Safetyfox knits socks

Four noises I can't stand

2009-03-29T09:55:00.005+01:00

Crying babies.
Someone reading a magazine or newspaper and rubbing the pages together with their fingers to separate them. Just lick your damn fingers!
Rustling sounds made by people, e.g. rummaging in a carrier bag. Rustling sounds made by trees or animals are fine.
Eaty sounds made by people. Lip-licking, chewing, swallowing. This is why I have to have the TV or some other sound going on whilst eating. Again, animal eaty sounds are fine.

The instant I hear any of these sounds I can feel the stress hormones flooding my body. I wonder why?

Desert camping FTW!

2009-03-24T15:18:00.006Z

The weekend just gone we went camping at Brouq. It's off-roady to get there but not as off-roady as the weekend before. This time there were 4 cars, 8 people and 5 tents. Nothing at all went wrong, which was quite surprising considering it was our turn to be tour leader. We managed to get everyone there safely, though not without having to do a couple of u-turns when we followed the wrong set of tyre marks. On the way we saw wild camels, ostriches and flamingoes.

Our favoured camping spot is on a beach in a little cove, backed with a small cliff. Here's our camping spot and the view from our tent:

We swam, ate lunch. and relaxed in the sun. Then when the sun started to go down we fired up the barbie and the camp fire. Later we toasted mashmallows over the fire.

Toilet facilities are non-existant. A large spider was spotted in the rocks by the toilet spot. Here's Rob going round the headland with a shovel. It was not for protection from spiders.

We stayed up til the firewood ran out around midnight. As we were getting ready for bed, one of the party heard something moving behind her tent. I assumed it was a fennec fox as you can see their little foxy footprints everywhere, but when we shone the torch it turned out to be a cat. It looked like a domestic cat, not a sand cat, though how it got to be so far from human habitation I dread to think. So I left a piece of meat out for it. The meat was gone by the morning.

The next day we were awake bright and early for a swim. The sea was flat calm and perfect for swimming. We saw what we thought might be an osprey sitting on the next headland. They should be migrating this time of the year so she might've been on her way to Scotland. Turned out to be quite a good weekend for wildlife.

On the way back we stopped for a look at the weird rock formations and the film set. The rock formation is real; the little stone hut on top is part of the film set.

Then we safely got everyone out again with no mishaps. I drove, and of course did a superb job.

It's easy to forget when we're slaving away at work all week that this is what living here is all about.

Friday 13th Expedition

2009-03-14T10:37:00.004Z

Yesterday we went in a six-car convoy to the Inland Sea. You can’t get there without four-wheel drive. We hadn’t been there before in our own car and we were a little bit worried about how the LR3 would perform in proper, deep sand.

I was determined to get over my nervousness about driving off-road so I forced myself to drive. We stopped at Sealine to let air out of the tyres for driving on sand, then off we went. The road to Inland sea is mostly hard-packed salt, but in many places the dunes have drifted across the track. Also, if you choose, you can take a route through the dunes themselves. Our tour leader took us by a route that was mainly on the track but detoured in a few places through some ‘gentle’ dunes.

I did great. I put the transmission into sand mode and let the car do the work. I followed Rob’s instructions. And I repeat – I did great. It was brilliant fun.

Then we realised that the last in our convoy, driving a Ford Explorer, was missing. Tour Leader had a phone call. They were stuck in deep sand a couple of kilometres behind. Three of our party went back to pull them out. Me and Rob, sans tow-rope, waited behind with the other group.

I had a certain amount of schadenfreude. The stuck car was the only other car driven by a woman. I was glad it wasn’t me.

Time passed. Another phone call informed us that all three were now stuck. More time passed. We contemplated setting up the BBQ right where we were. Another phone call: two cars were now free but the original stick-ee might have a mechanical problem. More time passed. Another phone call: they were all out, and on their way. They’d got free with the help of some young Qatari men in Land Cruisers. Phew. We regrouped and off we went again.

I handed the driving over to Rob for the next section. It was hard, fast packed salt. The iPod shuffled to Charlie Says by the Prodigy. I turned it up LOUD. We drove along laughing our stupid heads off. We decided that ‘Charlie says always tell your mummy before you go off somewhere’ was good advice for desert driving.

Another few Ks and we realised another car was missing. We stopped again. This time, it really was a mechanical problem. One of the cars had developed a radiator leak and had ground to a halt, overheated. This time, me and Rob went back with Tour Leader, because Rob is a mechanic. When we got there, the car was fucked. Not going anywhere. Water poured in to the radiator pissed straight out the bottom. Luckily, I had the number for the Raha recovery service in my phone. The driver of the broken-down car called them and arranged a recovery. Then we piled all the beach stuff and people (5!) from his car to ours and off we went again.

Eventually we reached the beach. It was worth it. The water was gorgeous – just cold enough to make it difficult to get in, but perfect for swimming once in. We swam, ate BBQ and chilled out. I knit some of my Pomatomus sock.

Meanwhile, back at the broken-down car, things weren’t going so well. The driver and Tour Leader both went to go meet the recovery vehicle at Sealine. As they drove back to the car, the recovery vehicle got stuck. So help had to be summoned from Sealine. Cash changed hands. Tour Leader didn’t get back to the beach til it was nearly time to leave. The broken car’s driver accompanied his vehicle back to Doha.

We really thought nothing else could go wrong. On the way back we had to stop again at Sealine to re-inflate the tyres. We joined the orderly queue at the little garage. Only the queue was not orderly. People kept crossing the sandy area in front of the garage to push in. Tempers began to get heated. It all came to a head when half of our group were actually at the air stations, and half were not. A woman in a black Pajero tried to push in. Events got a bit confused. A French woman stood in front of the Pajero to stop it pushing in. The driver kept going. The French woman called the police. We heard her saying ‘A woman is trying to kill me with her car. The number is...’ A large crowd gathered. There was shouting. I was kind of glad to get out of there.

So that was it. The rest of the journey back was uneventful. I was left with a good impression of the day, overall, because it was laugh. But I won’t do it on Friday 13th again.

Rob's Commentary –
Kirsty was really nervous and sweating heavily, she screamed every time we went over a bump and she nearly got the car stuck so many times I lost count! I’m not letting her drive in sand again!!!!

The above is not true. I did great.

Five ways in which living in Doha is like being on the Starship Enterprise

2008-12-08T11:55:00.002Z

There is a constant low hum in the background
Arabic and Klingon sound remarkably alike
We encounter new races every day
We spend a lot of time a long way above the ground
It's life, Jim, but not as we know it.

This is why our motto is 'What would Picard do?' It works in most situations. Rob has already told staff to 'make it so'. I suggested he try 'resistance is futile' next, but he says they know that already.

Rain and other things

2008-12-08T11:36:00.005Z

This weekend just gone I got my new camera set up and working. I am very pleased with it. It's my first digital SLR and I think (fingers crossed) I can use the lenses from my 35mm SLR with it, although I'll have to wait til we go back to the UK to test that theory. I bought it online from the UK because with the pound being weak things are much cheaper. Despite the lack of purchase tax in Qatar, decent electronics (rather than knock-offs from the souk) are expensive.

I took photos of my recently completed socks (basic ribbed socks using MiddleEarthKnitter's sock yarn in Captain Jack):

my on-the-needles socks (Roza's Socks from Interweave Knits using 100% cashmere from Knitting Goddess in Brown Owl):

my on-the-needles stole (Matryoshka Stole from Knitscene using Rowan Calmer in Coffee Bean. This is my first time knitting with beads and it's actually easier than it looks):

and the incredible light after a massive rainstorm with thunder and lightning:

It was so good to see and hear and feel rain. I had some laundry hanging on the roof to dry and in the time it took me to bring in 4 towels and a mat, I was absolutely drenched and had to change my clothes. It was television rain -- the kind of huge drops at high density they use on TV to make sure they show up on camera. We spent most of Saturday doing housework so the rain didn't adversely affect our day. When we weren't busy sweeping up tumbleweeds of cat hair, we leant out of the window and watched the storm. The traffic was at a standstill out on the C-Ring road because many people here aren't used to driving in the rain.

We also watched Spiderman 3 and while I enjoyed it, I was disappointed that they still haven't broached the subject of how he gets out of the bath.

In other news: I saw on the TV that John Barrowman got his cock out live on BBC Radio 2. Apparently they had one complaint, presumably from someone complaining that they couldn't see it.

Archy and Mehitabel (almost)

2008-12-01T13:04:00.002Z

At work yesterday there was a cockroach the size of a Shetland pony (well, at least as long as my thumb) in the wash bay. I set Captain Jack the Workplace Cat onto it. I thought he would be glad of the exercise but he was very reluctant to pursue it. He half-heartedly followed it around until it went to ground under the weighing scale.

It occurred to me that maybe, like Archy and Mehitabel, they were friends. And then when I got to work this morning I found Word open on my PC and this on the screen:

jack the stowaway arrives in doha

i got here in a box of spare parts
it looked interesting
and smelled of work
how was i to know where i would end up
i suppose boss that everyone
gets to doha the same way

With apologies to Don Marquis :-)

Buying beads from the Taliban

2008-12-01T13:00:00.001Z

On Saturday I got together for a coffee with a friend from knitting group. We sat in the rocking chairs outside the Coffee Beanery at Cholesterol Corner (a.k.a. Ramada Signal) and knitted socks for a while. The weather was just right for outdoor knitting – not too hot and not too cold, although there were rather a lot of flies. We knitted until the sun started to go down, then we went to the Taliban Store.

The Taliban Store sells buttons, beads, fabrics, threads, ribbons, edgings and anything else you can think of connected with tailoring. From the outside it’s just a normal Doha shop front with faded samples, dead flies and a leaky air conditioner in the window. Inside it’s like Ali Baba’s cave for crafters. It’s dark and stuffy and so crammed with goods you have to flatten yourself against the wall if someone wants to come by. There are reels of ribbon hanging from the ceiling with the ends dangling like vines. They catch on your clothes so you walk around the shop trailing ribbon. There is a room whose walls are lined with spool after spool of sewing thread in every colour imaginable. There is a wall of buttons that look like sweets in an old-fashioned sweet-shop. We rummaged around for ages. I had set myself the challenge of buying the beads I need for my next project (the Matryoshka Stole from Knitscene) in Doha, instead of using the internet, even if it meant using plastic ones. But I managed to find exactly what I needed in real wood which was great. Natural materials are quite hard to find here.

On the way back to the car we passed a laundry where a man was sitting cross-legged in the window operating a steam press. A pipe directed the steam out onto the street, carrying with it the smell of freshly-laundered cotton. It was refreshing after the somewhat fuggy atmosphere in the Taliban Store.

Things I learned from experience no. 1387

2008-12-01T12:58:00.000Z

Avoid any restaurant that has a badly-drawn cartoon chef as its logo (yes, I’m looking at you, Italian Job).

Feeling a bit homesick

2008-11-12T13:38:00.001Z

I’ve been feeling a bit homesick lately. It all started when I read a post on Ravelry about Guy Fawkes. I’d forgotten the date completely. I thought about standing in a dark, muddy field, waving a sparkler, drinking warm lager out of a plastic glass. The smell of hot dogs, gunpowder and woodsmoke. The anticipation: will it be a total washout like the year when smoke hugged the ground and no-one could see the fireworks; or will it be the spectacular display we’ve been promised? The ‘Oohs’ and ‘Aahs’ from the crowd, irony giving way to delight. Then after the display, walking back to the car, squashing spent sparklers and the empty tubes of rockets into the mud, and waiting half an hour for the person who blocked us in to come and move their car.

I’m missing watching the leaves change colour (actually, scratch that: I’m missing leaves). I’m missing hunting for the last few wild mushrooms in the woods. I’m missing a cosy pub at the end of a long walk. I’m missing a log fire and roast parsnips. I’m missing crunchy frost and the sun struggling to shine through November’s low cloud on a workday morning. I’m missing being able to see my breath. I’m missing wearing a coat, for crying out loud.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m still enjoying life in Qatar. But it took something as uniquely British as Bonfire Night to make me think about what it’s like to live not just away from my home but also away from my culture. Rob had a similarly thought-provoking experience. Gordon Brown visited Doha last week and Rob saw his aircraft land. One of his Indian co-workers asked why Mr Brown and his colleagues were all wearing red paper flowers, so Rob explained about Remembrance Day and what it meant.
I suppose it gives us a new angle on things we take for granted. Explaining things makes you think about what they really mean. That said, when we had the first dead parrots at work, I didn’t even begin to explain to my staff why I was laughing.

An incomplete list of other things I’m really missing, in addition to those mentioned above:

Composting and recycling. I cringe every time I throw potato peelings or a bottle in the rubbish bin.
Rain
A postal service
Doorstep milk delivery
Seasonal veggies
Polite drivers
Proper trees with branches
Grass, especially if it’s got dew on it
Birdsong
Country lanes
Channel 4 News
The NHS
Bookshops and yarn shops
Hills.

In case it seems like I’m painting a very chocolate-box view of life in Britain, here are some things I’m really not missing:

Jeremy Clarkson
Crime
High tax, fuel prices etc.
Chavs
Bacon
The Daily Mail
Xenophobia

Note to non-British readers: Bonfire or Guy Fawkes night is celebrated on 5th November and commemorates the capture of the Catholic Guy Fawkes (or Guido Ffoukes, etc) and his cohorts as they attempted to blow up the Anglican King and his Parliament in 16-something-or-other. (My history is a little hazy. 1605 rings a bell.) Anyway they were caught and executed which is why an effigy of Mr Fawkes (the ‘guy’) is burnt on the bonfire. Harry Potter fans will recognise the inspiration for the name of Dumbledore’s phoenix. I think Bonfire Night is the reason that Hallowe’en isn’t such a big deal in the UK as it is elsewhere. There’s a rhyme: Remember, remember the Fifth of November / Gunpowder, treason and plot / I see no reason why gunpowder treason / Should ever be forgot. Hear hear.

Remembrance Day is celebrated on 11th November (the date of the signing of the Armistice which ended WWI) or the closest Sunday. It’s co-ordinated by the British Legion who sell red paper poppies to raise money for ex-servicemen and women and their families. It’s a day to remember the sacrifice made by members of the forces in the Great War and subsequent wars. Services of remembrance are held in every town and village around the country, and the Queen lays a wreath of poppies at the Cenotaph in London. It’s very moving to watch, especially to see the last few living servicemen who survived WWI and are now in their very late 90s or early 100s.

Cats

2008-11-11T11:38:00.003Z

I know I haven’t blogged for ages. Looking back, I see I reported that Zinjibeel had cat AIDS. Well, sadly we discovered that poor old Zinge had a lot of other stuff wrong with him as well. At some point in his short life, his rear end had been subjected to a massive trauma, probably a car. Both his back legs had been broken and had set by themselves all crooked. His tail was broken where it met his spine and all his intestines shoved forward. He was in pain all the time and increasingly aggressive because of it. We talked to Dr Dominic about the possibility of pain management (there was nothing else that we could do) but he said it never really works too well in cats – something to do with ‘enzyme pathways’. So we made the difficult decision to euthanize him. We went to say goodbye and cried like babies.

We decided not to even think about another cat until after we’d come back from the UK in August. But I still had to visit the veterinary clinic for work… and there I found out about a one-year-old black cat who’d been in for an injury to his tail and who needed a home. I reluctantly allowed them to pass my phone number on to his foster-mum. When she called me it turned out that she didn’t just have Fahad (the black cat) but all his brothers and sisters too. She wanted to find homes for as many of them as possible. I said we’d think about taking two.

So we went round to the woman’s apartment and met the cats. They were all absolutely lovely and I would have taken them all, had we a villa with a garden. It was difficult to choose, but in the end we took Fahad and the little tabby girl, Pretty. Before too long they had new names: Omar, because he is Arabic and handsome, and Petal because she is so lovely and delicate (although now we’ve had her for a few months, we’ve realised that if she is any kind of flower, it’s a Venus fly-trap).

We brought them home and released them into the bathroom with food, water and a litter tray. Petal immediately climbed into the void behind the toilet that we hadn’t even realised was there. At some point Omar got in there with her. After a few hours we opened the bathroom door. Petal stayed behind the lav. Omar went under the bed.

They stayed in their hidey-holes for 2 days. After that they came out and acted as though they’d known us all their lives. They get up to all sorts of mischief: to date they have climbed the curtains (breaking the hooks), knocked over my bedside water glass so I got a cold midnight shower, sharpened their claws on the sofa and flooded the kitchen by detaching the drain hose behind the washing machine. They have a very strong prey urge and love to hunt and eat cockroaches and flies. When we come in from work they throw themselves onto their backs and demand belly strokes. They're great.

What’s on the needles?

2008-11-11T11:10:00.005Z

My current jumper is the Apres Surf hoody from Interweave Knits. I’m making it in Artesano 100% Alpaca 4-ply which I bought from Village Crafts in Forest Row, East Sussex on my last visit back to the UK. This is my knitting-at-work project. It’s demanding enough to keep me interested during the long afternoons but simple enough that I can throw it down half-way through a row when the inevitable panic occurs.

I really like the way this jumper is coming along. I just hope I have enough yarn to finish it. I might ask Mum to pop in to the shop to see if they have another ball or two and post them to me, just in case. I hope to have finished it by the time I go to Amsterdam in January, because I shall really need it there.

And probably here too, before long. I had to wear a light cardigan when we went for drinks to Al Sharq on Thursday, and this morning as I was crossing the road to work the breeze was almost cold. The car’s temperature gauge said 21C.

I’m also working on the Hypotenuse wrap from Knitspot. (The photo shows me working on it on the deck at the Sans Souci guesthouse in Mahe, Seychelles a couple of weeks ago. We had a great time.) I’m using Nashua Geologie from Webs in the colourway ‘Agate’. I absolutely love the way it’s coming out. The yarn shades from cream through to lovely deep jewel colours of turquoise, purple and garnet – but all quite muted because they’re plied with the cream. Photos don’t really do it justice. I’ve got 2 pattern repeats of 30 rows each and then the border to do, then I can cast off and block it (gently, because the yarn is 37% acrylic). It’ll be wearable by the weekend, in which case I’ll be able to take it with me on our camping trip in case it gets cold out in the desert.

Once I’ve finished the Hypotenuse I’m going to cast on for the Gossamer Stars scarf, from the same IK as the hoody. I’ve got a lovely silk/wool yarn to use and I’m itching to start. I’m also going to start a pair of bog-standard socks. I haven’t done socks for a while. And I have plans to design a hot-water-bottle cover as a way to use up some of my earlier attempts at hand-spun.

I know a hottie-cover (or indeed a hottie) seems like a weird thing to want in the Middle East. But hotties are useful for all manner of aches and pains, and it will get cold here. The shops are already selling electric heaters in preparation for the winter. I’m just hoping by ‘cold’ they mean 15C, and that I haven’t lost my Northern European tolerance for the cold. And a hot water bottle isn't the only thing to be covered in knitting...

This is Wheelie from Knitty.com in beige cotton. Here's my beloved driving the LR3 along C-Ring with the Wheelie in position. I made it for a bit of fun but it's remarkably effective. Although when a neighbour used our car while we were on holiday, all his friends took the piss.

Good news, bad news

2008-04-21T12:21:00.003+01:00

The good news: finally, after about 5 weeks of hoop-jumping and the usual 2-steps-forward-1-step-back, we picked up our new car last night. It's only new to us as it's second-hand, but it's still the best car we've ever had. It's a 2005 new shape Land Rover Discovery, or LR3 as they're called here. It's amazing how much safer Doha's streets feel in a big 4x4. And the roads round our block are in such bad shape we've already off-roaded.

I went to do a bit more hoop-jumping at the traffic department this morning. Rob forgot (or didn't realise) that his letter giving me permission to drive(!) had to be in Arabic. Luckily there was a little office where we could get it retyped. Unfortunately it then needed his signature. So we now have a car but I still don't have a license. As I said, 2 steps forward...

The bad news is that Zinge has FIV (cat AIDS). Luckily as he's an indoor cat he won't pass it on to to other cats, but it does mean he won't be accepted by boarding catteries and we won't be able to export him to the UK. He also won't live as long as a cat with a healthy immune system. Poor Zinjibeel. He's feeling very sorry for himself today after his hernia operation yesterday. We just need to make sure we give him lots of love.

The naming of cats...

2008-04-11T22:29:00.002+01:00

... is a difficult matter, according to TS Eliot, and crikey was he right. We've had the Ginger Bastard for three weeks and every name we tried on him just didn't fit. it was looking like he'd be called the Ginger Bastard forever.

But I think we finally have it. His name is (drumroll) Zinjibeel. It's Arabic for (wait for it) ...

... Ginger.

Holy crap!

2008-04-06T14:20:00.002+01:00

What on earth is going on here? Rain? I hope so.

I spun! Or span, or spinned

2008-02-21T19:43:00.003Z

Last night I had my very first spinning lesson from one of the ladies in my knitting group. She was a very patient teacher and I really enjoyed my lesson. Check out my handspun yarn:

And here it is next to my hair. There are some similarities:

It's lumpy, greasy, overspun in places and barely spun at all in others, but it's mine and I love it. The yarn, that is, although it could also apply to my hair.

So, spinning. Yet another addiction in the making.

Anxiety dreams

2008-02-20T09:43:00.004Z

I had an anxiety dream about the move to Qatar last night. I woke up in a sweating panic. Then I had that slow sense of dawning relief as I realised it was all a dream, and I hadn't been forced to fly there in economy after all.

I think I'm going to fit right in to our new lifestyle.

O hai Halifacks

2008-02-19T12:19:00.001Z

We want to let our house while we’re away. Rob, being the scrupulously honest person he is, wrote to the Halifax to tell them. About a week after he’d gone, I got a letter saying I had to fill in a consent form and go into my local branch to renegotiate the mortgage.

So I phoned to make an appointment for a Saturday so I didn’t have to take time off work. Then a couple of days before the appointment was due I had a phone call to say the mortgage advisor was off sick. So I rebooked the appointment. They cancelled it again. I rebooked for last Friday.

When I arrived there was no record of my appointment and the mortgage advisor was off sick anyway. I was about to throw my toys out of the pram big-style when one of the other ladies offered to help. I don’t think she wanted me to kick off in a branch full of people. She was very helpful and managed to find out (after about 4 phone calls) that it was OK to have Rob’s signature on the form by fax. But she couldn’t answer any of my other questions. She made another appointment for me, this time to talk to the mortgage advisor by phone.

So much for the boring background. I’ve just got off the phone and I’m spitting coal blocks, as my friend Paula would say. This is the score:

we have to come off our fixed rate and go onto the standard variable rate. This puts our monthly payment up by about £100.

we’re meant to be tied in to the fixed rate mortgage til July. If we end it earlier, we get charged £3000. That still stands, even though we’re no longer on the fixed rate.

but we can’t charge Halifax £3000 for ending the fixed rate period early.

the fixed rate period ends in July as I said. So, Halifax, ask yourselves: do you want to keep our business until we come home from abroad, or do you want us to remortgage in July? Hmmmmm.

Cursed Pomatomi

2008-02-13T13:39:00.002Z

After my Pomatomus frogging disaster on Monday, I cast on again using the second ball of yarn, as the first still resembles the Gordian Knot. I decided to use a size larger needle, so I fished out my 3mm green aluminium DPNs. These used to belong to my great-grandmother. I liberated them from her house after she died, along with a few antique bone crochet hooks. It’s good to have something to remember her by which has both practical and sentimental value. This is the first time I’ve used them.

I was happily knitting away on the train when I dropped a needle. It fell under the table and landed by my foot. I could see it. I leant down as far as I could, but because I had someone sitting next to me and the table in front, I couldn’t reach far enough. I brushed the needle with my fingers and only succeeded in pushing it under the heater at the side of the carriage. Then I couldn’t see it at all. So I carried on with 3 needles instead of 4, thinking I’d get it as soon as I could.

Then I dropped another needle so I couldn’t carry on at all. The woman sitting opposite was very sympathetic, but she couldn’t reach them either. I got them both eventually, after everyone had got off the train, but it involved a lot of scrabbling around on all fours on the nasty carpet.

Should I even carry on with these socks, or are the random forces of the universe telling me to stop right now?

Life in Cold Blood, or, a visit to the frog pond

2008-02-12T10:27:00.000Z

Yesterday evening on my commute home, I discovered that I had made a mistake somewhere in the lace pattern in my pink Pomatomus. I was nearly home so rather than try to fix it on the train, I decided to wait and do it at home. So after dinner (bubble and squeak with 2 fried eggs. Not at all healthy but very yummy) I sat down to watch telly and fix my sock.

First of all I carefully tinked a couple of rows, but the pattern was still off. So then I ripped back a couple more. The pattern was still off, and I kept losing yarn overs. Then I lost all patience and frogged the whole damn sock. Then, when I started to rewind the yarn into a hank so I could dunk it in the sink to get the crinkles out, it got into a huge snarl. It’s currently languishing in the knitting basket, waiting for a time when I’m a bit less, um, dyspraxic.

I did all this whilst watching the latest, brilliant David Attenborough series, Life in Cold Blood. Last night’s episode was all about frogs. The irony was not lost on me.

In other news, this morning on the train I was sat opposite Obsessed Football Dad. He was talking to his mate about his son’s junior football prowess, and when I took off my iPod at London Bridge an hour later, he was still talking about it. His friend looked a bit dazed.

Up and down the stairs

2008-02-04T09:57:00.000Z

Another weekend of loft-clearing, or rather, sorting, as I haven't managed to actually get much out of the loft so far. It's a two-person job getting stuff out of the hatch and down the ladder, and there's only me. Although I think I've got some male muscle booked for next weekend. I shall also hire a van (one with power steering this time, after the seized-up shoulders incident) and see if Mum will lend me Dad's old sack barrow.

I also made quite a lot of progress transferring some of our CD collection onto an external hard drive. What a bloody boring job that is.

Knit'n'natter on Saturday. Managed to destash quite a lot of yarn -- made enough in yarn sales to buy Dodo's Denise interchangeable needles. Everyone was happy.

Knitting blindness (or, facetious builders)

2008-02-01T15:18:00.000Z

Have just had the following conversation with the Facetious Builder:

FB: What are you knitting?
Me: A cardigan (holding up the completed back section of my Tailored Scallops cardie)
FB: Looks exactly the sam as the one you've got on (my Notre Dame de Grace pullover)
Me: OK... that one's pink; this one's orange. That one's got a wavy pattern; this one's got straight lines. That one's a cardigan; this one is a pullover. I could go on.
FB: oh. Ha ha ha.

Jebus christ almighty but he does my freakin head in.

Leaving, on a jet plane

2008-01-21T14:01:00.000Z

So it finally happened: Mr S has got a job in Qatar. He's leaving on Friday and I'll be joining him in a couple of months. Yesterday we had a 'goodbye gathering' for him at our local pub. It was fun but I got quite tearful at times, especially when my uncle and his wife showed up. She's been poorly so I wasn't expecting to see them at all.

There are some things I'll miss about the UK and some I most definitely won't:

Will miss Rain
Won't miss Grey, bland, soggy low cloud
Will miss London
Won't miss Commuting
Will miss British TV
Won't miss Jeremy fucking Clarkson on every fucking channel
Will miss Green fields, woodlands and rolling hills
Won't miss Mud

I'm making Mr S some socks to take with him as part of a support package to keep him going until I join him.

I've been to a conference for work

2007-10-25T14:08:00.000+01:00

...and I have just one thing to say:

'Evidence' is NOT a verb.

Gaaargh! Annoying knitting!

2007-10-16T14:08:00.000+01:00

I've made some stupid mistakes and I'm very annoyed with myself.

Stupid mistake number 1: I cast on too few stitches for the front of my Notre Dame de Grace jumper. I only noticed my mistake when I held the front up against the back to check I was starting the armholes in the right place. Grrr.

Stupid mistake number two: I made my Clapotis too wide and have run out of yarn before the end. I'll have to frog it completely and make it narrower because there is no more of the yarn. Grrr again.

And what's more, I think I've got a knitting-related pain in my upper arm. So I cast on a very simple sock to make me feel better. So far it seems to be working.

Some messages for my fellow commuters

2007-10-12T13:01:00.000+01:00

1. To the man sitting opposite me on the train: your subconscious mating ritual is wasted on me. I’m already married, so I don’t need to know that your bollocks are so big you can’t sit with your legs any closer together than 130 degrees. Put ‘em away, there’s a good boy.

2. To the person sitting next to me: yes, I’m knitting. Get over it. And if you wanted to have the armrest, you should’ve got on at the first stop, like I did.

3. To the people who are surprised to find there’s a ticket barrier: it was there yesterday, and it’ll be there tomorrow. Here’s a tip for dealing with it: have your ticket ready to stick in the slot, or your Oyster card ready to swipe. That’ll save you having to stand in front of the barrier rummaging in your gigantic bag for your ticket whilst other commuters tut at you.

4. To the people wearing Bluetooth headsets: you think you look like something out of Star Trek. You don’t. You look like a cock. Furthermore, speaking out loud to an invisible companion should be reserved for people who can’t help it.

5. To pedestrians: get a fucking move on crossing the road, OK? Especially if you’re walking in front of me. I don’t want to get squashed by a bendy bus because you were too slow to get across before the lights changed.

6. To people pushing kids in pushchairs during the rush hour: why? Just why?

Oh, and finally, to Southern Railway: it’s October. We don’t need the air-con set to ‘march of the fucking penguins’.

The Safetyfox veggie curry recipe

2007-10-11T14:14:00.000+01:00

The Fresh Princess came round for dinner last night (without Jazzy Jaff -- she's in Australia). I made veggie curry. She really enjoyed it so I typed up my recipe. Here it is, for everyone else to enjoy as well.

1 medium onion chopped small
2 large cloves of garlic
about 2 tablespoons of mild curry powder (I used Sainsbury's Goan Blend)
2 carrots diced small
a slosh of passata (you could use a small tin of chopped toms)
4 small spuds cut into bite-sized pieces
1 large sweet potato
veg stock (or hot water and a cube)
a large handful of fresh spinach, shredded
a few spare broccoli and cauliflower florets I had lying around
1 small carton of coconut cream

First of all I heated up some vegetable oil (not much) in a large saucepan. I sweated the onions with the lid on til they were soft and transparent. Then I added the garlic and the curry powder, gave them a good stir and cooked them gently for another minute or two. Then I added the carrots and enough passata to cover everything. I put the lid back on and cooked it on a low heat til the carrots were soft, which took about 20mins. Then I used the hand blender to whizz it to a puree. You can skip that stage if you like, but if you do, you won't need as much stock.

Next I added the spuds and sweet spuds and enough hot veg stock to cover everything. I gave it a good stir and cooked it on a low heat without too much stirring til the spuds were cooked through (another 20-25 mins). Then I added the remaining veg and gave it another 10 mins, but that was probably a bit too long because they seemed to have dissolved.

Finally I added the coconut cream. You only need to let it warm though -- don't let it boil or it can separate. Five mins should be plenty.

You can use any veg you have for this (peas, beans, chickpeas, sweetcorn, squash, cabbage, mushrooms etc) but some veg e.g courgettes just don't work in a curry.

Check the seasoning and serve with rice and/or naan. Yummers.

Getting away with it

2007-09-27T12:21:00.000+01:00

Our marriage is not one of the old-fashioned patriarchal type where I have to get Rob's permission to spend money. However, all our income goes into and comes out of one account, so it's only polite to mention it when one of us has been spending.

The thing is, Rob doesn't give a monkey's when I buy clothes. Some people's husbands get funny about it -- not mine. But whenever I buy yarn, I get 'Oh, darling!' in a slightly disapproving tone. So last time I went clothes shopping, I cam home and unloaded the bags, showing Rob each thing as I unpacked it:

Me: Look, I got a t-shirt, a jacket, jeans and a jumper for you... And this (revealing a John Lewis bag full of yarn) is a jumper for me.

Rob: Oh darling. That's yarn.

Me: No, it's a jumper. It's self-assembly.

And he couldn't really argue with that. I love Rob.

Pissaladiere

2007-09-24T16:12:00.000+01:00

If there was ever a recipe that could have been invented for me and Rob, pissaladiere is it:

it's got a kilo of onions in it
and 24 anchovies
and it sounds like it's made of wee.

Yummers!

Jaywalkers

2007-08-29T16:58:00.000+01:00

I finished Mum's Jaywalkers. I was really pleased with them. The yarn really suits the pattern (it's the June sock club yarn from the Yarn Yard).

However, they don't fit. Unlike me, Mum does not have fat ankles. And I am not a tight knitter. But she can't get them on! They'll have to be passed on to someone who's a complete twiglet. Maybe I'll send them to Amy Winehouse.

Does your home have a cat infestation?

2007-08-23T15:13:00.000+01:00

Ours does. Spot the evidence.

Celebrity spotting

2007-08-23T15:06:00.000+01:00

Out with Jazzy Jaff and and the Fresh Princess last night. As we walked past Carluccio's in Tunbridge Wells on our way to the car park, who should we see sitting in the window seat but...

the one and only

the legendary

...TOM BAKER!

Holy shit! We walked past two or three times just to make sure.

He lives near T Wells somewhere. Mum once caught his eye as she was going up and he was going down the escalators in Royal Victoria Place.

Suspicious behaviour

2007-08-22T09:59:00.000+01:00

On the Tube the other day I saw a guy wearing a hoodie with 'HAMAS' written on the back. Blimey, I thought, he's risking a bullet (or five) in the back of his head. Then he moved the strap of his bag and I realised the word was actually 'BAHAMAS'.

A philosophical enquiry

2007-08-10T10:06:00.000+01:00

If I knit a sock, frog it, rewind the yarn and knit it again, is it the same sock?

The Cat Poo Song

2007-08-10T10:01:00.000+01:00

There's a cat poo on the lawn
tra-la-la-la-la
There's a cat poo on the lawn
tra-la-la-la-la-la
Cat poo on the lawn
tra-la-la-la-la
It looks like a sugar in a plum (plum plum)

Show me a motion
tra-la-la-la-la
Show me a motion
tra-la-la-la-la-la
Show me a motion
tra-la-la-la-la
It looks like a sugar in a plum (plum plum)

repeat ad nauseum

Fox in the bin

2007-08-09T14:22:00.000+01:00

So, early this morning I was woken by the sound of a fox rummaging through our rubbish. I leant out of the window -- it was dark so I could only hear the fox -- and went 'psssstttttt!' as loudly as I could. I heard the fox skittering off down the lane.

When I cleared up the rubbish that Fantastic Mr Fox had spread all over the pavement I discovered what he'd eaten: manky old Greek salad, with feta cheese of almost indescribable stinkyness; burnt aubergine rind; maggoty cat food remains and the pickled jalapenos from Mr S's kebab.

What he didn't eat, however, were the orange and strawberry creams left over from a box of Roses. Even a fox won't touch those foulest of chocolates.

Lordy!

2007-03-09T17:05:00.000Z

Have I really not posted anything since October? Well what's been goin on...

I've done a lot of knitting. Mr S bought me yarn for a Rogue for Christmas but once I realised I wouldn't have it finished in time to wear this Winter I decided to put it aside for a while and knit more socks.

Making lists, watching films

2006-10-25T09:23:00.000+01:00

In the manner of The Pillow Book of Sei Shonagon, I have decided to make lists. This one is:

10 things that smell nice

rain in the summer
freesias
yarn bought from my local craft shop
cats
fresh coffee
toast
Mr S's forearm
hay (although it sets off my hayfever)
Camden Market
clothes which have ben dried outdoors

Last night I went with L and her sister G to see 'Little Miss Sunshine'. It was really the best film I have seen for a very long time. Good plot, excellent script, very very sad and incredibly funny at once. My only very minor criticism was that at times, it almost descended into slapstick -- but it managed to stay the right side of the line. Highly recommended.

Mr S looked after L's son T while we went out. They watched Batman Begins together on Sky. I've not seen it but from reviews I'd read I thought it might be a bit deep, not to mention violent, for a 9-yr-old (it's rated 12). But they both really enjoyed it and Mr S told me afterwards that it had led them on to quite a philosophical discussion about the nature of good and evil. Just goes to show how much T has grown up. Crikey makes me feel old.

I'm dead...

2006-10-17T09:39:00.000+01:00

...killed by a rather fab pair of Kool-Aid dyed socks from the USA. So I died happy. I'll post pictures soon.

A dilemma

2006-10-11T16:19:00.000+01:00

This morning I had an email from someone I used to work with years ago, suggesting all of us who used to work together meet up for reunion lunch. So far, so good.

Trouble is, everyone else who'd be going has young children, ranging from very small to just-started-school. I really, honestly have nothing against kids. Individually they're very nice. But last time we all went out together, there were so many children that it was impossible to hold a coversation with anyone, and in the rare interludes when my former colleagues weren't tending to their offspring, all they had to talk about was... their offspring. It was chaotic, noisy and kind of negated the point of going out to catch up on each others' news. And what made things worse was one of the women, who I never really got on with anyway, had a go at the restaurant staff for not serving our group first just because we had children with us!So to be honest I really don't want to go.

The organiser wants to know the dates I can make in the next few weeks, so I can't just say, sorry busy that day. I feel if I suggest we go out for dinner, sans kids, they'll think I don't like their children. And if I just reply saying sorry I just don't want to go, they'll think I don't like anyone. But I really don't want to waste time and money on an outing I won't enjoy.

Bloody hell.

Oh dear...

2006-09-12T14:09:00.000+01:00

I'm not really very good at this blogging thing. So what's my latest news? Well, we sold the Land Rover and both me and Mr S had a few tears, cos we felt like we were selling our dream. One day we'll have another one, but instead of a V8 we'll get a diesel and run it on chip fat. So now the hunt is on for a R-or-younger Ford Escort Diesel estate. They seem to be like rocking-horse shit at the moment tho.

I'm doing the LighterLife diet and so far I've lost over a stone in 3 weeks so that's pretty cool. Should mean I feel a lot more comfortable with myself in time to go on holiday.

I'm still in Sock Wars but probably not for long, as a very nice lady emailed to say she was about to sock me to death. Watching the post box with trepidation... I've not heard from my target to say she's had her socks, but then she's not posted anything on the forum either so perhaps she's gone AWOL.

Currently on the needles I have a green twisted-rib sock with my first short-row heel. But the heel is too pointy so if I can be bothered I might frog it and try again. I've also knitted a few rows of a drop-stitch ribbon yarn scarf (intended as an Xmas present for someone) but it's such a booooooring knit that I've stalled on it.

Gaaargh how sad am I? My new Hoover (well, Dyson, but you know what I mean) has just arrived from Amazon and I got really excited. That's extremely crap considering I don't even do my own cleaning. so now I'm off to open the box, then I must do some work.

Recent achievements...

2006-09-06T13:01:00.000+01:00

... which only knitters will find interesting.

I taught myself to knit with one colour in my right hand and one in my left. Yes, ambidextral knitting.
I learnt 'magic loop'. Makes the sock process a bit quicker, just in time for Sock Wars.

Let battle commence

2006-09-05T14:11:00.000+01:00

OMG I'm a Sock Warrior! I'm a little bit nervous about Sock Wars. I've got a feeling I'm going to get killed quite early.

Just say NO to Ikea

2006-09-04T15:04:00.000+01:00

Me, Mr S and mum all went to Ikea at Lakeside this Sunday, much against my better judgement. I knew it was going to be off-the-scale hellish when we couldn't find a parking space for all the Shoguns with baby on board stickers. Even saw one with 'triplets on board' -- nothing like telling the world just how fertile you are. We only went for inspiration and catalogues and came home with neither. According to Mr S it was my fault he left the catalogues at the checkout because I went off to try and and buy a bottle of water, leaving him to struggle with paying for a pack of chopsticks and a photo frame.

2006-08-31T11:51:00.000+01:00

So I have a blog... well there ya go. Better start writing stuff.