Faux Fair Isle Fail

I was very taken by the idea that I could use a wool

that would knit Fair Isle all by itself,

according to the lady in the shop.

I have attempted the real thing and it's time consuming, fiddly

and rather too warm with the double layer of loops at the back of the work.

I needed a quick project that would be off the needles before

grand-daughter went away on her holiday.

Planes can be chilly even though her destination isn't.

So I embarked on a hooded jumper with pom poms

excited to see how this would work.

Hmm. Nice stripes with the merest suggestion of alternate stitch colour change

but Fair Isle it ain't.

For the real thing you could do no better than to visit this clever person.

Luckily grand-daughter likes it a lot

and wore it with the hood up on quite a warm day

until we both agreed that she was getting a bit too hot.

Hold the front page

This Bank Holiday weekend delivered spring and early summer

all rolled into one glorious extravaganza.

The beach,

deserted and sandy for once, raked of its usual shingle layer.

Wisteria.

Rhododendrons.

Azaleas.

Other people's gardens,

open to the public under the National Garden Scheme.

Walks, with dodgy overgrown footpaths

and equally dodgy directions from an ancient guide book

but a bonus discovery

of an abandoned orchard, like a scene from The Secret Garden

with a mysterious gazebo in the middle of nowhere.

 Foliage colour to rival that of autumn

but with added zing and zest,

and finally, a rare treat, the handkerchief tree 

Davidia involucrata in flower

to wave us on our way home.

If it's Wednesday it must be Milwaukee

Brilliant sign sent by son from Milwaukee airport.

He was surely in urgent need of this facility 
as he hurtled around the USA for his work this last week. 

His thirtieth birthday was spent in transit.

Some recombobulating needed here too as I

  think back to his first emerging in Arrivals.

His Emergency emergence indeed

after spending far too long in transit!

My own birthday was spent in hospital with him 
where time stood still in a private room miraculously provided
by the NHS and filled with early Sweet Peas by my mother.

We brought him home after five days, in a carry cot
strapped onto the back seat of the car.
I remember that they gave me the little tin foil bowl
that they used to 'top and tail' him at bath time.
I clung to that bowl like a talisman until it wore out
and I realised that I would have to replace it with a bowl of my own
and that it would probably be alright.

Seeing red

Oh my goodness.

This is a trial of one's patience.

I have now managed to copy someone else's last, precious, 

but now unsupported, version of iPhoto

onto my computer in a bid to be rid of Photos.

And Hallelujah

it has let me upload from my phone to the computer

and now to upload from the computer to the blog

but not quickly.

Oh no. That would be asking too much.

We must wait and twiddle our thumbs

 long enough for the moon to rise and darkness to fall.

Definitely losing it

Sitting on the bed, right there,

on a bright check blanket,

in all its fluorescent high vis yellow -

the tape measure.

How many times have we searched that virtually empty room?

This morning I put something else on that bed.

It wasn't there then.

Nothing has been taken off the bed that might have covered it.

Nobody here is inclined to play tricks.
There is nobody else here except my husband.

Grand-daughter has not been in there

and in any case could not have reached up onto the bed.

We are seriously weirded out.

Fly past

One of the things I can be relied upon to say,

as I struggle to find anything to like about

this time of year is,

At least the flies have gone.

But here is a sight to add to my glass half empty -

 a murmuration over marshes at dusk.

First they flew past us

in a continuous stream.

Then the line coalesced into an ovoid,

before swooping down to roost for the night.

This sequence took just 15 seconds.

We were so lucky to catch it as we drove past.

Waiting to be real*

Big Bear introduces himself.

Miss Maggie Rabbit.

One of Alicia's kits.

Waiting to be real, like the Velveteen Rabbit.

They're changing guard at Sveriges Kungahus*

I was standing on an island in the middle of crossing the road

when who should hove into sight

but the Swedish Royal Life Guards,

a combined cavalry/infantry regiment of the Swedish Army

accompanied by the mounted band.

They were on their way to the palace for the

changing of the guards ceremony.

They have been protecting the Royal Palace in Stockholm since 1523.

Apparently 800,000+ spectators visit the outer palace courtyard

each year to witness these ceremonies.

I was in a crowd of three.

Here's how they sounded.

*'They're Changing Guard at Buckingham Palace'

was an oft played record in my early years.

Moon daisies, shadows and damsel flies

Peace has been restored.

BT finally rang me back today and agreed to pay compensation.

And the reason for my futile calling?

The special number I had been expressly told to ring 

had been suddenly withdrawn from service

but crucially did not stop playing its,

'We are very busy, you are held in a queue 

and will be answered as soon as possible,'

message.

Jennifer, on the receiving end of the resultant flak from

many, many broadband customers was, 'Disappointed'

that this had happened, neatly appropriating
any feelings of disappointment I may have had.

Moon daisies led me to Moondance
to lower my blood pressure.

The aquamarine

As found.

And a few paces further on -

the perfect setting.

Made my day.