Journeys
Yesterday my colleague and good friend LH took me to the wonderful The Royal Edinburgh Repository and Self Aid Society on Castle Street. Kate Davies has written a whole post on it (and weaves in a bit of Jane Austen too), but nothing prepared me for the actual shop.
It reminded me of those summers when I would pretend to be Anglican for one day. I helped out in the home produce stall at the annual summer feté at the Anglican Church in Copenhagen - mostly as a favour to friends, but also because I could grab some really tasty homemade jam and sneak off with awesome homemade cakes (and cheap books). The shop was filled with all sorts of homemade goodies: jams, cakes, fudge .. oh, and knitting.
Oh, but the knitting. I had several moments of weak knees and uncontrollable knitterly glee. Plenty of pretty baby garments, practical gloves and neat scarves .. and then you would uncover one Shetland shawl after another. One-ply Shetland shawls - yes, cobweb Shetland shawls. The most beautiful, astounding things you could ever want to see in your entire life.
LH is holding one in the photo. I think at this point the two shop assistants had decided that we were bonkers, but harmless.
They pulled out more things for us to marvel at: fair-isle gloves and delicate lace scarves. I looked at prices and my heart nearly broke: for a full-size cobweb Shetland shawl (similar to the bottom shawl) the shop asked £75 (a quick price comparison). It is heart-breaking to see people of exquisite skill selling their handiwork at such a price - it is devaluating their work, their skill and their time - and I wonder why a centrally-placed Edinburgh shop is selling the shawls at such a low price? Does this reflect the market for such shawls or does it reflect that they are unsure about how to price the items?
LH said something profound about knitting journeys yesterday and I have been thinking about her words. Whilst I was physically taking my knitting on a journey yesterday, I began thinking about how knitting is also taking me for a journey.I am somewhere very different to where I am just a few years ago when I got back into knitting and that journey has only just begun.
In my head I'm playing around with a complex set of 'identity markers' and I am trying to work them out through knitting. I am getting increasingly interested in my knitting heritage (primary Danish and Faroese, of course, but with several detours because I am essentially a flâneur) as well as British textile history. I like to think of knitting as something intensely personal - the yarn runs through our hands and we touch every millimetre of the material we are creating - and I want my knitting to reflect me whoever I am becoming.
And to keep me warm and cosy so I will not die during the forthcoming Scottish winter. My cardigan's coming on nicely, non?
Sunday Sunday
Sunday, Sunday here again a walk in the park..
The day started with me drinking my morning tea whilst listening to BBC Radio 4's Women's Hour where I was informed that knitting was a "post-modern, ultra-chic habit adopted by the very, very cool." So now we know.
Then I began preparing for the Barcelona skirt sewing demonstration I'm doing Wednesday. I cut out the pattern pieces, read the instructions, and then laughed with relief. The skirt is very easy - just three pieces plus zipper and lining - and although I've not done much dress-making in the last fifteen years, I am confident I am not going to mess this up. Famous last words, of course.
The afternoon was spent in the communal garden. We live in a Victorian tenement flat and we share our garden with four other blocks. The plan is to make our communal garden sustainable and organic - today we attended a workshop on turning a tenement garden into a place to grow food (alongside all the other needs it has to fulfil: drying space, bicycle sheds, bin sheds, recreational space etc). A lot of the residents realised that edible plants were already growing in the garden - some planned (like potatoes, various herbs and strawberries) and some rather unplanned (St. John's Wort, barley and gentian). We discussed getting some fruit trees whilst having herbal tea and cake under the existing Cypress trees.
At this point I felt very middle-class.
Then D & I meant to go blackberry picking. Well, bramble picking since they call blackberries brambles here in Scotland. As you can see, though, the berries are not quite ripe yet (neither are the elderberries). So I went for a little walk through our neighbourhood instead.
The North Kelvin Meadow is just around the corner from our flat. There is a short video posted on its site which lets you see the beautiful space for itself - it is basically a waste ground between tenements which has been "adopted" by local people. There are tiny allotments on the site now but mostly it functions as breathing space for local wildlife and as a "wild" natural habitat in the middle of a busy city. I like looking at the ex-whiskey barrels that have become micro-allotments. Actually, I like spending time there, full stop. The Meadow is very peaceful.
(As you can imagine, though, developers are quite keen on getting their hands on the Meadow (it is right in Glasgow's prime property area), so there is an ongoing campaign to let the Meadow remain a meadow.)
On a personal note, I went for a walk (and a good cry) because I had some very sad news from Denmark. Sometimes I feel very far away from family & friends, and I am unable to travel back right now (for various reasons). It makes me feel powerless and downright awful. I love Glasgow - it feels more like home than anywhere else I have ever lived - but sometimes I do wish I still lived in Denmark. It would make moments like this one a bit easier to handle.
Thank Yous Are Long Overdue
I'm having a pretty awesome week for various reasons and as a result I have not had much time to 'grap a cuppa' (as they say here in Blighty), sit down and think about what's going on. I am not complaining about awesome things happening, but I do appreciate having time to breathe and having time to reflect.
First, though, a big thank-you to some very generous people.
Roobeedoo and I had a quick conversation whilst at Knit Camp and it went pretty much like this:
Me: You look like you!
R: You look like you too!
Me: I have some vintage sewing patterns. You rock vintage sewing patterns. You want them?
R: OK!
Me: Cool!
R: I'll take a photo of you first before I go look at Knit Camp vendors!
Me: Ughdfsagr..
And so vintage patterns were sent north-wise and in return I received a very chic 1960s sewing pattern. Oh, and some yarn which was totally not part of the deal but who am I to complain when it's two balls of Drops Alpaca in a very fetching coral-pink-red shade. Funnily enough I have some grey Drops Alpaca in my stash and I'm sensing stripes + wristwarmers + hat ..
Earlier this year my friend Paula ran The Race For Life and I had chipped in as part of her sponsor deal. As a thank-you, Paula made me a personalised scissor fob in my favourite colours and I received my gift this week. I'm using the fob as my keyring (alongside a felted sheep - don't ask) because that way I'll get to see my gift every single day. I'm a huge fan of handmade presents.
And finally Ms Old Maiden Aunt handed me a Knit Nation goodie bag, a Sanquhar gloves kit (because I'm a big sucker for local history & knitting traditions) and her Tangled Yoke Cardigan. When I protested about the amount of gifts, she told me that she was bribing me into knitting her a Laminaria shawl. Hmm.. cunning plan, Lilith!
Now, I'm off to sit down with my new autumnal knitting project and hopefully having time to ponder various going-ons. It's been a mad week so far and it's not over yet.
Far-Flung
One of my favourite dishes is the humble tabouleh - a Middle-Eastern bulgur salad. Whenever I make it, I try to make enough for several days but I always end up (like tonight) scoffing down whatever is left over from dinner. This is a pretty good, basic recipe. When I chop the tomatoes I remove the seeds beforehand (this makes the salad less soggy) and I use a blender to chop the herbs because I'm too lazy to spend thirty minutes chopping parsley/mint.
Whenever I make tabouleh, I think of my friend Liz. Liz grew up all over the world - a true corps diplomatique child. She spent a good part of her upbringing living in far-flung countries and she would hang around in the kitchens watching local chefs preparing food. Liz's arsenal of dishes is therefore very different to all my other friends. Not only did she introduce me to tabouleh, she also taught my taste-buds to appreciate fruits used in savoury dishes, made me fall in love with American pancakes, and made me dream of zabaglione everytime I see ripe raspberries.
And then there is Atole.
Liz would cook Atole for us on cold winter nights. We'd clutch our hot mugs whilst standing on her balcony overlooking Frederiksberg and the world would be reduced to hot milk with cinnamon and sugar - and so everything would be alright with the world.
I miss Liz a great deal. She's here in the dishes I cook and in the things I enjoy, but good cups of tea and hot mugs filled with Atole are scant replacements for her company. When I miss Denmark, I miss people rather than the country. I left Denmark four years ago. In so many ways it feels like it has been a lot longer.
Ah, homesick for Denmark. Let's put on some (Swedish) music and dance around for a bit..
Guilty Pleasures #231
My Other Half told me that not everybody remembers the German 1979 Eurovision entry. Which is totally a shame as you are about to find out..
Apparently my mum sprained her wrist trying out the dance moves back in 1979. The apple does not falls far from the tree.
Linkage & More
My commuting project is zipping along nicely.
I'm currently knitting the Larisa scarf for myself in Kidsilk Haze, shade 582 (Trance). The beads are teardrop-shaped beads from The Bead Company. Recently Rhiannon finished knitting Larisa and seeing somebody else's version of your own design is the coolest thing imaginable (it felt even better than when I got published some years back and that felt pretty good). I have no deadline for this scarf - it is just a portable project and if I can sneak in one or two repeats of the lace pattern on the bus, I'm happy.
I'm currently waiting for the new Kim Hargreaves book, Touching Elegance. Clever people have tracked down some blurry photos from eBay and I've been trying to guess which yarns were used for the various designs. Straight off the bat, I'd say that Patsy is my favourite. Not that long to wait, though, as the book should be arriving in stores next week (should being the operative word). I was wearing my Icelandic jumper earlier today in anticipation of proper autumn knitting (the weather is still a bit too warm, though) and I cannot wait to get started on some lovely woollen cardigans.
Mmmm. Wool.
Some linkage:
- Frank Kermode has passed away at age 90. Absolutely devastating. In the words of one of the Guardian's commentators: "On behalf of English Literature graduates the world over, thank you Frank. R.I.P."
- Morrissey's 13 Favourite Albums are exactly as you'd imagine: glam rock, Iggy Pop/New York Dolls, Jeff Buckley and people who sound like Morrissey.
- Delivering Gatsby - "How effective is it to use literature to seduce men?" (Thank you, Emme).
- Sympathy for the Devil - Looking at the Facebook fan groups for British killer Raoul Moat, this article is as far removed from tabloid sensationalism as you can get whilst still not budging an inch. Highly recommended read.
- Bree Sharp: 'David Duchovny' (youtube). I showed this to D last night as a response to a certain pop song about Ray Bradbury (no link: very NSFW, very crass, very funny - go seek it out). I could not believe D had not heard of Bree Sharp's 'the man, the myth, the monotone' song. It was huge in my student hall circa 1999.
Green
Aberdeen is known as "the Flower of Scotland", I'm told. I know it better as "Granite City" because such a huge part of Aberdeen is built from granite. Whilst Aberdeen's Duthie Park is understandably a turist attraction, most visitors will just know the grey granite city centre with its very few pockets of greenery/fresh air. You walk and walk and suddenly all you know of the world is grey granite. And then you make it to the Union Terrace Gardens and you sigh a very big sigh of relief.
Except The Aberdeen City Council has decided the Union Terrace Gardens need to be developed (or should that be re-developed).
You see, planning permission was already in place for a new visual arts centre - an expansion of Peacock Visual Arts which would have provided North East Scotland with a proper arts centre next to its Art Gallery and the library - as was funding, but these £13.5m plans have now been scraped in favour of a £140m plan suggested by local oil tycoon, Ian Wood. Wood's plan involves raising the Gardens to street level (using a concrete base), a car park and new shopping facilities.
Cue massive public outcry, a public consultation which found overwhelmingly against Ian Wood's plan, and a City Council which decided to side with the money man.
As you can tell, I'm on the side that think a concreted Union Terrace Garden will just make Aberdeen look even more grey. It is a shame.
On an entirely different note, if you read nothing else today, do go read Bells' blog entry about reading her grandmother's letters. It tugged damn hard at my expat heartstrings and it also made me miss my grandmother even more. I'm a professional cynic, but, really, my heart's not in it (especially after reading Bells' words).
Coming Up For Air
I have been so busy lately that it is a wonder that I have managed to knit a single stitch. Note to self: don't take time off just before your busiest time of year; it will come back to haunt you. I have been hung up on boring and not-so-boring work-related things, that last week's relaxing jaunt to Aberdeenshire feels like it took place last year.
But somehow I've still found time to cast on a small baby cardigan for a pregnant co-worker. I'm using oddments of Rowan Extra Fine Merino for a top-down raglan cardigan (I'm using this pattern for numbers but not for much else) and it is zipping along just fine. I have done so many top-down garments now that I find it difficult to think of something new to say, so suffice to say that I think it'll be done by the end of this week .. which is not bad going seeing how hellishly busy I am.
And when things calm down once more I will proceed with a proper autumn knit. I've been eyeing some gorgeous new autumn clothes in various shops. I'm head over heels with this little dress and I'm loving the fact that purple + moss green appear to be this season's musts. I never used to pay attention to clothes or fashion, but since I began getting into knitting/crocheting again, I'm noticing things that I never noticed before: necklines, shoulder construction, drape, fit, ease, fabric, fibre etc. And I feel silly because I used to feel that fashion was something I was expected to be interested in because of my gender - and I rejected this due to being a raging feminist - and now I stand around cooing over a neckline or colour.
If I ever start going on about shoes, shoot me.
But seeing the new autumn lines going into shops do make me yearn for a real, proper autumnal knit. I think it'll have to be purple (and not moss-green because some people claim green cardigans are all I ever knit) and be a really snuggly knit. Just a few more days and I can see the end of the tunnel.
You know, I might even have time to read. I caught up with Anne Donovan very briefly today and we had a lovely conversation about knitting and books. Although I do love knitting and yarn, nothing beats a good book. I miss my books and I want to return to my current read. It is one of those books you have to keep in touch with or it leaves you. And then my next read will be David Mitchell's new novel and I'll have words to share about the Man Booker Prize (as always).
Five Years
Five years ago D. told me that he was somewhat partial to me. I replied that I enjoyed our conversations too. Then he hit me over the head with a sledgehammer (metaphorically speaking) and so five years on, we could sit down to a lovely anniversary dinner tonight.
So if you will excuse me, I will now join my Best Friend/Other Half for a quiet evening in our living room. It has been five very good years together and I'm very much looking forward to another five and then another five and..
PS. Stravaigin 2 pulled out all the stops tonight. Brownie points for the table right by the balcony, but the food was sensational. Roast sweet potato, fennel & feta stack w black olive hummus + Moroccan spiced chicken kebab, pink grapefruit & almond quinoa w harissa yoghurt & toasted flatbread + purple coconut rice parcels, peanut butter & orange ice cream w candied chilli peanuts.. One of the best meals I have ever had. Wow.
PPS. D gave me a signed first edition Alasdair Gray hardback. Goosebumps, I tell you, goosebumps.
PPPS. And I'm torn between five new knitting projects. I need someone to hold my hand and help me decide what to do next. D is surprisingly unwilling to spend several hours going back and forth between various books and stash compartments.
Søpapegøjer!
We saw puffins in Aberdeenshire. We were out cliff-walking just south of Aberdeen when D. took out his binoculars. He spent almost twenty years living in a small fishing village off the North Sea coast, but this was only the second time he had ever spotted puffins. They were out to sea, but they were unmistakably puffins. Søpapegøjer!
I also saw a couple of yarn shops. Wool For Ewe came recommended to me, but I came away feeling slightly underwhelmed despite pleasant staff and a nice selection. I ended up buying enough Jamiesons Ultra to make a lace shawl (shh!). I also bought one ball of JC Rennie 4ply in a green-blue colour which brought home just how much I'm itching to do a proper fair-isle project. I have a good selection of colours in various Shetland 4-ply yarns stashed aside and these days most of my pattern purchases seem to be colourwork-orientated. Apart from the new Rowan 48, I have also just bought Sasha Kagan's classic book on fair-isle knitting. Kagan's book is very dated in terms of styling - hello 1980s make-up and hair! - but the patterns are very interesting and inspirational. While the idea of a dachshund-covered waistcoat might not appeal, I can certainly see myself knitting some fingerless gloves with pansies or seagulls.
I'm slowly moving towards autumn-knitting, you see. Scotland is never the warmest place in the world (or even in the UK!), so woolly knits are never far from my thoughts. However, I was browsing through some old blog entries the other day and I noticed how much I emphasised Needing Accessories. My thinking is that I might as well get a few quick-knit accessories under my belt before I start to yearn for big woolly cardigans. Last winter I loved my big snuggly scarf, so I have kept that in mind as I'm trying to narrow down my must-knits. Matters are complicated by the fact that I have been commissioned to design a couple of scarf patterns, that I have a few commissioned knitting projects, that a colleague of mine is expecting (and is going on maternity leave in two weeks, so I better start knitting!), and that my wrists are still not entirely happy about the amount of knitting I do.
Most of all, I wish I could take more time off and spend it up north. I do not why I love Aberdeenshire so much, but I suspect it reminds me of Denmark (albeit with dangerous cliffs, birds of prey, hills, crumbling castles, granite, puffins, and glorious 'high' skies). I always feel at peace whenever I am up north and it takes me a few days to adjust being back in Glasgow. Sigh.