21 September: The iPod generation

DH has bought an iPod.
He's spent weeks recording some of his LP (vinyl) collection onto the Mac, via the hi-fi system and CDs, and now some of that music has been transferred to the iPod.
He doesn't seem to have got as far as the folk songs or the rock 'n' roll yet - the playlist includes Schubert, Haydn, Miles Davis, classical guitar, classical Indian ragas, Playford tunes, and Buddhist scriptures and ceremonies.
And the photo collection is taken directly from the photo file on the Mac, where I keep only incoming e-mailed ones and the pictures for the blog - so his photo album presently contains an awful lot of knitted hats, and a pan of blackberry and apple!

19 September: Hail Sharon Gayter, World Record Holder!

Sharon Gayter, who has just broken a world record - the Running from Lands End to John O'Groats world record. That's 837 miles in 12 days, 16 hours and 23 minutes.
Read more about it HERE.
Today's paper mentions that a group of cyclists set out from Lands End at the same time as Sharon - she arrived before them.
Wonder what she could do if she didn't have asthma.....

16 September: Callers

Had a few unwelcome callers this week.

The opticians sent me a card, telling me it was 2 years (2 years? it CAN'T be!) since my eyes were tested, so time to get them checked again. The following day the phone rang - somebody from the same opticians reminding me that it was time for an eye test. This company is apparently desperate for business, but I told the caller that hassling me was more likely to make me go elsewhere than to return to them - after all, there's plenty of choice where opticians are concerned. She replied that she wasn't hassling me, but making a *courtesy call*, totally oblivious of possible different interpretations of her call. I do regret my subsequent brusqueness - she's only trying to earn a pittance.

Later the same day I was in bed - I should mention that I don't normally nap in the afternoon, except at work, but a head cold meant I hadn't slept much the previous night - when the doorbell rang. I opened the window, and the young man on the doorstep started on about a telephone company, and seemed reluctant to give up, though I'd have thought it was pretty obvious I wasn't interested.

Do these people really think that as soon as they knock on your door you are going to think "Hey, this is just what I need"? Or do they expect to be able to bully you into buying whatever it is they are pushing?

Another caller was a silent and miserable looking young man, who handed over a dog-eared card with a story on it about him being a Polish student trying to sell pictures. There have been a few of these recently.

Are these sales methods successful? We make a point of never buying at the door, and in fact would probably never deal with a company that used this sort of tactic.

But then, advertising seems to miss me, or at least strike me sideways. Why else would I be convinced that Renault cars have wobbly back ends, or that the Nationwide "doesn't work like that"?

13 September: Outings

Blackberries!
The hedges are heavy with them, and after an expedition one afternoon now so is our freezer.


The rowan tree is also lighter, as the blackbirds have been feeding on the berries. Have you ever watched 4 young blackbirds trying to hover?

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DH and I had a walk round Houghall woods the other day, and then we went along the river bank into the centre of Durham for a cup of coffee and an enormous cream bun.


And last night DD rang and asked for some photos for a project at DGD's school, so off I went among the albums, seeking out seaside holiday photos. There was the famous one of me, aged 4, scowling as I picked my way across the stones at Swanage. The mood was not lightened by the scratchy gingham beach/swim suit my mother had made for me.
My mother on the beach at Clymping (do you like Clymping? I don't know, I've never Clymped) back in 1934, in an early bikini; her parents in deckchairs at Ventnor in 1939; and a wonderful photo of my mother and her parents in swimsuits at Torquay in 1932, all as glum as can be sitting in a row on some steps.

The photos of Dad's family at the seaside were all too small and murky to copy, but there are some gems there - Uncle Bill in a natty pair of knitted trunks, with a white belt round the waist ; an Aunt in a seersucker swimsuit, and my Dad on the beach at Southend in his school cap and tie, with his father in collar and tie, jacket and cloth cap.

And another reminder of the flying of time - I've just sent off my application for my State old age pension.

6 September: Meanwhile, back in the garden

The garden is looking a bit tired after the hot summer.
In front of the house, a handful of blue geraniums and some self-sown lobelias and heartsease give spots of colour, while the sedum spectabile is steadily turning pinker day by day.

The back garden still has some flowers - white japanese anemones (with a few pollen beetles) around the rowan tree, which is heavily laden with berries.

A few late roses by the fence and on the pergola, which also has the wonderful spiral mopheads of the clematis seeds. There's a sprinkling of verbena bonarensis, a couple of calendulas, flashes of colour in the scabious, penstemons and verbascums; touches of colour still on the buddleias; a brave dianthus with a second flowering; tiny self-sown pansies in yellow and pale purple; a splash of pinky mauve from an un-named alpine; a scattering of cyclamen under the liquidambar tree, which is turning the same browny-purple as the Japanese maple.

Nasturtiums still brighten a couple of corners, thanks to Ruth's gift earlier in the year; and the potted gingko trees are starting to turn yellow - they are always the last trees to start and the first to finish.
The ice cream van's back to "Match of the Day".
The schools are back, and so is the traffic. Summer's over.

3 September: Scraps

Is it possible to watch BBC News 24 for more than 10 minutes? By that time, they've been through the 3 news items at least 4 times, repeating apparently endlessly - one report from their correspondent, followed immediately by "going live" to the same person, who repeats what they just said on tape, then a brief interview with somebody who doesn't have a clue what's going on (or who knows only too well, and isn't saying!), and then a short piece of film looped so that it repeats and repeats the same (usually harrowing) scene.

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A comment from kaz on NOT DEAD YET! reminds me that one of the things I have thought about doing when I retire (less than 16 weeks now, not that I'm counting) is to dye my hair the sort of colour that's totally inappropriate for work - purple or green.
I mentioned this at a Growing Old Disgracefully meeting once, and it was pointed out that it costs some people a small fortune to keep their hair the colour that mine is naturally, so I should be grateful I don't NEED to colour it.
Any ideas about this?

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And at last the Muppets are getting a major exhibition in London - HERE.

30 August: More knitting

Recently I got 3 books from Amazon about stranded colour knitting. Then on Sunday I spent nearly 4 hours dyeing some skeins of Shetland wool. And I've been knitting some more hats, and this pair of mittens -

The wool is hand-spun undyed Shetland, and I tried the "peasant" type thumb placement - very easy to knit, and doesn't interrupt the stitch design. Now for a bit more practice knitting in the round with stranded colours.

27 August: Bank Holiday

On Friday I spoke to a reporter. Later, a colleague told me that the reporter had asked her what my name was - she told him to ask me, and he didn't.
So I was concerned that my short conversation might have been twisted, taken out of context, or otherwise distorted to make it interesting, and I bought the following day's paper. The story he was covering contained nothing of our talk! What a relief! Always safest never to speak to the press.

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Yesterday afternoon DH and I went out jogging. It was in April I last really tried to get back into regular jogging, a come-back that ended in a swollen and painful knee. Then came the hot weather - totally unsuitable for strenuous exercise - then we were away, etc., etc. Always a hundred excuses, always easier to sit and knit, or sit at a computer. And the waistline slowly enlarges - and sags.

Of course, it would have been better not to have stopped running, but back in 1992 when I had bowel cancer I stopped competitive orienteering, and there didn't seem to be much point in continuing training regularly. Then in 1999 I changed jobs, and instead of walking 2 miles to work and 2 miles back, I was driving to work; the fact that the new job was on my feet all day didn't seem to compensate.

I had been getting really fit again in 2004 when I broke my knee falling over on the beach, and there were wires holding my kneecap together for about 8 months. Once the wires were removed, it healed quickly, but it remains different from the other, unbroken knee. I guess I have not made enough allowance for its weakness when I've tried to return to running.

Meanwhile, my new interest in spinning and knitting, plus my old interest in cake and ket, with the addition of Anno Domini, have resulted in a bum that looks big in everything because it is. And if I don't do something about it soon, it'll be even harder to find any clothes to fit - hard enough already when you're taller than average and picky about what you wear.

So, having mentioned the jogging here, perhaps I will feel more encouraged to continue. Or again, perhaps not.......

23 August: Consumer debt.

As I piled the laundry into the blue plastic washing "basket", I discovered that the small break in one bit of the mesh had suddenly become a great big tear right across the rim.

This item just fits snugly into the gap above the hot water tank in the airing cupboard, so my first thought was that a replacement probably wouldn't fit that space, so where else could it be stored? Modern houses are notoriously lacking in space to keep large and/or awkwardly shaped items.

Then it occurred to me that this unobtrusive and useful bit of equipment had accompanied me from house to house for more than 40 years; it was bought in the days when plastic goods came in a narrow range of colours, of which light blue seemed the least offensive. In fact newlyweds with little money in the mid 1960s had a fairly restricted choice of household goods, and I seem to remember the same light blue for nasty nylon bedding. And for a bathroom suite.

Mind you, the light blue plastic and nylon stuff was very much up to date at the time, and at least bought new. There was nothing unusual at that time in buying second-hand things, or happily accepting family hand-me-downs. In fact I am at this very moment sitting on a chair which I bought in a junk shop for 30 bob (yes, that's £1-10-0, in old money); it needed repairing, which I did as a temporary measure in 1965 or 1966. I repaired it again last year. The old Victorian style chests of drawers in the bedrooms were also bought around then, and still have larger and more useful drawers than any modern chests, though one has a loose foot and the other has lost the knobs from the bottom drawer and has to be opened with fingers in the holes where the knobs used to be.

This burst of *where have all those years gone?* has been amplified by DH transferring old tapes and LPs onto CDs; finding some recordings of melodeon tunes, he was trying to remember when he last danced the Morris, so we got out some old photo albums to try and work it out. Ah, those old photo albums!

Anyway, as I was saying, I now need to find a replacement laundry basket. But the other light blue 1960s items in the broom cupboard, the soft broom and the cornice brush, are still in use and still going strong. As my mother used to say, they don't owe us anything.

20 August: Walking

Yesterday we had a nice walk in the countryside near the Derwent reservoir. The weather forecast was not too good, so we took our rain outfits with us. Every time I put my overtrousers on, the rain stopped, as if by magic. They are now called "the magic overtrousers".
We ate lunch leaning against a dry stone wall on heather moorland, then came down a track past a farm or two, and arrived at a junction by a stream. This sign post covered in lichen shows how clean the air is.


The heather covered hillside was a wonderful colour. The others debated which route we should take.


And when we got to Blanchland, there was just space in the tea-room for us, so we had a very civilised tea and cake stop, before following the river back to where we had parked the car.
A most enjoyable walk of about 8 miles, and only a couple of showers. Must take those magic overtrousers next time we go into the hills.

15 August: More hats

Here are the photos of the other two hats recently knitted - above and below are the two sides of the blue and brown one.

And here is the latest version: white side -

and black side -

No idea why the camera decided it was night time when it recorded the lighter colours.

Now back to the mittens that are presently on the needles - and working out how to graft stitches with two colours of yarn. Anyone out there know how to do that?

13 August: Scraps

Some random small events from the week -

A third double-sided hat has leapt off the red-hot needles; this one is in black and white, with pinks, red, and petrol blue. Photo to follow some time. Now for some experiments with patterned mittens. You can tell the weather's turned colder.

DH has been transferring some old LPs and tapes onto CDs. Some of the LPs are ones I haven't listened to for some years, though they used to be favourites. One that I used to enjoy now seems very bleak, with dark and depressing lyrics, and another seems much more harshly sung that I remember.

After a meeting in Durham yesterday I walked home. Part of the path was beside a stretch of dual carriageway, but passing fields. The cars tearing past at 70+ miles an hour didn't even seem to be on the same planet as the hedge and the fields. Perhaps a parallel universe.

For a change, I went to a different supermarket this week to shop. Some of the women staff were dressed in long skirts, aprons, and mob caps - reminiscent of late Victorian under-parlourmaids. There was an enormous man in a kilt playing bagpipes outside the door. If I'd known it was fancy dress, I'd have at least made an effort. I drove home wondering if the piper's dirk was real, and if so, how he got away with it in this day and age of "knife crime".

9 August: More knitting

This is one of the hats I've been working on lately - adapted from a design in Spin Off magazine. It's a good way to use small amounts of different colours. The grey side can be worn when feeling more conservative, and the green side, below, is for a more extrovert mood.


The ice cream van has been playing a tune that I knew, but couldn't quite identify. DH has found out that it's the Bluebell polka - remember it?

4 August: Summer's progress

There have been butterflies on the buddleia - I grabbed a snap of this Red Admiral yesterday afternoon, when there were also Tortoiseshells and Peacocks feeding, and lots of bees.
We have had rain at last, steady rain that has soaked into the ground, though there are still big cracks in our clay soil.

The harvest has been brought in from many fields. On a walk down a local lane yesterday evening I took this picture. Cloud-spotters will appreciate the cloud.

31 July: At last the striped cardigan

All assembled, edges finished, buttons and button-loops done, and blocked. And, of course, it's far too hot to need to wear it for weeks and weeks. It's all Blue Faced Leicester, hand spun and the colours other than natural, fawn and brown hand dyed. The design was worked out as it went along.

And in the meanwhile, I knitted these mittens, using the Fair Isle method of doing the thumb, which I've never tried before. For some reason the photo looks a bit too yellow - the fawn BF Leicester is the same as in the cardigan. They are a bit long from the cuff to the thumb, but I was adapting a pattern for a different thickness of wool, and that's how it sometimes goes! DH says they look like fishes.


The current knitting is a version of a double-sided hat that was in Spin Off magazine, Fall 2005 issue, using some odd coloured wools from a parcel of fibre I was given. Watch this space....

29 July: So far, so good

After a long morning's work at the computer, the first draft of the family history is done. At the moment all that has been covered is direct ancestors, going back as far as the middle of the 18th century in some lines, and from Sussex, Hampshire, Gloucestershire, London, Oxfordshire, Argyllshire, Derry, Donegal, Cheshire, Staffordshire, Worcestershire, Shropshire, and other stopping places.

Now it needs some more illustrations, maps and photos if there are any, and then perhaps on to another section, dealing with the wider families.

And of course, straight away, I've found some more information online about two of the Chester families, and that will mean some amendment, but I guess that will always be the case, at least until I decide it has gone far enough.

Strangely, the part of the family I know least about is my father's more immediate family; he was never very close to them and there was not much said about them when I was small, and by the time I got interested in the family history, he was dead, and although there are lots of photos, naturally they are not labelled except with notes like "Jessie's husband" , or "Aunt Edie", or "Canvey 1927".

When I was a child, occasionally we went to visit Dad's sisters, who both lived 40 or so miles away, but in the 1950s that was quite a journey. Grandma lived near one of the aunts, and she was a bit frightening, being small, sharp and leathery, with a cigarette always lit. The cigarette made a yellowish streak in her otherwise white hair, and her Yorkshire pud was reputed to be enhanced by the fag ash that dropped into it as she whisked it up!

I have now discovered that, as well as being a committed Socialist and Labour party worker all her life, during WW1 she belonged to the Women's Volunteer Reserve, which seems to have been a bit of a feminist outfit. I wish I had known her better.

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Back in the present, we've had a small shower of rain - nothing like the downpour which was forecast, but hey, the forecast has been wrong before!

And the ice cream van has been mostly playing "I'm forever blowing bubbles".

25 July: The beginning of the end

The end of summer seems to be approaching fast in the garden and the fields, even if not on the calendar.

The buddleia has been out for long enough to need dead-heading, the raspberries are not as plentiful as last week, and there's a combine harvester trundling up and down the field behind our estate.

The schools have just broken up for the summer holidays - this means lots of families have gone away, leaving the burglar alarms set and malfunctioning, and the ice cream van can be heard all day playing "The sun has got his hat on".

And the surest sign of all - a fortnight ago I noticed the first banner in a shop - "Back to School".

Am I jaded and cynical, or what?

19 July: Mad dogs and Englishmen

The hot weather has been surprisingly difficult; there was a time, not so long ago, when I never felt too hot, and often not warm enough. (Once I came out in goose pimples in Majorca in high summer, because the temperature dropped below 70 F.) It's probably my age.

At work, I've spent as much time as possible in the air-conditioned areas; and at home simply stayed indoors until it's cooler in the evenings, when the raspberries have been picked, and the plants in pots watered.

It's been a good year for pollen beetles and raspberry beetles, the roses, clematis and day lilies; a bad year for the acanthus, verbascums, and achilleas. So far, all our young trees look OK; on our trip to Cambridge last weekend it was quite noticeable how many trees were suffering from the heat, with brown and withering leaves - as we went south, there were more and more.

As usual, as soon as the sun shines, there have been regrettable displays of acres of flesh one would rather not have to view, much of it rather over-barbecued.

Good heavens - I sounded just like my mother then! So, on second thoughts, let it all hang out, get burnt, and parade it down the street at midday. Where did I leave my lycra shorts?

16 July: To foreign parts

Away for a weekend near Cambridge, to visit family we haven't seen for a while.
On the journey down the A1, we came up to the back end of a traffic jam south of Grantham. With no idea how long the tail-back was, or what was causing it, we followed out habit of taking the next turning off the main road, and navigating our way back further along the road. (Me being able to read a map and all that.)
And, as so often happens, we had an absolutely charming trip through a bit of the country we've never seen before, knew nothing at all about, and really enjoyed the detour. Our revised route took us through Stamford, which neither of us has ever been near before, and it looked so interesting we may well go back there some time to have a good look round.

It was necessary to go into Cambridge on Saturday for some essentials, so we had lunch there in a very nice vegetarian restaurant.
There were a million or two tourists milling about.

We, of course, weren't actual tourists, as the children diverted our attention from the sights by employing the crafty strategy of needing the loo fairly frequently. At least we now know several handy loos in the town!
The journey home was incredibly hot (or could it be my age?), and then the raspberries needed picking and the seedlings needed watering before we could catch up on the weekend's happenings in Le Tour.

14 July: Busy, busy

All yesterday morning with a carpet shampooer trying to eradicate the marks where my husband's cat had been sick on the carpet. (It's fine if you find it soon afterwards and clear it up, but when it's been there all night....)

Then planting out some seedlings into the rock-hard, dry-clay soil at the bottom of the garden. There's a blister on my palm from the trowel handle.

And most of the evening (after Le Tour on TV) sorting out some more family history information from the 1891 census. Enough new leads there to start me off again, and I thought I'd done just about all I could until I can get to some County Record Offices for parish records.