Moving House
[edited to add: if you’d like to bookmark just the Sophia the project can now be found here
In fact the whole blog has moved over here]
First of all hello to everyone who’s come along from U-handblog – you can’t see it but I’m waving at you all madly! Lisa so nicely linked to me today because I’m meticulously logging the progress for my Sophia, but truth be told there was no good progress, only the kind that likes to meet the seam ripper.
So – step away from the sewing machine. You can just tell that it’s not going to go right some days, and I think I’m better at accepting that now.
Instead I spent today doing something I’ve had on my mind for a while – I migrated this blog to a different kind of software. This version is run on Textpattern, which was definitely the best choice at the time for the way I was running the site, but recently, say in the last six months or so (yeah I know – when you get older recently gets much much longer), I’ve been struggling with a way to make archives appear. And the comments system never really made me happy – I never really expected to get any comments at all when I started so perhaps that’s why it didn’t figure. But now you do comment, and it’s lovely, and I’d like to make it nicer for you.
Enter Wordpress, which actually installed and imported everything like a dream. Almost. This is the kind of shenigans you have to do get involved with as a control freak who can’t just sign up to typepad already.
This is such a longwinded way of saying that this is the last post here, and from now on, I’ll be posting here instead: Today we are… Please come and join me :)
Apologies for the absence
I didn’t mean to be away for so long but sometimes life has a sneaky way of happening away from computers. Last weekend was all in Wales, where Isaac grew up, up as far north and west as you can go, on the isle of Anglesey. It has a special kind of beauty all of its own:
There was some of this..
And some of this…
Plus a dose of this…
And then we capped it all off with this:
Yes, we brought a new kitten home with us. We’re such suckers for cute face, and a willingness to chase things and then get belly rubs. Miss Charlie was not best pleased at first, but she’s coming round, mostly by the method of staying up late at night to box his ears and growl at him when he gets too excited.
Consequently we haven’t been sleeping well this week and the days have been full of intensive kitten management activities so crafting has been off the menu. I’m hopeful about tomorrow – things are feeling a little more normal. Whatever that is.
Kaffe Fassett on the Radio
I was just listening to Kaffe Fassett on Radio 4’s Midweek, talking about colour, fabric, yarn and his exhibition, and how the British climate is perfect for staying indoors and getting on with your craft.
The first piece of fabric I bought for myself, for my first ever project with my new sewing machine (a cushion cover) was a Kaffe Fassett, and I have such a clear memory of it even though it was long worn out by our various elbows, heads and bums. Amazing how colour can imprint itself like that.
If you want to listen again, or subscribe to the programme’s podcast, you can do it from Midweek’s homepage. Although I think midweek is always interesting, you might not, so you can find Kaffe at the end of the show, about 30 minutes in.
Amazing and Weird
Well, goodness, thank you, Florence, for nominating me as amazing, but also weird. I like the combination, and will now attempt to come up with the required 7 suitably odd things…
- I am also terrified of driving like Florence. See no 2 for explanation of why it took me until I was 32 to learn and pass my test. Every Wednesday when my instructor was due I’d sit in the house and feel sick, but I forced myself out there because it felt like something I had to do to be a real grown up. I was elated when I passed, but since getting a car and doing some long road trips I realise I don’t want to drive that much. At all. If I know I have to drive out of London I spend weeks agonising about it, and the only bit of motorway I like is the M6 toll road, because it’s so empty. I hate my car but I can’t bear the stress of having to sell it.
- I got hit by cars three times as a child. Not very bright at crossing roads.
- I have forgotten great chunks of my life (and not because I was wasted). I used to wonder at my mother’s appalling memory when I was a child, but now it’s mine. I have no idea why things don’t stick.
- I like filing. And organising.
- As an adjunct to that, I will often fixate on one thing that I think is wrong and needs ‘mending’: the contents of a drawer to be sorted, a room to be rearranged, six years worth of paperwork to be stored in colour-coded filing boxes. Whatever it is I have to do it as soon as humanly possible because I become convinced that life can’t move forward until it’s done. Naturally, there’s always something else around the corner and when that’s done life will be neater, happier, more fulfilling. Currently, it’s new wardrobes. Some wardrobes, since we don’t have any. If we did get some we’d become the kind of people who neatly fold their clothes and put them away instead of slovens who pile them up on that nice chair we got in Greenwich market for that very purpose. Seriously, we would – the very next day.
- I can’t click my fingers. I’m so uncool.
- I really like being at home and not seeing people during the day. Is that weird or just misanthropic? I mean, I like people, but not all the time. Some people think that’s really weird, but I feel saner for less human small talk.
At least I’m not as weird as this though, eh?
And now to hand over the baton to the following nice folks, should they choose to pick it up: Lisa from U-handbag, Ruth from Two Hippos, Ali from Domesticali and Monkee Maker from, well, Monkee Maker.
Clearance
Today has been mostly about this. Before I can apply the elephant’s breath I have to move furniture, and before I can do that, as anyone who has ever moved house with me knows, I have to move the books. I have a lot of books. This pile isn’t the sum of the books that were in our bedroom – this is about half. Some ended up in Isaac’s little room, some in a cupboard that I miraculously found had some room, and some even found their way into a pile for the charity shop.
This is almost unknown for me.
Books come in, but they very rarely go out.
But when I was unpacking the double packed shelves I was having two reactions:
- oh! This book! I’ve had this copy for [x] years. I remember reading this when I was in [insert appropriate house]…and cue flood of memories and a desire to flick through the pages
- ‘oh yeah, I read that.’ Tosses book aside.
So I figured that I could thin the shelves and take the ‘yeah I read that’s to the charity shop and be no worse off, but it does feel very strange. I suppose that changing any habitual behaviour is the same, and for me, clinging onto books regardless of my feelings for them has become just that – a habit. The trouble with this particular habit is that the lack of shelf space is stopping me from bringing in new books, ones that I think are more for the me I am now. (Which is not the same as saying that I’m discarding all of the old me, just that I know when I look through my shelves which parts I have assimilated, and which parts simply skimmed the surface for a while.) And if I can’t broaden my bookshelves then I feel as if I’m simply marking time, trapped in a room of old obsessions.
The best solution would be a big house with several rooms that can be given over to library shelves, but since that’s not in the offing I’ll weed and cull instead. Just don’t expect me to be entirely happy about it.
A Weekend of Three Halves
The weekend started with this, a beautiful handmade scarf, given to me by my friend the poet. It is so delicately done that it squishes up into the tiniest possible ball, and then it expands to something like seven feet in length. I can wind it and wind it round my neck, but it never feels constricting because it’s so light (which is good because I was squeezed into too many polo-necks as a child and now I can’t bear having things on my neck). But my favourite part is that the ends flare out so that when it’s all done up I feel a bit like a fop wearing a dandyish cravat.
Of course I want to learn how to crochet, but perhaps this is one of those times where I should just admire the skill and not try to gobble it up for myself.
Yesterday was one of those fantastic London Sundays. We hadn’t planned anything at all – in fact I was thinking of sewing – but we decided to head out to Greenwich, to noodle around the markets, before meeting up with friends to see Charlie Wilson’s War at the Picturehouse. This cinema has amazing seats – roomy, with lots of leg room, and, best of all, they recline. I wasn’t entirely sure about the film – the end message is very confused – but Philip Seymour Hoffman was excellent, so that was worth the entrance fee.
Afterwards we popped next door to The Rivington Grill for supper. I personally find their tagline of ‘domestic cooking for those who don’t make or get it at home’ a little bit insulting, since I can cook very nicely thank you very much – but screw it: the food was really good. Really good. And it became even more palatable with my friends’ taste london card (£20 cheaper from here), which halved our food bill. (Might have to get me one of those…)
In between I read lots of a book, which I am absolutely loving, despite the fact that it took me a hundred pages to get into it. Luckily there are over 800 in total… It’s called Darkmans by Nicola Barker, and it was on the Booker shortlist last year. I was compelled to buy it when I was in New York and I’m so glad I did – not least because I love US editions. It’s not an easy book, it’s not a conventional narrative, there are at least eight main characters who’ve all had their spot in the limelight, it’s confusing and it’s set in Ashford. But it’s very funny indeed – so funny that I have laughed out loud on buses, trains and in the foyer of the Festival Hall, laughing so much people were looking at me. It’s one of those polarising books, I suspect, but I’m so glad I found it – new favourite writer!
(Amazon.co.uk / Amazon.com)
I feel so ready for the week.
Elephant's Breath
No more progress on the bag today as it’s been all post holiday paperwork, filing, VAT and tax returns. Gosh – imagine what it will be like next year when I have to submit my own return as well?
I did take a small break to do something nice and cheering and ordered paint for our bedroom, which is called, yes, you’ve guessed it, Elephant’s Breath. I love Farrow & Ball colour names, and their descriptions are just lovely. Sadly I’ve lost my colour card but I could spend hours looking at it.
Have you picked a favourite colour name yet?
Things you don't want to hear guests say #1
‘Gosh, your toilet really is sinking into the floor, isn’t it?’
And do you know, it is. I decided this week to use my flurry of go-getty new year-ness to finally do something about our hideous bathroom. After all, it’s been three years since we moved in and we’ve hated the room for all of that time.
Perhaps the room has felt that hate and decided to get its own back, because it’s leaking. The bathscreen, which periodically falls off into the bath, sometimes onto bathing occupants (ie me) has decided that it no longer wants to keep the water inside the bath when we shower, so the floor is littered with old towels.
But we suspect worse. The floor moves. The floor tiles are all cracked and no longer level. But the previous muppet encased so much of the pipework and cistern in botched up wooden contraptions covered in tiles, that we can’t actually see what else might be leaking.
So I got a man in to quote for it. I’ve also been to the bathroom shop down the road and I’ve chosen a bath, tiles and fancy pants taps. We know what kind of light fitting we want and that we want a slate floor. We need to find a basin, and a towel heater, and a door, and a cupboard, and a toilet roll holder. There are probably other things too.
On the plus side this flurry of activity leaves me with nothing pressing to do this weekend except whatever I feel like doing although so far that’s been ‘sleeping late’. I’m sure I’ll think of something else.
Equipment Love
I now own the holy trinity of rotary cutter, cutting mat and huge plastic ruler, the latter courtesy of Mr Joleo, who cunningly wrapped it up with a pair of pinking shears and then wrapped the lot in a towel before wrapping it in paper and putting it under the tree.
I’ll probably get over-excited about the pinking shears another time.
The big basket bags I make are, somewhat unsurprisingly, made from large pieces of fabric, and right up until fifteen minutes ago it’s always been such a faff to cut out, because I only had a 12” ruler. The list of big pieces that need to be cut is long (fabric for the shell, and for the lining, several kinds of interfacing) and I often find myself putting it off as long as I possibly can. Well, I did. But now my ruler is so big I don’t even need the pattern piece.
I can measure on the cutting mat and whizz right along with the cutter.
I’m so excited by it I actually want to cut something else out, which is unheard of. The right equipment really does make a difference – who knew?
Bonus question: what’s your favourite ‘can’t live without it now I’ve got it’ tool?
Detritus
Inspired by Monkee Maker I figured it was okay to share with you the scale of my task for tomorrow. Of course I’m not clearing up today – that would be far too energetic, and as you can see I have already made a roast chicken dinner, not to mention snacks of smoked salmon, croissants for breakfast and many many pots of tea for my lovely guests. Quite enough for one day.
We did have a good night out, finally seeing in the new year rather bizarrely next to HMS Belfast and a group of drunk Belgians. One of our better ones, and largely responsible for the huuuge amount of lying about we’ve all done today.
Speaking of which, I only have a few hours more to lie about before I become a completely different, more efficient and energetic person tomorrow (obviously) so I’ll get on with that now and I’ll see you in the morning for that fresh start…
