Greenery

Dear FirstGlasgow, I am interested in learning why your bus driver wanted to charge me an additional 45p for a return ticket within Zone 1. I was wearing a green coat (from a reputable High Street chain) at the time which the driver was quite obviously eye-balling before informing me that a Zone 1 ticket was "For you, £3.45". Surely FirstGlasgow does not base its pricing upon what a customer wears, so what gives?

Looking forward to hearing from you, Karie Bookish.

In case anybody wonders why I'm discussing my wardrobe in a complaints letter, here's the Wikipedia article on Sectarianism in Glasgow. My green coat is just a green coat, but unfortunately some people see it differently. Green equals support for Celtic FC in their eyes and so I never wear my coat when the Old Firm are playing each other. People get very silly sometimes, unfortunately.

In less serious news, I cast off my Skald shawl the other day and unpinned it today. Photos and info to follow. The yarn, a Faroese 1ply, blocked beautifully but it does look like a cat slept on top of the shawl. It's really quite hairy. I have cast on for the next shawl, the Rock Island Shawl, in Old Maiden Aunt merino/silk lace (colourway: strange rock'n'rollers). The shawl is actually meant for Ms Old Maiden Aunt herself, Lilith, and I hope she'll like it. It has been ages since I promised to knit her a shawl..

.. I've been knitting whilst listening to Enzology, a podcast from Radio New Zeland about one of my all-time favourite bands: Split Enz (sort-of like New Zealand's answer to The Beatles, only not). It is a heady combination: lace, sunshine, and early Split Enz (youtube link). The combination has truly blown the cobwebs from my brain.

Less than two weeks to the Eurovision Song Contest, though, and I'm still not excited. Maybe I need to remove a few more cobwebs..

Shiny Special One

Happy birthday, dear Darth Ken. The Buffy to my Xander. The Rosenkrantz to my Guildenstern.  The Han Solo to my Chewbacca. The Kirk to my Scotty. My most frequent blog commentator.

(Somewhere in my vault, I have a photo of Darth Ken wearing crushed velvet and a Plaster of Paris grotesque half-mask . In the same photo I am wearing black sparkly lipstick, a bodice constructed out of a pair of leggings and a velvet skirt. Man, the mid-90s were really scary. That photo will never see the light of day).

Sunshine on Leith

Certain times of the year are always more fun than others. I'm entering a really, really busy and really, really fun part of the working year for me - which may mean I won't be able to blog as much as I usually do. Having said that, it might also result in more blogging because I have many things buzzing about my head. Hmm. On a related note, a big thank you to supreme Swedish knitting e-zine and website, Stickamere, which is doing a KAL for my free fingerless gloves pattern, The Vicar's Fields. I'm looking forward to seeing what you all do with my pattern!

Today I went to Edinburgh. It was an exceptionally beautiful day (Scotland is always exceedingly pretty in April. April and October) and I was lucky to lunch in a place with a most extraordinary view over Leith and the Firth of Forth. It all made for a good day away from Glasgow and I felt rejuvenated by good company, fine conversation, and post-work Danish pastries with Katherine.

I also slipped in a post-work browse of the McAree Brothers' knitting shop close to The National Portrait Gallery. I had never been to McAree before but I actually left feeling very, very impressed by the shop. It does not have a big buzz about it - possibly because it does not stock fancy handdyed yarns or cool designers or does that elusive Ravelry vibe, but it does exactly what I want a LYS to do: it does depth. It has baskets upon baskets of seemingly random yarns, it is stocked to the rafters with workhorse yarns, and it has put an enormous amount of time and effort into its displays. It's not the sort of place which only does five balls of something when you really want three sweaters' worth. Even better, it has a wealth of long discontinued yarns hidden away in its Aladdin cave, so if you are the type of knitter who is always two balls short you just need to call the lovely McAree staff. And I have not even mentioned the great assortment of books or the knitting notions or the charming staff..

.. I actually left empty-handed (mostly because I'm drowning in yarn already) but anyone visiting Edinburgh should pop into this little LYS that can because it so clearly does care.You might not get unicorn yarn handdyed by elves in McAree, but you won't lack for everyday yarn and sometimes everyday yarn is exactly what the doctor ordered.

Finally, I overheard this on Edinburgh's High Street (walking towards my Danish pastries): "In Melbourne you really do get four seasons in one day." Certain readers will know why that comment put a smile on my face..

.. and here's a song about sunshine on Leith (youtube link). I think I have gone native, dear readers, because this song is as Scottish as it gets and I love it in a terribly, terribly sentimental way.

Word Tree

Choppy seas recently. I'm not going into the details, but choppy seas. And so I'm making a Word Tree. A Word Tree is a very basic idea. You cut out small leaves from brightly coloured paper, you write down positive words about yourself (or get others to name your positive traits if you cannot think of any), and you tie those leaves to a branch you put in a vase on your coffee table/window sill.

I know the younger version of me would have called that idea all sorts of names, but these days I am a bit gentler, less derisive and less prone to name-calling. Although don't ask me to Feel the Fear or say icky positive affirmations into the mirror. I have standards.

A few assorted links:

• I absolutely love these photos from a quilt exhibition. How inspirational.
• I have discovered the entire In Our Time radio archive which has actually made the choppy seas much less choppy. Bonus joy: Lawrence Rainey appeared in the IOT podcast on TS Eliot. I shrieked with ill-contained glee. Fangirl. Related: The Scottish Network of Modernist Studies meets just down the road. Maybe one day..
• When craft & print culture collide: hand-sewn Penguin book jackets.
• The curtain at the Oslo Opera House is really quite special.
• I'll be in Edinburgh for work this week and I'll be heading here for post-work snacks. I cannot wait.

Home Is Where The Baked Beans Tins Are Stacked

"It's a really nice day outside, you know," said my partner when he called. I know and I'm heading outside with my working-from-home bits in just a second, but first I wanted to share a video I came across the other day. Felice Cohen lives in a 90 sq-foot/8 sq-metre apartment in Manhattan, New York. This is her choice and I respect her for the decision. However, it brought me back to the eight years I spent living in a 16 square-metre/170 square-foot pad in Copenhagen.

I moved into my place when I was 19 and just started university. The first few years I loved my haven: I shared a huge kitchen with other students and we had a great time getting used to living away from home. Then the building was refurbished; my little pad suddenly had a kitchenette where I once had storage; and student life got mixed up with people who lived there because they had split up with their partner or because the authorities thought it a good place for "vulnerable adults" to mix with "normal people". Things got very claustrophobic. These were the times when I bought an obscene amount of interior design magazines just to fly away on escapist dreams.

Copenhagen is a very expensive city - including real estate - so moving elsewhere was not an option for many years. One of my friends coined the phrase "3D Tetris" which was terribly apt. Finding room for your tin of baked beans became a competitive sport at times. I look at that video of Felice Cohen and I can see several ways she could use her space better. And I'm not a naturally organised person. The space has a high ceiling and I'd utilise that height a lot more.

Eventually I got my own flat with a separate kitchen (it felt like such a triumph), but it was a real Copenhagen apartment with no bathroom (the shower was in the bedroom I rented out), a tiny toilet (you'd bang your knees on the door when you sat down), and no laundry facilities.

At the time I thought I was happy there but it was a place where time fell into the cracks between the floor-boards and I was actually terribly unhappy there. I lived there for two or three years. I miss the view from the kitchen but that is all.

What home means is such a difficult thing to pinpoint but I know what it is like not having one (I lived in my suitcase for a year. I cannot recommend this). Home means privacy. I shut the front door and shut out the world. Home means space. I can stretch out my arms and not touch walls. Home means peace. I can relax and be quiet. And home means my partner. This is exceptionally sappy, of course, but it is very difficult to imagine a home without him curled up with a book.

Now I'm off to grab my iPod (loaded with Danish-languaged postcasts on culture, society and language), my work and I'm heading out into my Glasgow version of Ms Cohen's Central Park. Enjoy your day.

Shimmy On

What a lovely, productive weekend. The UK enjoyed two days of glorious sunshine, blue skies and summer-like temperatures. Ahhh... Of course, being as clueless as ever, I was wearing boots and black tights underneath my dress whilst everyone else was showing off their nicest summer outfits. In the evening I wore my Millbrook cardigan for the first time since last summer. I still love it so very, very much. Note to self: I need to solve my summer clothes situation, I need to knit more summery cardigans and I need more Rennie yarn - particularly as the company has sadly gone into administration. (This is not the time for a good rant about how UK knitters need to support the UK wool industry instead of importing US yarns in the name of supporting small, local producers. But, mark my words, there will be a rant at some point.)

Ah, but first a small aside about a beautiful Sunday.

We started off with our usual trip to Auntie M's Cake Lounge, then ran into a rather rowdy Alasdair Gray at The Hillhead Bookclub (which has nothing to do with books, incidentally, but has tonnes of atmosphere), got massively tempted by Miss Katie Cupcake's wares at HB's Granny Would Be Proud craft fair (still the best curated craft fair in Glasgow), caught up with our good friends at The Life Craft whilst taking in a new Colorimetry trunk show, happened upon some real vintage bargains in Ruthven Lane (the shop owner, Stephen, was delighted: "I was told nobody would ever buy that but here you are an hour later.."), and finally ended up alongside the River Kelvin where we found some wild garlic that was put to good use in our dinner.. Ahhh.

But the lack of summer clothes is an issue. Today I'm going to cut several sewing projects. Huzzah!

I could not resist the 1950s-esque print of this cotton/poly. The colours are not very summery, but they are good, versatile ones. I'm making the Simplicity/Lisette Passport dress, although with some trepidation as I usually need to do an FBA (full bust adjustment) on tops and I haven't a clue how to do one on this pattern. We shall see.

I am also going to cut the Crepe dress in some African cotton I scored on eBay and while I'm at it, I might as well cut a skirt in Amy Butler's Daisy Chain Blush (top fabric - not my usual colours but it was a remnant) which'll be perfect for work.

Also in the works: oh gosh, it is my ill-fated Kim Hargreaves cardigan finally blocking! I finished knitting this cardigan back in January, realised that I should have done an FBA on it (somehow), and left it lying in a bag behind the sofa. I'm blocking the bejeebus out of it and I hope the alpaca will also stretch beyond belief. If it doesn't work, I'll just wear the cardigan unbuttoned. It'd look nice over the Passport dress, wouldn't it?

And my Kaffe Goes Bollywood wrap is almost done. It has been a great relaxing knit - and one of those where you thought "oh, just one more row".

I'm still not convinced I chose the right colours - it is not quite as eye-searingly bright as I had hoped - but it is one of those projects where you don't have to be a colour genius like Kaffe Fassett to figure out a colourway. The colours will magically work together no matter which ones you choose.

Now, let me get the ironing board out, find my scissors and start getting down to work..