Hello, have you all survived the storms, if you’re in the UK and Ireland? It’s been WILD the last few days. Last night with over 50 mph wine it sounded like a high-speed train was rushing past the front of the house.
To my surprise, this morning, my few little plastic pots of chilli peppers and parsley in the garden are still standing! Today it’s a total contrast, sunny and bright with a bit of breeze. Lovely and far milder this week at 10°.
It’s hard not to begin January blog posts without a weather report, but amusingly I’m not the only one.
I really appreciative the sun so I could take a clear picture of my Ana Lucia shawl this week. It was the total opposite last Wednesday.
I was tempted to work on something else at the weekend for variety, but actually I want the prospect of a finished item. So I’m going to go on with this until I a) finish it or b) run out of yarn. B is a distinct possibility, or even certainty. If I speed up my crocheting and play yarn chicken, I’m pretty sure I cannot do all the repeats. I may be able to get some of this discontinued yarn on eBay. I’ll first message my local yarn shop, where I impulse bought this ball, just in case they’ve got some tucked away.
I remember when I went to browse and treat myself to something new, I was aiming to change my palette a bit, go for something neutral. Ha!
I saw that this was included on Audible’s Plus Catalogue so gave it a whirl, but preferred to read it at my own speed rather than the author’s. I ended up buying it on Amazon. It’s the diary of Ben who needed somewhere else to live in autumn 2020. Winnie had advertised for someone to live with her and lend a helping hand, be a presence in the substantial house. Family moving in with her had not worked out at all…
Winnie is 85, has lived in the house in Wimbledon, in south west London, for decades. Ben is 35, it has to be said is rather under her thumb, within a very short space of time. He wisely chooses the path of least resistance on most things. The peppercorn rent must have helped too.
Winne is extremely idiosyncratic, as we all are in the comfort and familiarity of our home, but additionally she is up and down emotionally as she is grieving the loss of her husband of 60 years, who died only 10 months before. On top of that the second National Lockdown comes only 10 days after Ben moves in. (Incidentally, we moved days before the first lockdown. It took ages to get to know neighbours, unless waving while trying to clap and banging saucepans counts. Doesn’t all that seem strange when we think about it now? Daily walks and socially distanced chats with strangers in the fields were highly valued.) Anyway, back to Ben and Winnie. So, life is not at all he imagines or is used to, in a nutshell he ends up spending most of his time with an octogenarian.
There’s a lot of humour in the diary. I recognise Winnie and like her immensely. She reminds me of family and people I’ve known. She recounts stories to Ben of places I know very well. I’ve slowed my reading right down. I know that I do this when really enjoying a book I don’t want to end. I did the same with Nina Stibbe’s most recent diary.
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Joining in with Kat and the gang for Unravelled Wednesday to also share what I’m making and reading. Why don’t you too? Or at least have a look at the links. There were some cracking blog posts last Wednesday.
It’s been pointed out to me with a burst of laughter that we had 50mph wine last night. I’m keeping it! Must be iPhone dictation’s sense of humour.
You know when someone’s been away from blogging for ages and they say they really don’t know what to write, but then just start and it’s okay in the end? I feel a bit like that today, although it’s only been a few weeks. I’m starting with this opening, random photos and seeing where it goes.
I know this is a horrendous picture of my hand but for me it sums up the black humour you can find in situations. There is a triage part of the ward and so at the end is a waiting room for about 10 people. There are clearly very unwell people waiting to be seen; they all had dark circles around their eyes, faces so pale it looked like stage make-up and nobody ever picked up a magazine. Some were there for hours and hours and I really felt for them. It’s not somewhere people chat. I think they’re just focusing on getting through so they can see a doctor. Then they get antibiotics to take home, or are admitted to the hospital.
I can’t leave without telling you what I’m reading. I’m listening to this audiobook and really enjoying it. Read by Juliet Stevenson it’s such a good story, the only downside is her voice is so soothing I can’t listen to it lying down; because I’m asleep in 10 minutes.
This week I added to my garter stitch blanket. I like the look of the navy with the lavender a lot. As I did another 6 rows (250 stitches each) I reflected on how much I’m enjoying knitting. It’s as meditative as crochet when easy, good to have two hands in motion, I like the feel and look of the fabric. 
I’ve also added a few more colour blocks to my patchwork blanket. Also satisfying once I get into a rhythm, but a bit boring to contemplate doing masses of linen stitch which is why this has been very slow in the making. I much prefer the swoop and flow of trebles to doubles.
A host of golden daffodils. They’re probably all dried and crinkly now. I’m glad I saw them looking so lush.
So in the last week and a half I’ve knitted; ‘that’ sock, the garter stitch blanket and finished my lace cowl using chunky needles, crocheted and done the other craft which requires very fine motor skills. And my point? My hands hurt. My arms hurt. My elbows are stiff. The side of my hands are tingling. (I should probably not be typing this, but dictating.) That is a big warning sign isn’t it? I think I might have done too much knitting with the chunky 5mm needles, the lace pattern required lots of different manipulative movements and then there were hours of sock knitting. I’ve been disciplined at only doing one set of repeats max with the cowl, but got carried away one day with the sock. I unravelled and reknitted for far too long. In all these years of crocheting I’ve never experienced this, I’m in a sulk with knitting. Stupid chunky needles, stupid tiny circulars, stupid lace, stupid sock. I think this means a total ban on craft for a month. I’ve put a note that I can try again on 19th May….unless they feel magically better sooner. Sniff.
The Little Room of Rachell 
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