Decoupage Girls

I wandered into Rayleen’s craft shop looking for something to bide my time in the evenings. Most of these shops only sell the raw products, but she had many finished projects on display. I liked the pink decoupage photograph album with fairies. It spoke; challenging me to make one. I’ve always enjoyed decorating the front cover of my note books, so I thought that decoupage might be a good hobby. I’d never been terribly good at crafty things. My grandmother and aunt had been very crafty, and made all sorts of things from cane sewing baskets to lavender bags. My sister inherited that gene, but not me; too impatient. I start things but never finish; they look amateurish.

I am easily inspired. Last time I visited my sister, she showed me her latest quilt; the one that was featured in Quilting Australia. They paid her a fortune to publish the pattern. She’d never need to join a little craft group like this; she’s too busy being president of the Victorian Quilting Association.

Rayleen was friendly and suggested that I join a class to learn properly. There was a vacancy in the Thursday morning group at the tables in the back of the shop. I knew this would be good for me. It meant that I didn’t have to admit to anyone that I was desperately lonely; all I had to do was pretend that I enjoy learning the fine art of decoupage, and I’d be part of a group.

I selected a large placemat for my learning piece. The paper had nice Tuscany images that would suit my décor – an arched lion fountain, pedestals under pots with flowers and leafy vines – and sandstone background paint. I sealed the paper on one side and waited for it to dry while I gave the placemat its first coat of paint, before sealing the back of the paper.

They don’t talk about their private lives; I’m glad because I don’t want to talk about mine. I worked out that most of them are from the other side of the railway line, and older than me, but I liked their lack of polish. They tried hard to shock the new kid in class with dirty jokes and funny stories. I wasn’t easily shocked but when I was, I didn’t let it show.

Cutting out the lion fountain was easy, but the flowerpots were tedious and I tried to hold my tongue right as the sharp scalpel dug into my cutting mat and I felt all fingers and thumbs. I put the second coat of paint onto my placemat, brushing the opposite way to minimize the brush marks.

There’s a good movie to go and see. They all loved Calendar Girls and told me I should see it. I don’t like going to the movies, all those people talking, letting their newfangled mobile phones ring and rustling their sweet wrappers. I read the review so I know what it’s about, I’ll wait for it to come out on video and watch it at home. They say they want to make their own nude calendar, just for fun. I laughed, but they didn’t.

The third coat of paint, brushed in the same direction as the first coat took time to dry, so I continued cutting the second flowerpot. It was tedious, but I persevered. I bought a photo album with sticky pages to keep the pictures in, just as the other women do. I kept cutting.

One day there were some funny stories about condoms. One thin woman with fine grey hair told how her husband left his French-letters home when they went on their honeymoon, so they couldn’t copulate. She described one evening when he became particularly amorous, and despite several cold showers, eventually had to satisfy himself, much to his embarrassment! She told the story with such truthful graphic detail, we all laughed until tears stained our cheeks. I wanted to write her life history, but she stopped coming shortly after that.

My fourth coat of paint finally dried, and I spent time arranging and re-arranging the pictures on my placemat. It seemed a bit bare so I had to go back to the cutting board for more leafy vines to decorate the top area. I stood back to admire it and Rayleen made some suggestions about what would make it look better. More pictures to cut.

Sport talk is boring. They love the gossip about how naughty Carey was to have that affair, but he is a good footballer, and that’s what people should remember. His private life is his own, and the media would do well to remember that. Of course, Hookesey was an innocent victim in the fight that killed him. I don’t open that can of worms. Yvette doesn’t like football either. She gave them some anti-football ribbing and wished there was less sport on television.

Glue, roller and glad wrap were added to my little box of decoupage tools. I spent more time arranging and rearranging the pictures until I was sure it looked artistic and clever. Rayleen helped again so it wouldn’t look like something from a grade three classroom. I started gluing the pictures on and made such a mess that it took the rest of the lesson to wipe of the residue.

Julia brought a cake on her birthday; a big lemon cream cake with ingredients so evil that the cream was the healthiest part of the cake. Almost every week someone brings a recipe for us to copy and try, but I’m not a very good cook. I tried Rayleen’s savoury pinwheels but they stuck to the tray, and I had to serve them mashed up and messy, but they tasted terrific. Rayleen is an excellent cook and Yvette says she’ll pose for the calendar when Rayleen writes a recipe book. Rayleen grinned and said she’d finally found inspiration!

I’m ready to seal my placemat now and I save money by using my painting brush. The first coat goes one way, the second the other way, the third back the other way. It started to look nice and shiny. I taped the back ready for Rayleen to pour with resin. I found the tape didn’t stick very well, but thought it’d do the job.

John Howard is a liar, and Mark Latham is the golden boy. They unanimously agreed that he’ll win the next election; this is a Labor heartland, so what else could I expect? JohnHoward’s too chicken to call an early election, he needs time to find some dirt. Politics doesn’t get as much talk time as sport.

The placemat looks wonderful, my resin is as hard and shiny as the ones I’ve seen in the shops. Unfortunately, the resin dripped under the tape and I have huge lumps of resin on the back. It needs to be flat and smooth so I spent the lesson sandpapering the back. It’s hard work.

They have some strong views about refugees who really should be able to speak our language and pass an English test before they come here. How do we know which ones are terrorists and which ones are genuine? The people smugglers should get jail for life, but not at Australia’s expense. That’s not the way the tax dollars should be spent. The ones who come in boats are the ones that can’t speak English, so the government should spend more money protecting the coast.

I bought a large piece of felt for the back of my placemat and I spent time cutting it to size and gluing it on. I only have to wait for the glue to dry and I’ll have a finished piece of decoupage. I was a bit heavy handed with the glue, and some of the felt became hard instead of soft and smooth, but it’s not too bad. Maybe I could make placemats for everyone for Christmas.

Rayleen announced that she has selected the recipes for her book and her daughter will type them up but she still needs to find a good photographer. Helen said it’s no use making a calendar because it’s already been done and no longer a novelty, but nobody’s done food in the raw. Old women displaying food in the raw in a recipe book, now that’s a shocker! Their husbands are all dead but mine isn’t, and I said that I didn’t know what he’d think. They laughed and asked if I’d learnt anything from them yet.

Beetroot wedges and green rocket leaves on a bed of couscous in an earthy brown bowl were good contrasts for my lily-white wrinkled flesh. I held the bowl between my legs while the photographer fiddled with the lighting and angles before the shoot began. No, I think I’ll give everyone my group’s recipe book for Christmas this year!