The Week That Was

Last weekend I took part in a crochet workshop taught by designer and author Carol Meldrum. Carol was running a class called "Love Wool? Love Crochet!" to celebrate Wool Week 2011 and to promote her new book, Love Crochet. I wasn't able to stay for the entire workshop, but I have been bitten by the crochet bug ever since. Following Carol's pattern (from an old Rowan magazine), I made a necklace from some mercerised cotton and a leather string. It was super-easy and very quick. I think it took me about an hour from the initial idea to the finished object. The leather string's a bit too skinny, but I'm still quite pleased with the result.

My partner snapped a photo of me wearing the necklace that very evening. I do apologise for lack of make-up/styling and the crap indoors lightning, but you can clearly see how smug I am about my lovely new accessory.

In other crafting news, I have purchased some black corduroy and I am very excited about making another skirt. I have a very, very specific idea for this skirt. I'll need to try my idea first, though, as it could be a complete disaster. I tried googling my idea but everything I find is twee crap. I am many things, but I am not twee.

This week I have been grabbling with Apple as someone in Canada has set up an account using my email address as her AppleID. Personally I would have thought that Apple have checked that her email was her own, but apparently not. I am currently on my fourth (rather terse) email to Customer Support. I am not impressed. Definitely not impressed.

This week Something Very Good happened. Denmark finally decided that they had had enough of xenophobic party Danish People's Party being the kingmaker in Danish politics. Cue Denmark's first female prime minister.  The DPP played a part in me deciding to leave Denmark and when I heard they were not longer the power behind the throne, I shed a small tear. I cannot begin to express my relief - although I think it will take a lot of time to undo their damage (Denmark has some of the strictest immigration laws in Europe and you encounter casual racism everywhere).

The Danish essayist Carsten Jensen wrote an excellent column (google translate + tweaked quickly by me). I do not agree with everything he wrote, but this passage really struck a nerve.

Something went terribly wrong in Denmark during the past decade. We did not just damage the foreigners who found themselves among us, whether they were refugees or immigrants and their descendants. We did not just damage the countries whose domestic problems became ours thanks to reckless wars.We also did moral damage to ourselves, and the marginal, ambiguous election victory of the Left shows a lack of willingness to confront ourselves - something which we must inevitably must do, if we are to forge ahead and not only think about growth, but also morality and humanity. We have toyed with callousness too long, and this has left an unhealthy cynicism within us.

Here is to better times.

Words to the Wise

Do something different, yet authentic. Confound expectations - including your own.

Strive, seek, and do not yield (and thank years of poetry reading for always putting words in your head and disguising them as your own truth). 

Wear black for a day.

Sing to yourself as you are walking up the path.

Count the gulls circling over the rooftops.

Think hard.

Embrace becoming, not being.

It is a journey, after all.

And be thankful for thankfulness never goes out of fashion.

Balance

Many of my regular blog reads are participating in Self-Stitched September. I  did think about it, honestly. I love how people show off their handmade goods looking incredibly stylish and proud in the process. Maybe I will do it next year when I have more self-sewn items in my wardrobe and a few more essential knits under my belt. I really need a black cardigan in my wardrobe, for instance. Every winter I wear a £10 cardigan from H&M I bought eleven(!) years ago. It is black with a high ribbed neck, trinity-stitch fronts and big buttons. It should have been retired several years ago, but I'm still holding on to it because I have been unable to find a suitable replacement in the shops. I should just buckle down and knit its replacement.

Right now I am putting the final touches to my green corduroy skirt. I just need to insert the zip, put in the lining and hem it. A couple hours, max? I do not know why I am dragging my feet so. Maybe it is because my next project will be a pair of utilitarian grey trousers for work. Do you sense a recurrent theme?

I think my state of mind is all about trying to delay the inevitable and trying to dodge doing the sensible thing. I'd much rather do the fun, creative, colourful projects than the things that'll see me through another chilly autumn day. I'm sure I am not the only one.

A few links: + Modern personal styles - more thoughts on building a wardrobe and defining what works for you. + A short'n'sweet tutorial for 15th century braiding + Bowie's Space Oddity is turned into a children's book. + Goodreads is really having an impact on my reading habits.

Of Petals and Parcelforce

I spent the evening sewing again. I'm making a much needed lined corduroy skirt and I had this idea in my head. I am using remnants of Liberty fabric swatches for the embellishment. Let's see how my idea looks when the skirt is properly assembled, though. The pattern is from a Danish sewing magazine my mum sent me earlier this year. I love receiving parcels from my family. Tiny presents and unexpected treats. My partner gets his beloved Danish marzipan, I get craft magazines and licorice. Win-win .. except when Parcelforce messes up and they do mess up quite frequently.

Add another Parcelforce failure to my bunch of stories - this time my story guest-stars my gran who sent me a lovely surprise parcel in July. Of course the parcel just happened to be picked up by a driver who 'forgets' about collection cards and just dumps parcels in the local post office rather than try to deliver them. And of course the post office gets tired of undelivered parcels taking up space and returns them to the Parcelforce depot where they disappear.

I have never lied this much to Gran over so short a timespan. Of course I knew where the parcel was! Unfortunately the post office was closed just as I made it there. Oh, I am just waiting for the delivery man to confirm when he's going to pop by.. If you have ever had a gran whose worried silence speaks volumes, you will know how I have felt these past two days.

Thankfully, Parcelforce does have nice people working for them. Steve found my parcel tonight after trawling the depot. And he is going to make sure that the parcel is being delivered tomorrow.

It better be. I cannot deal with Day Three of Gran being worried.

In other news, I was rather underwhelmed by BBC4's Elegance & Decadence: The Age of Regency. The subject matter is so interesting - the early parts of the 19th century were filled with radical ideas, grand geopolitical events, and amazing cultural upheaval - but despite an enthusiastic presenter, the while thing got mired down in cumbersome details about marble tables and gilded tableware. At least Beau Brummell was briefly mentioned (to my great geeky delight) but why he was to be singled out among the rarified set was never really fully explained beyond a brief dressing-up session. I shall keep watching but my hopes are slightly dampened.

Off to read some Russian literature. As you do.

I Didn't Know That You Cared

Casa Bookish was hit by runny noses and sore throats this week. The affliction resulted in two things: a lot of books being read and some impromptu dress-making. The dress in question is still a work in progress. It's based upon Simplicity 2925, view A but I cannot be trusted to do anything by the book - not even sewing. I did away with some ruffles, altered the yoke/neckline and I'm adding buttons where there are no buttons. Rebel.

The fabric is a very light polycotton from Mandors. I fell in love with the subtle geometric print and the black/dark green/cream colours. It won't keep me warm, but it will be a great layering piece (once I finish it - the basic construction is done, but the small bits are not).

I have become aware that I'm increasingly dressing like an art teacher. A very Danish art teacher with restrained colour schemes and attention to details - but an art teacher nonetheless. Making more of my own clothes will not - will not - curb that tendency.

Meanwhile, as some of you may know, The Huffington Post published a blog post about knitting and baking betraying the feminist movement. The post itself read like someone had taken a Feminism 101 class and just scraping home a pass (because the teacher was in a good mood having devoured a home-baked cup cake). The responses to the post were far more interesting. This one is one of my favourites so far: succinct, humorous, and blunt. Any recommendations for more smart, funny, self-aware responses?

On the agenda: getting better, saving Other Half from the plague, choosing non-functioning buttons for the dress, cooking dinner (soup?) and reading my book. It's a hard life.

Desert Island Discs: Day 1

I enjoy listening to Desert Island Discs on my iPod as I make my way to work. The people you think will be interesting rarely are; the people I don't know or feel indifferent towards end up my favourites. Lady Caroline Cranbrook's episode was an absolute joy, for instance. And so for my own pleasure (and indulgence), I decided to make my own Desert Island Disc iPod playlist. I added far more than eight records to my playlist, of course, but for your listening pleasure I shall stick to eight records (one per entry) and even add a few words.

I grew up in a very large family filled with people obsessed with (mostly American) pop culture circa 1940-1965. This recent Guardian article on so-called superfans rattled me because I had no idea that this sort of behaviour was in any way unusual. I grew up surrounded by pop culture memorabilia: big murals of Sinatra et al on the walls, concert tickets carefully curated, mountains of carefully sourced vinyls, autographs, signed photos, VHS tapes of 1940s musicals, and handwritten databases detailing when this or that song was recorded. What do you mean your childhood wasn't like that?

Over dinner my uncles would toss out the first names of stars, as though they knew them personally: Frank, Dean, Bing .. Occasionally they did know the people they gossiped about. My dotty aunt T. briefly dated Gustav. My other dotty aunt A. semi-stalked Otto for four decades. Looking back, I can see that this approved pop culture was predominantly white pop culture. It was also two or three decades out of sync with contemporary pop culture.

My gran has always loved Fats Domino. I remember her playing Blueberry Hill, Ain't That A Shame and I Hear You Knocking whenever my uncles weren't around ("Fats is okay, but he's no Frank, if you know what I mean" - oh, I can hear them). And for me Fats Domino is about happiness, about feeling loved and about a tiny glimpse of freedom: there is a world beyond my large, chaotic family and so many things to discover.

I am the product of my family, of course. I had a phase of obsessively hoarding bootlegs, travelling to foreign countries for concerts, subscribing to mailing lists and knowing the name of certain musicians' dogs - but unlike my uncles it did not turn into a lifestyle. To this day, I have a thing for 1940s MGM musicals and I'm still on a first-name basis with Frank - but it is Fats Domino that I keep coming back to.