Catching Up

Christmas has caught up with me. We are leaving for Scandinavia next week (and it is rumoured to be very cold), we are heading for North-East Scotland this week (and it's rumoured to be almost as cold) and somewhere in between these two trips I have to finish David's sweater (because places are rumoured to be cold), do some Christmas baking, sort out some work things, make smart decisions about what clothes to pack, and get the last few Christmas cards sent. And suddenly I thought it would be a great idea to cast on a cowl for my partner because the weather is taking a cold turn (and MooncalfMakes sounds very persuasive). Thankfully I have talked myself away from that particular ledge of insanity.

Yesterday I was given an early Christmas present by a visiting hand-knitted pirate (her visit was a present in itself, actually): 18 antique buttons made of dark chocolate. The box itself is gorgeous and obviously I shall use it to store my non-chocolate vintage button finds once I have finished the chocolate ones. Yesterday I also spent a really lovely evening dining out with some of my closest friends here in Glasgow. That calmed those pre-Christmas nerves a bit.

Thank heavens I'm not actually in charge of anything important such as, you know, Christmas food.

Now, Anna asked what my cultural highlights of the Noughties were. That question made me waste copious amount of time on YouTube tracking down beloved songs and film trailers.

One of the first songs that sprung to mind was "It Takes a Fool To Remain Sane" by The Ark, a Swedish glampop band fronted by the fluently-gendered(?) Ola Salo (appropriately enough, the son of a preacher man). Not my favourite Ark song (possibly this one?), but it is the song which kick-started a decade-long affinity for the band (which is a great live band).

Four more songs: Betchadupa: My Army Of Birds & Gulls. I am weak when faced with vaguely psychedelic pop from New Zealand - especially if someone called "Finn" is involved. Liam Finn's disbanded band came into their own with this song.  The Delays: Valentine. One of the great lost singles of the '00s and a perfect pop song. Elbow: Leaders of the Free World. One of the very few good things to come out of the second Iraq war. Franz Ferdinand: Darts of Pleasure. Not the reason why I moved to Glasgow, but the first Franz Ferdinand album is the sound of Glasgow.

Being a Reader of Books

Firstly, today is a sunny day. It is so strange to see rays of sunlight spill into this room, so I wanted to make a little note of that. 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.

Fog of a December Afternoon

Among the smoke and fog of a December afternoon You have the scene arrange itself—as it will seem todo— With "I have saved this afternoon for you"; And four wax candles in the darkened room Four rings of light upon the ceiling overhead, An atmosphere of Juliet's tomb Prepared for all the things to be said, or left unsaid. We have been, let us say, to hear the latest Pole Transmit the Preludes, through his hair and finger-tips. "So intimate, this Chopin, that I think his soul Should be resurrected only among friends Some two or three, who will not touch the bloom That is rubbed and questioned in the concert room." -- And so the conversation slips Among velleities and carefully caught regrets Through attenuated tones of violins Mingled with remote cornets And begins.

(Portrait of A Lady)

Addendum: My friend Iain shot a great photo of the Kelvingrove Art Gallery today.

Swings & Roundabouts

Maybe it is the festive season, maybe it is the constant news coverage of the climate conference, but I am homesick. I have lived in Glasgow well over three years now and I have settled reasonably well, but even so this is Not Quite Home. 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.

On A Day Like This

On a day like this, you just want to curl up on your sofa with a mug of hot tea, some tea biscuits and some knitting. Unfortunately I had to go outside.

On the left, behind those trees, you'd find The Botanics and the river is, of course, my beloved River Kelvin. At the time I was heading towards Byres Road to buy the paper and maybe find a little tasty snack in Roots & Fruits (I didn't on this occasion). Such a splendid, cold Saturday in Glasgow.

Counting the Days

This entry's by request..

Starting on the fourth Sunday before Christmas, Danes will open so-called "advent presents" and light a candle in their advent krans (I have not made an advent krans since the year one caught fire in my Copenhagen flat and nearly burned down the house). The presents are usually small - I have been known to find novelty socks in my parcels.

However, my gran has obviously decided that a "small present" equals giving me 11 (ELEVEN) balls of yummy DK-weight superwash wool in a rather fetching shade of red. She's included a pattern for a yoked cardigan too. I have three more parcels to go. I dread to think what she might have come up with. Incidentally David found a handknitted beanie in his advent present. I seem to spot a theme..

(Sorry about the '80s feel about this photo - it was the best I could do in order to capture the colour)

The advent calendar is a variation upon a theme. When I was very young, I would get a julekalender instead, much like the one Linn is blogging about. Twenty-four tiny parcels, one for each day leading up to Christmas. The presents were tiny - maybe a pencil or a piece of chocolate - but they served their purpose. I got out of bed on time and I kept track of how many days I had to wait until Christmas.

Linn mentions something which I really miss here in Scotland: the calendar candle (not to be confused with the advent krans). One candle with numbers 1 to 24 clearly marked and each day you burn away one number. Just before December 1st, you make a "juledekoration" to really display the candle (I have fond memories of going to the woods with my family and finding materials for these things) and then each night as you are having dinner or tea, you light the candle. The trick is to get the right size candle so you do not burn away the numbers too quickly or slowly.

And the final way of counting the days? The televised yule calendar. Yup, twenty-four episodes of a special Christmas children's show with one episode shown per day. It's usually about how Christmas is in danger for one reason or another.. You'd get a royal version with princesses and Christmas gnomes,one taking place in Greenland, a puppet version, a 19th century version and, well, one for the grown-ups (all YouTube links and, yes, Danes are very fond of singing..)

Any particular Christmas traditions in your family or in your culture?