That's a plastic Macaferri ukulele from the sixties. They were quite well made and very inexpensive. They sold for around ten dollars. They're now considered collectible and they go for as much as a hundred and seventy five dollars.
I know someone who has a mint condition Macaferri cowboy guitar. It's also made of plastic with embossed six guns, longhorn steer and a rampant colt. Very impressive in a weird way.
My grandmother used to take in boarders. One of them was a nice young man who played a plastic ukulele. He tried to teach me a few things when I was maybe eight. He played a "TV Pal" ukulele. I'd love to have one.
I bought a bar of some really beautiful Turkish soap from a shop just around the corner. The Turks who own it are embroiled in a war with the Pakistanis who own a licensed outlet straight over the road; the Indian dude who runs the neswagents two doors along has been squeezed dry of passing trade. Long ago, his father elbowed aside a step up from big financial backers because he refused to sell alcohol. I cross the road habitually to buy my cigarettes from his store.
That Turkish soap is gorgeous. All weekend I have been amazed by its clean lathered smell.
I am glad I have had the chance to finally sample it, though the vendor tells me there is no market for it.
3 comments:
That was different, and enjoyable.
What type of material is the neck of the white instrument made of?
That's a plastic Macaferri ukulele from the sixties. They were quite well made and very inexpensive. They sold for around ten dollars. They're now considered collectible and they go for as much as a hundred and seventy five dollars.
I know someone who has a mint condition Macaferri cowboy guitar. It's also made of plastic with embossed six guns, longhorn steer and a rampant colt. Very impressive in a weird way.
My grandmother used to take in boarders. One of them was a nice young man who played a plastic ukulele. He tried to teach me a few things when I was maybe eight. He played a "TV Pal" ukulele. I'd love to have one.
I bought a bar of some really beautiful Turkish soap from a shop just around the corner. The Turks who own it are embroiled in a war with the Pakistanis who own a licensed outlet straight over the road; the Indian dude who runs the neswagents two doors along has been squeezed dry of passing trade. Long ago, his father elbowed aside a step up from big financial backers because he refused to sell alcohol. I cross the road habitually to buy my cigarettes from his store.
That Turkish soap is gorgeous. All weekend I have been amazed by its clean lathered smell.
I am glad I have had the chance to finally sample it, though the vendor tells me there is no market for it.
Viva Gus and Fin.
wv = milki
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