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.

I have so many ideas. So very few of them ever become reality. It is frustrating.

Via my friend Angela: Women's Costumes in Movies. A fantastic blog entry about fashion, clothes, and old-school film stars.

The postman brought me the Spring/Summer edition of the Rowan International newsletter and I read it whilst surrounded by buttercups, daisies and playful squirrels. Later, when the sun disappeared, I went to the local Polish deli for rye-bread, tuna pate and buttermilk. It made for a delicious late lunch. I also found two beautiful tweed skirts in a charity shop along with an old, old knitting magazine. Total cost: £3. Yes, it has been one of those days today. One to savour.

I need a tiny pick-me-up, actually, because I have been struggling with wrist-pain following yesterday's knitting group. The old ice pack came out again as did the pain killers. I have been able to crochet without too much bother, so I am wondering if the small knitting needles are exacerbating whatever is wrong with my wrist - I am using 2.5mm and 3mm. Presumably it would do my wrist good if I swapped my usual Continental style for the English style, but as I am working with cotton, I am worried about any change in tension.

ANYWAY. Today has been a lovely day.

And that is even before I mention that a girl in winter has given me a pat on the blogging shoulder. Basically, it is one of those spread-the-love things where someone says "I love reading your blog, have this virtual plaque, think of ten random facts about yourself, and then mention ten blogs you love reading."

I'll give you six factoids, though, because I'm really dull.

1. I have two of my own designs on the needles at the moment. One is a sock pattern and the other one is a beaded scarf. I plan on releasing the patterns.
2. I think in colour and suspect a mild form of synaesthesia.
3. I cannot wear high heels thanks to hypermobile feet. Well, okay, I can, but I'll be limping the next day. I have inlays for my (flat) shoes which ensure my feet are kept steady throughout the day. Thankfully I don't need to wear the inlays constantly. My podiatrist once told me that had I been born in Russia, I would have been part of the State Circus. Thanks.
4. I identify as a Secular Humanist which sometimes makes people think I'm a big fan of Richard Dawkins. I am not. He veers far too close to fundamentalism for my taste and I find him decidedly off-putting.
5. When I say that my style is "vintage-inspired casual", I really mean "perpetually student-ish". I still get asked for student ID in shops despite being in my mid-30s.
6. I once appeared on a Danish quiz show and then travelled around New Zealand on my winnings.

Now imagine the next sentence in big pink sans-serif letters across the bust of a Photoshopped Hollywood Starlet:
Ten Fabulous Bloggers You Need to Add To Your Feed Reader Right Now:

• Drop Stitches, Not Bombs - clever and stylish Italian woman knitting her way across Europe (although mainly UK-based)
• Bellsknit - Bells in Australia has a way with words, yarn and food. Gorgeous photography and great sense of humour too.
• Thrums - a recent find. New York-based woman who reads, knits and observes people.
• A Friend to Knit With - the photography is just stunning
• Feather & Fan - the brilliant Orata's blog filled with her own designs and travels.
• Ms KnitWit - I really like how she captures the extraordinary in ordinary life in her photos. Also: smart, funny and crafty.
• Roobeedoo - Someone else who has been transplanted to a life in Scotland. She's a reader, a crafter and very human.
• Academia Nuts- I'm privileged to call her a friend. You should see her knitting projects too.
• Anarkistens (ægte) Kogebog - Danish food blog. The funniest blog I've read in a long time. And she's all about using 12thC recipe books in her kitchen. Respekt dér.
• Petra O - a Swedish craft blog which is hugely inspirational with its beautiful photography and distinct style.

Every single square was knitted individually in moss-stitch and then sewn together before she picked up stitches, knitted an edge, cast off, and crocheted a decorative edge. (So much work. I can deal with the huge amounts of mustard yellow in the spread, in other words.) I wonder if I should drape it over our sofa.. We live in a rented flat, so some of the furniture is not exactly to our taste (particularly the pink-yellow chintz sofa).

Thank you for the comments on Becoming Less than a Magpie. After writing it, I went straight to Ravelry and started weeding out my queue. It has gone from 247 patterns queued to 77 projects queued. It feels very liberating. I know the new autumn/winter collections will be hitting the web soon, so I am prepared to see my queue get a bit longer, but I am keeping the following self-imposed rules in mind:

• Will it flatter my figure?
• Will it work with existing items in my wardrobe?
• Do I already have similar objects in my wardrobe?
• Will I get any use out of it?

In other words, I will assess concrete things like gauge and shape as well as abstract things like style and wearability. Also, I will no longer be queueing fifteen patterns when one well-chosen pattern suffices.

Style is quite abstract, isn't it? I am not fashionable (although for one brief month back in 1995 I was outrageously trendy) but I do think a lot about style. Being Danish I have grown up with a certain Nordic aesthetic - you might best know it from countless IKEA catalogues. Scandinavians like their simple lines, plenty of light and very little nonsense to their architecture/furniture/designs. A typical Danish knitting design would be something along the lines of Topstykke, Duet or Granite. Plain knitting with a little twist. On the other hand I have never been a very good Dane and I turned into an bit of an Anglophile when I was very young, cue the love of tweedy things with cables and fair-isle (or, in other words, everything Rowan). Add to that, an uncompromising love of Modernist art and design (and that pesky Scandinavian mid-century modern influence) and that is pretty much where "my style" is at.

See why my queue has shrunk so much? Yeah.

Now I'm off to wave a tiny Danish paper flag about. The Danish football team is playing their first World Cup match today and I'm slightly worried as they are meeting one of the top contenders, Holland. It is going to be tense and I still cannot knit.

Instead I'm reading and I'm very glad that I got the new Scarlett Thomas book out of the library instead of paying real money. I will tell you why when I can touch-type again.

Update: "bruised tendon" and I "need to watch the activity level". My doctor muttered something about I should have gone to A&E back when my injury first happened. Cough.

Almost four years ago I uprooted myself from Denmark. I packed twenty-four boxes and my suitcase, and I moved across the North Sea. I moved from my own two-bedroom flat to a flat I shared with others. Most of my belongings languished in unopened boxes until Other Half and I found the apartment where we now live. Twenty-four boxes. Fifteen of the boxes were filled with books.

In my Copenhagen flat I had a wall of bookshelves and the bookshelves were packed. I had books stacked on the window sills, on top of chairs and, yes, on the floor. I had books in the attic too. In other words, I had to choose between my books: which ones were important enough to go on that journey with me; which ones could be replaced; which ones were unimportant enough to simply be given away?

I bought small stickers and started sorting my library.

Green sticker: you will come with me, you are part of me, we will never part. Yellow sticker: I need to think about us; it is complicated; will I find you again in a dusty secondhand bookshop? Red sticker: sorry but we are over; it's not you it is me; you are replaceable; what was I thinking?

I left eighty per cent of my books behind me when I moved.

Regrets? I have a few, and not too few to mention. I gave away books I never thought I would read or re-read and now I often find myself running my finger along the spines looking for that Angela Carter novel I once began but never finished. There are huge gaps where Henry James and Charles Dickens used to reside. I really regret getting rid of my literary theory course books because I had some fabulous marginal notes and now that my brain is wasting away, I would love to curl up with Plato and those marginal notes.

And do not get me started on why I brought a standard paperback edition of James Joyce's Ulysses with me, but got rid of all those Georgette Heyers I have had to re-purchase. Self-delusion, I think.

Nowadays my library has mingled with Other Half's. We have a lot of Iain Banks, Douglas Coupland and William Gibson where once I had very few or none. We are running out of shelf-space once more (I have a cunning plan called "two-books-deep shelving") and I despair at Other Half's tendency to not put books back where they belong (I try to keep our fiction books alphabetised by author and under each author by date of publication).

And I feel haunted by books past because when I am standing in front of the bookshelves, I keep looking for the books that got away.

Having said that, I am mostly the same person I was fifteen years ago. I am older with a few new scars and bruises. I am also a bit wiser, less sociable, and more forgiving. I like the same things I did fifteen years ago (books, computer games, cake, my bed, old Hollywood musicals, vintage clothes, typography, Eurovision, and dogs) but I have added new things (my gawjuss Scottish boyfriend, yarn, coffee, philosophy, and matching colours). I think my 1995-self and my 2010-incarnation would get along just fine, although I bet my 1995-self would be appalled at my hairstyle (I just had my hair cut this past week and I am appalled).

In fact, almost fifteen years ago I made a deal with a good friend (who I miss dearly over here in Scotland). She would cook me a fancy three-course dinner if I wrote a book. Now it could not be just any old book - it had to be a special kind of book. My friend did not expect me to write an academic treatise nor did she want me to write a big literary sensation. She wanted me to write a frothy piece of Regency Romance.

I have read a lot of RRs - they are my comfort foods, my security blankets. I grew up in a household devoted to the weeklies' feuilletons, our local library's stash of Jalna-like books and, of course, Barbara Cartland (who I blame for my youthful infatuation with Lord Byron). Later I discovered Georgette Heyer who may be frothy but never nauseating (unlike Cartland). Today I go through phases: I may read a lot of RRs over a few weeks but then several years pass before my next RR frenzy. These phases usually coincide with stress, feeling homesick or going through a rough patch. Comfort foods and security blankets, indeed.

Could I write a passable RR? I think I could come up with a suitable plot involving, say, a Scottish laird's daughter who is sent to London for the season - on the way she meets a dashing highwayman who happens to be a notorious rake settling a wager. Add a couple of dogs, a duel, a dollop of gambling debt and a waltz at Almack's and I think we have a winner. Now all I have to do is write the darn thing and that fancy three-course dinner will be mine, MINE!

.. My younger self would be tempted, my 2010 self will probably just make the three-course dinner and skip all the writing.

In other time-travel-related news, Doctor Who made me cry this week with an episode about Vincent van Gogh, of all people. Your mileage may vary - the episode has divided fans in various online fora - but I took a great deal from it about beauty, art and life.

Completely unrelated: Congratulations are due to SoCherry who is on her way to becoming an honest woman and to Paula who ran a charity race today. Two of my best friends here in Scotland and they keep on amazing me.

That is not to say that Nothing Ever Happens in Brooklyn. Eilis Lacey, our protagonist, goes to dances, finds a job, meets people and falls in love. Brooklyn has comedic touches too - some colourful characters, a baseball game, a stomach-churning journey across the Atlantic - but admittedly even the comedic touches are low-key. Oh, and there are some very, very big decisions being made by ordinary people in Brooklyn.

Brooklyn is about the the émigré experience. What does it really feel like leaving your country, your culture, your family and your friends for somewhere else? Reading Matters has an excellent take on this:

[Brooklyn] might be set in the 1950s but it touches on universal themes that resonate today, and I've yet to read anything that so perfectly captures the profound sense of dislocation you feel when you swap one country for another and then return to your homeland for the first time.

In short, Brooklyn is a superb paean to homesickness and the émigré experience. I think I identified with it so strongly because it shows, in an understated but powerful manner, how all emigrants have to make that god-awful decision about whether to stay or go (..).

I took my time reading Brooklyn, mostly because I did not want to become upset on public transport or in my workplace. I hesitate to use this word, but reading this novel was a profound reading experience - I put much of myself and my own life into it. It will stay with me for a long time.

I am now currently reading Sarah Waters' The Little Stranger. I have a little theory about Waters the novelist and so far The Little Stranger plays along with my theory. It is also very good thus far.

As I wrote yesterday, my grandmother has been knitting me jumpers and cardigans all my life. My all-time favourite jumper was one she knitted me when I was eleven. I chose the colours myself - forest green and dark red - and I wore it until my gran decided she had better knit me another one. Unfortunately I did not get to choose the colours second time around as I was living in London, not rural Denmark, and I ended up with a beige/fawn combination which I loathed.

Last time I went to visit her, my grandmother had uncovered the pattern she had used for the two jumpers.  The apple does not fall far from the tree, because Gran had obviously modified the pattern. Instead of a cardigan knitted in pieces, she had knitted the jumper in the round with subsequent steeking and whatnot.

I want to knit that jumper. I want my forest-green/red jumper back and I have the pattern right here in front of me. It is a 24-stitches/37-rows repeat, and fortunately I have Gran's marginal notes so I can follow her math. I plan on knitting it in the round as well, but I am not sure about the sleeve construction. Should I steek for drop-shoulders? Should I attempt to re-chart the pattern for a round yoke? I know I will be wanting a high-turtleneck.

Gran used postal order wool (I still remember pouring over shadecards with her). The actual pattern calls for a yarn which is miraculously still available - Sandnes Garn Peer Gynt (and rav link). It is a standard double-knitting pure wool yarn which should be easy to substitute. The real concern is if I can get the colours I want. Jamieson & Smith seem an obvious choice, but I'm also wondering if I should go for a slightly different look to my original jumper by choosing Rowan Felted Tweed (Rage and Pine would look so very lovely together).

Why is this an inspirational pattern for me? I know I have the skills to knit this - but I am actually a bit afraid of undertaking this project due to its many layers of meaning. By undertaking this project I will be admitting that Gran is no longer able to knit me a jumper and that I am, in a sense, "taking over" from her. In fact, I am now knitting her things, not the other way around. By knitting this jumper I am also reaching out to my own younger self - that young girl who feared so many things and felt so horribly out of place. And I am attempting to replace something which meant a great deal to me and I am afraid that my recreation will not measure up.

Who knew that sticks and string could be so .. meaningful, eh?

Secondly, the new Winter Knitty is up. If I weren't still working on David's sweater, I would cast on for Mr Darcy for him.

Thirdly, I just finished reading AS Byatt's The Children's Book this morning and I have all these thoughts running through my head.

Yesterday I wrote briefly about whether I connect with favourite authors because they have shaped my ways of thinking or I connect with these authors because they mirror the way I think? The egg or the chicken?

When I go on one of my solitary walks, I often get sentences or lines of poetry running through my head. Sometimes I just "hear" fragments, other times I get an entire stanza. The regular visitors include Dante Gabriel Rossetti's Silent Noon, DH Lawrence's Gloire de Dijon, and John Donne's Holy Sonnet XIV. Most often, though, I hear TS Eliot. It runs the gamut from his most famous works like Prufrock and the Waste Land to lesser known pieces from Inventions of the March Hare. I view the world through words and many of these words came from Eliot. I am vaguely amused by this - after all, I am not the first nor will be the last to define myself using others' words.

And so AS Byatt. I first read one of her books one week into my university years. All these years later, Byatt is one of those very few authors whose entire oeuvre I have read. I connect with her books - they are filled with solitary bookish women surrounded by a far too material world. Last night I watch an interview with her and closed my eyes when she said: "All I ever wanted was to live a life of the mind." In a world defined by emotions, feelings and exteriors, I am drawn towards her books of ideas, thoughts and interiors.

The Children's Book is exquisite. It is a messy book insofar as it describes a messy world and also is also slightly messy structurally. A proper review would be far too long - you can find good reviews and synopses elsewhere - but it suffices to say that I really liked it. I re-read the final fifteen pages twice and I suspect I will revisit the novel just as I have revisited several of Byatt's other novels.

But am I drawn towards Byatt because I am a solitary bookish woman (bound by class) who just wants to live a life of the mind? Or have I become a solitary bookish woman because I spent my formative years reading books by AS Byatt (and EM Forster)?

Thoughts of a dry brain in a chilly season.