Happy Blogday to me......

Hurray,.... it's been 2 years and so much has happened. I haven't been great at documenting the passing of time but I'm going to make more of an effort going forward. To celebrate, I made yet another cake from this book which was given to me by a vegetarian friend hoping to turn me over to the 'green' side. Most of the cakes I've made from this book have turned out fab which has made me more open to their savory stuff and that's been pretty good too. It's a good thing I'm working on my fitness given all the cake I've been making and eating!

BakerRooney on the West End

What excuse can I give for being such a slack blogger? Absolutely none. My new thespian life has led to large swathes of unstructured time disappearing into some black hole. These days, just getting the washing up done counts as a major accomplishment. Strange to think that a couple of months back, I was busy dealing with banking issues, stressed-out analysts and monitoring reviews. It hasn't helped that I put Radio 4 on the minute I wake up - it is pretty hard to listen and write at the same time! There's almost always some excellent programme on that I get passively absorbed in.

But I really must blog more, in fact I need blogging even more now that I've lost the daily human interactions the office brings, no matter how trite the office talk was it still meant you were communicating regularly with people other than your partner.

Aside from intermittently sedate moments this month, I had quite possibly THE most exciting week of my life. You see, when I was growing up in the far east, my sister and I along with our circle of friends were obsessed with musicals. Cats, Miss Saigon, Phantom of the Opera... we lapped them all up with a passion that only pre-pubescents can demonstrate. Our favourite musical though, the one we dreamed about staging was Les Miserables, we got our sweaty, tropical hands on the full libretto, practised playing them (very badly I might add) on our piano and sang the songs with vigor tearing round the garden. Yes, I know - we were SO uncool! And we had just discovered pop music too.

Last week though, my dormant, inner musical-geek finally got the chance to step out of the shadows when I got an audition for a musical and got to sing one of my favourite Les Mis songs on an actual West End stage. I was so excited to just be there that I belted out my song to the last row of the balcony and promptly got a croakey voice for quite some days after. It turned out to be a crazy week as I had 3 other auditions which meant that I was running around town like a headless chicken. Given that it's been such a looooooong time since i've sung properly, I had to go for singing boot camp which meant missing the iknit day. But my little return to singing has made me want to put in more practise and work as I would bloody love to be in a West End musical some day. My poor long-suffering neighbour and Gruff have tolerated hours of my singing exercises with unconditional grace so I may have to thank them with cake.

Yes, I have been baking on a weekly basis and scoffing the results so quickly that there have not been any photo opportunities. No evidence therefore remains of the 2 carrot cakes I made for various birthdays, the walnut sandwich cake for our spinning afternoon at Lucy's, the lemon drizzle for Helen's sewing workshop, the ginger treacle or Gruff's birthday banana cake. I have only just learnt to keep my gluttony in check and can proudly show you the last of the mascarpone mango cake I made for Tuesday's sewing day with Pauline and Gail.



My next post will be a knitting update I promise! I have also been sewing, oh yes!

Where have all the years gone...?

Have bought a new computer recently which has meant that I'm going through all my old CD's and storing them on itunes,.. which has prompted a complete trip down memory lane. Strange how your music collection becomes a form of recording your history... your shifting tastes... the songs or albums that cause a time-warp to forgotten moments, phases of your life that you'd relegated to the deep recesses of your mind...

Had a pre-birthday party with P & W,.. which was lovely. Just as I was bemoaning the fact that I felt much older than my 33 years some hip, trendy-ish grime artists came on stage at the Vibe Bar. Now it's not normally my kind of music but it blew away the cob-webs from our ears and injected us with the adrenaline rush of 'yoof',... just so that we could delude ourselves for a while that we were still young with our fingers temporarily on the pulse.

Woke up the next morning, hungover to be greeted with fresh vietnamese coffee and crumpets,.. yum! We then went to my favorite dim sum restaurant and then it was off to the V&A. Lovely, fascinating place full of gorgeous stuff AND you got to take photos. Then, it was off to Neal's Yard for a massage

and then dinner on the Rootmaster. A vegan restaurant in an old Rouemaster bus. Now I'm not vegetarian let alone vegan in the slightest but I thought i'd try it out for the novelty value. My friends who know me well found it hilarious that a confirmed carnivore like me would chose to go to a vegan place but hey, life's about new experiences right? If you're looking for a lovely, unique venue for a special night then I cannot recommend Rootmaster highly enough, we had the loveliest waiter who looked after a drunken group of rowdy diners so well.

You spin me right round baby right round like a record baby, right round...

Last Saturday was one of the most sublime days of my life. Got to spend the morning shopping with a bright, 16-year old wandering around Topshop and H&M re-capturing my youth. Found myself inspired to move away from my usual sombre colors of blues and greys and try on vibrant hues like lime purple AND LIME GREEN... QUITE a departure indeed. It was exhilarating and sobering to realise that I was some kind of role model in her innocent 16-year old eyes. Had lunch on Carnaby sreet and then....

Went to Tash's for "Bloc Party - Re-Rewind" - honest to god, I don't know when I'd ever had so much fun winding yarn and getting pissed AND eating yummy home-baked stuff. It was sheer childish exuberance. Look at the fruits of our labour,....



and I wound up some lovely silk I bought at SnB to add to my manos scarf..

She's lost control...

Sorry for the slack posting... will try to account for my absence. Hmm,.. firstly,
SnB day - almost didn't go but someone had a spare ticket and I instantly broke my yarn diet. Bought some lovely Manos yarn in bright red and some fyberspates stuff and lovely, yummy, sexy silk from knitwitches..



The male fashion show was the funniest thing i'd seen in a while. Craig and Gerald who organised the whole shebang did a magnificent job. Would have lost even more control but wise Tash whispered in my ear that it was time to go, that i'd spend more money if I stayed and she was so right.

Was in desperate need of a drink as Gruff and I had had a major fight. Now I don't get angry very often but when I do - it's horrible. I end my pursing my lips so that words of bile don't spill out of my mouth. And when I'm angry - I get ex-trem-ly ex-act a-bout-what-i'm-say-ing because you want ev-e-ry-sing-gle-word to be heard... and each phrase is designed to be a stab and cause the most hurt... sigh. ..Can't help it... it's my Achilles heel, if you're my friend and survived my angry tirades then our friendship has reached the next level... far too many people are so astounded by the sudden passion and rage that they shy away afterwards... I was born in the year of the tiger if that offers up any explanation.

Flip side of all this is that I'm always mortified the next day and thoroughly repentent... anyhoos, I needed a drink after SnB and Tash took us to the loveliest gastropub with steak sandwiches to die for... nothing like a good meal to temper you raging your emotions, the company of some calm knitters to detangle your thoughts and glasses of fine wine to reflect on your own shortcomings...

Mates & Blogs

Just finished reading a book about a friendship between 2 girls that disintegrates when they travel through India and it really got me thinking.

Part of my disenchantment with London (and the brief Hong Kong idea) was to do with how fragmented and dislocated I feel about my group of friends, some of whom I've known for practically a decade. We hardly see each other anymore and when we do it's normally to celebrate someone's birthday which means you have loads of catching up to do with what's been going on in your life. When there are about 5 of you it takes ages for us all to go into detail about our lives with any meaningful depth. We normally skim over the last couple of months by summarising it because there's just too much to cover. So after having this blog for months, I recently finally told them about this because I thought it'd be a good way for them to see what I've been up to and also find out more about me. I think I've revealed some stuff here that even old friends have been surprised with. Admittedly, a lot of it IS knitting related and might just as well be written in Greek but that's not the point. This way they can read about my life in their own time when they're not too busy. Yes, I know I can always pick up the phone to them but when you're knackered with work, the last thing you want to do is chat away on the phone. I'm not a phone person either, I'm brusque and leave long silences - I'm more comfortable writing, it just feels more 'me'. A friend protested that she didn't want to have a 'virtual' mate but I gently reminded her that it was better than having a no mate, someone distant that you've become estranged with. Yes, we're all busy people with a lot going on in our lives but sometimes I think we don't make enough time for each other. Or our schedules become too important to forsake - one excuse for not meeting up that I was given was that she had to go to the gym. Hmmmm, i'd rather see my old mate than pound away on the treadmill, wouldn't you? In fact, any paltry reason NOT to go to the gym would be fantastic let alone dinner with a friend I haven't seen in a while. Okay, I probably shouldn't be too harsh and I am delighted that some far-flung and dear friends are reading my little blog/diary/letter. (hello!! love you!!) I think this option is far better than blasting out a mass email intruding into people's inboxes no? So I think somewhat sadly that some friendships are getting weaker through the lack of maintenance but I guess that's life. Then there are friends that you see every week and yet you still take enormous delight in reading their blogs and looking at their photos. I guess with old friends you've drifted away from you'll always have the memories to treasure and that's all that you can be grateful for.

Whaoow.. heavy I know but I'm in a somewhat pensive mood today. Or maybe it's just the hangover from yesterday kicking in... hmmmm...

p.s. loved the footie yesterday especially when some yobs were chanting 'Rooney... rooney' - I felt strangely acknowledged.

Wateraid and Knit-A-River

Amazing photos from Yvonne - http://www.flickr.com/photos/61477100@N00/sets/72157600208240606/show/

all the squares were so different and beautiful. For a full story of the project and demo, read this - http://www.iknit.org.uk/2007/01/knitted-river-is-very-long-indeed.html. As I marched, thinking about the autonomy we take for granted for even being able to go on a march, it was doubly depressing and really sobering to think of the poverty that the lack of clean water causes. I can't imagine having to trek for miles just to get clean water for your daily necessities. Hmmm... so even though it was a Saturday morning and I could have really done with a lie-in, I'm glad I went on the demo. Apathy is a modern curse.

Encounters with Icons

We have been without broadband for a while - it's been an ongoing battle which I won't go into simply because i'll just get angry and turn green. This has meant that Gruff and I have had to resort to buying over-priced drinks at our local coffe shop in exchange for "free" wifi - bah! When I was posting the other evening about the chaos of the flat - a crusty looking bloke sitting next to me asked for help, or rather demanded it. The encounter went something like this;

Shifty bloke: (tetchily) Excuse me! Why is my internet not working? Subtext: you look like geeky technophile seeing as it's a Saturday evening and you're on the internet which obviously means you're devoid of a social life

Me: You need the IP address (trying my best to be helpful but taken aback by this man's brusqueness)

SB: I have it here (expectantly waving a scrap of paper in my face)

Me: Sorry, I'm not a Mac user - I wouldn't know what to do. Subtext: It's your bloody computer, how the hell should I know why it's not working? Don't own a computer if you can't operate it Bozo!

SB: (stares at me aghast at my lack of co-operation)

Me: You could ask the guys behind the counter - they're quite helpful. Leave me be to get on with my blogging, loser!

Shifty bloke saunters off and Gruff whispers in my ear that he thinks the bloke's 'someone famous'. Gruff has a quick look on wikipedia and it's only Kevin Rowland who sang 'Come on Eileen' which was an anthem in my teenage years. Holy moly!!! My teenage self would never have thought I'd ever in a million years ever get to be sitting NEXT TO him let alone refuse to help him out with his little computer issue. Imagine!! If it'd been co-operative and sorted him out, he'd be forever grateful and I would have made a little difference in an icon's life!! Sigh.... I really should work on my celebrity spotting so that I can coolly ignore them instead of being rudely oblivious. Have spotted Tracey Emin and Gilbert & George whilst mooching about this hood but have always been too polite to stare. Except for Pete Docherty whom I usually scowl at as he's often just in my way.

Crucial yarn maintenance

Some lovely Debbie Bliss Maya yarn that needs to be wound up. I think this will be used for Mong's Acorn hat which I'll use Woolly Wormheads hat pattern for.

The flat's been in dire need of a good clean and I have been distracted with planning for the holiday, hats and other good and far more interesting things. So yesterday evening, Gruff and I decided to tackle our ever-increasing muck together in a joint effort of mutual support. Gruff had the pretigious task of cleaning the bathroom (doesn't it look sparkly?) whilst I was in charge of tidying up - fair enough since most of the mess is knitting related and most of the toilet's mess is erm, Gruff related. In the midst of all this, Gruff came up to the bedroom and caught me off guard.

Gruff: Where did you put the....(suspiciously) what are you doing?

Me: (guilty look on my face) Erm,.... nothing, I mean erm.... (brightly) I'm organising.... (Trying to look busy & occupied)

Gruff: (resignation in his voice) You're playing with your yarn aren't you?!!

Me: Nooooooo.........., (unconvincingly) I'm organising it.

Sigh,... sorry Gruff! But it urgently needed doing. There was a pressing requirement to stash my stash so that I can erm, take stock. Kind of... have decided to monitor my yarn addiction and I'm setting aside a strict monthly yarn budget since I know that strict abstinence is impossible.

Weddings and Hats!

My dear friend P is getting married in a couple of weeks and this has prompted a flurry of creative activity and ideas. I like to use these special events to create something memorable and unique for the occasion. Besides, the idea of paying good money for something you only wear once seems to be a flagrant waste of funds which could be channelled towards increasing one's stash (because you're worth it! Read this!).

One of the first things I made in my young knitting career was for my good friend Jon's wedding last May. It was based on this in the first Rowan magazine I bought.

But this is what I ended up creating:

Let me first explain that it was a cold, windly May afternoon and the photo captures a strong gust of wind almost blowing off my satin pashmina - hence the gormless, dorky expression. I did look the picture of composed elegance (see left) for most of the lovely ceremony - honest!

For P's wedding, I'm thinking of making a plum red beret based on Knitandtonic's Le Slouch jazzed up with some beads and sequins, perhaps with an eyelet row at the bottom of the ribbing to thread some ribbon or velvet for a flapper look. Hmmm,.... might have to check out the Bead Shop on Beak street as yesterday's hunt at Liberty's was slightly disappointing.

The naming of colors

Today's post is prompted by some magnificent collisions of colour that I witnessed on the tube this morning. A bright fruschia wrap casually drapped on a lady was lodged next to a brilliant turquoise on another fellow commuter. One rarely sees such vibrant splashes of colour in the dull, grey expanse of city workers in the morning rush. There was an inspired combination of maroon on beige, vermillion and grey and orange on brown (damn, where's my bloody camera when you need one!)

I then remembered a young temp at a previous firm who was amassing booze money over the summer holidays for his next term at Cambridge. Young boffin had a habit of sending emails in Latin (??!!) and endeared himself to no one by constantly correcting their grammar and punctuation which only served to make us feel like naughty schoolchildren. (How cheeky, honestly young people these days have no tact!). But young boffin was clearly quite intelligent and would someday join the legion of crusty academics coccooned off another planet. He told me that he wanted to do a Phd on Modern Languages and went on to explain his idea for his dissertation which would examine how different cultures with their different languages develope their own terms of reference to describe colour. Of course, whilst boffin was going off in a mini-lecture, I drifted off hardly listening much like most of my time at college.

But today, I was struck by how young boffin had an interesting point. The word 'blue' doesn't just describe a visual shade of pigment but also a state of being low. Black is synonymous with evil, white with purity and good, green with envy... and I remember one of my most heated arguements with Gruff was over colour. I insisted something was blue and he was convinced it was green... i kid you not, this debate went on for hours and even spilled over into the next day.

Me: 'It's so blue, it can't be anything else!'

Gruff: 'That's not blue, it's definitely green!'

Me: 'You must be blind then because it's blue'

Gruff: 'It's green, anyone can see that...!' (you get the picture and yes, perhaps Gruff & I should get out a bit more)

I also remember my grandfather's funeral when an aunt who was already disliked by the whole clan had the gumption to wear red - a colour symbolising celebration and joy. More howls of weeping and consternation followed and said aunt became further ostracised. Funny how colour can evoke such strong passions.

Don't know about you, but I'm off to study the colour wheel now!

Lent and Cats

The Big Blanket project which I blogged about here was initially going to be this - i loved the geometric squares and all the countless colour permutations. What dampened my enthusaism somewhat was the prospect of sewing up all those darn squares of which there would be many. And THEN, I saw this and the happy, cheery colours convinced me that it'd be a lot simpler and stress-free as no sewing up is involved. The only small, snag in my grand masterplan is that I can't actually crotchet. Yes, yet another one of my loony ideas - i think I live in denial that I have a proper, grown-up job and that I need sleep to function properly in life. At yesterday's K's and P's, I discovered that there is a whole rippled crotchet blanket craze going on in blogsphere. It is really comforting to know that there are others out there who are similarly obsessed and preoccupied with the project. It also bodes well that it's a guaranteed stashbuster project which ties in nicely with me giving up yarn buying for Lent. My last purchase yesterday was for this project which got delivered here at work a few hours ago. Hoorah! I was just sitting here at my desk, lost in thought about my knitting and yarn fixation and then by magic it materialised before my very eyes. (Great, speedy service online shop! - I'm very impressed). If I wasn't caught up in my woolly thoughts almost all of the time, I'd be half inclined to believe I possess special yarn-summoning powers. (Hah! Jedis eat your heart out). Gruff has learnt to recognise the glazed, thoughtful expression that comes over when I'm listening to him talking about work, music, sockets. He knows that in secret I'm dreaming about yarn, patterns, books, projects and that I could happily spend hours unravelling these delightful thoughts. When he confronts me in exasperation - 'you're thinking about your knitting!' I just have to sheepishly concur. I think Gruff should start a victim's support group perhaps called 'Partners of Yarn Addicts Anonymous' - they could all sit around drinking tea and sharing biscuits whilst wiping away the odd tear saying sadly to each other; 'She used to be normal - what's happened to us? The floor is strewn with needles and I found some bags of yarn stashed in the car boot/under the bed/in the garage.' They'll then all discuss these alarming tendencies and come to the conclusion that their partners are slowly turning into cats. Meow.

Kicking back!

The movie was fantastic plus it featured some kick-ass knitting to boot. As Pip's declaring his love and pouring his heart out to Estella - she is calmly knitting a sock next to the evil, wretched Miss Havesham, her needles flashing as she tells him she's marrying someone else. The small tiny gestures signalling how she's pierced and wounded his heart repetitively through the years. Must go back to the book to check if it was Dicken's idea (Knitting features in 'A Tale of 2 cities' that I know). What does that say about us knitters I wonder - we're femme fatales moulded to break men's hearts? Cool ice queens with the potential for good and light? In the 'Happily ever after' between Pip and Estella, I imagine her knitting and churning out socks and jumpers for Pip, the good old Joe Gargery and kind Biddy in contented marital bliss. (My eagle eyes also spotted the scarf that young Pip wears later reappearing around Herbet Pocket's neck... hmmmm, looked like a double-ribbed, worsted yarn CO 25 perhaps?)

But I can finally breathe now that all the tat is off the shop shelves and obscenely expensive dead roses aren't being sold on street corners. Funnily enough, there was one V. Day that actually did involve continuous projectile vomitting on my part. I'd long suppressed the memory just simply because it was so embarassing. (There's a great blog on Valentine's Day disasters).

My traumatic experience occured some years back when I should have known better - went with my shady boyfriend to a top-notch restaurant owned by a celebrity chef (all the alarm bells should have been ringing by then). We'd left it a bit late and therefore could only get an early table which meant we had to be done by half-9. The meal was so-so, far too over-priced for what it was and packed with couples trying to be intimate in what was esstially a canteen. Pretentious, urban chic trying to be coolly romantic - that description befitted the eatery and our relationship.

What ensued when we got back to my flat was the ultimate barf-o-rama, an orgy of puke - I chundered as I had never chundered before or thought humanly possible. At one point I thought my entire being was going to get flsuhed away - I was staring death in the face as I clung to the rim of my toilet bowl, peering down its watery, smelly depths with my glazed eyes. Each time my 'lover' tried to look at me to tell me how special he thought I was, I had to run to the toilet to empty my guts. It happened about 20 times the whole evening.... I think my body was wholeheartedly rejecting the whole tackiness of the evening's proceedings and was nauseated to the core.

Needless to say, that 'relationship' did not last - I'd always thought there was something insincere and shifty about the guy anyway but I'd been thrown off track with his oily charms. The moral of the story is to stick to nice and simple and ignore all the pressures to declare your love - it ain't no one else's business!

Amazing Grace

Had a cultural binge which started on Friday all the way through to Saturday evening. Even managed to squeeze in a visit to a gallery and Bikram yoga in between. As I was walking from Bikram to the gallery, all I could think about was the grace of the previous night's dancers and how my name means Graceful, my full name being 'Graceful one of the family'. I'd always thought it was pretty naff and never bothered to invest it with much thought. But this weekend, I really pondered its significance (or lack of) in my life, how my parents must have agonised about the choice of name and how perhaps I should redirected my life towards living gracefully - specifically not pigging out so much, pulling so many childish & silly faces and generally being more disciplined. How I'd like to have more grace and poise and how giving grace and being thankful would make me less dissatisfied with life.

I thought about an aunt of mine who was also called Grace and how that word is so linked with the 'Hail Mary' (ies) that people recite verbatim. (Learnt once in poetry class that the last word in a line of a poem is always the most magnified).

Then, eerily enough at the exhibition, as if to cement this recurring thought in my mind - one of the rooms contained footage of a little old biddy singing 'Amazing Grace' on loop in a wispy voice. It was just far too much, every time the song played, I seemed to hear the words afresh discovering a new emphasis each time. It's one of those songs you've always known all your life but it was almost as if I was actually listening to it for the first time- 'Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound (??) that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost, but now am found, was blind but now I see. A pretty simple ditty with an obvious choice of sensory words to rhyme with each other but it also made it very human and visceral - the song is also of course loaded with significance as a paen to slavery and suffering that promises redemption, enlightenment. Hmm, definitely food (chocolate) for thought.

On a another note, i've been sickened by all the crass, distasteful displays in shops cashing in for V. day. - it's enough to induce projectile vomitting. Do these marketing men actually think that heart-shaped bears in vermillion red somehow reflects the state of romance or is an appropriate token and sign of one's affections?? Do they all think that the combined waft of gorgonzola cheese encapsulated in their stupid teddys will elevate us to a higher state of ecstacy? Any alien descending upon earth right now would think that all humans were infantile retards with purile fantasies. I know it shouldn't make me so angry but it just smacks of how people have such limited imaginations and how they're high-jacked emotionally.

And before you wonder, no - i'm not single but if I were, i'd hope that sheer tackiness of the whole affair would make me choose a lifetime of celibacy rather than such obvious and contrived gestures. In fact, if I get a Huggy Bear from Gruff, I will tear it apart from seam to seam and yank out the stuffing to shove it up his jaxxy.

Ok - tirade over,.... one day I will learn how to rant gracefully. I'm honestly not a bunny boiler ... hee hee. (Man, that just makes me sound even more deranged!)

6 weird facts about me

I have been tagged by Helen – (thanks!) – now my devoted readers will realise what a complete loon I am. I did actually think of a couple more than 6 but had to cancel out some that should just remain confidential. So, here goes;

1. When I was little, I’d watch old black & white movies on our tv and somehow came to the private conclusion that colour didn’t exist in the world before the 1950’s. I clung to this belief for many years and finally shared my theory with Kim, my sister when I was 9. She promptly laughed in my face and told everyone we knew which made me look like a complete idiot – thanks sis, love you too.

2. I was born with a little hump-like thing on my back. My poor mother, she must have thought she’d given birth to Satan’s child. I can’t in my wildest dreams imagine the pain she must have been through. What must she have thought at the end of a hell-ish 23 hour ordeal when she looked down at this deformed, bloody crying mess of a creature. The hump-like thing went quite quickly and my parents have managed to get over their suspicions, I think.

3. At the grand old age of 10, I decided that all I wanted from life was to have a never ending supply of my 2 all-time favourite things - books and Tropicana Orange juice. Nothing else was necessary for me to be happy and content – I was a simple child.

4. I sometimes sleep with my eyes half-open – I’ve never seen it myself (obviously) but I know it has freaked some people out. They either think I’m awake and try to have conversations with me or according to some others, I look like a corpse.

5. I went to a convent school, was dragged off to temples by relatives when I was little, briefly went to a Methodist Church on Sundays and even joined the youth fellowship. Luckily, I’ve managed to escape the clutches of organised religion relatively unscathed although I reckon a little of the Catholic guilt thing has rubbed off on me.

6. I would secretly like to live inside a man’s body for 24 hours. Before my feminist sisters out there chastise me, I want to make it clear that it is purely out of curiosity – to experience urinating standing up and having a tumescent penis, I do actually enjoy being a woman.

I have no one to tag unless I can somehow re-tag other people??? Is that allowed in tagging universe?

The Ks & Peas

Frantic flags cling to their poles
and
Clouds rush by into the Grey
horizon.
Gale force winds have slowed our strides
and
Pressing work due last, last week
Glares out at me with hands on hips
and pursed up lips.

Instead,
I read page after page of
screen-based blogs about
Knitting (hurrah for the Phoenix
and Wasabi peas)
and
Books
and other fun mindless things.
Inner discoveries thanks to Myer's Brigs.
(I'm an INFJ for those in the know.)

This latest entry was inspired by
a man who vowed to learn
100 poems off by heart.

The morning's distraction
has therefore been reading
Poems that people like and know.
I like reading poetry,
I like writing poems
I like words that never reach the edge of the page
but hang suspended, kept up by the wind.

It's not my fault my inertia can't be moved
though gale force winds prevail.

Word dreams

I have been on a huge reading over-drive and thereby making a small gnat-strengthed dent on my pile of 'unreads' which currently equates to about 97.67% of the books in my little flat.

(Come to think of it, I'm currently only utilising the same percentage of my stash. I might actually analyse the figures as part of my drive to be more organised - that way, i'll be able to keep track of yarn/book supplies, keep them low like inflation and hence ensure that should the flat ever catch fire, at least the firemen won't have to wrestle through a mountain of burning yarn and books to reach me)

I think I desperately need more sleep - was wide awake after washing my hair and read a few chapters of my Jilly Cooper book, indulgent I know but i need some fun to balance out the woolly grey blanket that is the January skies. This resulted in the most bizarre dreams involving horses, children, the payment of public-school fees and rich, lascivious property developers. Hmmm, I guess they make your dreams so much more interesting. Having (only) a day away from the book, I found myself struggling to remember who was who and how they inter-related. I much prefer getting stuck into a book at long, chunky sittings - finished most of 'Perfume' on the train to Exeter which made all the signal failures and delays vaguely tolerable.

With this influx of literary images and people embedded in my mind, I now find it next to impossible to get my mind switched onto more pressing things at work, issues that I have been sitting on. Important work stuff that I need to sort out! But it's hard to concentrate when my mind drifts off into the land of 'ks' n ps' and I think about what I need to knit next, for whom, in what order, by when etc.

Then flipping over to thinking about what book I want to read next and then what ECA I should do in the coming week, how to fit some swimming practise in and the time-tabling required. Honestly, I just wish real-life wouldn't get in the way of all the fun stuff!!

p.s. watched a programme on growing your own vegetables hosted by a wrinkled and over- enthusiastic witch-like lady and I so long for a garden - life's SO unfair (mentally thumps table)

Bedales, Cakes and Yarn

Met up with the lovely ladies of the Pat Val knitting group after the longest time. Was really good to have a catch up and get pissed although I discovered that Alex's hoodie has now got a very strange row. Ah well, he's little and probably won't notice or mind. Am panicking slightly about getting the X'mas woolly presents completed in time. Have culled my list so drastically to realistically reflect that only Alex's and Mama's presents will be delivered - everyone else's including B's fingerles knucks gloves and grey scarf will have to wait. Next year, I'll start knitting Xmas presents in August! Managed to finish Freddy's aran jumper and Susan's scarf in time though, plus Martina's red beret and Diane's birthday bag were finally completed and delivered last Saturday. Phew,... I hate it when projects hang around for ages - way past their completion dates - I will try to be more organised next year and maybe less ambitious!

Since my last blog entry, I've had some lovely knitting adventures. Watched 'Casino Royale' at Knitflicks with Sofia who came down for my birthday, then I brought her to the lovely and cosy I Knit shop in Vauxhall so that she could buy me my present - poor Sofia was dragged along in my mad knitting obsession. Then when I brought B to the National to watch 'The Seafarer' I met Craig who owns the I Knit shop with Gerrard and he got us fantastic seats which was really very kind of him. It was B's first time in the theatre and I was so glad it was a good experience. Have also been asked to help out with a friend's final year fashion show at Saint Martin's. Her final project is going to be knitwear and I've been making little mohair, lace hats which has thankfully gone down really well.

Will be flying home for X'mas this Saturday, i'm slightly worried that there will be massive delays due to fog etc and kind of wished I was staying in London for X'mas this year, will miss the telly too much. How sad am I? Booo....

Day-dreamy days

It’s been another day of constant distractions – my brain feels like a chaotic jumble of separate strands of thoughts all weaved together in a multi-coloured mess. I’m thinking about; my new knitting projects,

Cushions for Diane as a house-warming present
‘TBBP’ - i.e The Big Blanket Project - the Afghan I’ve decided to embark upon

The big spring-clean this weekend, the impending BIRTHDAY celebratory weekend… sigh. I think I’m prone to getting pensive and solemn around this time of year, I’ve been gazing out of windows far too much and staring at the office workers in the building across the road. They look so ‘occupied’ and busy and I find myself making up stories about the little dramas I see in front of me – much like James Stewart in ‘Rear Window’. My office chair doubles up as a wheelchair of some sorts I guess - I feel similarly confined and debilitated.

What did I use to spend my energies musing on in my former pre-knitting life??! I need to focus on having a knitting plan especially sticking to it and perhaps just get on with it instead of thinking too much and agonizing about making the right decisions about projects, colours, yarns etc etc.. (The story of my life!!) I drove Gruff to distraction last weekend as all I could talk about throughout dinner and after was TBBP. Drew endless diagrams and tried to come up with mathematical formulas about how many squares I should make, how many I should knit in x colour and how I’d stitch them together in a nice artistic way so that no 2 squares in the same colour wound up being next to each other . It’s going to be a woolly masterpiece that will occupy and demand a whole lot of my patience and energy – maybe this will prove to be my downfall, although I probably shouldn’t jinx it before I’ve even started.

I’ve been watching Simon Schama’s ‘Power of Art’ and last week’s programme was about Rembrandt painting his masterpiece in Amsterdam’s Town Hall which he ended up cutting to bits . The programme’s had a bit of flak for being patronising but I think he’s great, such enthusiasm and verve animating his eyebrows! I do concede that some of the dramatisations were a little naff especially in the inaugural episode on Caravaggio.

I have to remind myself of the things that have made me giggle recently, maybe set up a separate topic list – Gruff had me in peals of laughter when he attempted to knit after a hiatus of 20 years. The look on his little face, brows furrowed in concentration – it was adorable! I can see him getting addicted then dipping into my stash and us fighting over needles…. Hmmm, must stop being so fatalistic!!

Babies are like towels

Right, hope to make writing this blog a bit more of a regular exercise. Read an article in The Guardian soon after starting my blog about the rise of the female blogger which has become a bit of a phenomenon and it kind of put me off writing for a while.

I don’t intend to make it a diary as such because that’s verging too close to the personal although you could argue that articulating your thoughts and feelings is in way revealing your inner workings. But I digress,…

Was at The Garrick yesterday evening to watch 2 comedians I know well and love Stephen K Amos & Phil Nichol. Phil won this year’s Perrier and deservedly so as he is extremely funny and one of the most-respected and hard-working comedians on the circuit. But the main thing that gets me and is hence the subject of todays blog-rant is that 2 punters IN THE FRONT ROW walked out of his set. They completely took offence and missed the point of what he was trying to say which is that we should all put our differences aside because at the end of the day we’re all made of the same stuff underneath all the material trappings, we are intrinsically flesh and blood. If they’d stayed till the end and seen him make his point then they would have learned a little or at least been shown a different point of view. But no, they decided to stalk off in a huff just because he was gyrating his crotch in her face, she was just too small-minded to take it or perhaps she thought she had to appear coy. Hah! When she’s old, withered and grey - she will pay good money to have that experience and will come to regret her priggish behaviour. He probably thought it’d be a chivalrous gesture to defend his lady’s honour by escorting her out of the audience but it was such a futile act because a) she didn’t have any and b) she didn’t just storm off, she milked her exit by bowing and holding her finger up to her mouth in that infantile pose that says ‘I’m-so-hurt-look-at-me-poor-me’. Anyway, they looked pretty dumb and I’m perhaps giving them far too much exposure than they deserve by even writing about them on my little blog. Phil’s comedy does often cross the line, in fact it’s probably more accurate to say that he zig-zags along the zig-zag of good taste and some dumb people will always try to ruin it for the others.

Wow- haven’t even got to my new knitting news and I have already waffled on – har har!
Went to Knitflicks which was brilliant, will have to spread the word as it wasn’t as well-attended as I thought it’d be. So soothing to hear the quiet clicking of knitting needles. Had a bit of a chat afterwards in the café with some other knitters and one of them told me about a knitting karaoke event and Wool Fest held up in the Lake District every May. It sounds great – very excited and intrigued.

I have been looking and refining my knitting spreadsheet and am suffering from severe indecision about what to make next and for whom. By the time I finish the jumper for a friend’s little boy, it’ll be summer and he won’t be in need of one! I have to factor in when I think I’ll complete the projects and how old these munchkins will be then. I also HATE knitting sleeves although making them simultaneously on one needle has eased the tedium somewhat. I detest going into the West End these days especially on a weekend but I need to pick up supplies and I’ll therefore use this opportunity to check out a new yarn shop in Vauxhall. I think I shall start the Debbie Bliss Cashmerino Astrakhan ribbon-tied jacket thing for my little nephew Alex - have wanted to make it for him for the longest time but got distracted by great summer weather and the World Cup. Am slightly anxious that things won’t fit as babies seem to grow so quickly, almost like those towel things that expand 5 times bigger when you dunk them in water….. babies are like towels, that’s my end thought and message for today’s blog.