Flying objects

There was a moment this evening when the seconds stood still. I'd put away some very slow-going, very important knitting that I've been doing for several months, folding it carefully into a neat pile while I had my supper.

Since I am in decadent holiday-week mode, supper was a piece of (rather crispy) pizza balanced on a plate on my lap on the sofa. Just as I tried to cut into the crust the whole thing skidded off the plate and flew across the room ... straight into the tall paper carrier bag where I'd put the knitting.

It was a few moments before I could bear to look inside.

The relief: it had landed face up and the knitting was safe. Phew.

Prize time...

I saw my first conker of the year on the ground this week. Autumn is setting in again, with a wonderful deep heat and low light. This signals that I have passed one year of having a blog. That must mean I have a bloggiversary. Does that mean I am a 'real' blogger? Who knows...

I feel that now that I might be edging towards being a person-with-a(n occasional)-blog it is time for a competition. Yesterday I went to see Julie & Julia. It had mixed reviews but I don't really care about them as it provided escapism, diversion and self-indulgence, and lots of pictures of food. It also included some knitting.


So, the competition:

Where is the knitting in Julie & Julia?

All correct answers will receive a prize.

Email me or leave a comment here. Not all prizes will be knitting related, just in case there are non-knitting people out there.

Swirls

It's quite lucky that I do not live near Windsor Button in Boston. Their collection of silk organza ribbons takes up an enormous rack. Such beautiful colours. Such temptation.

Buttons from Boston

There are very few advantages to finding myself in A&E and then in bed ill for a fortnight when I was instead supposed to be on a fortnight's holiday from work. One good thing was the opportunity to play with treasures found during my New England visit. Buttons galore.

Confessing

There comes a moment in conversations when I 'confess' to my big secret.

In the last few days I have found myself revealing to two separate people that I knit.


Conversation 1:

Man 1: 'You knit?....' [man physically recoils in his seat, and scrunches up his face]...'Do you have cats?'

Me: 'No... why?'

Man 1: 'Well, it goes with the image, doesn't it?'
[if it's possible for anyone to recoil right out of the room, at this point he would have done.]


Conversation 2:

Man 2: 'That ball of wool... do you knit, or is it a plaything for a mischievous cat?'

Me: 'It's mine... I like knitting.'

Man 2: 'Really? ... Mm. I can imagine you reclining on a chaise longue, with wool running through your toes...'


Now that's more like it.

All the fun of the Fair

A couple of weekends ago, unfortunately on a rather grey day, one of my favourite annual events took place: Barnes Fair. The village green is filled with hundreds of stalls and displays from local craftspeople, charities, schools, artists, businesses and restaurants. It's possible to find anything from fairy cakes made by the Brownies to beautifully glazed pottery, hand-crafted sweaters, bric-a-brac galore and pots of herbs.

The trick is to cast aside lengthy deliberations and guilt at treating oneself: the things seen there tend not to be seen again so are worth grabbing immediately. I once found an early Heal's oak table and four matching chairs just as I was about to move into a new home with no furniture. However, I am still kicking myself for not buying a 1950 three-tiered red cake stand with white polka dots I saw one year. I know, I know, it's a strange thing to hanker after but afternoon tea with treats on a cake stand... one of the best things ever.




There are certain traditions to be upheld, such as watching the procession of decorated school children pass by on floats and assorted animals (always a diversion in the middle of a city) and eating Thai noodles. This year I was particularly taken with the intricately carved vegetables next to the Thai noodle stall. I suddenly wanted to take a class in how to transform a turnip into translucent white lace. There may be a class, the woman told me, but not quite yet. I will be first in the queue. It looks like a very peaceful way to pass a few hours.



Thai vegetable carving. The lacey turnip is top centre, between the carrots and in front of the melons.

The sounds of the fair are always augmented by peculiarly actorly tannoy announcements which usually contain a gem or two. My favourite this year:

"For all those of you who are concerned about Ben, the shire horse that collapsed during the procession, don't worry - it seems there was a horse whisperer in the crowd. He whispered to Ben who was able to get up and is now fine."

Intriguing. Exactly how many random horse whisperers are there in London?

Coming soon... American Adventure

So, I went to America, to knit, to talk, to wander, to squidge wool, and to watch a whale. The full account is germinating, while pesky work deadlines pile up.

In the meantime, a glimpse of Squam Lake, and the view from my cabin.