Young and slim is beautiful

Saturday morning brought ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ from DGR in deepest darkest Devon so you can guess what I did next. Yes, large mug of tea in hand, and a refill a bit later, I sat down and read SKELLIG by David Almond, cover to cover. By the end my T-shirt was dripping wet and the box of tissues empty. I must be getting soft in my old age. I don’t think I want to read any other books by DA for fear of them not living up to this.

Oh I forgot to say, this is a children’s book, whateverthat means.


Let’s all play BlogTag

Now that I’ve confessed my addiction to the utterings of DGR I can happily trail along behind her blog entry for today. She talks about her son receiving a desperately needed autograph from Gary Lineker. My claim to fame is that I am in possession of a hand-written note from poet Laurie Lee.
One wet and windy westish country evening I turned out to the Bath School of Art to attend a poetry reading by Laurie Lee. I was so overcome with his down-to-earthness and the way he had turned a rather grim day into something special that I wrote and told him so, care of his publishers. Can you imagine my ecstasy when this hand-written IN REAL INK reply arrived on my doormat and survived the teeth of our border collie who was partial to paper?

Posted in poetry. 1 Comment »

If you can write you can write

I joined the “Woolf for Dummies” class over on writer Susan Hill’s blog. I bought the books: two biographies and The Voyage Out to start with but of course, as we all know, having the coloured pens and a nice new ruler doesn’t magically mean you can do Maths or Physics or whatever your worst nightmare is. Life is too short. Maybe I will go back to VW, in fact the postman dropped a second-hand copy of Moments of Being through my door yesterday and a cursory glance promises that this will be very readable. So I have been searching around for something to read when I do read, which these days is very little. It’s not that I don’t WANT to read, in fact I gaze admiringly at the “big girls” who plough through piles of books AND manage to write something interesting, instructional and pleasurable about them.

Top of the list of big girls is DoveGreyReader. Other people can’t start the day without a cup of coffee or a cigarette but there is no way I can get on that train to work or do what I should be doing at the weekend without my daily dose of DGR. How she manages it I don’t know although she has recently posted hints about her methodology, much of it involving the sensible use of her spouse’s talents and her own skill of knowing when NOT to interfer (see her comments about staying well clear of the kitchen when the three men in her life are doing manly breakfastly things).

Oh dear, typically me, I’ve wondered off the point. Where was I? Talking about what I am reading now, I think. I dipped into Kate Atkinson’s Behind the Scenes at the Museum. I haven’t actually abandoned it because I am enjoying the way it is written. It alternates between the autobiography of a girl from the moment of her conception, mentions trivial objects in the narrator’s life and then procedes to give the backstory of the object. I have a penchant for books that are mainly about women, especially those written in the first person and preferably with nothing TOO nasty in the woodpile. So far An Experiment in Love (see review by Margaret Atwood) is fitting the spec exactly with the added bonus of a touch of convent schools and nuns. Oh my goodness, I’d forgotten about nuns. There are quite a few of us who have a thing about them. What a wonderful blog subject. I feel like going off at a tangent but I must save that for tomorrow or whenever this dilatory blogger gets round to blogging again…

I’m feeling a little like Ronnie Corbett when he sits in his chair at the end of his show and rambles on then gets back to his original point by saying, “anyway, I said to my director…”
I started writing this blog entry because I am so enjoying An Experiment in Love that I thought I would have a look for a review to see what others thought. Up popped Margaret Atwood’s review and that’s what made me realise that… if you can write you can write!

Sunday Never Felt So Good!

Almost half a year since we first met, Dawn and I met up again to play with fibrous stuffs. This time it was at a felt workshop with Gillian Gladrag (alias Gillian Harris).

Her home is a wondrous Aladdin’s Cave of colourful arty stuff. No details here. I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise in case you decide to take part in one of her classes. No more than five in a group and lunch provided. Who needs afternoon tea at the Ritz? Who needs a weekend at a spa retreat? This is the stuff for stressed-out souls. Fluffy, soapy colour therapy.

Arranged around the soap dish and small pieces of merino fleece tops are the five items made by the five of us who eagerly lapped up Gillian’s expertise, enthusiasm and tea-making skills.

For those of you who know Dawn and me, can you guess which are our works of art?

The Middle Ages Are Over

Phew! Bed just after 3 am on Friday morning having finished the medieval costume. It was due to be worn last night (Saturday) at a medieval banquet so I hope it was fit for purpose. We had no internet connection here for almost 36 hours. I have no nails and I am bald. Well what else is there to do other than biting nails and pulling hair out when you are disconnected from the world? So, no connection and I couldn’t go out as the engineer was due to drop in “anytime”.

Ta da! I did some more weaving on my rigid heddle loom (pic to follow). Now, you know those instructional books that have diagrams/photos of what NOT to do. Well, that’s what my weaving looks like. Having said that I am still very pleased and know in my heart that I am unlikely to progress much. I am just too impatient but it does keep me out of mischief.

I have learnt several things from this project. It is very important what you choose for your warp. I should NEVER have used that slubby very fragile red yarn, especially not at the edges of the warp. No matter. My “thing” is all mine apart from some input from offspring Greg when I aked “what colour shall I weave next?”

%d bloggers like this: