This is a pic of the toy and railway museum we visited in Leura.
The house and garden were absolutely amazing - I could see myself living there no problems. The house was choc-a-bloc full of toys and period furnishings and paraphernalia - so many little goodies to ponder on. There were loads of Alice in Wonderland figures and books, including one with a Latin cover (and I'm guessing the text in Latin) - with figures both very old and quite new (and somewhat gothed up and kind of angry looking - where the Cheshire cat has less of a smile and more of a leer. Now those I'd like a copy of - have to go google searching!). Everything was, of course behind glass cabinets - no touching. And no photos. Our trolley bus driver told us to let the owner know he had sent us and we would get a discount on admission. Someone had obviously forgotten to tell the owner about this arrangement, and he look flustered and vaguely nauseous at the thought of a discount. In the end, after much umming and ahhing he gave us two dollars off each, not really worth it, but hey, the scenario was good for a laugh. The house had a bit of a 'big brother' vibe, what with all the cctv cameras and signs proclaiming 'you're being watched' everywhere. S told me later he poked his head around the corner towards the entryway to see which way to go next and found the owner all hunched over his monitors, watching obsessively and wide-eyed. Creepy. Hee hee. Granted though, the place must be worth a fortune for it's contents alone. And oh, the dolls. Cases and cases of them. My favourite without a doubt was the mid 20th century creepy little girl doll looking menacingly out ogf the corners of her eyes, holding what appeared to be a strangled goose. My first thought was the X Files episode "Chinga". She had the whole 'I WANT TO PLAY' vibe, in the yes-I-strangled-this-goose-with-my-bare-hands-and-you're-next kind of way. Most amusingly though, there where two other dolls in the same case with absolutely horrified looks on there faces. Now, as I've mentioned before, I am still not entirely convinced, even as an adult, that toys don't get up n the night when you're asleep and play. I don't know what the creepy little 'Chinga' doll had done to the other two, but one looked shocked and about to burst into tears and the other looked genuinely afraid for her life. Mum and I laughed nervously at the scenario, but we were both obviously creeped out. I mean who would make dolls like that? And what does it say to the person you're giving it to as a present - "here, I want you to be terrified so I'm giving you a doll whose expression will be enough to induce nightmares"? Weird. Upstairs there were many many more dolls including some early 20th century dolls whose once skin coloured cloth had gone green with age, and now made them look suspiciously zombie like - again the glancing out the corner of the eyes look only added to the effect. What is with the looking out the corner of the eye thing? And Barbies, Barbies everywhere. Yes I had Barbies when I was young, and as incredibly uncool as it may now seem, I loved them to bits. I had the car, the van, a bedroom set up, the horse and fashion acoutrements untold. I don't know how many Barbies I had all up, but I know there was only one Ken. That was enough of him obviously, as he wasn't really important to the play-story lines anyway. Well not until my older Aunty and cousin explained why Barbie liked to have Ken around. Not that he was anatomically able to perform said duties of course. Giving them away is one of those 'THINGS I WISH I HAD NEVER DONE' - I would love to be able to pass on all that tackiness to my own daughters. In any case, I discovered a Barbie (and yes, even a Ken) I would like to have as an adult. And here it is:
Barbie and Ken as the Munsters. At $400 a pop though, I think even Santa is going to balk at that one!
