Ed e’ subito sera  (by Salvatore Quasimodo)

Everyone stands alone at the heart of the world
pierced by a ray of sunlight,
and suddenly it is evening.

 

My parents have moved out of Italy.

Yesterday.

They now live in the same town, not very far at all.

I was so wrapped up in getting their new place ready, and how happy I was to have them near after so many year that I didn’t give a thought to the fact that ‘we don’t live in Italy anymore’.  Yes I know I left 28 years ago… but ‘home’ was always there… ‘back home’.  Home is family, not just brick and mortar I thought. I guess I was wrong.  I didn’t know but it was both.

Now… I’m not so sure.  Home is also something else.  Mum and dad live three miles away now, not 1800… but for the first time in my life I won’t be visiting my home country every year.  Or maybe I will anyway, but it’ll be different; it will be visiting, not going home.

I feel untethered this morning.  Unmoored.  It is a strange feeling that I wasn’t expecting. A curve ball of emotions I’m not sure how to deal with.

So what is home? Is it the country you were born in? Is it the town you grew up in? The house where your parents still live?  The house you live with your own family/children/husband/partner? Is it your adoptive country?

Is it the people you love?  I’m settling on this one.

 

What’s home for you?

 

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(mum and dad’s house in Tuscany)

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(… nothing like a good title right?)

I really loved making this; for a while I thought of framing it because I wasn’t sure how to turn into a cushion but in the end, after a little internet search I worked it out and I’m glad I did…

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Punch needle is becoming a mild obsession of mind and I’m kind of thinking what else I can sneak around the house made this way.   Way back then, when I was a nanny, the family took me with them visiting an old aunt who obviously was mad into yoyo quilts and everything was made out of fabric yoyo… quilts on the sofas, pillows, lampshades, bedspreads… it was a riot of colour and fun.  Bonkers.  I could become like that.

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I used Rowan big wool which is really really soft and my trusty Oxford Punch needle.  I’m a little nervous in using this pillow too much so it’s a bit of a test.  I’ve been told that actually punch needles fabric is very durable… but it’s a little scary.

Anybody using it for a pillow fight would be defenestrated.  Instantly.  Without a trial.

Forewarned is forearmed.

 

 

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Two more books for you.

And yes that is my bookcase.  I can say mine because comfortably 90% of the books are mine, Mr M reads every night too but is very slow.  Very.  V.E.R.Y.  In fact I learnt early on in our marriage not to give him as a present I book I also wanted to read because the wait almost killed me.

He also has this weird thing…  the more he enjoys a book the faster he falls asleep so the longer it takes him to read it.  That’s just plain weird, right?

Anyway, the first book I have for you is about Martin Luther.  Odd choice, I don’t normally read history books or non-fiction and I find biography thoroughly uninteresting so don’t ask me why I picked this up.  I guess it all had to do with the talk I attended at the Festival of Literature a few weeks ago.  Very interesting and it made me realise that not knowing anything about Martin Luther was as good a reason to read it as the opposite  ‘I’m very interested in Martin Luther’.  Me thinks.

So know I can’t claim to be an expert but i might pick up a few points when Mr M and I play along to University Challenge if some obscure Reformation question comes up and that can only be good.

It’s an interesting, illuminating, easy read and I’m glad I dipped my toe in the bucket of religious history.  All history, I’ve come to realise, is actually really fascinating… I’ve always been much more of a Classicist… ancient Rome and Greece, with a sprinkle of modern history, the two great wars and all that.  The middle ages seemed impenetrable and complicated and totally bonkers frankly;  I still think that but they have their own appeal…

Anyway, read it if it catches your fancy.  It’s not boring at all.  The dude did change the world, it would have been pretty different without him.  Better? Worse? who knows, different for certain.

4 out of 5.

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Next up is the latest book by Rachel Joyce, another Festival of literature purchase;  I needed something light and a little frivolous and this certainly fit the bill.  I enjoyed it, it was a fast, cute read… but I didn’t think it was a patch to ‘The unlikely pilgrimage of Harold Fry’, or even to ‘Perfect’ which are the only other two I’ve read of hers.

Nothing wrong with it, I wasn’t probably not the in the right frame of mind… but it felt… a little hurried and although it had the potential to be great… it just wasn’t… almost but not quite.  The characters were great… but I wanted to know more about them, I felt they were just sketches  and so much more could have been said to make me really like them.

I give it a 3 out of 5.

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… am I the only one who gets really annoyed by ‘Black Friday’?  First of all… it’s not an English thing…  Thanksgiving is not a holiday we celebrate, people are at work, it’s a normal Thursday so there’s absolutely no need to have a special Friday in which to instigate a shopping frenzy.  Doesn’t make sense.

Also, I could also cope with it (ignore it) if it was just ‘black Friday’… not black bloody week… I keep getting emails from Amazon saying ‘it’s black Friday!!’… what?  what happened to the week? where have I been? why hasn’t the sofa been delivered on Wednesday?  what am I wearing tonight?….. oh wait… it’s really Tuesday…

Doh.

Also, the pressure… I’m not ready to buy Christmas presents this year… it’s too early, right?  Although someone should tell No 3 who’s obsessed with playing Xmas songs in the car…

Sigh.

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Also, also… if we have to import a holiday… why not Thanksgiving? Not the pumpkin pies but the rest is pretty good… all the family getting together from far and wide… saying thank you instead of ‘can I have a gift receipt with that, please’…

Maybe it’s just me.

End of rant.

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Lilli the dog is going deaf which is bad on more than one front… a) she barks even louder because obviously she can’t hear herself b) totally useless as a guard dog, more than she ever was, c) can’t let her off the lead anymore because she has no idea where I am and can’t hear me calling her.  Sometimes I swear she looks at me like “why are you not talking to me anymore?”… which is sad.   I know all this because normally she would hear me munching my sourdough toast and cashew nut butter and come running… but today for the first time … she’s not.  Very sad.  She’s asleep on the sofa in the next room oblivious to one of her favourite food passing her by.

We both love sourdough bread and cashew nut butter.

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I need to go… have a list as long as my arm.  Self-inflicted by I do need to get it done today…

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…tempting…

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… because it’s totally addictive…

Today, with a raging headache I sat down to play… straight up needle punching this time because my brain wasn’t really up to too much thinking.  I didn’t even draw the design on the back ground, I just drew with the yarn.  (I’m using Rowan big wool).  Now if you know me you are aware I can’t draw to save my life, so the simple ‘folksy’ image was created out of necessity rather than choice.

I have to be honest here.

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I’m totally happy with how it’s turning out to be though.

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Very happy.

Needle punching is quite a quick process and I would be much more far ahead than this if real life hadn’t got in the way: laundry, dog walking, trip to the dump in the vain attempt to empty the garage of junk (… things absolutely do multiply by themselves, I’m sure)… all things that eat at the fun time.

It’s only me and No 3 at home for dinner tonight and he’s requested a bacon sandwich.  Easy enough… but when I have headaches like this one that are in danger of tripping into migraines… last thing I need is strong smells, no matter how delicious they normally are.

Urghhh.

Things you do as a mother, eh?

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… actually this is not strictly correct, I should be saying ‘adventures in needle punching and rug hooking given I’ve playing around with both on the same piece.

I don’t know what it is about this medium/craft, call it what you wish, that has captured my imagination… but I can’t get enough.  I’m still a total rookie, my stitches are not all that even… and I need to learn more about how to finish off each piece, but in the meantime I’m having lots of fun.

This time I wanted to try mixing needle punching and rug hooking and try different materials.

First of all a high(wish) woven hessian for the backing seemed to have worked well… it holds the wool/fabric tightly which is good but I don’t think it would be terribly soft as for a pillow.  Don’t know.  I thought about washing it which will definitively soften it but I’m worried that it will not hold things into place if i do that;  I guess I’ll just have to try and see.

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the strips of indigo dyed sheets look great… but oh boy is that a slow process or what!

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here you can see some rug wool, strips of Mr M cashmere jumper (a bit of an accident that one… oops), other wool and some sort of experiment with a different stitch/plait… don’t know how to call it.  I guess I was trying to recreate those amazing woven hanging pieces that are all the rage on Insta these days (… well they are on my feed… I’m totally obsessed), full of different textures and colours…

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I was really stuck on how to frame it and then I noticed that inside box frame there is another frame that keeps the glass away from the back and so I had the lightbulb moment to stable the hessian to this interior frame… and voila!

(this is the reverse of the piece before it got stapled and trimmed)

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and here’s a detail of the front.  I think it really works.

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My fingers are itching to make another one now… or maybe a cushion… yes a cushion in soft thick wool… yummy…

 

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I am so so happy with this sweater!

And who would have thought I’d be so happy with the kind of morning I’ve had…

Let me explain.  Mr M drops the boys at the bus stop as normal and after 45 seconds I get 3 – three!! – text messages.

From No 3 … I forgot my gum shield and we have a rugby match this afternoon

From No 2 … I forgot my school hoodie and I need it for games

From no 1 … I forgot my whole hockey bag and I need it later

Did they plan this? Is this a concerted effort for my mental demise?

Seriously.  Not funny at all.  So then I have to run around the house like a headless chicken collecting various items to take to school!!  You should have seen the face of the receptionist, she didn’t know whether to laugh or pity me.  Both probably.

THEN I had to spend more than an hour on the phone with eBay and Paypal trying to sort a huge mess with my accounts… what a palaver… they were both absolutely brilliant and helpful – and patient – but it did take ages.

THEN I had to sort out lifts for the boys tonight because Mr M and I dared having a dinner engagement and now I virtually own favours to half of the town which I know they’ll be called upon at the most difficult times because let’s face when you’re a parent you’re not allowed to have time for yourself and if you do… there will be hell to pay.

Sigh.

So don’t chastise me if instead of beginning to iron the 23 shirts in my basket I decided to take 20 minutes to finish the last edge to the most glorious and useful little sweater I’ve knitted in a while.

NUUK from issue 1 of Laine magazine.  My third pattern from that lovely publications… I haven’t even started on the other two issues… but they’re glorious too.

A great pattern, well written, I used Brooklyn Tweed Shelter in Fossil, which has to be one of my favourite yarn ever… and the results is …

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… delicious… (can you say that about a sweater?)

I know I will wear it a lot in all sorts of outfits…

I’m now happy, the hellish morning forgotten.

 

Now, leave me alone, I do have to iron three school shirts for tomorrow at least!

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First up, my friend Alexander McCall Smith.

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This is the first one in the long 44 Scotland Street series and it introduces all the characters and their quirkiness.  It’s a lovely lovely read.  Light hearted, entertaining, lough out loud funny in places and I’m not a laugh out loud person,  in fact I hate funny books written with the sole purpose of making you laugh… they normally don’t and feel forced.  This one made me chuckle on many an occasion.

Would be the perfect beach read and the good thing there’s plenty of more ‘episodes’ if I feel like it.

The next one is a ‘tad’ (lot) more serious:  Walden by Thoreau…

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I understand many people would have read/studied at school but I didn’t and really knew nothing about it at all.  I have to confess that, yes I’d heard of it… but I mainly bought it for the cover.

Call me shallow, I don’t care.

Well… Mr Thoreau doesn’t pull any punches… a lot of what it says is still daringly and scaringly relevant… his ranting about consumerism, about having too much, about the race for more and more…. yup still going… he can be considered the father of slow living, of recycling, of the handmade…

I enjoyed the book, of course the language is a bit redundant at times and old fashioned, but it’s beautifully poetic too (not the loooooooong pages about bean cultivation though… ugh..) and it does make you want to find a cabin by a pond for a while.

The next book is AMAZING.  I’d make it compulsory reading for everybody.

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I don’t even know where to begin.  I don’t want to spoil it for you so I won’t talk about the story (which in the interest of fairness gets a little lost in the middle… me thinks…) but the concept of our world being completely turned upside down and gender differences are not what we know… because when the power swap hands…?  what is gender?  what does it mean to be powerful?  Who is powerful? who is wrong? who is better?  Are men really more aggressive ?  Are women really more caring and nurturing?

So many questions in my head when I finished it…  I highly recommend it.

 

I’ve got so many books by my bedside table it’s not even funny… I’ll never get to the bottom of the pile… sigh.

 

Monday vibes.

First frost on the grass, the boys have just left for school, the dog is barking at the bin men outside.

I’m wearing hand knitted socks on my feet for the first time this autumn and a cozy shawl around my neck, neither Lilli nor I fancy going for a walk just yet.  When I opened the door she sniffed the chilly air and turned back in.  My kind of dog.  Maybe I should knit her a coat…

I have a bit of a bonkers week ahead and am trying to get my head around the idea of having to feed children and husband decent food at different times almost every day.  It’s the thing that drives me most mad… even more than the constant taxi driving people around:  the logistics of food.

Let’s have a a good poem and get on with the week, shall we?

 

Black Oaks (by Mary Oliver)

Okay, not one can write a symphony, or a dictionary,

or even a letter to an old friend, full of remembrance
and comfort.

Not one can manage a single sound though the blue jays
carp and whistle all day in the branches, without
the push of the wind.

But to tell the truth after a while I’m pale with longing
for their thick bodies ruckled with lichen

and you can’t keep me from the woods, from the tonnage

of their shoulders, and their shining green hair.

Today is a day like any other: twenty-four hours, a
little sunshine, a little rain.

Listen, says ambition, nervously shifting her weight from
one boot to another — why don’t you get going?

For there I am, in the mossy shadows, under the trees.

And to tell the truth I don’t want to let go of the wrists
of idleness, I don’t want to sell my life for money,

I don’t even want to come in out of the rain.