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Rainday Antiques 2: A Free 45 Minute Sleepcast From Headspace — Transcript · YTtoTranscript

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Rainday Antiques 2: A Free 45 Minute Sleepcast From Headspace

Headspace · 2,173 words · 11 min read · EN-ORIG

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Below is the complete, readable transcript of Rainday Antiques 2: A Free 45 Minute Sleepcast From Headspace by Headspace on YouTube. Read the full text, copy any part you need, or generate a transcript for any video with our free tool.

When night is falling and the rain is coming down hard, everybody knows there's no better place to shelter from the storm than our favorite 24-hour antique shop. And tonight, it's as inviting as ever. Its windows are blurred squares of warm light, and the door opens to your touch on the brass push plate. Welcome back to Rain Day

Antiques. It's good to see you again. In the back of the shop, in a corner, a woman sits at a large oak desk holding a set of silver candlesticks. With a fine cloth, she gently polishes the silver, its surface gleaming just a little brighter with each circular motion of her hand. The warm lighting within the shop

reflects from the candlesticks so that streaks of golden light shimmer across the ceiling. Tonight, the shop feels both familiar and new. The happy result of running a store where the stock is always changing. As you know, you can get lost in this shop's treasures. But before you do, let's take a moment for a short

exercise. Tonight's exercise is a really simple breathing exercise. So, when you're ready, let's begin. So first get yourself

comfortable. Now just bringing the attention to the breath. Just noticing where you feel it in the nose, the throat, the chest. the diaphragm. You're nice and relaxed. We're going to be taking a deep breath in for four, holding it for four, and then breathing out for six. So, are you ready? Let's begin.

In for four 2 3 4. Hold it for 4 2 3 4. Breathing out for six 2 3 4 5 6. In for four 2 3 4. Holding for four. 2 3 4. Out for six. 2 3 4 5 6. In for four 2 3 4. Holding for 4 2 3 4. Out for six. 2 3 4

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5 6. In for four 2 3 4. Holding for four. 2 3 4 out for six. 2 3 4 5 six. Great. Now returning the breath to normal. Henry the proprietor isn't here tonight. It doesn't take too great a leap of the imagination to wonder what he's doing. Instead, he's gone antiquing. Of

course, all the wonderful things for sale in his store have to come from somewhere. So whenever he has the chance, Henry goes foraging for fabulous antiques to keep his store well stocked. Where does he look? Anywhere and everywhere. He loves rumaging around in thrift stores and yard sales for starters, especially the ones that at

first glance don't look at all promising. You never know what you might find. His mission is to make sure his store is never less than a treasure trove for his beloved customers. Sitting at Henry's desk tonight, vigorously polishing a set of silver candlesticks, is his best friend, Doratha, who always steps in when Henry

has to go on a trip. Everybody but Henry calls Doratha Dotty, but he always pronounces her name in full, taking his time about it. Daria, why would anyone shorten such a beautiful name? He always inquires. And Dy always laughs like a tray of drinks. Tinkling says, "Oh,

Henry. At the back of the store, there's a door open leading to a room you've never seen before. Business has been going so well that Henry recently had this old store room refurbished into something rather special. The ceiling has a dome skylight matching the one near the front door. And there are windows on all sides

so large it is as though the walls are made of glass. You might think of it as the rain lounge. It's really quite special to stand here surrounded by weatherbeaten statues, garden furniture, and many plants, their fronds curling romantically around the edges of the room. Rain hammering down on all sides. Here's a scallop shell bird bath and a

stone cherub clutching a pot of ivy. The plants are not antiques, of course, though Henry might say otherwise. This chaotic but delightful rubber plant, for example. He's been known to claim it's descended from a rubber plant belonging to a famous vianese psychoanalyst. It sits on a shelf that runs across one of the windows, its branches arching

every which way alongside a collection of trailing plants in terracotta pots. Lighting from the backyard beyond shows off this scene beautifully, picking out objects arranged with care among the pots like these two balls of colored glass. Vintage Japanese fishing floats. One still held by its net of knotted rope. What seas have they floated in?

How far they must have traveled to get

here. The doors of the antique store have been given a high polish since your last visit. And beneath your shoes, the parquet is a shining maple color. It's the perfect surface to pick up the click clack of a little dog's paws. Dear Robert, the store's resident ducks hunt, trottting over to say hello. Today he's all dressed up for the

occasion of your visit. He's wearing a collar with a polka dot bow tie in front. Looking sharp, Robert. Click, click, go his claws across the floor as he heads back to his basket. But wait a moment. What's this? There's somebody else in there. A petite gray dog with a long elegant snout and large kind eyes who has been

napping in Robert's basket gets to her feet. Robert gives you a quick eager glance as if to say, "Well, what are you waiting for? Get acquainted." The gray dog's ears lift in curiosity as she studies your face and she offers a short bark of greeting. This is Lieber, an Italian greyhound. Lieber, in case you didn't

know, means love in German. and Lieber is very lovely. Roert was a bit unsure when he first met her, but now they're inseparable. He hops back into the basket and they settle down together for a few more needed seas.

Wandering over to a corner, you find an old wooden printer's drawer pinned to the wall, housing a collection of miniatures. The printer's drawer is the kind they used for letter press printing back in the day with a brass handle on top and a series of different sized compartments, perfect for displaying small things. There's a selection of tiny

porcelain pigs with painted noses and slots in their back. piggy banks for dolls. If you picked one up, you'd find the teeniest sticker on its belly marking how many cents or dollars you'd have to part with to take this special item home. There's a fingertipsized sombrero, a reel of bright red yarn, and

a small stopper glass bottle filled with beads. There's a fringed lamp for a dollhouse. Three carry shells and a decorative puter thimble with a unicorn perched on top. There's a chipped cat's eye marble that must have won its fair share of games. A tarnished silver locket with no picture inside. A cute little enamel mouse pin

and a single domino. The rain drums comfortably on the roof and windows. And with each closer look, you spot something you missed the first time.

With so many lovely things in his store, the owner doesn't always find it easy to part with his stock. This magnificent leather hippo has had quite a few offers, but Henry feels the right customer hasn't come along just yet. He's put the hippo in a new less prominent position just to be on the safe

side. He couldn't let him go home with just anyone. The hippo is tucked away to the side of a bookcase where you wouldn't necessarily spot it unless you were really looking. The wall above it is hung with paintings large and small in many different styles and from many different eras. The largest one has an elaborate

guilt frame several inches wide. It's an accomplished if not flawless oil painting of a horse in a windb blown paddic. There's a fine network of lines crossing the painting where the glaze has cracked, but this only adds gravitas to the work. The horse is glancing sideways, looking out of the frame towards the viewer, gratified perhaps to

be the subject of this painting that has stood the test of time.

Here's an Edwardian roll top desk with the top rolled up, a chair waiting alongside it. A banker's lamp with a green glass shade sits on the top level of the desk, illuminating what sits beneath. a 1920s typewriter. The body of the typewriter is finished in black enamel, somewhat dulled and cracked in places from

age and its round metal keys have cream colored middles, the letters clearly marked in black. If you were to tap a key, any key, one of the little hammers at the back of the machine, would separate itself from the group and leap up, eager to make its mark on the piece of paper

waiting to receive it. In the typewriter's former lives, it was kept busy channeling the thoughts of secretaries, legal clarks, novelists, and most recently a teenage poet and vintage typewriter enthusiast. If it could be put into words, the typewriter typed it. Now this old machine is happy to rest on its laurels, which is to say on its little

rubber feet, remembering the many stories it has told.

To the right of the proprietor's desk is a velvet sha's lounge in faded pink, like something a Victorian lady might recline on to recover from a fainting spell. She wouldn't have the chance, though, since it's already fully occupied by a large gang of teddy bears and dogs. In the center of the group, with his

arms propped around the shoulders of two blushing China dolls seated on either side of him, is a classic bear. A golden buttony jointed teddy with a neatly stitched brown nose and a downturned mouth. If he's concerned about the state of his fur, which has frankly seen better days, he doesn't show it. In his prime, he belonged to an

exuberant child who dragged him about by one paw. Bump, bump, bump, up and down the stairs of their palatial home. So, it's hardly surprising he's a bit the worst for wear. The child named him Bartholomew after himself. Bartholomew the bear leans in close to the doll on his left, Tilly, whose round pink cheek is pressed

against his rumpled one. What are they whispering about?

In the center of the room is a stylish mosaic coffee table. The mosaic tiles are the shape of leaves and the way they're laid together, white, yellow, and pale green. They create the effect of dappled light. You might pull up the foottool nearby and take a look at the album of postage stamps that has been left open

on the coffee table. Even a quick glance at this album would tell you that its former owner must have been a passionate collector, not to mention curator. The stamps are arranged by theme, kings and queens, landscapes, popular culture, animals. There's a Polish stamp with a bright orange crayfish in the foreground and an ocean liner in the

background. A stamp from Guyana with a pair of toad stools drooping under the weight of their caps. An armadillo from Equatorial Guinea. and a 5 cent Canadian stamp featuring of course a diligent beaver. Most of them have the telltale half cresant postmark in one corner showing they've been on the journey they were intended

for. You might imagine this anonymous collector who knows how many years back steaming the stamps from their envelopes or postcards and fixing them with great care into this album. Never dreaming of you in the future. Turning the pages as the rain pours down

outside. The antique store is really overflowing with stock these days. Henry always lays out the more recently acquired items on a table by the door. It's a higgledy piggledy collection of all sorts of things. You could take a seat in the ragged old armchair and leaf through this box of original LPS. Whoever owned these was a big fan

of reggae. or this collection of old prints, a melony of pastoral, botanical, and architectural drawings. A picture of a speckled trout with a seam of pink running across its middle has been drawn out of the box and propped against a vase by a former customer, perhaps a keen fisherman. And here's a striking etching of a row

of trees at dusk. Addition one of 20, it says in pencil in the left hand corner, quite a find. But soon enough your eye is drawn elsewhere to these charming silverplated opera glasses or those Staffordshire mantelpiece dogs peering up at you intently. And all the while your ear is tuned to the gentle hush and rush of the

rain. You should be able to spot something new every single time you visit. That's Henry's hope. And he also hopes, of course, that you'll visit again very soon.

[Music]