Six Weeks of Solitude: Comforts and Frights

A sneak preview of my current project. I am test-knitting a pattern for Old Maiden Aunt and I'm quite excited about a new technique I've just picked up. The Six Weeks of Silence idea seemed particularly attractive this morning after waking up abruptly at 5am because of a neighbour getting ready for work and then being kept awake by builders dragging debris down the communal stairs. I was lying in bed dreaming of that little cottage on Skye: no neds fighting in the street, no taxis honking their horns at 3am, no alarm clocks, no thumping bass-lines.. the idea was so overwhelmingly beautiful that I was almost ready to give up internet access, live-in partner and chai lattes. Almost.

Six more books for the Isle of Skye:

1. James Robertson: The Testament of Gideon Mack: I have already read this book, but that is why I know it'd make a perfect companion for weeks of solitude (although it might just freak me out too).  A (Scottish) book about faith, imagination and how to define reality and truth.
2. James Hogg: The Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner: If Gideon Mack with its strange opaque view of reality is on my list, I should also have the book to which it owes a great deal. A good university friend was a dedicated Hogg fan. I hope to catch up. I also like books that play off one another.
3. Rodge Glass: Alasdair Gray - A Secretary's Biography: And to round off this small selection of Scottish literature, a book I suspect Father Christmas might give me this year. A biography of one of my favourite authors written in a positively Boswellian manner. And it's all taking place just down the road from my current dwellings. I suspect hermit life on Skye will make me long for the colourful Glasgow West End.
4. Virginia Woolf: Flush: Some light reading is required, of course. Like most pale, sensitive and female literature graduates, I like Virginia Woolf far too much. I also happen to like dogs (which reminds me: this puppy cam is teh crack) and Woolf has penned a little "biography" of Elizabeth Barrett Browning's cocker-spaniel. When the winds really start getting to me on Skye, I will want to curl up with this book about dogs, poetry and Victorian passions.
5. Michael Chabon: The Yiddish Policemen's Union: Chabon's The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay was such a pleasant surprise to me. I had anticipated inflated self-importance in the vein of Dave Eggers or Jonathan Safran Foer or maybe even painful so-called 'literary' writing like Jonathan Frazen or Jeffrey Eugenides (you can tell I have issues with male contemporary American writers) - but Chabon proved an utter delight and I am looking forward to being delighted once more. The Yiddish Policemen's Union even has a character based upon an internet friend of mine which is slightly intriguing too.
6. Rose Tremain: Music and Silence: A book not chosen for its title but because of its historical setting in my native Denmark. Another book which has been languishing on my shelves for too long and a book where the historical context is so familiar that I look forward to seeing a foreigner's take. Okay, and maybe a tiny bit to do with "silence".

And then the knitting. I wrote yesterday that I had two projects in mind which was not strictly true. I always have a gazillion possible projects running through my head and I spend much time thinking about yarns and pattern combinations. For six weeks of solitude I could easily have chosen half a dozen projects, but the idea is to limit myself.  Six weeks without noise or distractions could easily mean 'difficult patterns which require concentration and dilligence' but my head does not work like that.

The first project would be Kate Gilbert's Union Square Market Pullover in my beloved DROPS Alpaca. I'd use a warm chocolate brown as the main colour and a deep turquoise (or maybe a deliciously brash magenta) as the contrast colour. The choice of pattern is simple: it calls for miles and miles of mindless stocking stitch on 3.25mm needles. I don't think anything short of being marooned on a remote Scottish island for six weeks could ever make me knit that pullover (and yet I love its elegance and simplicity).

Final part tomorrow. Hopefully I will also have a finished knitted object to show you.

Six Weeks of Solitude: And I Dream of Central Heating

Saturday's Guardian Magazine had a short, but fascinating, article on the joys of silence. The author of the article, Sara Maitland, rented an isolated cottage on the Isle of Skye for six weeks and attempted to live in complete solitude and silence. She had brought enough food to last her six weeks, a few books and some sewing to keep her company. Her experience makes for interesting reading but it also made me wonder. I am a big fan of silence and solitude myself. It's possibly the aftermath of living in lively student halls for years followed by shared accommodation or maybe it is because I am an only child and spent my formative years playing by myself. The idea of spending six weeks by myself on a remote Scottish island intrigues me - although I would probably never go through with it as I'm very, very fond of central heating, fresh milk and my partner. Still, the idea made me wonder what books and knitting projects I'd bring with me to keep me company for six weeks.

Books. Six weeks equals fifty-six days. Depending upon the book, it would last between two hours and two days. As this would be an exercise in enjoying silence and finding solitude, I would not want to squeeze in too many books, but I wouldn't want to get bored either. Call it fifteen books, okay eighteen books.

1. Johannes V. Jensen: Kongens Fald [The Fall of the King]: One of the most acclaimed Danish novels and Modernist to boot. I started reading it last year but put it aside when I started to get very busy with work. It would be a return to my native language and history.
2. William Makepeace Thackeray: Vanity Fair: My good friend Maria once spent her entire Christmas holiday holed up in Inverness with nothing but this book to keep her company. I vaguely remember reading it (maybe just starting it) during my mad "I need to have read all the classics before I turn fifteen" phase. I'd like to revisit it with older, wiser eyes.
3. E.M. Forster: The Longest Journey: The only Forster novel I have not read (and I even have a lovely copy given to me by my old friend Søren). Realistically, the first novel I would reach for in that little cottage. I like Forster. He is so .. placid on the surface but with so many undercurrents.
4. Henry David Thoreau: Walden; or, Life in the Woods: What better book to read whilst in an isolated cottage on a remote island than a book written by a hermit about self-reliance, solitude, contemplation, and closeness to nature? Okay, so Thoreau actually lived on the edge of a town and a was a bit of poseur .. but it would be an apt read. I have only read (longish) extracts but Thoreau is both very noble and very, very entertaining (and a bit daft too).
5. Iris Murdoch: The Sea, The Sea: I think I should get better acquainted with Murdoch. I read and loved The Bell and The Sea, The Sea is said to be her masterpiece. It is also a book about solitude, imagination and truths. An obvious choice, really.
6. Mikhail Bulgakov: The White Guard: Both The Master and Margarita and The Heart of a Dog were hugely, hugely enjoyable reads (the former ending up as one of my all-time favourite reads, fact fans). The White Guard has been sitting on my bookshelf for the best part of a year. I really need to get around to reading it.

The first six books, then. The next six books will be posted tomorrow and the remaining six on Wednesday.

But what about the knitting? Between eighteen books, me sleeping a great deal and long walks, what sort of knitting should I bring? Six weeks .. that translates into two sweaters and a big shawl, surely? Ah, but I'm not so sure about that. I have two projects in mind. Funnily enough I will be writing about the first one tomorrow and the second one on Wednesday. Stay tuned.

Loot!

We went to the 3D/2D Craft Fair today. Having recently visited survived the Crafts For Scotland/Hobbycrafts, I was wary of visiting today's fair but came away quite impressed. Not only does this craft fair have superior quality control, they are also far more diverse whilst remaining local. Unlike Hobbycrafts you don't have navigate around bowls filled with glitters or squeeze through packs of people fighting over grossly overpriced novelty yarn. I greatly appreciate that. Anyway, excuse my crap photos.

I like owls a great deal - both because of their association with Athena (the Greek goddess of wisdom and knowledge) and the far more contemporary piece of pop culture that is "Twin Peaks". The owls are not what they seem, you know. So I spotted this pin and loved it on sight.

Sadly I didn't get the vendor's details. He had some ace ceramic flying ducks with rather wonderfully quirky expressions.

My loot also bears testament to my continuing button obsession: these are handmade by Pat Longmuir of 'Paraphernalia' who does commissions too.

I recently bought some über-lovely Berocco Ultra Alpaca in the "Moonshadow" shade. I once said that I wasn't overly concerned with yarn I couldn't buy in this country because I'd always be able to find suitable substitutions. I was clearly wrong because I'm now deeply in love with the Ultra Alpaca and the only substitution I can find is twice the price for yard yardage - and in limited colourways too. Le sigh. Anyway. Pat's buttons might just be earmarked for that yarn..

PS. I'm doing NaBloPoMo in case you're wondering. That means the 'self-indulgent knitting plus random linkage' to 'brainy stuff, you know' ratio is going to be horribly skewed. Just warning you.

Post-Election Fatigue

Yesterday I knitted this hat whilst I was waiting for the election results to come in from the US. I was sewing on the flower when Obama was declared president elect. I have no idea what to do with the finished hat, though. I will probably never wear it. I have been binging on a certain type of elegant little British novels. I read two Nancy Mitfords recently - The Pursuit of Love and Love In A Cold Climate. I would call them comedies of manner except Mitford doesn't satirise her characters as much as she gently chides them. I'm currently reading Miss Pettigrew Lives For A Day by Winifred Watson (borrowed with much gratitude from Lilith). It is less upper-class twittish than Mitford's novels, but it still features men with pencil moustaches and "Oh, darling!" exclamations.

As I'm beginning to say things like "Tea would be utterly divine, darling!" to my partner, perhaps it's time I start reading some Michel Houllebecq (although, to be fair, I really liked Atomised)? I would but .. a novel about "the lack of ideas and morale in contemporary (..) society" complete with "an overarching mood of gloom and fatalism" just doesn't seem the thing to revisit right this moment.

But what on earth shall I do with the damn election hat? Knit another one?

Almost There?

Dear world, How will the world look tomorrow? I think it will look pretty much like today, although today is particularly sunny for a November day in Glasgow, Scotland. The sun will shine again tomorrow and I will once again wage a (losing) battle with my fridge and its tendency to freeze my milk. It is a mundane existence but it is mine.

The US is voting for a new president today, of course. In its own way it has an impact on my life, although, mainly, in ways I find difficult to explain. My best example is my own little backyard.

In foreign matters, the Danish government has relied upon the US administration far more than any other Danish government I can recall. The Danish PM believes himself to be a close, personal friend of Mr Bush and, lo, the Danish government was one of the first to offer support for the War in Iraq (we even sent a submarine). In domestic matters, the Danish government has relied upon a far-right political party to lend them authority. The far-right party has a platform of anti-Muslim and anti-immigration sentiments with an anti-plurality, anti-intellectual stance on most other matters. This has been the political landscape in my little country since 2001. I moved to the UK in 2006 for several reasons - including an uneasy feeling of no longer being comfortable calling myself a Dane.

The world is very unlikely to change overnight and I do not think it will look any different tomorrow. I hope in a vague and abstract way that my desired (and, according to the polls, entirely likely) result of the US election will trickle down to affect a change in my own little country. How will the far-right react to a US president with a multi-ethnic background and whose father was a lapsed Muslim? How will the Danish PM deal with a US president whose stance on war is vastly different? Can I once again look at my national flag without a bad taste in my mouth?

I can but hope.

If you are an American citizen, please do go out and vote today. You are voting for yourself and your country - you are also voting for me and my country.

Love, Karie.

PS. It's been a long, long haul. This one sums it up - sorry about the NSFW URL as the content is entire SFW: This Effing Election - a babel tower of words.

Aww!

The weather is lovely: all sunny with crisp air. I went shopping for Christmas presents today and am almost finished buying for the Danish side of the family. Almost. On my way home from town, I met up with Other Half and we went for a walk through autumnal woodlands. And we saw this little cutie just a three-minute walk away from Dumbarton Road, one of the busiest roads in our part of town: