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to browse and drool |
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s*t*a*s*h! (blush) |
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Thin scarf in koigu fingering weight
Mauve / purples, garter stitch with rows and part-rows of eyelets scattered in a carefully constructed random way. Fine ribby alpaca/silk top-down raglan In a beautiful blue-with-slubs 4ply. Hypnotic to knit. Beaded top in hemp Hemp yarn from House of Hemp in 'gosh', kingfisher blue / green. Very, very nearly there 
Sleeveless top for Toz in duck-egg blue Rowan DK Soft. Toria started it and has run out of steam. Crochet throw in sueded velour stuff Progressing slowly. Crochet is not comfortable for me. |
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Knitting? Yes I have been knitting. A little bit here and a little bit there. Top-down raglan in alpaca-silk is coming along nicely, I'm now under the arms. The little koigu wool scarf is over half way finished (I'm on to the second skein). Beaded hemp top - not a stitch. I would tell you that I had bought some beautiful silk from HipKnits in bluey-greens and lilacs, but you would demand picis, which I don't yet have, so I won't. Seeking the right MA / MSc Am looking around for postgraduate degree which will augment / stretch / enlighten / raise more questions than I can handle / etc. in my line of work in the myofascial release clinic. Sussex have a new medical school so I'm ferreting around there. I must know someone from the alma mater whom I can persuade to let me do something different... Want a cuddle I've come to the end of a lovely, lovely relationship I had with someone, can't say much about it. Was my doing. I feel awful when I'm not distracted by the clinic or family. In fact, I feel gutted, angry, sad, hollow, desperate, dry, explosive, lost, empty, frightened, bewildered, choking, wretched, torn, pain, pain, pain, pain, pain, pain, pain. At least I am feeling. Not something I always allow myself to do. Enough drama? New clinic website Here at www.myofascialreleaseclinic.com . Bats We have a new bats' nest in the eaves on the corner of the house, as well as the nests in the barn. It's just outside the clinic and I have to sweep away bat droppings before my clients turn up. Phoebe caught a large bat a couple of nights ago :( I had a great uncle Alan who came to a sticky end because of bats. He lived with his twin brother in a very old cottage in Chipperfield, just north of London. They were in their 80s, very robust, very active. One day they decided to clear out their attic which stretched over the entire cottage. Quite an undertaking. One of them - the more nimble one - volunteered to climb up the ladder through the hatch to do the sorting, whilst the other one stood at the bottom of the steps receiving odds and ends for the dustbin. It was a long job and took them a couple of days. Because the ascent was quite hairy, and the following descent even more so, Alan stayed up in the attic during the day, fed and otherwise encouraged by his twin through the hatch. They both remarked on the number of bats up there, but were not otherwise perturbed by them. When all was done and sorted, Alan descended, and they resumed their usual duties of tending roses, watching cricket, drinking G&Ts, that sort of thing. A couple of weeks later Alan developed a nasty cough, then an even worse one, and was admitted to hopital where he died of something akin to pneumonia. There was a post mortem and it was established that he died of phosphorous poisoning, from bat droppings. Beware bat lovers! June 18th Garden open tomorrow Aaaaaarggghhhhh. It's the Spithurst Gardens Open day. 10 gardens in Spithurst (that's the bit of the road between us on the Longford stream and the tennis coach with the extension to the bungalow which is three times the size of the bungalow at the top of the hill) are opening to the public. Competition is hot, as can only be experienced in a proud, self-defined area of a very small village. Meetings have been described as far, far worse than the Vicar of Dibley's. Tomorrow is D-day and although it will doubtless be hilarious, I shall be rather glad when it's over. Anyone want to donate a couple of china cups and saucers to the tea stall? I may add that I have done nothing at all in the garden for this and that all the glory goes to DH Mike. I shall be selling tickets and manning the gallery. June 13th Blog meet blog Went to the 'Big Knit-In' at Brighton University last Sunday, and met Anne from Up Knit Creek. She was knitting away at some glorious silk confection from Hip Knits. See the finished item on her blog. I love meeting other bloggers in person. Annie recognized me by something I was wearing which she had seen on my blog. Joan and Frances were there from Kangaroo as well as a couple of hundred other knitters and knit-groupies. Good time had by all, despite the wind and rain. June 9th Did I promise these picis? The gunnera is in full swing, sprouting emormous leaves and fruity things underneath. She's the plant in the middle of the picture, on the far side of the pond. 
Here she is in all her glory. Mike was persuaded to stand under her to lend some perspective. He is nearly 6' tall. She's a jungly type thing, and Cleo likes stalking stuff underneath her. As usual, she (Cleo) is in full flight, about to pounce on some unsuspecting furry creature. Bless! 
Here is the hero of the garden again, picking some interloper off one of the rose bushes. Note the indispensible bottle of wine clutched determinedly (Usually I clutch it, but I had the camera, and we couldn't risk Cleo trying to take it by surprise if we put it down). The roses are magnificent and the Old English scent is heavy and sweet. 
The kittens like to climb in the trees, particularly if we are sitting underneath (makes for a more interesting landing). I was trying to catch a pici of Phoebe looking magnificent, when someone flew past in a hurry to catch a dragonfly. 
Here is Sweet Cleo demonstrating that she can look magnificent herself. 
June 3rd Oh my heart Still listening to Never The Bride So what is it with knitting? My life is taking another turn again, feels as if I am stepping through another gate into... what? Something's on the way. Maybe it's business, life direction, I don't know. Really. Knitting reminds me that there is still something very practical to be done. Process again. Elizabeth Zimmerman had something to say about 'knit on' didn't she? As far as I remember, she seemed to relate this to knitting on through largely unwelcome chaos, whereas I seem to court chaos and change. I love change, movement, have to have it. It's like riding a wave. Growth, development, disaster, chaos, life, whatever. I can't be anything that stagnates. I'm forever trying to get the hang of the balancing act between groundedness and timelessness and embracing change. Where would I be without knitting? Anyone want to come with me? Picis not here yet Of the yarns I got at The Yarnery, Grand Avenue, St. Paul, MN, and the gunnera. We have 'Garden Open' on June 19th - trying to look tidy ; / Phoebe and Cleo appeared together in the kitchen just before we went down into the gardens for our evening wander (with bin 50 shiraz in hand!), and appropriated their evening meal of raw minced beef. They stalked us later on by the ponds, only temporarily distracted by the family of ducks misguidedly settling down for the evening on the bank. Phoebe trying to catch bats is a truly magical sight. They come down from the barn, diving low over the ponds for insects; both cats and bats dance beautifully. Cleo does kamikaze dives, clinging to thin branches as she swings over the stream after vague rustlings on the other side. Phoebe looks on, impressed but unmoved to join her. We have a 'hedge' of old English roses along the length of one of the boundaries, and the scent envelopes us as we watch the antics. |
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