It was pleasant and sunny, and we decided to walk back to the Park and Ride, partly along the riverbank.
There were small groups of people standing looking at the weir. One or two had cameras.
Plenty of water was pouring over, in spite of the quantity of branches and debris caught on the stonework.
Then we saw the fish jumping, lots of them, and some perhaps as much as 18 inches long. Few were succeeding, though. And why weren't they using the 2-tier section, specially made for fish to get up-river? Could it be something to do with the large grey heron standing bold as brass in clear view on the top of a log just behind that 2-tier section?
A motley collection of random bits, mostly useless, but tidily hoarded: some hand-spun. Also featuring the occasional string bag.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Saturday, October 24, 2009
24 October: Garden
The rain eased, the sun came out. There were a couple of windfalls visible under the apple trees. As I picked them up, I spotted these on the lawn near the birch tree -
Having fetched my camera, it seemed a good idea to see what else was interesting. This nasturtium is a slightly unusual colour, mahogany rather than orange or yellow -
The rain has knocked all the leaves off the little acer. They have been glowing red in the gloom of the past few days, but no more -
And closer, all the colours -
Having fetched my camera, it seemed a good idea to see what else was interesting. This nasturtium is a slightly unusual colour, mahogany rather than orange or yellow -
The rain has knocked all the leaves off the little acer. They have been glowing red in the gloom of the past few days, but no more -
And closer, all the colours -
Friday, October 23, 2009
23 October: Hospital
We had to be up and doing today rather earlier than usual, as my Dear Husband had a hospital appointment at the sort of time better suited for breakfast.
We arrived nice and early, and were settled in the waiting room before some of the staff arrived. It was astonishing to see how many of the women arriving for work were hugely overweight.
Personally, I would have more confidence in the health system if so many of the staff were not grossly obese. It's difficult to believe that people can be looking after the health of the nation properly when they clearly can't even look after their own health.
After some tests (which sounded very gruesome - I was glad to have been knitting in the waiting room), my Dear Husband was told he is fine, and I was able to bring him home again. The drops put in his eyes make him look like Puss in Boots (from Shrek), and he needs a nice nap.
We arrived nice and early, and were settled in the waiting room before some of the staff arrived. It was astonishing to see how many of the women arriving for work were hugely overweight.
Personally, I would have more confidence in the health system if so many of the staff were not grossly obese. It's difficult to believe that people can be looking after the health of the nation properly when they clearly can't even look after their own health.
After some tests (which sounded very gruesome - I was glad to have been knitting in the waiting room), my Dear Husband was told he is fine, and I was able to bring him home again. The drops put in his eyes make him look like Puss in Boots (from Shrek), and he needs a nice nap.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
20 October: Playtime
It's that time of year when answering the doorbell after dark is likely to lead to an awful fright, with a knot of masked ghouls, witches and devils (some of them adult-size) demanding a trick or treat.
There was a time before Hallowe'en was invented, when children used to construct a figure and ask for a "penny for the guy", but poor old Guy Fawkes seems to be out of fashion.
Not that I was ever able to gather such pennies when I was a child, having no access to any materials for an effigy, nor the transport to get it to a suitable begging-spot. Either old clothes or a sack was needed, plus straw or similar for stuffing, and these things were not available. Nor were the wheels - indeed the possession of a go-cart of any sort was way beyond my wildest dreams as a child.
Anyway, my mother wouldn't have let me.
In fact, I find it quite hard to remember what toys I had when I was small. There was a set of wooden farm buildings, made by my father (my brother had a much more desirable cowboy fort); and there must have been some farm animals, but I remember more clearly the plastic cowboys and indians from the cornflake packets. Spacemen too, about 2 inches tall.
There were paints and painting books, and when I was older I had a Bayko building set; pocket money went on extra pieces for this, and I was able to construct a variety of 1950s houses, mostly with bay windows and crazy paving. Actually, I still have the Bayko, as well as my Dan Dare jigsaw puzzle.
When I was at grammar school I had a tennis racket, and spent hours in the summer hitting a ball against the wall of the brick out-house. I also had a bike (Dad got it from a local auction sale), which I painted myself - red, gold and 3 shades of blue, I seem to remember.
I don't remember any dolls, though I loved my stuffed rabbit, Bunny - it was a real rabbit skin, too, and eventually I stroked it clean away.
At primary school, there were crazes; skipping, jacks, hula-hoops, conkers.
But I don't remember any toy that needed batteries, or was connected to a TV programme or a film. How on earth was I occupied all the time, never being bored?
There was a time before Hallowe'en was invented, when children used to construct a figure and ask for a "penny for the guy", but poor old Guy Fawkes seems to be out of fashion.
Not that I was ever able to gather such pennies when I was a child, having no access to any materials for an effigy, nor the transport to get it to a suitable begging-spot. Either old clothes or a sack was needed, plus straw or similar for stuffing, and these things were not available. Nor were the wheels - indeed the possession of a go-cart of any sort was way beyond my wildest dreams as a child.
Anyway, my mother wouldn't have let me.
In fact, I find it quite hard to remember what toys I had when I was small. There was a set of wooden farm buildings, made by my father (my brother had a much more desirable cowboy fort); and there must have been some farm animals, but I remember more clearly the plastic cowboys and indians from the cornflake packets. Spacemen too, about 2 inches tall.
There were paints and painting books, and when I was older I had a Bayko building set; pocket money went on extra pieces for this, and I was able to construct a variety of 1950s houses, mostly with bay windows and crazy paving. Actually, I still have the Bayko, as well as my Dan Dare jigsaw puzzle.
When I was at grammar school I had a tennis racket, and spent hours in the summer hitting a ball against the wall of the brick out-house. I also had a bike (Dad got it from a local auction sale), which I painted myself - red, gold and 3 shades of blue, I seem to remember.
I don't remember any dolls, though I loved my stuffed rabbit, Bunny - it was a real rabbit skin, too, and eventually I stroked it clean away.
At primary school, there were crazes; skipping, jacks, hula-hoops, conkers.
But I don't remember any toy that needed batteries, or was connected to a TV programme or a film. How on earth was I occupied all the time, never being bored?
Monday, October 12, 2009
12 October: Sock extensions
Thursday, October 08, 2009
8 October: A Handbag?
There were 2 bags of handspun yarn that I didn't want to knit into a garment, so nearly all of it has become a large felted bag.
It was knitted in mitred squares, in strips, then sewn together and the handles knitted separately and sewn on. One section is dark grey, one is white, and 2 are light grey. The mitred nature of the squares doesn't show much after felting (in the washing machine), but it probably helps with strength.
It used up 628 gms of the disliked yarn, and is substantial and roomy. (Modelled by the sitting room door handle)
Edit: Plenty of room for the manuscript of a 3-volume novel, but an infant might need to be folded!
It was knitted in mitred squares, in strips, then sewn together and the handles knitted separately and sewn on. One section is dark grey, one is white, and 2 are light grey. The mitred nature of the squares doesn't show much after felting (in the washing machine), but it probably helps with strength.
It used up 628 gms of the disliked yarn, and is substantial and roomy. (Modelled by the sitting room door handle)
Edit: Plenty of room for the manuscript of a 3-volume novel, but an infant might need to be folded!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)