Rainy days and Wool Shows

The following day at Harrogate the rain was absolutely torrential. We went for the indoor option, which meant the National Media Museum at Bradford.  Of course, as fate would have it, they did not have a photographic exhibition on at the time, but it was still fascinating. There was an exhibition on photography and equipment, old and new, cameras though time with added bits. There was an exhibition on animation, especially of children's stories, we saw a Wallace and Gromit set, a Wombles set and a Dalek. We also played with a lot of equipment, I read the news, then Jenny bore the camera!  I ran way from the Tellytubbies, and William waved at dolphins. Child's play, in the best sense. Food was good too.

The final holiday day we went to the British Wool Show at the Yorkshire Exhibition Showground. Lots of wool, well there would be, sheep as well, a very sheepy  smell, and plenty to buy. Poor William and Jenny, they spent most of the time in the cafe while I acquired a suitcase full of wool. It might have been worse, I took the precaution of working out what I needed (well, what I wanted) in advance, and  more or less stuck to that. We also splashed out on a wool downie. Magic. Very settling, keeps me warm and William cool.

Harlow Carr

We spent most of today wandering around the RHS gardens at Harlow Carr. Lots of flowers, OK , that's a given for a botanic garden, but at home the flowers are mostly over for the year, and here it was still like summer, warm, wasps and colour. Trees all still green, flowers still blooming. I used to go there a lot when I lived in Leeds nearly 30 years ago, it was much less polished then, but a great place to wander and chill. Always seemed empty except for the staff, certainly not the case now. Ate twice at Betty's, once in the garden cafe, and then in the tearoom. That's just plain greedy. Saw several plants I wanted but seriously not practical to buy here and keep in hot hotel room or even hotter car for two days.

In the afternoon we went for a wander around Harrogate, lots of expensive clothes shops, lots of restaurants and coffee shops, lots of rich people. Acquired Nicky's present, Warhammer as requested. Then investigated baa ram ewe. Very friendly staff who checked the amount of wool I needed on Ravelry. Managed to keep my acquisitions down to two wools for one shawl. Would have been more, but I had a mental blank about what was needed. Oh well, Saturday comes soon. (That's the British Wool Show). 

 

 

 

Harrogate

Today we set off on the first part of our summer holidays. Three days in Harrogate with Jenny, staying at the Majestic Hotel. We spent the way down twittering, not the phone variety, but the old fashioned variety with me and William talking about nothing much to keep him   alert on the road. We recalled all the silly things that have happened to us on the A68. I remember almost being in a severe car accident when someone I was with (James), who was driving much too fast in his old MG baby sports car, spun around on the road. Shaken much, but no bruises. William and I also nearly hit a car when we were coming back from holiday one year, he ( the other car) was overtaking and didn't seem to notice the stream of traffic coming towards him. Then there was going around a corner to find a very large pig standing in the middle of the road, and the bridge being washed out with floods just as we crossed it, that was the same trip that William said "it's 15 degrees here, surely the temperature can't drop much, and it was snowing when we crossed Carter Bar.

We also had all the usual jokes about place names, Campton (races, do dah), Boon (Daniel) , Wallish Walls -most are repeats, but we usually manage to find another silly each time. Meanwhile Jenny just sat and slept. There was also the discussion about national emblems, if we are going to have a Scottish tree, what else? Do we already have a national bird, if not, how about the Grouse, it's short and stout, takes suicidal risks and already has a strong affiliation with alcohol.

On checking, (what would we do without the Internet?):

The Scotsman newspaper has run a poll on Scotland's National Bird, and the winner is .......

Golden Eagle

Runner up was Red Grouse

The full final result was

1 GOLDEN EAGLE

2 RED GROUSE

3 CAPERCAILLIE

4 OSPREY

5 PUFFIN

6 GANNET

7 SEA EAGLE

8 PEREGRINE FALCON

9 CRESTED TIT

10 PEEWIT

11 SCOTTISH CROSSBILL

12 PTARMIGAN

Red Grouse has thousands of votes discounted as a certain whisky blend encouraged the members of its e mail list to vote en masse.

I still think that would have been a more appropriate option, less grandiose, and more like a large proportion of the Scottish population.

The Majestic Hotel. An old spa hotel, full of memories of glorious days, but rather fun anyway.

 

 

Lemon Cake and Hats

Inventing things is fun, especially recipes so:

Mums very sticky Lemon, lime and coconut cake

125gms butter

1 cup caster sugar

2 eggs

Grated rind of 2 lemons

1 cup of SR flour

3/4 cup desiccated coconut

1 cup milk

Syrup

Juice 2 lemons and 1 lime

100 gms icing sugar

50 gms des coconut

Mix together, heat gently while stirring well.

Cream butter and sugar

Add eggs then lemon rind

Mix in flour, coconut and milk slowly

Bake in large loaf tin for 45 minutes

Soak immediately with syrup

Allow to cool in tin

I love baking, but its seriously not good for the waistline, so has to be an occasional indulgence only.  What is a more regular indulgence is knitting. I've been on a hat kick over the last week. Three so far, one Big Apple Beanie in cream, soft and cuddly for Gillian, who has just lost a cat of 17 years friendship. One blue Big Apple Beanie for me, needed a very simple knit to take to hospital with me, and this did the job. One Star Slouch in brown, green variegated for Jenny,a special request and made extra slouchy.

This is me, modelling the hat for Gillian.

And Jenny with her very slouchy hat.

 

 

Fruit and other foods.

I have just had the excitement of an examination (physical ) and therefore the need to fast for a day. I missed my fruit more than anything else. That made me think about fruit in the past. We didn't have the range available that we have now. I remember:

- being given 6d (that's 2 1/2p) by the van driver, whose name was Ivor, and who always had a drip on the end of his nose, to go to the green grocer and get myself an apple. It was a Golden Delicious. It was perfect, big and round and crispy.

- having a star fruit, the next door but one neighbour was a pilot who flew with BOAC, and he once brought a bag of exotic fruit back and we all tried some. I wasn't impressed, but it would have been sitting in his bag for hours.

- bananas were always a treat.

- other fruit came in tins, heavily treated with sugar syrup. My mother used to make her trifle with black cherries from tins . They were canned with the stones in, and we had to stone them before using. My hands were stained purple for days. Now I make it with mandarin oranges, also from tins, as William doesn't like cherries.

Food was more expensive, I remember when the price of steak hit £1 a pound. It was a scandal.  Mother was a good cook, being German her style was continental, the vegetables were not watery and the meat was on the rare side. I remember the shock I got when I went to boarding school and was expected to eat overlooked everything. I lived on biscuits and bread. 

Knitting is moving on. I am on another cowl to go with my new coat. The coat was acquired to replace one I have lost. Don't know where, although that is illogical, as if I knew where it wouldn't be lost. Anyway the new one is greys and greens and reds so a grey and brown cowl. An interesting pattern Called 'In the Loop'. Maybe I should call mine Loopy Loo. Almost half done. Easy and fun. Now finished, sits well and warm and cosy. Will go well with my coat.

 

 

Cats and Scarves.

Once upon a time there was a young girl who loved animals, but her mother wasn't at all enthusiastic. However I persisted. The first pets I had were a pair of white guinea pigs with pink eyes. Pinky and Perky. I loved them and simply brought them home from a friends, it was a done deal, and I was allowed to keep them for a while. Unfortunately, although siblings, they were also keen breeders, and one was of each sex. Babies ensued. This was the final straw and I was made to take them to the PDSA and give them away.

The next trial was a budgerigar, also sourced from a friend, however this time on a loan to see what happened. Mum couldn't stand the smell, so made me keep its cage in the garage, which rather spoilt the point, so he went back.

The next trial was a cat. This one came from the local stables, Samantha, a tortie. She managed to stay. Mostly because I hid her in my bedroom for days, and then I wouldn't give her back. She was very intelligent, could open doors unless they were wedged shut and was totally a one person cat. Anyone else trying to handle her was thoroughly scratched. I loved her. She became the foundation of a string of cats. The only time I have been without was when I was at university, living in rented accommodation. The number has varied. Never less than two, now at six.

This photo is the youngest of the present brood, Eowyn. She, like most cats enjoys small spaces, and my knitting box was a perfect fit. Not sure if I will manage to get it back. At least she rarely chases wool, although has been known to bat my needles away, especially if she wants attention.

 Knitting is going apace. The wool in the foreground above is the starting point of a scarf for Gillian. She commented she liked the colours of a scarf I had done previously, and I had enough wool left over, so am making another. A different lace, but I think/hope she will like it.

I

 I have also just finished a winter weight cowl. This one is in two colours, not the original plan, but I realised, after doing the first segment, that I had completely miscalculated the amount of wool required. Luckily I had some of another colour in the same wool, and they went well together, so a striped cowl it is. Think I will keep this one for myself.

The third recent knitting event was my scarf for William. Again I didn't have enough, but this time ordered some more, unfortunately it was a very different dye lot, and although it blended, it was not appreciated as the second skein was mostly orange. Not a success, so I've taken the two halves apart, will finish the second half up and make into a fairly short cowl for myself. Don't know what I'll do for William though. Have to think, everything I've started he's wrinkled his nose at, metaphorically anyway.

Who am I?

Who am I?

So much depends on where you are, how you are brought up, your circumstances. I was born, and remain , intrinsically middle class, comfortably off, definitely not rich. A job that gives satisfaction, mostly, and a family. No jail birds, no drug addicts. So to reflect:

Pretend I was born in Scotland. In a very poor area, maybe in Granton. Lots of shouting at night. The stairways smelling of urine and vomit. Most of the older men, and many of the women, drunks. Most of the younger generation druggies. Lots of teenage pregnancy. Lots of violence. It's a scene I can visualise as have visited professionally on many occasions. But that's very different from living there. Would I have attended school? What would the school have been like? Never been properly clean.  Never been able to rely on anyone else. Bullied a lot, too fat and too clever. Would I be the same now? I don't think so. Intelligence rises, but you still need the right circumstances. Would I have had the willpower to kep working, or would I have taken the apparently easier path.

It's a hard reflection, difficult to imagine, and I've picked a lifestyle I know some things about. What about living as a black in white South Africa? Or a Native American on a reservation. Trying to imagine it is  beyond me. I am trapped in my own thinking patterns.  So how much can I truly understand others?

How much does my sense of self depend on what's around me, the trappings of a lifestyle where things often seem as important as people. No space in my house is empty. No space is uncluttered. Everything holds memories. I am a collector. Not of things of external value, but of small objects, of books, of music, of pictures. Would I still be me without them? How much of my persona is internal, and how much external?

So, a chance and a change, become more compassionate, and more accepting of compassion directed at me.  I think the latter is the more difficult. Treat it as fun. Look forward. Accept.