The dress in question is still a work in progress. It’s based upon Simplicity 2925, view A but I cannot be trusted to do anything by the book – not even sewing. I did away with some ruffles, altered the yoke/neckline and I’m adding buttons where there are no buttons. Rebel.

The fabric is a very light polycotton from Mandors. I fell in love with the subtle geometric print and the black/dark green/cream colours. It won’t keep me warm, but it will be a great layering piece (once I finish it – the basic construction is done, but the small bits are not).

I have become aware that I’m increasingly dressing like an art teacher. A very Danish art teacher with restrained colour schemes and attention to details – but an art teacher nonetheless. Making more of my own clothes will not – will not – curb that tendency.

Meanwhile, as some of you may know, The Huffington Post published a blog post about knitting and baking betraying the feminist movement. The post itself read like someone had taken a Feminism 101 class and just scraping home a pass (because the teacher was in a good mood having devoured a home-baked cup cake). The responses to the post were far more interesting. This one is one of my favourites so far: succinct, humorous, and blunt. Any recommendations for more smart, funny, self-aware responses?

On the agenda: getting better, saving Other Half from the plague, choosing non-functioning buttons for the dress, cooking dinner (soup?) and reading my book. It’s a hard life.

My first birthday present was given to me today by David (a day early!). I was so thrilled when I realised it was a ticket to see Mr Rufus Wainwright live later this year. I have seen Rufus on three earlier occasions, but this one will be just him and a piano. Cor.

Now to wait a few more hours before I can start to unwrap the rest of my presents. Whee.

Official Photographer called me this morning to let me know that Crowded House will be touring the UK this spring and that tickets go on sale tomorrow. I have written about this before, so it suffices to say that Crowded House provided the soundtrack to most of my life. I connect places I have lived or been with their songs, and although I no longer listen to them on a regular basis, they are “my band”. For one glorious moment I contemplated seeing every Scottish gig, but then I checked ticket prices and also remembered that I will be on my way to West Yorkshire for work reasons when they play Aberdeen. If you had told me ten years ago I would have to forego seeing Neil Finn live for matters involving sheep, I would have thought you mad.

Anna has written an interesting post about her relationship with “things”, crafting and feminism. I enjoyed reading it. You may too.

So let me write about good things. Happy things. Things, thoughts, places and people who make me smile.

• Sarah Haskins makes me really happy. She hosts Target Women which takes a look at the often-ridiculous way the media reaches out to women. The Yoghurt edition had me at “yoghurt is the official food of women!” (and not just because I’m lactose-intolerant and yoghurt makes me feel really sick), but they are all very funny and, excuse the pun, on-target. That’s Gay looks at gay representation in mainstream media with equally great results.
• At Academia Nuts, my good buddy R. writes about art as resistance and wonders how she can incorporate her thoughts into her knitting. I have similar issues with regards to my own crafting and would love to read other people’s thoughts on this.
• I bought the pattern for the Snapdragon Tam today after coveting the hat ever since I first spotted a photo of it. Paula has just knitted a gawjuss version which pushed me over the edge. I am going to use one of the oldest yarns I have in my stash, a Malabrigo-ish 1-ply merino in a dark, lush forest green. This yarn was once fondled by Robert Carlyle, I’ll have you know.
• I was watching Nerdstock: Christmas for Rationalists last night on BBC4 (BBC4 makes me very happy very frequently). The show was very hit-and-miss: I continue to have huge problems with the evangelical branch of atheism (hello Richard Dawkins), some of the comedians were clearly out of their depths and the shiny face of Professor Brian Cox distracted me from whatever he was saying – but I really, really enjoyed Baba Brinkman’s Rap Guide to Evolution. Brinkman’s not the best rapper in the world but he is very clever (and I find it delightful he also does a rap version of Canterbury Tales).
• I have finished my second shawl of the year (Rav Link – I have reasons for not writing about it here just yet) and am 2/3rds through my third shawl. I’m knitting this one out of Fame Trend (yes, still knitting up what I brought from Scandinavia) and I’m liking the yarn so much more than Drops Delight. I must admit I’m a tad tired of knitting shawls out of self-striping yarn.. but hey, it’s good that I’m getting through projects!

While I was at work yesterday (and hello to those of you who came visiting), David went for a walk along the River Kelvin. It is almost completely frozen and signs are up warning people against letting their dogs run unto the ice. Despite all the stern signage, Dave did spot a few illiterate animals out and about on the ice – including a little mink drinking a bit of water. I continue to be amazed at how much wildlife we have on our doorstep, even if we live in the middle of a sprawling city.

I’m currently reading Glen David Gold’s Carter Beats the Devil which I gave David for Christmas (he hasn’t had a chance to start it yet as he is reading his way through the other five novels I gave him). I bought it because I knew how much Dave had enjoyed Michael Chabon’s The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay and I got a similar vibe from CBTD. If you like Kavalier & Clay, early 20th century popular entertainment or maybe even Wilkie Collins, I think CBTD might appeal. I’m certainly enjoying the glimpses into vaudeville performances, music halls and larger-than-life personalities.

Finally, I’m listening a fair bit to Martha Wainwright’s album of Edith Piaf songs, Sans Fusils Ni Souliers A Paris. You can get a taste of it by watching Martha singing L’Accordéoniste on Jools Holland’s show (youtube link). Her darling brother is touring Britain in April and I’m hoping for a concert ticket for my birthday.

I miss my Danish friends. I miss meeting up with them for coffee and croissant. I miss the easy chatter which comes with fifteen years (and then some) of friendship. I miss getting on my bike and making my way home together with thousands of other cyclists. I miss the recycling system, my favourite cinema and buying proper pastries. I miss the cobbled streets, the public fountains, the neon signs and watching the New Year’s fireworks displays.

Thank heavens I’m off to Denmark soon. That usually cures any amount of homesickness. And I am not fooling myself, anyway. If I were to return to Denmark, I would miss Scotland. I would miss having easy access to any book I wanted, the BBC, dramatic landscapes, the easy-going attitude, my lovely neighbourhood and a certain sense of freedom. Swings and roundabouts, dear reader, swings and roundabouts.

Yesterday we went craft fair hopping. First, we visited the Glasgow Craft Fair Mafia at Mono, then we headed back to our own neighbourhood where The De Courcy Arcade has undergone a facelift and a slew of new quirky boutiques have opened showcasing handmade gifts and vintage fashion. It felt like I spent the entire afternoon living in Etsy-land: little owls, ironic embroidery and felted flowers ..

.. and I realised I wasn’t enchanted. I can partly blame the old “I could make that myself” attitude and partly that I am a crafter myself and know what well-finished items should look like. The stern Scandinavian in me was particularly blind to the virtues of an ironic embroidered portrait of Dolly Parton or Burt Reynolds.  I fear I am too old to be a irony-embracing hipster or maybe I have just started living by William Morris’ creed: “Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful”.

I’m homesick and I’m grumpy.

I have a lot of time for Alasdair Gray. He is one of those novelists I am never sure whether people will like or not. I tend to recommend Poor Things as the gateway to Gray’s oeuvre: it reads like a postmodern feminist Frankenstein; it is exuberant and giddy; and it is wildly entertaining.  Unlikely Stories, Mostly is a rare beast: a short story collection which feels like a cohesive book and which is also a compulsive read. The stories ranges from short childhood snippets to the fantastic typographic fantasy of “Sir Thomas’ Logopandocy” about Sir Thomas Urquhart (it remains my favourite piece by Gray).  Lanark tends to divide people – my boyfriend still cannot believe that I like a book that nasty and unpleasant, but then again he has not read Gray’s 1982, Janine which is Gray’s tour-de-force in sheer unpleasantness and utter despair (and I really like that one too).

I once spent a lot of time looking at how Alasdair Gray imagines the Book as an object. 1982, Janine is not only a typographical wonder (at one point the protagonist attempts suicide which is portrayed in visual poetry) but its hardcover is beautifully decorated by Gray himself. I always try to get hold of Gray’s books in hardcover whenever I can because underneath the dust jackets, you get elaborate beautiful books. Gray also writes his own blurbs, controls the typesetting and draws his own illustrations. The Book of Prefaces is as close as Gray has come to a postmodern Gesamtkunstwerk. The book is beautiful, of course, but Gray adds an extra layer by writing prefaces to the selected prefaces and writing prefaces to those prefaces. It is all rather dazzling.

And as fate would have it, I have ended up in Glasgow. Alasdair Gray lives just a few streets down from me (I may have said “Good afternoon, sir” once or twice), my local pub features his artwork and my boyfriend has drawn him at art class. Strange how these things work out.

Read more about dear Ally Gray and his artwork or his writing and remember that Poor Things is the best place to start. Meanwhile I shall continue to chase sunlight.

15. What is the most difficult book you’ve ever read?

This is being written whilst I’m gritting my teeth: Ben Marcus’ The Age of Wire and String. It’s a very, very short novel. I spent a month reading it. Then Stupid Boyfriend said: “Oh. Did you try to make sense of it? I didn’t. I just read it for the beautiful words.”

&/#”/! The book was excellent, actually, and said really interesting things about ritual language and how language acquires meaning. I am never going to read it again.

That question/answer and thirty-one others can be found at The Reading Survey which I have posted as a static page as it is too long to post here.

Thank you for all your well-wishing. I am still under the weather and have developed a nasty cough. This means I’ll miss out on tonight’s Guy Fawkes events but there will be others.

Also, in case you have not read it, this little post by Ysolda Teague summed up everything I wanted to say today (and it reminded me that I need to make a batch of Apple Butter as Casa Bookish’s usual supply from the St. Alban Church Fete has finally run low after I have been unable to attend/stock up for several years).

.. one Halloween costume down, one to go.

Other Half is currently trying to consider whether or not to stab the ear with a palette knife or not.

Oh, decisions…

Knitting and poetry are more similar than they might first appear, she added, with poet laureate Carol Ann Duffy partial to an occasional knit, and the Society’s president Jo Shapcott, Seamus Heaney and Emily Dickinson all authors of poems featuring knitting. “With poetry and with knitting, you work line by line, and if something goes wrong you have to unravel it,” Palmer said.

In order to celebrate the Poetry Society’s centenary, people around the world are knitting individual letters which will be made into one giant poem. Yes, I am one of them. I have been assigned the letter G and I’m working on my letter in-between other projects as I’m not a huge fan of the intarsia technique. But I love poetry and I celebrate that something as wonderful as The Poetry Society exists in this day and age.

Keep up-to-date with the ongoing project at Knit A Poem – The Poetry Society.