Chez Spud

Archive for June, 2010

Crochet Claw

Posted under Crochet, Things I make

7 Comments »

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I’m on a self-imposed Crochet Break. It’s breaking my heart because I love it so much, but crochet is breaking me and that’s can’t be good. My wrist is painful, tingling and numbness in my fingers, up my arm and in to my elbow and should. Carpel Tunnel nastiness I suppose. Weep. That’s not at all good.

I’ve not even been very prolific in terms of output recently. A couple of sweet headscarves as presents for little girls, above. And then Wilbur the Whale for The Wife’s youngest child.

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A couple of Little Secret Things that I can’t show just now, and that’s it. The problem is that I had to rework both the headscarves AND Wilbur endlessly. Neither are hard patterns, but following them, keeping an even tension etc etc is tougher than I thought it would be. I think possibly I’ve been trying to run before I can walk, but you have to start somewhere right? You can’t just granny and ripple forever?

So I’m taking a break before I do some long term damage. Is it normal for crochet to break you like this? It’s annoying because The List of Things I want to make isn’t getting any shorter. I have a lovely book called Crochet for Boys & Girls and I want to make pretty much everything in it. Diggy has put an order in for this blanket:

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And both boys want one of these:

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Then I’d like to make these for my imaginary daughters:

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Although I suspect it’s probably just as well that my daughters ‘are’ imaginary as I think that coat might just cripple me for life. Surely it’s a life’s work? Perhaps I could make it for my imaginary grand-daughter? I think that’s a more realistic time frame.

But for now I must nurse my poorly Crochet Claw and hope some rest will cure the pain.  Who knew crafting could be so hurty? Weep.

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Sweet nostalgia

Posted under People I love

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Late afternoon shadows

I love the 70s. The older I get the more I love the 70s….the fashion, the music, the photos, the cars. I love the 70s, shoot me if you must.

Neatly, I was born in 1970 so the 70s, for me, were all about my childhood from 0-10. I guess it’s normal to look back at our childhood with a fond nostalgia but, really, the 70s were coolest weren’t they? All that hippy hippy shake and Ford Capris and Wagon Wheels and Trumpton and [insert your own fond 70s memory].  I am blessed to be a child of the 70s…we weren’t even metric when I was born. THAT’S how totally ‘rad’ I am. I’m Old Skool, baby, Old Skool…

If my life wasn’t packed up in a storage container I’d drag out my 70s photos to share at this point. Those slightly yellow, square, rounded corner, slightly textured shots…with ‘Date taken….Who….Where…..’ and lines printed on the back for you to fill in the gory details.  Although the 70s were the ‘Chubby Years’ for me so I’m probably doing you a kindness by sparing you the fat grumpy looking kid.

Weeeeeeee!!

When I think of my childhood I think of summer. Long, hot, summers…where the sun shone every day and we played out from morning til night. Clearly I’ve scrubbed out the other 98% of my childhood when it was freezing and it chucked it down. I think I remember it was hot/sunny because all the photos are taken on sunny days. Because film was expensive, getting photos developed was really expensive and those funny little flash bulbs that rotated on the top of your camera cost bazillion. So my parents limited their photography to sunny days and I bet there weren’t alone. Who else remembers the 70s as one long…hot…summer? And I’m not just talking about 1976 either.

Yesterday a little bit of the 70s came around to visit.  The sun really WAS shining. So the boys stripped off and spent the afternoon dipping themselves in our neighbours’ huge paddling pool until their lips turned blue with cold. Then they snuggled up in towels in the sun to warm up…ran around….played with the dogs….had a picnic tea and then played out until bedtime watching their shadows grow longer and longer. Both boys were filthy when I got them home, smeared with tomato and chocolate cake and homemade blueberry sorbet (very 00s…in the 70s it would have been Walls ice cream, hard as a rock, vanilla and perhaps in a wafer sandwich if you were VERY fancy). I took it to be the sign of a good afternoon.

Pretty much every photo I took yesterday with my Big Girl’s Camera is rubbish. All the photos in this post were taken with my iphone. Apparently I can return my £3,000 of Nikon kit and just stick with my phone. So that’s good isn’t it? There’s something about the late afternoon light, ‘Colin’ the caravan and the swing which smacks me right back in my own childhood. Simple pleasures…being outside…friends…water…swings. This is the stuff of memories.

When my boys are grown I hope they’ll look back to their childhood with the same kind of nostalgia that I do for my own. I’m sure they don’t realise just how lucky they are to live the lives they do, why should they? But to live on a farm (albeit not ours!), right next to their best friends in the world, pottering around the place and over to each other’s houses when they fancy, near the sea, me at home with them…they are so very fortunate. I feel their fortune ‘for’ them, but I hope they will look back and feel it too. And I hope they will get over their inevitable teenage fury that we moved out of London to be here when “IT’S SOOOOOOOOO BORING!!!!”. If they have their own children, I assume they’ll understand why we moved. If not, well tant pis, we did it for all the right reasons.

Mr & Mrs Diggy

The 00s are the new 70s you know. I’m recreating it right here. One strangely clad child at a time.

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Bookish

Posted under Books I love

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We have books in our house. Stop press! Hold the front page etc etc. Well, there have always been books here…but stacked up in quiet corners and mostly in plastic boxes awaiting book shelves. Said shelves are now up, books are out of the boxes and are on the shelves and I could NOT be more pleased.

Well, that’s a lie. I would be much more pleased if all our books were on the shelves but the house is too small to house more than a teeeny weeny selection of our huge book collection. Ah well, a little of what you fancy does you good and all that.  So, until we move again, we are living on reduced rations of books…just our ‘capsule wardrobe’ if you will.

A smidge under 18 months ago we packed up our lives and moved out of London, from a large house to a small one. We knew we’d only have space for a fraction of our book collection, so most went in to storage whist the lucky few came with us.  What fascinates me now, seeing the ‘lucky few’ on the shelves, is which books ‘made it’ and which are languishing in storage. All our cookbooks are here (nothing to do with me, that’s MrSpud’s department although strangely most of them are actually mine), dictionaries (why? when did any of us last look at a dictionary), atlases, reference books for birds and flowers, books of poetry and, randomly, a bible, missal and a prayer book. There are books that we thought the boys might like at some point in the next few years, but the rest are Special Books which we thought we’d like to re-read to at least have around us.

All the books that ‘made it’ make sense to me. But what is SCREAMING at me are the ones that aren’t here. Where are my collected Betjemin letters? My Evelyn Waugh? My Mitford sisters collection? All my academic music books? My Barbara Trapido novels? My Penguin classics? A Dance to the Music of Time? The Raj Quartet? My Margaret Atwood? The Alexandria Quartet? My PD James collection? Jeeves & Wooster? Miss Smilla’s Feeling for Snow? Behind the Scenes at the Museum? Cold Mountain? Louis de Berniere’s stuff? Iris Murdoch for that matter? All my travel writing books…and especially William Darymple (although, phew, City of Djinns is here). My vast collection of entirely useless parenting books….?

And, much more interestingly, what about the rest of them that I can’t even remember now? Should I bin them when they finally see the light of day again, since I’m clearly not missing them?

To add to the ‘niggling’ about the forgotten books I’m now worrying about the 18 boxes of books that we gave away about a year before we moved out of London. We’d run out of room. A wall of bookshelves had to make way for a vast toy cupboard and the books had to go. It was so painful at the time but I couldn’t tell you what we got rid of. Now that’s a worry. Books we kept for years and years and then dumped. What if they miss us?And I might well be missing them if only I knew what they were…

Will this be a lifelong anxiety I wonder? Will there be a constant cycle of buying, keeping and releasing books? I suppose so. I can’t imagine we’ll ever have space to keep all the books we already own plus the drip, drip, drip of new purchases. I’m much better about ‘releasing’ books as I read them these days. Possibly a side effect of 18 months without anywhere to keep them. Plus a realisation that there aren’t enough years in a life to read everything you want to read, never mind re-read with any kind of conviction. So it’s better to read and release as you go, I think. To avoid the pain of those 18 boxes departing all in one go.

MrSpud has a friend who disproves of keeping ANY books. He’ll give you any book he’s read but only if you promise to lend it on, no ‘stashing’ is allowed. I admire this is a kind of minimalism, although it alarms me in equal measure. Surely books have a role beyond the immediate reading thereof? ‘Books Do Furnish a Room’ is one of the 12 novels that form my number 1 ‘desert island’ read (A Dance to the Music of Time)…the title comes from a scene where one of the characters is dispatched to buy books ‘by the yard’ since ‘books do furnish a room’. I think there’s no escaping the decorative nature of books, and surely their simple visual appeal shouldn’t be overlooked?

My books also double as memory boxes. Most of my ‘lifers’ include mementos from the time I first read them: postcards I received, newspaper clippings, programmes from concerts I attended. Actually I do this so infrequently now, a measure perhaps of how little I read compared with the Before Children years. I must start to do this again, as I’ve really enjoyed rediscovering these ‘clippings’ from Days of Yore in the past few days.

Interestingly, arranging the books on the shelves wasn’t the tortuous task it’s been in the past. Until now there has been a definite ‘His’ and ‘Hers’ approach with me and MrSpud painstakingly avoiding the mingling of our book collections. Then, for me at least, there has been a very defined approach to keeping author/genre etc grouped appropriately. Apparently we don’t care any more. We just shoved them on the shelves as they came out of the box, more or less. It’s making for a kind of literary ‘lucky dip’ approach but I think I live with it. More or less….although I’d like to state for the record that I am never EVER going to read the bloody Ring Cycle. Farking faerie nonsense.

Books which I will never, ever part with:

1. Four Letters of Love: Niall Willams

2. As it is in Heaven: Niall Williams

3. Pablo Neruda: Selected Poems

4. Edward Thomas: Selected Poems

5. Writing Home: Alan Bennett

6. Learning to Swim: Clare Chambers

7. City of Djinns: William Darymple

8. The Music of the Spheres: Elizabeth Redfern

9. Someone at a Distance: Dorothy Whipple

10. The Priory: Dorothy Whipple

11. Attention All Shipping: Charlie Connelly

There are others which should be on the list but they are in storage so, clearly, it would be a lie to say I will never be parted from them. Hmmmmm.

Me and books. It’s not black & white, it goes beyond that. It’s complicated…

x

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Love & Marriage

Posted under Books I love, People I love

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I didn’t think I could love a novel more than I loved The Priory by Dorothy Whipple, which I enthused about here. But then I read Someone at a Distance(also by Dorothy Whipple), and I found I loved it even more. Although its end papers are not quite so pretty as The Priory. No matter. At this point it’s hard to know who I love more: Dorothy Whipple for writing such enthralling novels, Persephone Books for dragging them out of obscurity and publishing them or Bee for recommending them.  Whichever way I am awarding Extra Cake to Bee since every novel and every film she recommends to me is a total winner. I’m going to give up any notion of freewill and just copy her reading/watching habits. It’s just easier in the long run. Although I am resisting Glee. I am totally unconvinced on that score (admittedly on the basis of a 10 second clip).

I digress…

Back to Someone at a Distance which is the tale of the rapid and unexpected decline of a long, happy and strong marriage. It’s shocking and tragic in equal measures, beautifully constructed and elegantly written. It’s shorter than The Priory and I made a real effort to slow down and appreciate the writing, rather than just gallop through it.  It was quite a test to do so as the story is so deliciously gripping, I needed to get through it to find out what happened in the end.  I won’t spoil it for you.

But, whilst attempting to rein myself in, one passage kind of smacked me between the eyes. I read it. I re-read it. I puzzled over it and eventually I marked the page and moved on. But I have kept coming back to it and I’ve still not really got the measure of it. So what do you think?

“A happily married woman acquires the habit of referring everything to, discussing everything with, her husband. Even the smallest of things. Like bad coal, for instance. To be able to say, sitting across the hearth from him in the evening: “Isn’t this coal bad?” and to hear him say, looking up from his book at the fire: “Awful. Sheer slate,” is to have something comfortable made out of bad coal.

A loved husband is the companion of companions, the supreme sharer, and a happy wife often sounds trivial when she is really sampling and enjoying their mutual and unique confidence. But in doing it, she largely loses her power of independent decision and action. She either brings her husband round to her way of thinking or goes over to his, and mostly she doesn’t know or care which it is.”

So, first paragraph is fine…fairly well trodden ground…the ease of familiarity, the comfort of shared history…nothing new or remarkable there. But the second paragraph is quite a kick in the teeth for equality and emancipation, surely? I keep picking over it: it’s a ‘loved husband’, not a loving husband…’mostly she doesn’t know or care which it is’…I think it’s the ‘doesn’t know’ part that bothers me, the implication that the wife is as stupid as she is subjugated.  Juxtapose that against, ‘sounds trivial when she is really…enjoying their mutual and unique confidence’…it’s quite a contrast. I really can’t get comfortable with it because Whipple’s use of the third person makes this paragraph about ALL women, not just the wife at the centre of the drama. It’s quite a damning statement, or am I missing some subtlety? The novel was written in 1953 and is set in, at a guess, the 30s.

I haven’t got any answers, I’m just sharing the sense of unease that this passage has left me with – and a hope that someone else can shed some light. I finished the book a couple of weeks ago, but that paragraph is still niggling at me.

All of which got me thinking about marriage generally and, naturally, about my marriage. There we are, up there in that photo, me and MrSpud on our wedding day. Some of us are thinner than we are now, others are considerably chubbier (ahem that’s YOU MrSpud with your pre-wedding comfort eating…although what’s with the nose? Did your nose comfort eat too? How puzzling…).

Initially I chewed over the ‘comfortable’ element of any long relationship…tick, that is present and I see that as a good thing now. I’m all done with that “giddy” stuff. Intoxicating at first but really very tiresome for an extended period since it spells ‘temporary’ to me. Giddy is out…comfortable is in.

But ‘losing power and independent thought’ and being a ‘happy wife’. Oh no. No no no. I am not at all comfortable with that..not one bit. I’d rather be giddy than a ‘happy wife’. In my unrest, I even sought out our wedding vows to see what I’d signed up for. And I did, literally, sign up for them since I wrote them. Presumably MrSpud must have glanced at them at some point before whimpering in agreement to them during the torture session ceremony?

Here’s a few bits:

“Marriage is not an easy path.  It requires devotion, the ability to listen, the wisdom to know when we are wrong, and the strength to put things right.  Above all, it requires unending love, a willingness by both partners to share themselves and their experiences with each other, and a willingness to accept each other for who they are.

Marriage requires closeness and distance – enough closeness for a couple to grow together, and enough distance to allow each partner to be an individual.  A good partner in such a marriage will be loving, caring and, above all, a best friend.

Spud and MrSpud, will you seek to have a loving marriage, allowing it and each other to change and develop, supporting each other in happiness and sorrow, sickness and in health and remaining true to each other for the rest of your days?  (We will)

Will you seek to live together as equal and different individuals, and to recognise and accept each others’ strengths and weaknesses? (We will)

Will to seek to trust the ebbs and flows of your love, to offer your love without conditions, having faith that it will always return, and understanding that its nature may change? (We will)

Will you seek always to learn from your shared experiences, and to build from them a full and caring friendship based on trust and on respect? (We will)”
Re-reading the above, I’m a little bit taken aback to be honest. Five years in to our marriage I think my our stance was very sensible…with an emphasis on the changing nature of love and relationships, of the need for us to be individuals before can be a partners and the fundamental importance of our friendship as a basis for a happy marriage. All these elements seem very wise at this point, but must have seemed a bit gloomy to our wedding guests? Although many of them had been present at my first marriage (cough cough) so perhaps they were reassured that I’d taken a more pragmatic approach second time around.

I agree that a ‘loved husband is the companion of companions’ but would add that surely a ‘loved wife’ is just the same? But I hope and pray that neither me, nor MrSpud, have lost our ‘independent power of action or decision’ since that’s what keeps us who we are, and protects that which brought us together in the first place (well, that and the power of internet dating).  We are together because of who we are, not just what we have become. What we have become, and the children we have brought along for the ride, are a very happy product of us as individuals. Together we are strong, and our children bind us together even further.But we are only together because of who we were, are still are, in the first place.

Here endeth the lesson on marriage. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Dorothy Whipple!

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Poppy Power

Posted under People I love, Photography

16 Comments »

Oh how I laughed. For the last 10 days or so I’ve been itching to get a poppy field shot.  The field I snapped last year is covered in white daisies this year, but another field just a short drive away was absolutely magnificent. Probably the biggest poppy field I’ve ever seen and in a gorgeous position for an evening shoot. But I couldn’t get near enough to it without trespassing, and there was nowhere easy to park. I’d just about given up on it when I happened to meet the landowner at a party and asked permission to shoot. By the time I got there to shoot the poppies had, inevitably, gone way past their best. Weep.

Yesterday MrSpud spotted ‘something orangey red’ about 3 fields away from the house. Quick trip down the fields ET VOILA! A wonderful, wonderful poppy field….right on the doorstep. And it’s absolutely at its best right now. My photographic happiness is complete.

I bribed the boys to sit still for a photoshoot. They weren’t that keen at first…

Threats were added to the bribes…

Once they were off there was no stopping them…

I can’t imagine there are many years left of them being so unselfconsciously loving towards each other. So, for now, I’ll let my heart melt a little bit each time they kiss and cuddle each other. And take a million photos and a make a million memories. xxx

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Wilderness Weeks

Posted under Witterings

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I’ve been absent. I hate those blog posts that start, all breathlessly,  “Oh I’m SO sorry I haven’t blogged I’ve been so busy with [insert usual tedious reasons]“. It seems so unnecessary. It’s a blog, not the Wall Street Journal. Surely no one cares, even if they actually notice, if you don’t blog to a schedule? As bloggers we do, by definition, have a fairly well developed sense of our own importance and sense of place in the world. But extending our puffery to assuming our adoring readers are pining away for us when we nip off for a bit seems excessive to me, even in my own trumped up version of the world where Spud Rules (OK).

In short, I did not blog for a while. I am fine. I am sure you are too.

Moving on…hello readers of  Playpennies! And thank you to the editorial team who picked Chez Spud for a Playpennies Loves blog post. I am feeling the love ladies, feeling the love. I am also much admiring how the Chez Spud corporate colours coordinate so neatly with the Playpennies website. What excellent taste you gals have (see above re well developed sense of own importance, it’s a kind of sickness actually).  Does being mentioned by Playpennies (“for pennywise parents”) mean Chez Spud is a mummy blog after all? I’ve pondered on this before, on the back of a nomination for a MAD Award (parenting blog award thingies).  I’m not unduly bothered really…I’ve defined my blog as “stuff I think about” and it’s hardly a surprise that the Megaboys crops up every now and again. But I never set out to be a mummy blog, I just started writing and let the stream of (barely) consciousness take me wherever. What the hell, I’m a blogging slut and will happily take readers from wherever I can get them. Shoot me, why don’t you?

I have all manner of thoughtful blog posts ambling around in my head as a result of my Blog Break…on marriage, literature, a Camera Club post, crochet claw issues (ouch), camping (hell), update on my 39 Things to do before I’m  40…but none of them are coming together in any kind of meaningful way. So I present to you a pile of shambolic witterings instead.

I am Spud. I witter, therefore I am.

x

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Party in Pictures

Posted under People I love

9 Comments »

Miss Clara, Diggy’s true love forever, turned 3 this week. She’s quite a LADY now, very grown up and quite the little miss. Diggy adores her, absolutely adores her and (phew) the sentiment is reciprocated in buckets. They are In Love and are to be married, apparently. The shrieks and squeals of joy when they see each other never fails to bring a little tear to my eye…the quiet handholding and hugging and even (see above) a bit of kissing.  Luckily Miss Clara lives next door and they go to nursery together so they have plenty of opportunity to be together. She popped over yesterday just before her party. Diggy was asleep at the time, so the poor girl pottered around the garden looking very confused…”Where….where…where my Diggy?” she eventually asked, sounding very glum. Heart breaking!

Bertie is equally enamored with Clara’s older sister, Imogen. Alas she loves another however. Bertie cannot compete with the dark haired boy at nursery who has captured her heart. She only loves boys with dark hair, perhaps I should die it for him? Those blonde locks are holding him back…although he has A Plan. He has decided to dress up as Imogen’s beau on their wedding day, and make a mask so he looks like him. Then he will steal his bride by stealth. AHA!

Pre-school love, it’s complicated. You know?

Miss Clara’s party in pictures, processed vintage/70s style which seems fitting for the old-fashioned, relaxed style of party that it was. Although I don’t remember bouncy castles in the 70s? Just a lot of static from the long party dress, made from nylon. Nice.

Happy Birthday lovely Clara! We love you…although Diggy loves you the best xxxxx

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Giveaway winner!

Posted under Witterings

2 Comments »

Thanks to everyone for commenting on my ‘I’m one’ post. I wrestled with a random number generator thingy and the the winner is….drumroll…

Screen shot 2010-06-06 at 20.26.35

Number 14 which was Shannon, from An Enlightened Heart who will be the unfortunate lucky winner of something handmade by me. Congratulations! x

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A video just for Deb of Sojourner

Posted under People I love, Witterings

7 Comments »

Oh I had such a giggle at a comment from Deb a few days back, when I posted a video of Bertie on his go-kart. “Nice to hear your voice”, she said. Um, Deb….that was MR SPUD not me!! This is me talking. I sound like the Queen. I was teased mercilessly about my cut glass accent at various Blog Camps…

Enjoy! Oh, those ‘buckets’? I bought them to stash yarn in. They lasted about 10 seconds before those Megaboys appropriated them for Boys Chores.

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