It's Almost That Time Of Year

Denmark is the oldest kingdom in Europe with a rich history of conquest, trade and culture. Regrettably, being lower even than the Netherlands, Denmark will be the first to disappear as the waters rise. The 5.5 million people of Denmark speak a language they themselves do not understand, with a numbering system that contradicts all laws of Math. Its consonant-free nature did not stop Denmark from winning the Eurovision in 1963; they won again (in English) in 2000.

Facts Capital: Copenhagen Economy: Dairy products, beer, cookies, exploiting Greenland's natural resources and labour force, wind turbines Famous landmarks: The Little Mermaid, Tivoli, Legoland, Birthe Kjær

I have found the essential guide to this year's Eurovision. The darlings at ESCnation has compiled a guide to every single competing nation (and Georgia). It is hysterically funny (and some bits are not safe for work - such as the description of Poland) even if you do not care a tuppence about Eurovision.

Speaking of which, I sat through a live-stream of the Swedish national final and sadly the best performance was a strange, beautiful version of last year's winner. I really didn't get the winning song, Malena's La Voix and, apart from a late 1990s-esque boyband and the ever discotastic Alcazar, didn't tap my feet at any stage. Hmph. Sweden, you disappoint me.

(And in case you are dying to know, Norway is emerging as the big favourite to win.)

On Families and Books

Many years ago I read A.S. Byatt's The Game - a novel about two sisters and the rivalry between them. The book asked questions about the rights of a writer to blur the line between fact and fiction: when could you use your family in your book and when did you have to start inventing? I don't know if Julie Myerson has read A.S. Byatt, but I think she should rush out to buy The Game. Myerson is a British journalist, TV personality and novelist whose latest literary feat, The Lost Child, has been causing headlines this week.

Her book is about her son's addiction to cannabis and how this led to violent behaviour within the family. Myerson's son is angry at his mother for publishing a book about him against his wishes: "She's a writer and like a lot of writers she is wrapped up in her own world - even if the worlds they are creating aren't quite true, they become true to them anyway". Furthermore, it turns out that Julie Myerson has been writing anonymous (and intimate) columns about her children in the Guardian for years - without telling her children.

The Times has dubbed it "the chattering classes version of Heat Magazine". The Guardian is not sure Julie Myerson should have published the book. BBC's Jeremy Paxman interview with Myerson is perhaps the most damning: "You seriously thought you could publish a book detailing your son's drug use, and his identity wouldn't get out?" "Well...I may have been a bit naive about that..." Ouch.

Still, Julie Myerson has not written the worst book ever to come out of her household (maybe just the most thoughtless and self-indulgent) as her partner Jonathan Myerson wrote Noise which is one of the three worst books I have ever read in my entire life (and I have read Judith Krantz' Scruples; I liked Krantz better).

Speaking of books, I'm halfway through Anne Donovan's Being Emily. So far it is disappointing me somewhat.

Girlfriend in a Coma

Kraków is not a great place to shop if you are into your crafts. I managed to track down a couple of pasmanteria (I have no idea how to pluralise the word - it means "haberdashery") on Ul. Karmelicka, but the best one I found was on the corner of Ul. Królewska and Aleja Juliusza Słowackiego. I had to pass through a room of children's clothes and another filled with children's shoes before hitting the tiny pasmanteria. I bought a few buttons using a lot of sign language, pointing at my cardigan's buttons and speaking a hybrid between Russian, German and the few Polish words I knew. I wish I had known that the Polish word for "buttons" is guziki.

Dave has uploaded a few Kraków photos, by the way.

I'm now on my third day of resting after our little Polish adventure. I do not mention my health very often, but I wasn't amused that I had to take painkillers yesterday just to get out of bed. I think today will be yet another slow day, but hopefully that means I will be back to normal tomorrow. Sometimes I really do regard my body as my enemy.

And thank you so, so much for the extraordinary response to my Heritage shawl.

FO: Heritage Shawl

This is one of those sneaky knitting projects that I have been working on but not really mentioning. My heritage shawl.

My paternal grandmother is from the Faroe Islands. I am using Faroese wool. I now live in Britain. The wool has a touch of Britain’s Falkland Islands wool mixed in with the North Atlantic wool. Most of all, I am Scandinavian. The pattern by Sivia Harding is called Norwegian Woods which I cheekily, sneakily interpret as "Scandinavian Woods". I suppose I could have gone for a traditional Faroese shawl, but I had my reasons for choosing this pattern.

The wool is really strange. Snældan 1-ply is over-spun, uneven and its colour runs the gamut from very light grey to very dark grey. It is very sticky, yet easy to work with. It is rustic, yet soft. It’s absolutely fascinating. It blocks out very well too. My only criticism is that it is a teeny bit fuzzy which detracts a bit from the lace. You don’t get a crisp lace shawl with this wool. Instead you get a warm, hard-wearing shawl.

It is an easy lace shawl, comparatively speaking (although I would not recommend it as your first lace shawl) and I have not had any issues with it at all. I will be knitting it again. I also really enjoyed the story the pattern tells - the first third represents “bare branches” followed by “first buds” and then, finally, “leaves”. Knitting this shawl felts like I was knitting the end of winter and beginning of spring. It’s a powerful feeling for a Scandinavian lass like me, I tell you, and one of the reasons why I chose this pattern.

And now I have nothing on my needles! Oh no!

Ghosts

The Jewish Quarter, Kraków, Poland, March 2009

Letter from Krakow

Dear everybody, I am typing this entry in the lobby of our Art Deco hotel in my bare feet. It has been raining all day and, just as I moved to Scotland without an umbrella and still do not own a pair of wellies, I cheerfully wore my comfy (not rainproof) sneakers to rainy Krakow. I also only packed three pairs of socks. I have already changed twice today, so I'm not quite sure how tomorrow is going to work out. I hope it will be drier.

Also? I had been singing New Lanark Aran wool's praises in recent weeks and refuted any claims of its dye bleeding. I currently have a red-striped forehead where my newly-knitted New Lanark beanie in red has been resting. What do you mean I should've washed and blocked it before leaving? You sound as though I'm a patient sort of person!

Krakow, then. To me, it feels like a Copenhagen which has been through hardship and war (which Krakow has, of course). The same architectural feel, but very run-down in most places. A beautiful, proud but tired place. We visited the old Jewish Quarter today which affected me on a personal level (a long-lost branch of my family tree is Jewish) - particularly as somebody has drawn white ghostly figures on abandoned houses. I felt decidedly twitchy and we left for more carefree ventures. Tomorrow we intend on tracking down some Art Noveau stained glass, eat more pierogi (yum!) and just maybe take in a church or two before heading home to Glasgow and dry socks.

And I've bought the first Christmas present of the year. Score!