Socks and mince pies

Have reached the heel of the second sock and stitches are now distributed amongst the 3 needles for the heel and the rest on a holder to await the dreaded turn of the heel but I cannot seem to get round to finishing. Instead I have been knitting mini Christmas stockings, a whale toy for a cat ( I can hardly believe that I did that) and making mince pies.
 I have not made mince pies for years. My godmother made extremely pale mince pies with the shortest pastry and the booziest mince meat. I remember my first taste of sloe gin went with her mince pies many years ago. My mother always made far too many mince pies and would never have considered a pack of bought ones. Looking at the back of the fridge I found a jar of mincemeat from last year which had been opened for a spoonful and then abandoned. Discarding this one I went out to buy a new jar with a mission in mind - I would make just a few. I decided to experiment with my pastry - adding an egg and a little sugar and to use my baking tray for mini morsels as well as the more conventional size. It then occurred to me to cater for the vegetarians so I made a small batch of my own mincemeat with the last of the garden bramleys with some dried fruits and spices. The results were a surprising success - quite crisp pastry - smaller lids and full of mincemeat. We have been nibbling away at them almost constantly.

Mini Christmas stockings above the fire, mince pies in the kitchen, Christmas tree in the hallway - beginning to feel like Christmas.

Organising bookshelves

Lovely comments on Twitter last night from Alexander McCall Smith about ways to arrange bookshelves at home followed by Radio 4 Today programme picking up the topic and a variety of tweets this morning.
I once worked for an organisation where, for some inexplicable reason, I found myself involved with a variety of things including 2 libraries. Both libraries belonged to the same organisation but followed different Dewey classification systems and each had their own way of cataloguing and, well, doing everything. I do like the fact that, in a library, you can look at the catalogue and then easily find the range of books that you are looking for in the same place. Having said that, I recently spent some time in a local history library where a very helpful member of staff kept bringing me books that she thought I might be interested in but which she knew were not with the others I had been looking at.
But at  home what is the best thing to do? I have friends who follow the alphabet for fiction and then group non-fction in alphabetical themes - cooking, cricket, rugby, travel...... I used to follow the system known as - "Mum knows where everything is" - and it worked very well. Have we got a copy of "To Kill a Mocking Bird"? Yes - it is on the second shelf down to the left of the sofa, near some Garrison Keillor. Do we have any Nick Hornby? Try the small front bedroom, bottom shelf. I always knew where to find my own favourite authors - Anne Tyler, Carol Shields, E Annie Proulx, Margaret Atwood.... - hardbacks on middle shelf of first bookshelf by the door in the sitting room, paperbacks top shelf, left hand side of low shelf in my bedroom. I could usually remember where to find most things but there was no system apart from the pile of unread paperbacks either on the top of the middle bookshelf in the sitting room or in the pile steadily rising between the first and second set of shelves in the front room - those were the "to read" books.
The situation reached a point where there could have been some resolution earlier in the year when I decided to invest in 3 large new sets of bookshelves for the hall. This could mean that books could all be in one, or at most 2 places - hall and sitting room. Six large bookcases would accommodate everything in some kind of order and the shelves in bedrooms, landing, ktichen and dining room could be put to a different use. Old paperbacks could be sent along to the charity shops and everywhere would be tidy.Mmmmmm.
The new bookshelves are lovely. They were made to fit into two alcoves and they fit well. They are sturdy and attractive. There are no books that I would not want to read or re read on them. There is some semblance of order in the shelves: 2 shelves of books yet to read, one that I will and one that I should; one shelf of "amusing" books to dip into; some devoted to children's and classics; one each  on genealogy, cross stitch ( a weakness each time I go into our local Oxfam book shop), education, History and so forth. A couple of shelves of my favourties at the moment - Richard Russo and various authors writing about small town America....... and all the shelves are full.
How did that happen? How did the extra shelves become full and yet the other shelves around the house still seem to be filled with books? Even overfilled as books are still lying on top of others, rows still lie along the back of desks and still pile on top of units. I do still know where everything is but, and this is the great advantage in having bought the new shelves and done some moving around, in addition, I know now that we have a shelf of dictionaries and "word" type books which makes more sense than the old system and that most of the travel guides are in one place.
Nowadays I can also wonder who it was who bought a Russian dictionary and why we have travel guides to places I don't think any of the family have been to. I can look clearly at the number of books that I know I have still to read yet it does not stop me buying more. Will Kindles, laptops, i phones etc. stop me buying physical books? I very much doubt it. Do I have a system for my shelves? Sort of but it is still "In the mind of Mum" and it works.

Daily disasters

I can get disproportinately upset by little things going wrong. It never seems to be the elephant in the room but all the little rabbits hiding in unexpected corners. Sometimes the instant reaction is to go our and buy a new one - that tends to be for such essential items as kettles but also, for me, includes dishwashers and laptops - hence a small supply of kettles in the pantry which, actually, only needed the cable pushing in completely or some such minor thing. On other occasions, such as today, the item may not be so essential or the thing going wrong really does necessitate getting someone in.
I put the coffee machine on and came back to find the work surface flooded and the filter blocked - only one cup of coffee had filtered through and there was no more ground coffee. The coffee machine is elderly - probably nearly 20 years old but, with patience on my part and a good clean it now seems to be working again.
Pulling a bag of hen layer pellets out of the back of the car it caught on the handle for opening the back window and the end of the handle snapped off. Super glue is called for on this one and it is not urgent.
Water pouring through the kitchen ceiling around the light fitting seemed a bit of an urgent issue. Investigation suggests that it is the shower in the bathroom above the kitchen and even a small amount of water in the shower comes through the ceiling. A plumber has been called.
The thing that is really bothering me today, though, is the wool that I am currently knitting up. I love this yarn, it is beautiful cream colour and feels soft and snuggly. The first time I started to knit with it was to make a cowl for myself. It kept breaking as I was casting on but I persevered and got well into the second ball. Then I decided that I didn't really like the pattern so frogged it. What I really needed, I decided, was a hat with ear flaps. I found a pattern that I liked and started to knit. Again, into the second ball I concluded that it wasn't going to work for me and I frogged again. Third attempt with the same wool is a hooded baby jacket but, again, I am not happy
Disproportionate reaction to events is not good. Events happen, disasters happen and it is the way we react to them that causes unnecessary painful feelings. One of my favourtie sayings to myself is - everything is going to be alright, and it usually is. The coffee machine is fixed, the car and shower will be fixed and the wool saga will sort. I love that scene in Love Actually where Andrew Lincoln, having told Keira Knightly how he feels about her, says "Enough". That is such a good reminder for me. No more frustration with wool - enough.

A day of cowls

Online grocery shopping has revolutionised my life. I loathe the grind of the regular weekly shop. The basic necessities provide no attraction on shelves in overlit sheds crowded with too many people and too many trollies in too narrow aisles. That said, I do enjoy the occasional excursion to an out of town Waitrose or a French Carrefour. Even an American Wal-mart can provide an hour or so of escapism on a gloomy, preferably snowy day.
Today I was waiting in for deliveries from Asda and Ocado - both booked to arrive at roughly the same time and I used the waiting time as an excuse to work on a couple of cowls. The first one in a delightfully soft merino wool on a circular needle and the second in infuriating super chunky. I was reasonably pleased with the results and started on a second merino cowl in a slightly larger size and a second chunky - just because I have the wool, again using slightly more stitches.
The word cowl reminded me of cawl, the Welsh stew, not dissimilar to the Staffordshire lobby and, shopping having arrived, I decided to make one of my versions of  "casserole". I had a small pack of stewing beef, some leftover red wine in the freezer, lots of garlic and a selection of root vegetables. All went into the old le creuset pan and spent 3 hours in the oven on gas mark 1. Such meals always seem to taste better reheated after a few days so the casserole was decanted into containers for the fridge to await the arrival of the son on a visit in a couple of days time.

Wool stash

An undelivered parcel necessitated a visit to the sorting office which is perilously close to the nearest wool shop. I have only recently become aware of the, rather common, phenomenon of the wool "stash" and, although I am reassured to know that I am not the only one to suffer from this particular affliction, it is nonetheless an expensive and at times seemingly bizarre occupation. I think that I have always had a stash of some degree or another. The deep pink chenille must have been purchased for some project in the 1980s and the huge stock of pastel 3 ply skeins is likely to have been related to a baby but I have no recollection of who and when. I can only assume that the vivid yellow double knitting must have had some connection to ducks. It is something of a relief to know that this is a fairly common thing for knitters to do and people actually share examples of their stash contents on various websites with or without any particular projects in mind.
My current stash includes basic baby knitting wools, some rather lovely merino wools, cottons and aran weights. Colours range from pink to green with various shades of natural. Potential projects for most of the stash simply do not exist apart from possibilities limited to "baby" or "scarf". My stash expanded by 4 lots today. I did have one project in mind though; a snood or cowl as a possible Christmas present - depending on the success of the pattern. Planning must have been on my mind in the wool shop too as i actually bought some circular needles - note the plural as my planning skills did not include knowing the correct size to buy and so I bought 3. The suitable pattern was sourced on Ravelry and I began knitting this afternoon. The pattern's initial instruction not to twist the stitches did not reach my brain until about 30 rows later and necessitated some serious frogging but the current work is looking promising. The wool is soft and the pattern appealling. Knitting on circular needles is a new experience for me and does not always fit in with my limited concentration - or rather watching TV whilst knitting. I am enjoying this project. It does mean, however, that some of my stash stock has been used which surely must mean another trip to replenish stocks.

Families

Interesting that I was talking about Julie's Dad yesterday and today Julie calls to say that he is not at all well and in hospital. At 88 he is of the same generation as Beryl of the Vegas 85th birthday celebrations and I shall be thinking of him in the coming days as I will of Colin, also in hospital and also of that particular line on the family tree.
The day began with me listening to Lisa Jardine on Radio 4 talking about her family history, followed by the Archer saga of the, perhaps, long lost - or better - never known, grandson then came the telephone call about the sick uncle and, not one to believe that there are coincidences, this directed me to spend some time looking at my own family tree.
Names are quite fascinating. Apart from the infamous Enos most family names seem to be of the fairly common variety. Generation after generation on my father's side called their sons William and this tradition only died out when the last William had only a daughter - me. Taking the family trees of both myself and my husband there is a high incidence of the name Elizabeth. We both have a number of common names: Charles, Henry, Thomas and the names of our own children can be found in our forebears although we didn't know it at the time of naming them. Will the time come to revive the more obscure? Enos, I doubt but what of Jervis or Emmanuel, Ephraim or Leah? Frederick seems quite popular nowadays and Lillian but rather as Freddie and Lily - family names as well as Archer children, or rather Pargeter. I remember being quite intrigued by the name Shula many years ago, about the time she was going out with Nigel Pargeter as it happens and I wondered if I would have liked to have had a name that was rather unique. Perhaps I can draft a Change of name deed and become - what? Does a particular name have an affect on character? Is it affect or effect? Nigel Pargeter was definitely a Nigel; he could not have been a Charles. Shula is a Shula. I would have liked to have been a Caroline.

Early December events continued......

Middlest comments that my blog is actually my diary and I wonder when I last really kept a written - as in pen and paper - diary. Not so very long ago and whenever life seemed to need some comment on a day to day basis.
Back to 30 years ago - minus one day. Things do not always go according to plan - as I was saying before I went off to the dentist. What was the plan? House in Dorset sold and all belongings, furniture, clothes, plants put into store there. Husband starting new job on December 1st. A few days spent in Stoke with family awaiting birth of Julie's baby then settling into Nottingham in time for our baby? The actuality involved a new job for a day before a request for leave, a new, rather early and little baby, a slightly grumpy, still pregnant cousin and then came the snow.
30 years ago it started to snow. I remember it well. I was in a hospital I had never been to before. I turned up in labour with all my records some distance away. My baby was early. We were in a ward with a wonderful view of the surrounding area which quickly became covered in snow. There were a few "issues" - an early baby, all belongings in store in Weymouth save a few maternity clothes, no home to go to and snow.
10 days later, and still snow but Julie's Dad came to drive us back to my parents to stay for a short while whilst husband contined to look for somewhere to live in Nottingham. Still snow some weeks later but mother and new baby safely ensconced with grandparents who had been shopping for babygros and carrycots and husband camping out with a group of students in Nottingham as snow prohibiting easy travel. An easy time to remember as, in the following weeks, a war was declared over the Falklands, the snow seemed to stay for a long time on the country lane by the parents and the house hunting in Nottingham proved challenging.
All came well, as it does, by the spring and today memories are rose tinted. Shopping for new clothes was a necessity. The house removal people cared for all the house plants and they, eventually, arrived in Nottingham thriving. The baby thrived too and the house we eventually bought was owned by a midwife who, coincidentall,y was the midwife on the ward where the middlest was born 20 months and 20 days later

Birthday meals

A wonderful meal at The Mint and Mustard in Cardiff to celebrate the eldest's 30th birthday. The most delicious soft shelled crab and sea bass. I am notoriously difficult when it comes to finding places to eat. Hours could be spent on holiday wandering from restaurant to restaurant second guessing where I might be reasonably happy with the menu. Nowadays I realise that life is too short not to immediately admit that I want Indian or Italian, French or a burger and last week, knowing that we would be looking for something a little special and accessible for non meat eaters I actually booked a table on line with plenty of time to spare and got it right - an excellent choice for all concerned particularly the birthday girl. Over the years I have assembled a list of "suitable places for Dianne to eat" and now we have somewhere new to add to the Cardiff list. My mother used to tell the story of when I was about 5 years old and they were attempting to find a cafe for lunch on a day out. I "allegedly" refused to go in to every place until we reached the grandest hotel in town which I declared to be quite suitable -  discerning taste from a very early age, I like to think, or just plain fussy.