I could listen to him all day (and frequently do if nobody else is around). Just listen to that phrasing..
(I was raised on a diet of Sinatra and ABBA - and Other Half maintains this fact explains my psyche perfectly. I have no idea what he means by that. Any takers?)
After spending the afternoon drawing, laughing and singing at Dr Sketchy's (brief nudity, beware), it was a bit of a downer heading back onto Glasgow's streets to find that Rangers winning the football league equalled people heckling other people and a lot of drunken aggression. Sectarianism is such an ugly thing and never fails to scare me just a little bit. It's been a week of settling back into Glasgow, then. I have been a bit quiet - much preferring my book and my knitting projects to social interaction. Saturday we did go out to West Kilbride - which markets itself as Craft Town Scotland - to visit the Old Maiden Aunt Yarns workshop. Following my recent yarn adventures, I decided against buying any yarn but I did commission Lorna of Chookiebirdie to make me a customised handstitched needle case. Weakness, thy name is Karie Bookish.
Finally, our good friend Gabi Reith has been involved in a big, big art project on the East Coast. She has taken a derelict building, covered it in fabric and decorated it with a giant sketch. It's very cool. See for yourself, if you don't believe me.
As I am finally getting to the last Ishbel chart, let me round up some of my yarn purchases. First, though, a few comments on knitting Ishbel.
It seems every time people are touting a pattern as "really easy" and "you'll knit this up in a few days", I struggle with said pattern. Ishbel was no exception and I cannot for the life of me understand why as I'm used to knitting lace.
My first yarn choice was a brown merino and I was constantly two stitches short or had three stitches too many. I frogged this attempt and began over again using a 2-ply lambswool in beautiful teal. I took the project with me on holiday and disaster struck: during the first Eurovision semi-finale I dropped a stitch and it took me five days to unknit back to the point where I could start again. So, nearly two weeks from when I began this "weekend project" I can finally see the end of this little shawlette. I have no idea why it has taken me so long.
Yarn purchases then.
I must admit that I have a real weakness for laceweight and light fingering yarns and while my laceweight/fingering stash is already bursting at its seams, I indulged myself. I really indulged myself. I bought three different colours of SuperSoft, a light fingering lambswool with a tweedy look (pictured). I also bought some 1-ply Icelandic lace (black) and some discontinued 1-ply kidmohair/merino (red and teal). The kit for the Topstykke tunic also found its way into my suitcase (and, yes, it's knitted in 2-ply lambswool). Finally, 2 modest balls of my beloved Drops Alpaca in an amazing orange-yellow-red fell into my basket. I predict plenty of shawls in my future.
On the heavier side of things, I got hold of enough Létt-Lopi to make myself a cosy sweater, I bought a skein of "homegrown" Gotland wool from a sheep farm I visited and I could not resist some balls of Drops Silke-Tweed in that shade of green-yellow which I love so much. Uhm, then maybe I also bought two skeins of BC Lucca (one grey, one pink tweed) because I already have four skeins and I didn't know if it were enough for a pullover. And maybe also some yellow Fritidsgarn and some Kauni. And some KnitPro needles and some patterns and stuff.
Uhm.
I'll probably not buy more yarn this decade. Really. Honestly. Honestly, honestly.
So .. anyone for a lace shawl?
From left to right, going clockwise: Copenhagen pedestrian street (Fiolstræde) with secondhand booksellers, quirky fashion and a Japanese supermarket; typical Danish pedestrian street in Holbæk with parked bikes (and bike helmets); Copenhagen City Hall tower; Mjølnir (Thor's Hammer) seen at an exhibition on amulets at the National Museum; cloudy skies over a field in north-west Zealand (note the characteristic gentle slopes); early Viking Age/Late Iron Age drinking vessel seen at the National Museum; some of the yarn I bought; and some sheep at the sheep farm just south of where I grew up.
Not pictured: the nineteen people I saw during my visit, the copious amount of delicious (and mostly organic) food I had, and the six yarn shops I visited.
As I wrote in my previous entry, visiting Denmark feels bitter-sweet. I feel so connected to Danish history - how could I not when I grew up in an area which has been populated since Pre-Historic times and where you interact with History everytime you go for a walk - and I love speaking Danish with its quirky pronounciation and lightly-nuanced intonation. I love Denmark and the Danish landscape. You are never far from the sea, the rolling hills have such gentle slopes and the woods are friendly and inviting. Denmark in spring is a beauty to behold.
It's just a shame that Denmark is populated by the Danes. This is when my problems with my nationality set in. Denmark is a tiny, tiny country with a huge ego. The average Dane truly believes he lives in the best country in the entire world and that right way to do things is the Danish way. He travels abroad and marvels at the idiotic way that other nationalities do things. He returns to Denmark, smug in the knowledge that all other nationalities envy him his Danishness. Paranoia sets in: because Denmark is the envy of all other nations on earth, Denmark must be protected from intruders. This has led to xenophobia, protectionism and a deep distrust of anything which is not readily identifiable as being Proper Danish Behaviour (such as preferring non-Danish cultural products, dressing unlike the masses, questioning rampant xenophobia or even criticising Denmark just like I'm doing here). I've always struggled to be a proper Dane and that was part of why I moved to Britain, I suppose.
So this visit was bitter-sweet. I looked with horror at how a key Danish MEP called for the exclusion of Romania and Bulgaria from the EU on the basis of them being unhealthy and "less than clever". On the other hand, I really enjoyed the new Pre-Historic exhibition at the National Museum and I have found the bestest and nicest LYS in all of Denmark. And it was so damn good to see my family and all of my fantastic friends.
Being back in my native Denmark feels bitter-sweet. On one hand, I'm loving speaking Danish. It's really, really good seeing my loved ones. I am enjoying simple pleasures taking a walk around the beautiful countryside with its gentle rolling hills and soft green hues. The food is super-fresh and tasty. The streets are clean and public transport is a joy.
On the other hand, Denmark is populated by Danes. I need to write about my nationality and why I continue to have huge problems embracing my being a Dane - but I have limited computer time at the moment, so watch this space post-holiday. I have also received some upsetting news from Scotland, so I'm feeling a bit strange.
Long live retail therapy, then, and particularly the yarn shops. Today I went to a local sheep farm where I bought both some of their own "homegrown" wool as well as some beautiful 1-ply mohair/silk in stunning colours. Yesterday I went to a more traditional yarn shop and spent almost two hours looking through their inventory. I escaped with a sought-after pattern book and enough wool for a pullover. I also found a 1940s knitting book in a second-hand shop and it is proving a most educational/entertaining read.
Tomorrow looks to be another day of sunshine, excellent food and maybe a yarn shop or two..
