic!

Vintage Hoover
Vintage Hoover

When my Dad relayed the story of how ancient this (working) Hoover really is, I marvelled at the manufacturing mavens who produced such a quality piece of equipment. I mean OK, he doesn't vacuum everyday, or live in a palatial mansion with endless corridors of carpet...but it's still impressive.

Purchased for £14, it was already second-hand; areconditioned model my parents bought when they were first married and setting up home together. As in before I was born. I am 34.

Every year Dad takes it to a special Hoover Man for a service and had the foresight to stock-pile the relevant dust bags some years ago when extinction of said bags was a threat on the 'Hoover Horizon'.

His faith in the Hoover's longevity is comforting and nice; a metaphor for a generation of trust in quality workmanship.

This unassuming, slightly very, battered appliance is ripe for retirement in my opinion, but knowing my Dad, and he does like to get his money's worth, it will likely have to carry on for another few years. It's a Hoover-dream come true.

*If any museums are interested in the purchase of this fabulous example of Hoover history, feel free to make us an offer!

NB. I originally posted a similar article on my previous personal blog a few years ago. This Hoover is a keeper!

2 lonely tea cups

2 lonely tea cups

What do you think when you see this image?

I think it is a bit of a metaphor for loneliness, or 'the difference between us', or a brightly coloured 'yin and yang'.

It feels sad somehow, but also like it could spark off a story. The tea cups are mis-matched, or perhaps perfectly matched; clinging together on their 'together but separate' islands of doubt.

Where is this place? Who drank out of those cups? Is it festive (with the red and the green)?

Who knows? Who cares? What happens to all the lonely tea cups in the world, and is this where they all go to 'die'?

This is at the heart of the anti-inspiration ethos. See. Think.


A face in the (garage) door #facesinthings

There is a row of lock-up garages near me. When I walk by each dirty door I could get depressed because they are all green and black with mould and spores and to be honest, the whole construction is a blot on the landscape.

Why doesn't each owner clean his or her own door(s)? Why are they painted the worst colour of all for showing dirt? (White: I besmirch your good and pure association.)

Why couldn't they be red or black or attacked by rabid street artists with a Banksy aesthetic?

Mouldy Garage Door

But then I pause, stop, look a moment longer, and yes. Yes I can see it. A face in the dirt. A face visible through the machinations of this lock-up door.

The padlocks on either side are the exhausted, non-plussed eyes and the handle in the middle is a nose and the keyhole is the cute, slightly open mouth.

Can you see it?

Now that I've seen, it I can't not see it. Inside that garage door there is a personality trying to get out. The pattern of scratches at the bottom only add to this notion for me. It could be dogs or hail or children off the leash.But in my head, it isn't any of those things.

Look beyond the obvious. Seek and you shall discover. You never know what you might find.

See more faces in things.