30 November: Birds

At lunchtime, while the kettle was boiling, I glanced out of the window, and saw a flock of sparrows milling about on the path. They were still there when I returned with the camera.

They were eating seed spilt from the hanging feeder you can just see the bottom of, by the post on the left.

A solitary starling was chased away from the seed on the ground. It went to wash in the bird-bath at the far end of the path, and was again surrounded by sparrows.

Then 3 collared doves arrived.

There have not been a lot of birds to be seen in the garden recently, apart from the regular breakfast time pair of dunnocks.

That's the trunk/stem of Mme Alfred Carriere in the lower picture, on the right.

29 November: Beta Blogger

Shut my eyes and took the leap - this wonderful bag of strings now comes to you in Beta Blogger.

As far as I can see (without my glasses of course) the only difference is that some of the comments seem to be written by anonymous. So if you want me to understand, you just might need to put your name in the comment.

26 November: Gloomy

Some of the neighbours have been out with their step-ladders, putting up the external Chr*****s decorations. One of them involves a row of little Chr*****s trees in planters - let's just hope it doesn't break into "Well here it is, Merry Chr...." every time someone walks past.

The weather's been dull, DH has had a nasty sickness and diarrhoea bug (why does Blogger think that's wrongly spelt?), I've been sleeping badly and my eczema's playing up, a meeting yesterday produced an unexpected depression, and I'm sick to death of people asking me how much longer I have to work.

But the sun's come out, I've spent all morning spinning, been out for a walk, and now things can only get better - apart from the guy putting up more bloody Chr*****s lights on the house smack opposite our front door. Pardon my swearing.

Isn't "pardon" one of those terribly non-U words, like "toilet" and "serviette"? I do like using non-U words, but somehow, I don't think *netty* falls into either category.

(You see, I may not have the local accent, but I can manage the vocabulary.)

Now I think I'll go and ply those singles I spun this morning. And maybe even look forward to going to work tomorrow.

23 November: Fred Knittle rocks!

Statcounter tells me there have been a lot of visitors looking for information about Fred Knittle.

I know little about him, or the Young @ Heart chorus - only what was in the TV programme and what is on their website, which you can find at www.youngatheartchorus.com.

Anyone know of any similar group in Britain?

Update on 2 December - there is now a piece about Fred on the Young @ Heart chorus website.

22 November: In the garden

Madame Alfred Carriere* needed a trim.

There were 6-8 foot lengths of growth sticking out all over the top, and the wind had broken one down; half an hour with the stepladder and secateurs had the old girl (though she is only 4 years old) looking much tidier.

Then I looked for some more contributions to my series of leaf litter photos. This is liquidambar leaves by the cyclamen -

And here are magnolia leaves by foxglove and sweet williams -

And the lily looked lovely, with still a bit of nasturtium surviving the frosts -


On the technology front, the "upgraded" broadband doesn't seem to have made any difference. And the Statcounter is pretty incomprehensible, especially as it refuses to ignore my own visits. Still, it revealed that the String Bag was Google's top choice for "fred knittle fix you".

I'm not sure I want this sort of publicity.

* She is, of course, a rose.

21 November: Upgraded

Our internet access has been rudely interrupted by our ISP.

On Saturday they upgraded us to super-fast broadband - which resulted in total inability to access any internet thingy* at all.

A call to Technical Support this morning (and why are we supposed to find it easier to speak to a lass with a very strong Indian accent if she calls herself Caroline?) was partly reassuring, in that it was nothing to do with them.

So we needed to contact the makers of the router. Huh? Oh well, I'm not very technologically minded, so that was the next step.

But I got home from work quite late, and feeling very stressed - it's this looming retirement thingy*, I think.

So I asked DH to ring the router people. He tried 4 or 5 times to get through, and could only stand about 10 minutes of the holding music each time, so it took a while to get through to them.

Then of course, it was simple - just open the browser you hardly ever use, type in a sequence of numbers (now why didn't we think of that!), and there we are, back online.

Much less stressed now - was it a good meal, or perhaps getting up to date with PeanutYorkie, z, kaz, murph, Bathmatwatch, etc, etc.

Good heavens, it wasn't stress, it was withdrawal symptoms!

*thingy is borrowed from greavsie - thank you.

16 November: Oak, and Ash, and Thorn

Needing fresh air after several days hunched over a computer, yesterday afternoon I went out for a local walk. As I've recently been reading "Woodlands" by Oliver Rackham, part of the New Naturalist Library, I was paying more attention than usual to the individual trees.

Along the lane, I noticed oak and ash and thorn, and thought of the Kipling poem "A Tree Song".

On the other side of the lane are a row of lime trees -


Then walking through the fields towards the farm, there's a large solitary ash tree in the hedge -


Along the track leading from the farm to the road is an old thorn hedge, which these days is trimmed with a tractor and one of those flail things, but you can see at the base where it was once cut and laid properly -


And in one place a large tree has been cut down. Even though the stump has been burnt, and is now full of casual rubbish from passers by, it is doing its best to grow with dozens of new shoots from the base. Closer inspection revealed that there are actually two sorts of shoots - the ash of the big stump itself, and some other shoots, on the left in the photo, which may be hornbeam.


"Of all the trees that grow so fair,
Old England to adorn,
Greater are none beneath the Sun,
Than Oak, and Ash, and Thorn."
etc.

14 November: Lucky day

Home from a "hard day at work" to find an official-looking, computer-produced missive in a window envelope.

The communication that is expected is concerning one of my forthcoming pensions, but it wasn't that.

ERNIE has chosen one of my Premium Bonds for a prize!!

Hold the begging letters, though - it was only £50.

Now, bearing in mind that we are teetotal vegetarians, what shall we spend it on?

12 November: Salute to Fred Knittle

Last night we caught a documentary on More4 about a New England singing group called Young @ Heart, a bunch of geriatrics who haven't given in to old age, and who have a lot of rock songs in their eclectic repertoire.

It was riveting. Far and away the best thing I've seen on TV for ages.

And at the end Fred, a big fat guy in his 80s, on oxygen, who couldn't stand up, sang absolutely wonderfully and beautifully 'Fix you', a Coldplay song, for two of the group who'd died that week.

DH has had to download the Coldplay album and the video.

The documentary is being shown again on Channel 4 on 22 November - WATCH IT.

Update on 2 December: There is now a piece about Fred on the Young @ Heart chorus website - www.youngatheartchorus.com

11 November: Busy, busy, busy

When I got up this morning, my hair looked just like a film star's - unfortunately, the film star was Stan Laurel.

Late to bed last night, tired from working hard for the last 3 days on a half-finished project - writing up the family history research. The first draft is completed (I think that's the proper writer-speak), but it'll need altering in several places.

The idea was to turn all the fact and dates into something a little more readable, and I think it has only partially succeeded. When all you know about someone is their date of birth, a few things from marriage certificates and census entries, it's difficult to imagine what they were like as people, or what life was like for them. You can end up inventing all sorts of nonsense.

Photos of people and places have been included, as well as some old, and up-to-date, maps of areas where they lived, but photos are few, often of poor quality, and sometimes of unidentifiable subjects.

There's masses more to find out, as well. I'd like to know more about the stage careers of my grandparents' generation - at least 7 were performers and one or two went on to be producers and theatre managers. And I'd love to find out if Great-uncle Tom ever published his book. It was provisionally titled "Ventriloquism in Theory and Practice: Its Acquirement and Adaptation", or, as we like to think of it, "Ventriloquism for Dummies".

9 November: After the frost

Now we've had a frost, the leaves have come tumbling off the trees. These have come off the gingko and the acer griseum. The low sun made strong shadows.

Under another little acer, a few pinks are still flowering.

And there are some interesting seedheads on some of the plants - this is elecampagne, which has rather dull flowers.

The sunshine makes me feel more energetic, after a tiring start to the week.
I went to Leeds on Monday for a course. Leeds station at 8.15 in the morning is just like one enormous rugby scrum! The train down was pretty quiet, as most people were still half asleep, but coming back just after 5, they all had the mobile phones out, and the chatter factor was a lot higher. There wasn't any opportunity to see much of Leeds, other than the walk from the station and back - the main impression is that there are an awful lot of huge and impressive buildings.

5 November: Transiency - and mittens.

The loss of yesterday's posting just demonstrates how transient this life is. Bit of philosophy there.

For those of you who missed it while it was visible, it detailed a trip to Newcastle, the usual struggle with finding suitable garments, the usual struggle with the fitting rooms, losing DH in Marks and Sparks, an exceedingly strong cup of coffee in Bainbridge's poncy new "brasserie", and coming home in triumph with new jeans, for a nice lie down.

Here's the recent project I've been working on. It's a small rug, about 3 feet square, made from a box of rug wool that I inherited from my mother when she died in 1983. We both used to make rugs from thrums, which were offcuts from the looms of carpet manufacturers, and which they sold in bags of mixed colours. Mum used to buy hers from a place in Hebden Bridge, and from the Axminster factory. This rug also uses some wool from the now defunct Durham carpet factory. The cat really likes it, but he looks strange on it, being striped himself.


And just to prove that I haven't been idling while I've been watching QI, CSI, and other abbreviations on television, here's the latest pair of mittens. Just in time for Bonfire Night, which I shall avoid like the plague, being terrified of explosives.

I apologise for the wool rich content of this posting.

4 November: Buying Clothes

Blogger just lost this posting.

And I thought it was me that had a memory problem.

1 November: Memory Lane

It started with garden plants.

Not being able to remember their names, that is. The Latin names never used to be any problem till a couple of years ago, when I realised that some of those names were sliding away from the edges of my memory. Put it down to the brain being full, and as something new came in the front, something dropped out the back.

But it's spread to people now. At work, I see someone come in - good suit, armful of papers, and instantly I can remember that I once bumped into him in an up-market shop, all the intimate details of an embarrassing ailment, I can remember his first name, but his surname? No.

Another arrival - slightly eccentric manner, I can remember the drinking habits, marital status, vehicle and pet, but his name? No.

Why can I remember all the details - who always wants a pen or a hankie, things they've told me like their new deep-fat fryer, their motorbike or their pet chinchilla, or they've never eaten quiche; but names? No.

It's getting difficult.

Thank goodness I'll have to cope with it for only another six weeks.

This has been a knitting-free posting. Thank you.

29 October: Mittens galore

Here are the mittens I promised the other day - I know you've been waiting impatiently to see them.


The stitch pattern is the same on both, but is clearer on the lavender pair.


And the exercise continues - this afternoon DH suggested a walk - when we got home 2 and three quarter hours later we'd walked 8 and a half miles.

Excuse me now while I go and soak in a hot bath.

26 October: Fat or Fit?

Kaz posts about being unfit - it must be our age, because I too have been worrying recently about my increasing weight and expanding waistline. Been getting more sedentary, at work and at home, and I have a sweet tooth (several, in fact, with a lot of fillings).

Attempts at getting back into jogging over the last couple of years have got nowhere, partly because of the weakness of the knee I broke, and partly because I was used to running several miles easily, and it's very hard to start from almost scratch again. Then there is a lack of motivation - since I gave up competitive orienteering in 1992 there hasn't been a strong motive for fitness, and as I have been unable to get DH interested, and have been trying to do it on my own, it's been hard. Jogging with other people is good, as you help each other with commitment and progress, but it's absolutely no good trying to join a club when you can't run at least 3 miles at 10 minute mile pace (and better at 8 minute pace) - you would be on your own again as all the others disappear into the distance, leaving you to feel really bad; or some kind soul sacrifices their own run to keep you company, and you feel really bad about that.

Cycling has never been a favourite activity - pointless riding up and down the railway paths, and the traffic is too dangerous on roads; and I can run out of energy quite suddenly and spectacularly cycling. Last time I got on my bike, my knee was too weak to turn the pedals. And then the saddle slipped.

Swimming? Public baths are a nasty mixture of liquids, most of which are not good to swallow, and I find sweating underwater an unpleasant experience. Then there's the lack of any view, and do you wear your glasses and risk them falling off in the water, or do without them, and be half-blind?

Dancing is excellent - vigorous activity and fun. Ceilidhs are great, and I would think that lots of other types of dancing would be good too, but again there's the problem of a partner, finding a group or class nearby, and is a couple of hours once a week enough?

So it comes back to walking - easy, cheap, no special kit, do it anywhere and any time. If you keep going at a speed to raise your breathing rate and make you sweat, it has to be good. No pounding on the joints, either. And if you have your binoculars or camera in your pocket and there's something interesting, you can stop for a moment and look. Getting out of doors is good for skin and hair, and for the mental health. No need for the iPod, either, there's always plenty of things to see, and you can hear the cattle lorry approaching along the lane. If you keep you eyes open, there's often a free snack available - yesterday I found a few sloes and loads of beech nuts. Probably ate as many calories as I used up, but when I got home, the lungs and muscles felt as if they'd been working.

24 October: In the garden

What's catching the eye in the garden at the moment? Mostly, the masses of nasturtiums that are sprawling all over the place. They won't survive the first frost - so they could be wiped out any night now.


There are some flowers still out from earlier in the year, like roses and marigolds, and the Japanese anemones are still flowering, but under the rowan tree, so not good for photographing. This little hebe was in the sun today, though.


And this shrub was planted for "winter colour" - in 4 years, it's had about 6 tiny flowers out at a time, but it does bloom in the winter. This year it has grown a lot, and is starting to come out while the leaves are still on it. It is viburnum bodnantense Dawn.

22 October: Another pair of mittens

For those needing a knitting fix, here's another pair of mittens recently knitted. They are made from Wensleydale wool, hand spun and the blue/brown colour hand dyed.
Since I finished these, I knitted another pair, from Blue-faced Leicester wool, in which I tried out another way of doing the thumb, that is with a gusset. (Gusset is a favourite word, and idea.) They will appear here in the fullness of time - bet you can't wait.

18 October: Veils

(Any random visitors from Google are welcome, whatever their religion, nationality, gender, or whatever. Prepare for disappointment.)

The current fuss about veils is a real missed opportunity by the fashion market. They'd be ideal for those of us with zits, warts, scars, uneven teeth and embryonic moustaches. No need for lippy, and a chance for the more extrovert to decorate in any way they fancied - logos, embroidery, photos of the family, the slogan of your choice. Fashion fabrics, stripes, brocades, floral prints, wool for the winter and seersucker for the summer, maybe even chiffon for evening.

Time for the clothing industry to widen their scope a bit, and make all styles of outfit available to us all? Personally, I've always fancied saris and salwar kamees (if that's how you spell them), and kaftans were popular for a while. Tent-shaped garments could be just the thing for the now prevalent "fuller figure". Let's have a bit more choice in clothes.

On the subject of religion, it has always slightly amused me (as a Buddhist) that Buddha statues are considered suitable for use as ornaments and garden gnomes, but crosses aren't, with or without the little feller (thank you, birdy). Why is that?

They have their uses, though, as a reminder to bow to the Buddha in everyone, and do your best to keep to the Precepts.

All religions seem to have a rule or guide-line to "treat your neighbour as yourself" - what a pity so few people actually try to do that.

15 October: Autumn

A visit to Durham's Botanic Garden the other day; wonderful colours in the leaves.


A few cold nights have started the them off - later than usual this year?


There is a circle of sculptures near the cafe (good cafe), depicting historical local worthies - this one is George Stephenson.

11 October: A thread or two

The other day some friends and I were discussing school lessons in cookery and needlework .

Several people had positive memories of learning to sew through their clumsy primary school efforts. Others had learnt to sew and knit before they started school. I don't remember sewing at infant/junior school, but the Grammar School had Domestic Science on the schedule. There was even a 'state of the art' equipped kitchen, installed in one of the temporary huts that mushroomed all round the main building, and were still there for decades. Actually, I don't think the kitchen was much used - with 35 or 40 minute lessons, there wasn't actually enough time to cook anything. But we did take ingredients to classes (provided with difficulty from some homes, and grudgingly from others), and sometimes take "dishes" home.

The one I remember so vividly was Summer Soup. This was chopped up vegetables cooked in a milky, slightly viscous liquid. Carried home in a screw-top jar, it actually looked too much like sick to be consumed, and it was flushed away.

The mention of sick (sorry, folks) reminds me that when the children and I used to go to orienteering on a Sunday morning, we used to take instant Cup-a-Soup with us for a hot snack afterwards. This would be usually mushroom or tomato, brought to life with hot water from a thermos flask. And the question asked when choosing the variety was always "Red sick or white sick?", often to the surprise of neighbours in the car park.

But I digress.
Well, it is "threads from my life".

Learning to sew and knit - I think I learnt in spite of the school lessons. Certainly my Mum taught me to knit, and I was well able to knit a sweater (with fancy stitches) while I was still at school. School sewing lessons were a real trial, as the teacher was a bit of a perfectionist. All my running stitches had to be pulled out and re-done umpteen times, and were mocked by the teacher, and even held up to demonstrate how not to do it.

Meanwhile, at home I had the use of my mother's sewing machine, and was making clothes from patterns, and even altering and adapting the patterns. It was the real world, while the school lessons were artificial. And I quite enjoyed getting a laugh from the class.

And I have continued sewing and knitting, and any other textile type craft, ever since. For several years I made quilts, and a couple of years ago took up spinning, as it was impossible to find knitting wool in the thickness and range of colours I wanted. Braiding, basket-making, rug hooking, simple weaving, and now felt-making have been added to the range of interests. And I do it for my own enjoyment, not to sell or to teach others. And I hope to go on doing so for many more years.

8 October: Autumn is here

It seems to be a good year for berries - the blackberries were plentiful, and rowans and elders have been loaded, and the hedges look bloodstained with hips and haws.

The hips above and the haws below may provide food for birds over the coming weeks - they have eaten most of the rowan berries already.


And, just in case anyone was needing a picture of some knitting, here's a pair of mittens finished in the last few days. The wool is hand-spun and hand-dyed, and the 2-colour pattern is Faroese.


Thanks to z and Murph for your comments about Statcounters. On the whole, I don't think I need one for the time being.

4 October: More technology?

StatCounter. StatCounter?

PeanutYorkie mentioned it the other day. Set me off thinking whether I need one or want one. Do I want to know there are about 6 people who visit my blog once a week, or whatever? Do I need to know where they come from and how they get here, and what they were looking for in the first place? (If it was knitted hats, flower photos, and an occasional outing, they'd have struck gold.)

And if I find that more people read certain types of posting, would that make me feel that I should do more of that sort of stuff?

Since I am not trying to sell anyone anything, least of all my writing talent (just as well, really), perhaps it would not serve any useful purpose.

If anyone has any views on this, or any hilarious experiences, do tell.

1 October: Technology

Changing your computer is a bit like childbirth - after an interval the pain is forgotten in favour of the delight.

So our wedding anniversary present to ourselves has been this new iMac. Bit of a shuffle round of the kit in the study, but at least that was a good opportunity to hoover and dust those places that only get cleaned occasionally (OK, when we change the computer). Plug in a lead from the old one to the new one, and all the files cross over to the new machine like magic - no need to write down all those e-mail addresses or Internet favourites. But re-connecting to the Internet was quite another matter.

The old modem wouldn't plug in - wrong sort of plug on the string - some enquiring revealed that a router was required. Off to PC World, home again, connect up, nothing. Phone call to tech. support suggested we needed a different version of the driver. Back to PC World (10 miles each way each time), assistant astonished, head scratching, exchange for a different router, home again. No idea what, if anything, was done differently, but this time it worked - ah!! (sigh of relief). Lie down in a darkened room with a damp flannel on the forehead.

Now there is enough memory to read camera cards and to have heaps and heaps of music. The inbuilt camera is fun, too. And all afternoon has been spent making CDs of favourite tracks from lots of different albums. Maple Leaf Rag followed by El Paso, Tom Lehrer followed by Blondie, Peter Bellamy followed by Dixie Chicks, James Taylor followed by June Tabor, Jez Lowe followed by The Kinks - now that's what I call music!

29 September: Coast walk

We went up the Northumberland coast yesterday for one of our favourite walks, from Craster to Low Newton by the Sea. It was warm enough for shorts and T shirts, but a surprising number of walkers had zipped up their waterproof jackets. From the 40 photographs I took, here are a few - first a view southwards along Embleton Bay to Dunstanburgh Castle in the distance:


We walked on the beach north to the village of Low Newton by the Sea, where we had lunch at the Ship Inn. They have real ale on hand pumps, and serve local seafood, including Craster kippers and lobsters. They were busy.


Returning south along the path through the dunes, we came across this seat, built from driftwood and other jetsam:


In some places, the waves had made patterns in the sand:


There are lots of pools among the rocks near Dunstanburgh Castle, which are well worth investigating - carefully, though, as nobody wants to fall over and break a kneecap! My "rock pool of the day" contained this rock with its wig of weed:


We returned to Craster and sat by the harbour and drank coffee from our flask. The tide was in and the smokehouse was kippering. On the drive home the traffic was very heavy, as usual, from the Tyne round to the Team Valley. DH did all the driving, and I had a nap on the way home.

26 September: Sizergh Castle

A trip to Sizergh Castle, just South of Kendal.
The tourist entrance is at the back, but this used to be the front of the castle, with terraces leading down to a lake.


The castle itself has rooms from different eras of building, from a medieval-ish banqueting hall, with spiral stone staircase in the thickness of the wall, through Stuart oak panelled rooms, and a beautiful inlaid panelled room, to a Victorian type drawing room with flock wallpaper in a depressing dark turquoisey colour. As usual, the visitor only sees a small fraction of the building, and is left fascinated by the doors that are marked "Private".
Lots of my favourite 17th century tables, chests, and cupboards. Plus some huge pewter plates that needed some TLC and a good scrub with horsetail. And, as usual, no details about the embroidery.
The large gardens are lovely, and there are lots of places with sheltered seats. This one has a wonderful view across to mountains, which were too misty for a picture yesterday.


And this one has a view down an avenue of cherry trees (note the inclusion of a cherry twig for reference!).


The obligatory tour of the shop yielded a bar of wool fat soap, which I discovered on Saturday to be marvellous for felt-making; and a couple of plants (a helenium and a double white Japanese anemone), which now have to be found spaces in the garden.

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.