Like love

Crochet, like love, is all the better when you share it. Here are a few things I’ve recently made and given away.

A wine bottle bag and a set of snowflake mug mats, given as Christmas gifts

 

A blanket, part made my mom, in Tucson; part made by me, in Bristol; and given to my brother on his birthday at the end of December

Pixie hat with flowers, given to a child on her first birthday

 

 

 

 

 

Fuzzy pom-pom hat, given to a child just about to reach her first birthday

And a baby cardi made to mark the arrival of a work friend’s brand new baby in January

Go slow, go sloe…

For many weeks I’ve been on a go-slow, drinking coffee each morning while reading about living and dying. Then on work days I’d take a bus, swinging past Downs, shops, signs, sometimes juddering to a stop in road works. Resting. Today I rejoined the cycling to work contingent (and drank my coffee in the office instead, while starting Outlook for the day). I felt the goodness of cycling, being under my own power. Swooshing down hills, and smiling.

I passed ripe sloes the other day as I walked from the bus to the office. Today I went back to pick a few at lunchtime, expecting to end up with nothing more than a largish handful, but there were many, many, many. I picked and picked. I caught snatches of conversation from across the road where a woman and her kids discussed the scene: “Blackberries? No…elderberries.” “No, no,” I thought. “Sloes. The fruit of the blackthorn tree.” Then I heard an “excuse me” and there was the family, in the car in their drive, ready to pull out. Curiosity was expressed. “They’re sloes, like little plums,” I said. “You can make sloe gin with them.”

I think I spent over half an hour picking sloes. Later on I cycled them home, tucked up safe in a pannier. Tonight I have pored over them, removing stems and leaves, piling them high in a colander. Lovely, lovely sloes. I will make sloe gin with you.

I made elderflower vinegar earlier this summer, with elderflowers I somehow managed to catch. I was sure I was to miss them this year. But I didn’t, so made a bit of bottled sunshine, good on salads. The other end of the summer will bring the elderberries. I want to catch them too if I can, before they’re gone, and make a tonic to spice up colder days (and keep winter ailments at bay).

Hyperbolic crochet and other things

Finished this developmental toy for a friend’s baby today. It’s created by increasing in every stitch as you go around and is in fact also a model of hyperbolic space. Shouldn’t every young child have a model of hyperbolic space? They should.

Have also been crocheting hearts for a friend’s wedding. My flat is becoming littered with these cheerful little things.

I woke up this morning really craving some ‘morning muffins’ of some sort, so I baked these. They’re carrot, apple and pumpkin seed muffins made with spelt flour, and I think they’re great. Especially fresh from the oven and with a bit of butter. Mmm.

Words I thought were amusing when I first came to England

On 1 October 1996, I landed in England for the first time.

It’s a long story as to why I’m still here. But in my first months, as a study abroad student at Exeter University, I wrote pages and pages of journal text. Mostly prose, snatches of poetry and song lyrics, quotes from novels. (I was twenty years old and an earnest English major.)

There were also lists. Lists of the contents of rolls of film, lists of pubs I’d visited (I was twenty years old and American.) And lists of the amazing new vocabulary to be found in the United Kingdom. I present you with an actual listing here.*

• fruit machine
• football
• ring
• telly
• biscuit
• coach
• minibus
• for let
• MP
• lie in
• knickers
• pants
• shag
• bonk
• snog
• hire
• sacked
• pensioners
• full up
• bedsit
• track suit bottoms
• sod off
• bugger
• take the piss

An eclectic lexicon to say the least. Try reciting the list like a bit of a performance poem and it’s even better.

I was twenty years old and then, as now, I liked words. All sorts of words…

*The original text, which is labelled “glossary – more words and expressions and stuff”, also defined each of the terms. It was a true work of scholarship.

I like this, from Jeanette Winterson writing in the Guardian today, about the idea of ‘occupying’ Valentine’s Day.

National Love Day could become the secular sister of the Jewish Day of Atonement. Instead of saying sorry to everyone we have offended, we could hug those we love and who love us – and give some hugs to those who don’t get hugged enough.

Vintage teatime

Image from a recent afternoon tea, featuring colourful creations I made from vintage crochet patterns, plus contemporary tea cups (about 12 years old) and glass dishes from my grandmother, dating I believe from the 1940s. (And fresh baked banana bread, only an hour or so old!)

Boobie baby

Not just for laughs, the boobie beanie is also useful for keeping heads warm during peaceful newborn slumbers…

Boobie beanie blog

No, it’s not a sequel to The Blog of B, just an alliterative reference to my latest crochet creation. Not long ago a friend on facebook posted a link to a blog that providing a witty take on discreet breastfeeding. I found the visuals hilarious, and being in possession of a friend who had just given birth, I immediately sent the link to her. The response was something along the lines of ‘I would pay good money for the laughs – can you make me one?!’ I could, and I have!

I used the pattern here. It was a simple enough project, and amusing too – from the nipple shaping at the beginning (how clever!) through to the near error when the hat suddenly grew too large and a quick and dramatic breast reduction had to be performed.

The completed boobie beanie waits to be taken to its new owner

This evening the finished masterpiece was presented to its new owner – brand new herself – who gently fussed as the suspense in the room began to rise. Would it fit ok? And more importantly, would it give the new (and very weary) mother a good laugh? Well, I’m pleased to report the boobie fit perfectly and did not fail in its mission to inspire mirth. The only concern was that the little one will soon outgrow her new headwear. But never fear, my hook and yarn shall be at the ready to create the next boobie size up, should it be required…

OMG, it’s The Bachelor!

At the urging of one of my most hilarious friends, I last night watched the first episode of the new season of ABC’s The Bachelor.

In the important pre-show briefing between friend and I (carried out by telephone between a hotel in Chicago and a backyard deckchair in Tucson) I learned that there would be much ridiculousness, high levels of “boy craziness” and that a post-show debrief would be essential.

“I’ll be disappointed if Ben doesn’t eat some cow balls.”

So I tracked down the show that evening and within moments was scrabbling around for pen and paper with which to capture just a taste of the truly amazing content. Here are some of the sparkling gems…

“I’ll be disappointed if Ben doesn’t eat some cow balls.”

This was from Amber, a big game hunter and a woman with clearly defined culinary views. I think she knows what she wants from a relationship.

“It’s really hard to have a conversation with him when he’s blindfolded and being fed different kinds of…candy!”

From across the room comes this objection from a contestant who probably wishes she’d thought of blindfolding the amazing Ben and feeding him something (presumably not cow balls).

“Rode in on a horse? She makes us look bad!”

Such are the whispers, bordering on outrage, that were to be heard after the entrance of a horse loving contestant on, you guessed it, a horse. How dare she?

“I’m at the point in my life where I’m a model…”

This is a comment from deep thinking contestant Courtney, reflecting on where she is in life. She also makes it clear during the evening that she has no need to feel jealousy as she is – has she mentioned? – a model.

Courtney may be above jealousy, or so she says, but there is plenty of it on display from everyone else. One contestant gets so overwrought that she spends the second half of the episode bawling in the bathroom and is late to the all important Rose Ceremony. The drama!

“He’s so real!”

And we mustn’t forget that our beloved bachelor Ben is from the get-go absolutely adored by each and every of the 25 contestants. No one says “well, he’s cute but I’d like to get to know him first.” No, they are all oozing phrases like these: “He’s so real!” and “He’s so sincere!” (Ladies, I saw the bit after the episode where we’re shown “highlights” from the rest of the season and, well, good luck with that. He appears to sincerely and really like several of you, possibly all at the same time but I couldn’t really tell.)

What a tragedy that I will not be able to watch what happens next, as we don’t have ABC in the UK and I don’t think abc.com or Hulu will let me in from overseas! I’ll never get to find out firsthand whether Ben ate some cow balls.

I think I’m going to have to go away now and cry in the toilet.

Yoga and my bicycle

Image via Wikipedia

I guess there are always things you will miss when you travel away from home, even if you’re visiting another place that’s ‘home’. Two things I have been missing while away from Bristol for the holidays: yoga and my trusty bike (whose name I now think is Petal, though she doesn’t always answer when I call her). Ah, to cycle in the warm sun on flat roads! Ok, Bristol isn’t entirely made up of hills and isn’t entirely devoid of sunshine, but you know, it’s December, or January (depending on the time zone) and, well…some people will know what I mean.

Anyway, no bike here. But yoga, yes. My brother and his girlfriend wanted to find a class while in town and thought, correctly, that I might be similarly inclined. They researched what was on offer and I awaited their findings. The class they turned up was a 90-minute Bikram Method class. Was I still interested? Now, I had never been to a Bikram class before, though I’d heard tales from those taking up introductory offers in Bristol. Lives being taken over during the introductory month! Sweat and money pouring out everywhere! Was it strangely regimented or something? If I tried it, would I keel over and be expelled from the class (like so much student sweat)?!

Ah well, nothing ventured, nothing gained. Reviews of the studio in question suggested that there would be “no shouting”. This we found encouraging. In fact, not only was there no shouting, the place we went to, Yoga Vida, was really welcoming. There was a lot of sweating, of course, but there was also encouragement and humour. And I felt great doing it and felt great afterwards. Yoga, I said I’d missed you!

Awww, a happy ending to this tale. How nice. Another thing I’ve missed of late is writing this blog. So here I am again. Watch out.