Saturday 22 February 2020

oh what a day

It has been one of those only-so-often lovely-from-start-to-finish days - the ones, that when you have them when you're younger, completely distort how you think adulthood will be. That was great, you think when you have a day like this when you're 15. This growing up thing is brilliant.
Years pass.
*tumbleweed*
Gradual slumping into inner existentialism commences.

But not today.

This weekend is the Faversham Literary Festival ( https://www.favershamliteraryfestival.org/ ), which is in its 3rd year. I set a £20 budget, and when Neal decided he didn't fancy anything, I went to town. I only had today, as tomorrow we're flying up to the Highlands for a highly-anticipated visit to Neal's cousin, north of Inverness. I saw 5 talks today, all of which, if not all entirely brilliant, had interesting parts and were well worth the attendance.

It was a day of relaxed connecting - full of ideas, seeing old friends, bumping into loads of Faversham friends, and beautifully ending with an impromptu dinner feast with Helen and James.

And tomorrow - Scotland - and maybe even SNOW!!!!


Monday 10 February 2020

some things take time


I finally started knitting my Cowichan-inspired jumper. It has been a rather long gestation period. I've had the wool for nearly 4 years. I finished charting the design 18 months ago. I knitted swatches  last year. Today I started knitting, and it feels good. Even when Neal said, off-hand, "I thought you were going to use black."  "I am using black," I retorted. Neal, ever cautious, replied slowly "....it looks quite a lot like navy blue - maybe it's the light?"

It was not the light. I've had this wool for 4 years. I have gazed at it, fondled it, even weighed and measured it, and not once did I notice that I had two cakes of black and one of navy. This is a problem on several counts. For one thing, how on earth did I not see that? I even have new glasses. For another thing, my first impulse was a very strong rejection of the very idea I could be wrong. Even as I simultaneously stared at a suddenly undeniably navy blue skein of wool. 

What do you want to be? A colour blind, intransigent knitter, said no one ever. Worrying.