Ms Textual

Cosying Up to My Inner Manic

Not sure I should be trying out the new Beta version of TypePad whilst battling a tea cosy episode of sheer manic proportions, so any mistakes you see here you won't be able to distinguish between mania or sheer fatigue or mere typos. Such is life.

Last to leave the workroom tonight. Sheer doggedness. Too cold to wander down to dorms and drag one's body up to dining room. Determined to complete tea cosy. Must complete tea cosy. Will complete tea cosy. 

This is a cosy of mammoth persuasion defying species identification and made with much cussedness. What did I learn she asked? That I was so bloody-minded but still basically a 'good child' so I muttered sotto voce-so sotto voce- that I don't care whether I made the phrase up or not...completing the task, appreciating the challenge but confirming that I was so stubborn that I would stay on in the workroom to construct an end to it all! The question of what was art and what was craft was bandied, tossed back,picked up, squished,lay like a Tyrannosaurus Rex of elephant proportions as a fibrous subtext in the middle of the workroom.

My fingers really really really wanted to drift back, to creep back, to rush back, to...

Will knit alllllll day tomorrow!!!!!!!!!!

Tea(sing) Cosy Ideas Out of the Yarn

Day 2 of 'Wild Knitting'. Who knew that knitting could be such an extreme sport requiring stamina, strength and the ability to think round tangles?

There are those early mornings...

There are prototypes to work out and you knew that maths was always a bit of a challenge (: There are scaled designs to grow whilst not forgetting to note down what you did. And I did. Forget, that is.

Can you guess what kind of a teapot cosy I'm working on, thanks to the inspiration of blogger grrl+dog who is also attending the course? As usual my fibrephiliac tendencies carry me away and I take a thousand photographs romancing the wool...

Apologies if I don't answer your comments for a week or so. I'm absolutely dog-tired. Extreme knitting is a sport that I'm going to have to ease into. In fact, why am I blogging at all? Good grief! Look at the time! And I thought Orange was cold!!!!!

Teapot Cosies in the Mist

This was Mittagong at 7.30 am...

This is a 3 cup teapot...

This is a teapot undergarment undergoing construction and having a fitting to check suitability of dimensions... This is the end of the day and I'm barely able to lift a needle... 'Wild Knitting' workshop at the Sturt Winter School at Mittagong with 'Grand Purl Baa' Loani Prior. I'm exhausted. Stuffed. Depleted. And it's only Day 1. Am I having fun? Need you ask?????!!!!!!!!!

All Stitched Up! Done&Dusted!

They came. They saw that it was concrete. They wrapped it up. As you do!

In fact... now that I can see the photograph more clearly, I do believe that there is a blogger reaching in to the trolley...grrl+dog, off to cloak some more concrete. Well done to the (w)rappers! What a great job!
Talked to a young couple and the boy's mum had sent a piece in black and white Collingwood colours from Melbourne and they were posting pics back to her. Had a delightful surprise when someone asked "Are you 'Ms Textual?"-my beanie and scarf were accurate identity markers :)... It was whisperinggums, a fellow book blogger!!! Her post on the event is very generous as she herself is.
Soooooooo touchable, and as a woman of so many words, wielding them to inspire, to transfer skills, to chastise,to praise,to evaluate,to reflect, it's just wondrous how expressive wool can be...
Sooooooo, now it's time to let Loani and the wild knitting begin! With apologies to Maurice Sendak.
But perhaps there's still time for you to get (w)rapt...

"NGA entrance starting to take colourful shape"...see NGA Flickr website

NGA entrance starting to take colourful shape
Originally uploaded by National Gallery of Australia

These look fabulous!

Can't wait to start taking my own pics. What a knitbloggy week I have ahead of me!!!

Loani Prior's 'Wild Knitting' at the Sturt Winter School and Knitta's Stitching Up the NGA.

:)

Check out these two blog posts from grrl+dog who is down in the knit of things at the woolly heart.

Also flit across to Flickr and check out   

National Gallery of Australia's photostream.

'The Marriage Bureau for Rich People' Farahad Zama

 The blurb reads..."What does somebody do with a wealth of common sense if retirement palls?" Hhhhmmm? Open a marriage bureau? Not my personal first choice as a retirement option, but...

The Vet and the Horseflufloozies gave me this for Mother's day in May because he/they thought that a combination of Indian literature and a Jane Austenesque Pride and Prejudice theme, would be especially pleasing to my reading palate. He had read a review of it in the newspaper. I love how the people closest to you can just know things like that. 40 years of association will do that. And it's largely true.

The narrative follows the establishment of a new small business by a retired Muslim man who offers a marriage brokering service to busy or desperate Indians of all castes and religious persuasions. The characterisation of his wife, Mrs Ali, is particularly strong. It is her wisdom, compassion and insight that achieves success in the background.

The Indian setting is rich in its descriptions of domesticity...instead of Sweden, this time I'm plunged into the noises, smells and living arrangements of India. And Zama is very detailed in these descriptions.

If the historical institution of marriage throughout human society is for the legal redistribution of property through procreation of offspring, then this novel gives a very clear insight into the many varieties of subcultural complexities of historical choice in Indian 'culture', given the multilayered aspects of religion and caste and language group. It also makes a very clear statement of social change in contemporary Indian approaches to the selection of marriage partners. And it does so with wry wit, compassion and an ultimate valuing of the romance of mutual attraction over parental calculations of wider family advantage. Just as Jane did really. Except in both cases the marriages seem ideal in that they combine the social class choice of the parents with the romantic choice of the girl and boy. Best of all possible worlds really. And perhaps that is what all this social manipulating is all about.

Within the mire of marriage machinations, questions of social justice arise even more as we follow the attempts of the Alis' son to achieve justice for rural villagers about to be ousted by commercial interests on a national scale.

No wonder Farahad Zama is on to his third novel in the series. This is a rich seam from which to extract many a narrative gem.

I married a boy from the local area, which automatically meant that we were from the same social class and thus shared many similar experiences of life. Zama's novel has forced me to consider why the marriage has worked so well and if it is due largely to the same issues that the Indian parents raise.I'll let you know when I have some answers. But don't hold your breath!

I love Farahad Zama's website. You can feel the excitement of following dreams, publishing success and the motivation to move on into it. Extracts from Mrs Ali's essays at the end of this novel give you an inkling of that sheer engagement.

Already having the book in my possession I read an interesting review of it on Kate's Chronicles of a Country Girl blog. Kate made a comment about Zama's style being "a tad unsophisticated' and I know what she means as it had me thinking about it as well. Perhaps it is that thing of 'voice' again and in this case the voice is that of Mr Ali who sees things largely in black and white. The sentence structures are certainly simple, resonating with a conversational tone. On re-examining the novel I see that the plot is largely driven by the dialogue. That one conversation leads to the unfolding of more sub-plots. Like most ordinary conversations within families and between old acquaintances, the language is plain and the semantic choices largely simple. The object is exchange of daily transactions and the language level seems to match this. The people are basically uncomplicated and linguistically this reveals itself in a certain naivety. However, behind this literary lack of sophistication lies integrity, sincerity and a celebration of a changing India.

Public knitting contributions laid out for sorting

Public knitting contributions laid out for sorting
Originally uploaded by National Gallery of Australia

How exciting! I can see that my piece did make it to the NGA. It's laid out on the floor in the middle row, about 7 pieces down from the front, or the lower part of the frame. It's pale blue and ochre brown.

Bless the NGA for their Flickr site with photographs as I'm really feeling the tyranny of distance. I really want to be there NOW watching as the pieces are assembled and wrapped. I'm traveling down on Friday so I'll be there Saturday to wander around and wrap myself up in the experience. I'm (w)rapt already. In fact, I found quite a substantial amount of leftover wool from the project, even after I made myself a hat to wear with the piece so now I'm rapidly knitting a moss stitch scarf to wear with the hat to wear to the exhibit to be photographed near if that's the stage things are at.

How absolutely thrilling :)

Parkes trippingly to see the alpacas (and so excitingly, I bought a 'new' spinning wheel!)

Macusani Alpacas at 'Valley Crest' on the Newell Highway to Forbes, just 10 kms out of Parkes, Central Western NSW, Australia. The blogosphere is so big as such that I thought I'd better tell you which hemisphere, in case you get all excited then realise that it'll cost heaps to drop in.

And then the wool is spun and hand-dyed into hanks for sale in the shop and cafe. The products are amazing...for knitters, for spinners, for people who appreciate beautiful hand-crafted clothes... And more colours...

And weaving, and felting. Check out these amazing genie slippers! And now because I really must go and eat and prepare for a trip to Sydney tomorrow, my 'new' second-hand spinning wheel... Ettrick Folding Windwheel. I'm sooooooo in love with it and can't wait to get spinning again. I do hope it's like the proverbial riding a bike. Anyhoo, I've got the time to fiddle and re-learn. My wheel's the upright one on the table to the right. Yippeeeee!

Stitching Up the NGA...there's more

Cruising 'round da blogs I saw that grrl+dog had posted lots of pics of panels.

I can't wait to go down but as I'm dropping in on the last weekend, I'm hoping that this inclement weather doesn't make everything go saggy. 'Are the poles under shelter' I ask myself. Naturalising the man-made?Perhaps saggy baggy droopy knitting is part of the whole organic textile evolutionary concept?

Soooo cold in Orange today that even the most venturesome of our canine companions would not budge past the back step!

I reaaaaallllly want to wear my NGA-matching hat piece but there's some virginal hocus pocus ritual belief that's forcing me to out it only on the steps of the NGA! Go figure!

Stitchedup

(On Stumbling on) Scandinavian Crime Fiction-in Translation

Preamble:

Regular readers of this blog will know that I have ongoing issues with pursuing further formal academic qualifications in the form of a doctorate. I am an academic at heart, which you'll realise from my 'About' page. Part of me would adore to pursue knowledge for knowledge's sake outside the constraints and formal structure of a university. In my retirement a doctorate would only feed my ego, but that doesn't stop me wanting to pursue an avenue of learning a with a rigour which also puts me firmly in the control seat. I have enough university qualifications behind me to know what I'm doing. And as a teacher I've designed courses and assessed people and marked public examinations so 'course structure' is no problemo.

Undaunted, I wonder whether the blogging universe allows for such a pursuit of peer-reviewed excellence similar to the social significance that Wikipedia has for our 21st century culture of knowledge. No longer do people have to flaunt their brains in front of publishers in the hope that someone will allow their work to go public. Blogs provide the forum as do other blogging groups.The story of Wikipedia demonstrates that 'academic' communities now exist outside the politics of institutions. 'Approval' is relatively instant and no more do we wait on the vagaries of someone finally getting around to assess your work. The 'Comment' function takes care of all that.Oh brave new world that has such potential in it!

Access to academic library resources can be a problem and I have recently applied for a borrower's card through the National Library of Australia as that gives me access to the kind of research avenues that are rigorous enough at this level. As a graduate of Sydney University and the University of New England, I don't have access to online library resources unless I go back as a student.

Soooo, there are a few stumbling blocks to the self-access doctorate, but they can be worked out. Now, what topic to choose?

The blogosphere micro-environment is indeed a remarkable thing and it appears that being very specific in your niche blog post titles plus having excellent host blog site 'genetics' can allow people to drift on to your blog allowing for rather fruitful cross-fertilisation. Such has been my case on first encountering Stieg Larsson. A lucky meeting indeed and one likely to spawn much fertile food for thought as I evolve as a reader of Scandinavian crime fiction. Is this a new academic trail for a brave new (retirement) world?

Thesis:

Soooooo, in my self-styled 'Retirement Self-Access University' I appear to have 'enrolled' in a new course broadly entitled   'Scandinavian Crime Fiction in Translation-Does Crime Translate Transcend Cultures?'. A 'course' outline follows.

'Scandinavian Crime Fiction in Translation-Does Crime Translate Transcend Cultures?'

"Does crime transcend culture? Is it the lowest common human denominator? Or does crime follow a specific cultural pattern? Is ratiocination shaped by cultural concepts of ontology?"

Our course will require you to read English translations of crime fiction by Scandinavian writers. You may choose your authors but whilst reading a number of writers you must read a number of works by each writer. You may like to start here by looking at Wikipedia's entry on Reg Keeland/Steven T. Murray, the translator of Stieg Larsson's Millennium series. Keeland has also translated other crime fiction novels by Scandinavian authors.You may like to use his list as a starting point for author selection.You might like to specialise in the crime fiction of one particular Scandinavian country after you have read a number from each culture. Another source you might like to investigate is the Scandinavian Crime Fiction blog at Wordpress.

Assessment:   Create a series of blog posts on any comparative conclusions you draw from observations of your reading material. Any length. Any topic. Any focus area. It is desirable to link to other blogs that discuss the same texts in order for the course community to engage in dialogue of sufficient depth.

Due- when you're ready and have a developed piece to publish.

Sooooooo, this morning I ordered two more novels by Karin Alvtegen: Shame and Shadow. Stay tuned for posts. Learning to spell her name in search panes is a real trial as my Anglo-language brain doesn't naturally see the syllabic formations.

Feel free to join in and enrol in this 'course' with me! No fees. Only your academic reputation is at stake! And isn't it always as a book blogger?

Knitted Cupcakes and Roses Mosaic

Motivating myself here. Am involved in a cupcake exchange on Ravelry, which is lots of fun, and I've assembled some goodies but not all. Have to knit a cake rapidly, which is actually very easy then its mucho fun choosing bling to decorate it with. But I've just got to get on with it and I'm mightily easily distracted. Soooo, of course I've just spent time on Flickr and Big Huge Labs choosing some of my favourite summer roses with cupcakes shots (not my garden roses unfortunately) and certainly no roses out now. I'm soooo glad that I took these shots. They're a joy forever.

Knittaholic Seeks help!

Sorta need help. I'm putting off starting a lace knitted scarf because it all seems too complicated and I'm waylaying myself with toddler mittens in bright red on dpns and socks on 2.50 mm dpns.I've only ever knitted one sock before. When I was about 30 odd. I spun the wool myself and did really intend making two socks but the second one never materialised and the first one was thick enough to loan Mawson on one of his Antarctic missions, if he found himself with one leg.

So, I distracted myself with this little accessorising project for the NGA soft sculpture viewing event. My wrists are killing me! I knitted compulsively all day. I started last night and reluctantly put it down only to sleep. Casting on million ply 'carpet wool' (as my fellow knittaholic observed) on size 6 mm round needles was a killer. Using 4 dpns to cast off was a killer. My friend saw the nastier compulsive side of me when we realised as I was casting off that I hadn't counted stitches properly and I was determined not to undo anything. I was going to fudge my way through if it killed me. It's just a hat! The word 'killed' hissed through the edges of my clenched teeth! No wonder I need to travel to Sydney to talk jaw issues with my dentist! But it's finished!

And I do worry about my compulsive tendencies.

I had the brilliant idea to use the leftover wool from my "Stitching Up the NGA" panel to make a matching hat to wear when we visit the exhibition in Canberra in July. I may never touch anything over 8 ply again. You need the wrists of a wharfie! The top of the hat has a vague swirl that looks meant so perhaps my mathematically challenged brain has got away with it! Got all excited thinking that someone had mentioned a great button shop nearby then was enormously deflated when I realised that I'd read that, about a little shop somewhere in rural England on Dovegreyreader's blog. A tad too far from Orange,NSW perhaps?  I was rather relieved and pleased to remember that I have a reasonable 'large button' stash and that this coconut shell button does indeedy look quite stylish here.

 And there is never a svelte young model wandering around the house for when I finish things!!!! Double damn!! I did suggest that the Vet grab a dog and shove a hat on her but he muttered something about wriggling and welfare so I gave up on that option and tried patiently to get him to focus my easier camera so he wouldn't stuff up the shot.

Sooooo, the pattern's on Ravelry and it's called 'The Republic' and I must really like it since I've made it twice now.

After we visit the Canberra exhibition I'll be mounting another one of my own here- a mosaic or two including all in situ. I'll have to post that from Mittagong, from attending Loani Prior's "Wild Knitting" course. But that's the subject of another blog, and many more mosaics!

This is better for the full effect

Recycled Sari Silk Mosaic-it's all a blur!

Recycled Sari Silk Mosaic-it's all a blur!
Originally uploaded by MsBubblefish

Just testing out this Flickr upload straight to my blog. How very clever the internet is!

Working with recycled sari silk lately has been a fascinating challenge. I decided to deliberately keep the blurry central pic because it took me 2 and 1/2 hours to unravel the tangle and that's what my eyes were seeing in the end. Or not.

Used round knitting needles and 4 dpk's. Guessed at the needle gauge. Recycled sari silk goes from 1 ply to 8 ply to 1 ply to 12 ply to 1 ply...it's all over the shop. Textural effects you get by the bucketload.

I had thought that this yarn involved unthreading woven saris. Silly me. Discarded thrums from that process are recycled and not wasted. Women with drop spindles go spinning about their daily life and so it's no wonder that vegetation sometimes emerges.

The colour combinations are random and quite, quite delicious. As is the texture. And the concept of the production process is worth pondering.

More thoughts for knittaholics on my Ravelry site where I've changed my user name to 'Ms Bubblefish' in the interests of simplification.

And because it's Mosaic Monday

Mary, our usual host of Mosaic Monday at Little Red House has family visiting and very sensibly she wants to spend time with them and not the blogosphere. I, however, love playing the Mosaic Monday Game, so...more of our friends' beautiful garden where their hands convey the beauty in their souls through the living landscape. Bless them for their garden statuary.

 

Swedish Crime Fiction: Karin Alvtegen and Henning Mankell

   AND   

I've just read Betrayal ^second and Sidetracked ^first one after another after receiving comments from Bookpusher and Reg Keeland on my Stieg Larsson post The Girl Who Played with Fire, and I thank them for introducing me to more Swedish writers of crime fiction.

Apart from anything else it's the cultural voice that attracts me. 'Foreign' crime fiction is a hybrid form of travel writing. Exotic. Different customs.With violent death thrown in as an extra cultural custom. Setting is a major factor in my enjoyment. And the anthropological archaeology of everyday life. I'm fascinated about what people have for breakfast and where they live and why they live there and how they balance life and work and childcare and work. And what they offer visitors for refreshments. Does the word 'thermos' have the same meaning as here - an insulated liquid container used for traveling. In Sidetracked someone offered Wallender coffee from a thermos. It seemed very odd in the context of home. And I'm interested in how the weather affects them. Why would all the parents meeting in the childcare centre all wear blue plastic booties?? Who supplies such things and why? And I'm interested in how the national political climate impacts on them. The gender balance in parliamentary representatives. And the frequent references to boats and the leisure lifestyles of sailing. They seem so common. Very attractive for this Australian landlocked lubber. And cultural aspects of crime where criminals escape seamlessly to neighbouring European countries or to former colonial outposts not familiar to this 7th (I lose count, it's a long while since James Ogden boarded 'The Alexandria') generation descendant of an English convict.

I need to have confidence in the translation and I'm still working out how this is achieved. It's that elusive 'voice' factor again. Mimetic rhetoric. And how on earth do you translate style and flair? Still, I know from reading other translated works over the years that enjoyment of same is entirely possible. It's just that I need to cogitate on it a little longer.

As a former ESL teacher with a Grad Dip in teaching English as a foreign language and a Masters in teaching English to speakers of other languages, I have quite a keen appreciation for semantic nuances and style and voice that may be quite difficult to reproduce in another language. The Karin Alvtegen website contains a few such typos or mistranslations - glaring enough to be off-putting for a native-speaker. Surely Alvtegen means that she avoids fiction when writing her own (not non-fiction) so that she doesn't mime the voice of another writer?

What is it about violent crime that is so fascinating? Why do we follow the plot glued with bated breath? Blood of others freaks me out. My own blood gushing isn't so exciting either. Is it the compelling horror of psyches acting out their distorted dramas in real life? And why is it always usually the damaged relationship with the mother that has caused such evil to erupt? A psychological truth common to all cultures?

I preferred Alvtegen to Mankell whilst thoroughly enjoying them both. Sidetracked was a classic police procedural: divorced copper struggling to maintain personal relationships whilst devoting most of his time to the greater good of society (and inflicting infinite irreparable harm on his own relationships); professional rivalry at all levels; the extreme dedication required for the job; the combative relationship with the media; police molls; prostitution rings involving slave-trading in very young 'foreign' girls; powerful men with venal urges and the money to satisfy them; the arrogance of wealth and its comparison with middle-class values; the personal threat to the detective. I hesitate to say cliched because the characterisation of the killer was skilfully done integrating Native American rituals and the trauma of child abuse. The initial connecting of links between the serial murders was also an enjoyable cerebral puzzle. At first I thought the Epilogue was unnecessary but then I understood the need for the reader to be cleansed of such horrific mental stigma; it represented a deliberate effort to return the reader to a world where good people still live attempting to repair the damaged relationships in their own lives where all win. And it was all about the evil of the male gender. Again. The sexual excesses. The sexual perversions. The physical strength and violence to act out on those excesses. This surely should be the subject of your next doctorate.

Betrayal was none of that. It did share a youthful damaged male protagonist with a violently truncated maternal relationship and a violent home life where the male parent philandered to his heart's desire demanding that the child collude in his evasiveness. The innocent blank canvas of the young soul that is butchered and battered as a byproduct of the behavior of the developmentally delayed older generation. Alcohol. Absent father. Shady work practices. Poor education.

However the theme and fulcrum of this novel revolved around marital fidelity. Honest and open communication. And the sheer revengeful energy that can erupt when this goes wrong. A woman spurned and all that. Think The Ex-wives Club in Swedish with one character. The interesting aspect was the normality of the reactions. No child-damaged psyche here for the wife at least. It could happen to anyone. Betrayal (how apt the title) charts the territory of sexual jealousy and the archaeological minefield of emotional trust.

It's about moral bankruptcy in such a way that places much of the interest in the beautifully devised plot on the philosophy of sexual fidelity. There's a reference to an Ekhart lecture along the lines that each time we act, that we do something, a choice presents itself and this is momentous.There's an emphasis on choices and consequences and our total responsibility. So obvious is this theme that Alvtegen speaks further about this on her website:

"That it is the little moments in life we should treasure, because nobody knows what may happen next. The only thing we know for certain that will follow us throughout the rest of our lives, are the consequences of those actions and choices we are making at this very moment."

I noted the comparison to Ruth Rendell on the back cover but Rendell has never plotted so skilfully as this. Sustained the same tension through psychological terror, yes. Structurally organised her novels as perfectly as this? Not that I remember. A kind of structural chiasmus occurs between the first and last chapters. Same circumstances. Different coma victims.This is a textual integrity that is breathtaking to observe. In particular there are two mirror chapters from two different perspectives on the placement of a diary and a non-gendered message and a non-gendered blond lock of hair in the wife's underwear drawer. Another form of structural chiasmus used brilliantly to reference the same event and to convey two different perspectives and to show how easy it is to draw two different and erroneous conclusions. Brilliant plotting using such technical devices. Breathtaking.

I was very interested in the moral implications of the rage of the childcare centre workers and parents when Linda attempted suicide. Was Alvtegen being ironic? Attempted suicide invokes sympathy overriding moral indignation when the same person seduces the father of one of her toddler charges, thus destroying the stability of the child's home. Is this a Swedish cultural attitude that I don't get?

For a slightly different view on Sidetracked you can read The Genteel Arsenal's review.

Will I be reading more Swedish crime writing? Just try stopping me!

Confessions of a Fibrephilliac

Fibrephillia:Noun, abstract.Neologism. Involves tactile and visual senses: intense love of the feel and appearance of fibre/s; fibrephilliacs are commonly found to be stroking textiles, often indiscriminately and indiscreetly if the fabric is currently being worn. Texture is Queen! Colour is Queen!  Fibrephilliacs buy yarns for projects not yet conceived just because they can't resist the feel or the colour or the texture. Fibrephilliacs are also photograph junkies, taking endless close-up shots of their newly knitted fabrics in a mesmerising homage trying to get closer to the object of their desire. There is no known cure. Nor do they want one.

Playing in the light. Playing with the lights. Knitting the lights.

Around the Blogs this morning EST

(Actually now 2.02 pm EST! Ooooh weeellllll)

Warning: a rather long digression before the main topic :)

Digression starts here-

Between typing the title for this post and this precise minute, I've loaded over 2 kilograms of diced chicken breast fillets (okay...the truth...some of that lot went into the Horseflufloozie's tummies, raw...when the Vet sat up and begged), 3 packets of dried French Onion soup and one can of apricot nectar into the George Forman slow cooker, that I've had for well over a year but never used before. I've drained the juice from 2 very large jars of Morello cherries and used it to make a firm jelly so that I can make a very large sherry trifle. Why the industry you ask?

Actually, it's very exciting. A Chinese boy I last taught in 1993 and his sister I last taught in 1997 are out here with their families and parents from Hong Kong. They're visiting their old boarding school and as we've kept in touch via FaceBook, we're hosting the reunion with the Vet and I, the old boarding school bus driver and his wife, and an ex-student (and her family) who I once told was wasting space by her continuous chatter in my classroom... we've been best friends ever since she promptly walked out on me! That was when she was 17 and she's now about 30. Soooooo, the Vet has his shopping list for the rest of the dinner party and has just gone out (leaving me to happily blog in peace without battling the crowds of Saturday shoppers), and my little "waste of space" (WOS) is bringing pumpkin soup and pavlova nests. Salad, a huge potato bake and whatever else will be done later or tomorrow.

For once I'm prepared! It was WOS who told me how to do the apricot chicken in the slow cooker. I love it when my students teach me things! I usually get huge anxiety attacks over what to prepare and then know for sure that I'm in for yet another migraine due to extreme tiredness. This time I just might beat it all.

And this slow cooker solution might be the answer to this bookaholic-knittaholic-bloggaholic's prayers. I do a lot of computer work upstairs in my study. the kitchen is downstairs. I lose track of the time when I'm blogging or reading blogs or knitting or reading. Things burn. Things don't get into the oven for when the paid worker gets home at 6 pm. I might just put myself through a slow cooker revolution!

Main Topic starts here-

I subscribe to a fluctuating number of interesting blogs using Google Reader. That way I don't have to keep checking in to see if they've posted anything new. A little black number beside their title pops up to show me whether to check in or not and a precis of what they've written allows me to choose whether to read on or to skip.Some bloggers start out looking interesting but then they run out of time or things to say or something happens in their lives that the blogoshere is not privy to and they just drop off the radar. Fortunately not all do that, but it is a factor that you have to deal with.

And the exciting thing about book bloggers and knitting bloggers and just life bloggers, is that there is a real person living life the best way they know how behind the posts. I do realise that there are some totally strange people out there but you can usually weed them out and 'unsubscribe'.

It's a real 'publishing' phenomenon. Armed with a digital camera, creativity and a wish to communicate, this is such a wonderful revolution and I'm tickled pink to be part of it.

I could look at a publisher's list for ideas on what to read next, or a knitting magazine for knitinspiration etc and a philosophy tome for life, but I much prefer the personality behind the profile. It's like holding virtual conversations. And I do believe that the blogosphere is re-defining friendship as we know it for the 21st century.

I was excited to read an excellent defence of Wikipedia this morning on Whispering Gum's blog. As a teacher I used to deplore that this was the only reference source my students consulted. Now I can see that there is merit there. And as a curious person with a brain still functioning I've come to realise that Wiki is indeed a fabulous community resource.

Then whilst reading the comments on Whispering Gum's blog I read that Lisa Hill of ANZLit Lovers blog also has a school teacher's one...now that really is exciting.I hope any of my ex-colleagues reading this here or on FaceBook take note of that address.

School teachers and school librarians really embrace new-ish technology. Two book blogs I enjoy are by an Australian school librarian The Genteel Arsenal and a school teacher in the Phillipines - Coffeespoons.

One angle I'd never properly explored before was the world of book translators. This arose when Stieg Larsson's translator wrote a comment after The Genteel Arsenal had recommended more Swedish crime writers. Reg Keeland's blog is one I'll be dropping in on from now on and I'm very excited about the third Larsson novel finally getting into English around about October this year.

Lifestyle blogs are also interesting and I'm, like totally, green with envy when I see the pictures of northern hemisphere people having iced tea on the porch amongst beautiful gardens...I adore Little Red House's collections of china...

Soooooo,

• Tidy house
• Knit
• Work up more mosaics at Big Huge Labs and Flickr especially for Mosaic Monday 
• Print off knitting pattern to use up the rest of the recycled sari silk yarn
• Read...Wallander himself is being stalked, and a quick flick to the last page didn't resolve anything for me.
• Knit
• Work on sherry trifle...dead easy if you take a cheat's approach...too busy to make custard and sponge cake from scratch so I compensate by being extra generous with all sorts of extra ingredients.
• Knit
• Read
• Knit

And because I'm just crazy for visual language stories, here's a reference to my past week...progress was made with olive bowls especially with Lynne's help; loaded up some more pics of my friends' garden; posted off the NGA Knitta thing; love looking at some of the Sydney pics I took recently especially this mural of the street of the street a hundred years ago...very eerie.

Keeping it real

It's now 10.04 pm EST. From 5-7.30 pm I worked continuously trying to unknot the tangle of recycled sari silk from a hank and wind it into a ball whilst carefully monitoring the proximity of the Horseflufloozies in case they made a stealth attack, which they've been known to attempt succeed in.

More about this project later! I also decided that I was soooooooo tired of being a schizoid blogger and that at the risk of alienating readers who don't craft or crafters who don't read, I'd just be myself warts and all. So I imported all the posts from my craft blog, 'Ms Textile' into this blog. Thankfully I now understand enough about the technicalities of all this to reasonably understand the instructions. It only took me about 5 attempts to succeed. And of course that necessitated a new blog banner, which also now only takes me a few minutes instead of the days I used to spend whilst teaching myself. I used one of the night photographs I took recently of Sydney Harbour at night. Whilst I don't live in Sydney anymore, it is an iconic national image and I do so love it. The picture below is another one I took looking across from the Quay towards North Sydney.

Thankfully the Vet was returning late from a visit to West Wyalong so I didn't need to provide a meal, and I was quite grateful that I remembered to feed the Horseflufloozies. This is Elka, the dominant hussy. Her litter sister, Maia, is fond of her creature comforts and seems to manage her status in life as the underdog. I do try to champion her but the Vet tells me that I'm not thinking like a dog (!!!) The house is an absolute mess but I did manage to read more of Sidetracked by Henning Mankell...more of that anon. Was rather excited the other day to have Reg Keeland, the translator of Steig Larsson's Millennium novels, make a comment on one of my Larsson posts. More of his blog later. A link to his blog is in the sidebar here. More of everything anon. I'm fading fast but I've just time to leave you with another photograph from my friends' fabulous garden. They specialise in bromeliads.

TG I've finished my 'Stitching Up the NGA' Panel...if you see this one up there, it's MINE!

I took the opportunity to experiment with some stitches and designs...very random and intuitive. I don't think I'm enamoured of such big needles and ply wool; I'm an 8 ply DK ply type of gal, and after this lot size 4 mm needles feel soooooooo thin and tiny... Decided to take pics in sections and place them altogether here so you get the drift of the whole panel... Okaaaaaaaaaaay, that was an interesting experiment, particularly in terms of colour and size variations. have to parcel it up tomorrow and post off to Canberra under some kind of certified post arrangement. 20 cm wide by 140 cm long. I did say that I was going to wax lyrical about the symbolic associations of this warm wrap for a concrete pole... When visiting NT and Darwin in February to see daughter, I was most taken by blue skies (the odd one anyway during the Big Wet) and the red earth so my panel is a homage to the landscapeish essence of Litchfield National Park. I hope the pole in front of the NGA bonds nicely with this wrap.

Maureen's Camellias Muchly Cheer

Have had a bit of a woeful day ever since my bank rang me this morning to question me about a rather large purchase of jewelery and clothes 'I' had made in the US. Not I, I said. I'm thankful that my bank knew my spending patterns and immediately twigged that credit card fraud was afoot, and they have instituted proceedings. I have been surprised that I felt violated in an internettery way. Inevitable given criminal tendencies of some of the population at large. Stuff happens, and you deal with it but my mood took a real dive and I've had to battle hard to come out of the fug.

I'm still puzzling as why I didn't turn to reading as a comfort fix escape. It seems that only my fingers knitting or typing could absorb my angst.

Helping on the way back up was knitting. Never underestimate its ability to sooth a ragged soul.

Photographs have the superb aspect of their dynamic, that like words, they evoke whole worlds, and an experience can be endlessly repeated and celebrated just by viewing,gazing at, drooling over the photographs. Dovegreyreader's photograph today of her present of hand-dyed silk and mohair wool is truly something to behold -the colours are wondrous and I swear I can just reach out and stroke the yarn...

Also helping was playing around on Flickr with my photographs and uploading some I took of our friends' garden in Newcastle on Australia's east coast. It was June and officially early winter but their Balinese style garden is a joy to see. You can expect to see lots more mosaics of their garden over the coming weeks.

Out the front, they grow camellias.

Yep, I feel muchly cheered.

Olive Bowls...

My ceramics' teacher is off to Argentina for inspiration and rejuvenation so I'll be going into a  ceramics' slump for about a month. Today I learnt not to rush ahead when I don't know the techniques. Almost spoiled the rim of my bowl, but thanks to Lynne's magic, not quite.

I applied dark olive green to the bottom of the larger bowl.

In my ignorant wisdom I decided that I should do the rim upside down whilst splashing paint on the towel. Apparently that wasn't my brightest idea and Lynne gently demonstrated why. Lynne fixed up my mistake whilst simultaneously allowing me to take pictures and trying to get my total attention so that it could be a proper teaching moment.

So I was able to celebrate ...now it has to go into the kiln for drying out, then I slap on the glaze then it gets fired again and you get to see it here!

Then... I could start on baby bowl... I spent ages trying to scale down the design and balance, and seeing it below without the shading on the leaves and stems makes me a little restless. But...that's it until the end of July. Thankfully I have my knitting to keep me going. So excited because I just signed up for a week-long 'Wild Knitting' week with Loani Prior of Grand Purl Baa and Wild for Tea Cosies blogs. I hope I'm not too late in deciding to commit as it looks very exciting and details are on Loani's blog.

My strip for the NGA event is progressing soft-sculpturally but I'll be glad when I've finished. My wrists are still aching with the size 10 mm needles.

My brain was to the forefront for years and I'm so pleased to melt into intuitive creativity and visual language.

Bowling Olives

Well, it's true. In Tuesday ceramic's class with Lynne, I'm painting two small bowls with ceramic-type paint so that they can find a new niche in life as olive bowls - both whole and pipped. And the concept of bowling a few olives suddenly appeals. You could have an olive bowling tournament-sort of a cross between marbles and cockroach racing.

Well, I'm forgiven for the verbiage aren't I? I'm an ex-English teacher remember. I love playing with language. Very creative.

My friend Helve brought me back a tiny olive pip bowl from a trip to France. And having finished the blue platter, my mind flitted around looking for a new project. 

I loved Helve's olive bowl so we decided I should start on a version of that. I drew the olive branch on freehand with a pencil, copying from a serviette, the original holiday bowl, and a few other sketches as well. My uncle has an olive farm out of Gunnedah called Issac's Grove so I also called on my memories of the olive branches used to throw on the coffin at my aunt's funeral. Sad, but true.

These bowls are demanding that I learn new techniques, and one tricky one is applying the raised toothpaste-like squiggles on the flat part of the lip of the bowls. Now that was a bit of a challenge!The leaves were shaded by mixing different proportions of paint as were the olives. I also had to damp the paint and scratch a few lines (felt more like gouging) to define the leaves.

This is where I'm up to so far. I can't wait until tomorrow for my next lesson. I need to paint the back of the plate a dark olive green. Meanwhile...the Horseflufloozies are all stirred up by a new dog visiting next door so they're barking up a storm and setting everyone else off. My hands are aching from knitting for the NGA Canberra event, I have a slight dull headache so I'm being careful whether I leap into a book or not. But at least I'm not in the paid workforce anymore! Woot!

Mosaic Monday - Playing in/with the Lights

Mosaic Mondays is hosted by a delightful blogger in the US called Mary at Little Red House. The time zone difference means that her Sunday night is my Monday midday, but we can work with that. The idea is that you post your mosaic blog then link to her blog through a queer little gadget called 'Mr Linky'. True. Since I am a serial blogger I never know whether to link 'Ms Textual' or 'Ms Textile'. You wouldn't believe how much I wish I knew of the blogging world when I was starting out to create my own blogger identity last September! I suspect that I would never have gone bipolar biblogger. Anyhoo, I've decided to maintain my divided self and reconcile my split personas some other way.

I had the most divine couple of days in Sydney with my dear friend Helen last week. We went down for the New Idea/Guinness Book of Records knitting attempt and stayed in a hotel in the CBD for convenience. On Sunday night before the big day, we wandered down to the Quay to see whether the lights on the Opera House thing was still going. Boy, was it ever! Vivid Sydney.  It was the last night and sheer and utter magic. The weather was so balmy for a winter's night and stacks of families were wandering along the harbour foreshore snapping away with cameras and mounting cameras on serious tripods.

 

I know this is blurry as I was discovering new ways of snapping at night with my little Sony Cybershot, the one I lost the original instructions to and paid big-time for a photocopied replacement book that I finally found yesterday as husband gently supported me in a de-clutter fix. Still, it conveys that atmosphere of movement and flurry and excitement.

The event was sheer and utter magic as we watched people and little children play in the light.

I still feel tingly with excitement but I better stop and post my mosaics. I've got two (see above)...one from the wall outside the Sailor's Home where children played in a waterfall of ever-changing coloured lights..

and my other one is of shots of the Opera House on Sunday night and on Monday night when we realised that they'd packed up all the magic and spirited it away. I'll always be in love with Sydney, especially with this part... Sooooo, slip on over to Mary's Little Red House, you'll be sure of a warm welcome!

Stitching Up the NGA...'Doing My Bit' Progress Report 21st June 09

Rather glad I typed the date into the headline. Gives me hope that I'll get there.

Knitted up a veritable storm last night. Really went for it! My arms, shoulders, hands and neck are aching mightily. I started at 6 pm and didn't stop until 11.45 pm. I made a few false starts as I tried to cast on enough stitches for a 20 cm width. Finally found that 20 stitches worked. I bet you knew that already!

The thing was that I discovered a passion for knitting with 10 ply (?). Whatever ply it is, it's thick and it sheds wool/mohair/acrylic everywhere. Size 10 mm needles really exercised my fingers and hands. I randomly chose stitches and colour combinations wherever my whimsy took me. I adore the sculptural texture of the knitted landscape that the stitches create in this ply...especially the Moss stitch. I've made the bobbles before when I knitted the laptop cover so they were fun to construct again. Then I discovered that experimenting with two balls gave such a beautiful pattern that I'm having a ball wondering what knitting path to take next.

I can almost reach out and touch the softness of this texture in these pics, which is entirely why I'm posting a few more. I'm sure this is getting towards some fancy colour knitting thingy that I've never attempted before. Scary really but experimenting like this makes me think that I may attempt Fair Isle soon. One day. Perhaps. When the time comes, I hope I can handle parting with my piece to send down to Canberra. It's actually knitting up so fast that I may be able to knit up another piece. Last night I managed about half of the required length. This is the last photograph of it for this blog today. I promise. But I love this angled perspective.

really BIG words + really BIG maths

 

Soooooo, at book group last Thursday night we were discussing Muriel Barbery's The Elegance of the Hedgehog, to generally universal acclaim. With a few minor-ish exceptions.

So many women who've read this charming little novel with the profound thoughts think that up until about page 100,  it's boring. Until the Japanese gentlemen appears and then things pick up. Plus, they're not at all into the very long philosophical digressions.In an earlier post I stated that I liked the digressions in this novel.

I think that the problem is one of our expectations of a work of fiction. We think that the plot should move forward with gusto, that the characters should be largely agreeable, that the sub-plots should stay subbed. That setting shouldn't intrude overly. That the relaying of the unfolding plot is all. Musing philosophically should be brief. Asides and digressions by the author (even when masquerading in character) should be kept to a bare minimum. But I think that this may be an Anglo-cultural reading behaviour. I noticed the same tendency in Barbery that I noticed in Ogawa's  The Housewife and the Professor...a tendency to pause and contemplate a slowly maturing concept, a softly simmering notion, the slow germination of an idea.

And a careful consideration of what life is all about and how to live it richly often requires a much bigger vocabulary to save on pages and pages of explanation. This too was remarked upon. How big a dictionary should you need and when did a relaxing reading habit become too much like hard work? Was there a critical complex vocabulary limit? A marker that tipped the balance and said 'enough is enough'? Should a concise dictionary be enough to support a reading habit? Do you have a word that you use as a test of an adequate dictionary? I have about 3 or 4 dictionaries lying around my study and the shorter one did not contain the controversial word we all stumbled on. I must have glossed over it and thought that the meaning of a word that was close enough to help me access the meaning of the passage without undue anxiety.

For some people reading The Elegance of the Hedgehog it was the word deontology that was the stumbling block. I knew the meaning of 'ontology' so my guess was close enough. Do you know the meaning yet, or have you skimmed ahead? My Collins' dictionary that weighs in at a toe-crushing 3 kilograms (yep, I just weighed it in the interests of research), says that it means "the branch of ethics dealing with duty, moral obligation, and moral commitment."

As complex vocabulary is to The Elegance of the Hedgehog, so too are the terrifyingly obscure mathematical equations of The Housewife and the Professor. And I loved them both! Mathematics has always been the bane of my soul. Due, I suspect, to a childhood where shifting towns meant falling off the edge of the maths textbook pages.Ogawa uses mathematical formulae as a philosophical conceit and deontology is one of the themes of the novel :). If the maths didn't always enlighten, the grappling of the housekeeper to understand the equation was a useful tool employed by Ogawa to gently pull the reader along with her. A single mother of a small boy works as a housekeeper for a brilliant mathematician with the short-term memory of 80 minutes.

My mind kept leaping to the parallels between the novels. Philosophical depth in women employed in lowly menial domestic roles where expectation has it that the brain is similarly matched to the lowly wage. Recognition by men of high status that education and sensitivity know no employment status restrictions. I think that these novels should be read as a pair, if you haven't read them already. And if you have, please consider them within this paradigm.

Soooooooooo, really BIG words and really BIG maths? In my humble opinion they will reward your investment in the time and the effort.

:)

Warning- morphing blog personality endeavouring to reconcile split selves!

I'm obviously having a bit of a brain meltdown if you've been following my ever-changing blog design template here. Representing self on the internet stage can lead to an overwhelming reign of terror as I make decision after decision informed by my rapidly maturing blog-persona and technical capabilities. I really, really, really want to settle on a stable blog persona but my mind is like a butterfly flitting from image to image and delicious word to nectar-civarous word.

WARNING: You will start to see more of the literary life emerging as I merge the split-personas of my life and endeavour to sustain them using only two blogs. Or at least, I'm going to try really, really hard.

I love to read the blogs of others. It's one of my favourite things to do each morning as I slip out of bed, barefoot and thirsty for an injection of electronic-internet mindsoup. I grope towards the study, confusing the Horseflufloozies who like to pounce on me at my breakfast. They don't like me in the study...attention focused on the keyboard away from snuffling wet noses. I sit groggily at my Shuttle (after all it is still only 9 am!) and power up my Google Reader...and what a clever little thing it is too. My favourite slurps are listed in the sidebar. There are some really amazing women out there. I'm sure that there are amazing people out there as well but I tend to gravitate to those who I have a great(er) deal in common with.Mary, of Little Red House, hosts Mosaic Monday and I've come to really enjoy mosaic madness, so you can expect to start seeing heaps more mosaics here. The one below is a mosaic of pic is took at Sea World on the Gold Coast last year. The fish tank was a huge one open to the sky and on the lower level the light was fantastic for taking pictures. I adopted my avatar here, which arose from my excitement at being able to take such clear (ish) photographs. Soooooo, I'd better get busy and work on my next one for tomorrow.

Cya.

Urban Guerilla Knittas. Please?

It seems that no sooner do I get home from Sydney then another highly distracting knitting event captures my imagination and tugs my hands away from completing the knitted beanie for the homeless to go with the finished scarf; the tiny red toddler mittens I'm attempting to knit with 5 needles ( and NO they're not going well); the barely started wild teapot cosy; the new wool scarf for the homeless; and I haven't even opened the Estonian Lace Knitting book that arrived from the US this week; and I have lace-weight wool and Victorian Lace pattern for scarf awaiting commencement...

Soooooo, hadn't heard of Knitta Please out here in the bush but having recently joined the National Gallery of Australia in Canberra I've become enamored of their soft sculpture exhibition and am excited to be visiting Canberra barely just in time to drop in and see it. And having turned some of my retirement lifestyle into knittaholic tendencies, I couldn't resist the invitation to knit a strip 10-20 cm wide and 140 cm long. Apparently collected strips will be swathed (don't you just love that luscious word?!) around concrete columns in front of the National Gallery of Australian to mark the end of the soft sculpture exhibition. An installation I'm guessing. I want to knit some of the bobbles that I knitted the Baby DELL laptop cover in, into the strip. I chose Cleckheaton 100 gms Gusto 10 (wool,mohair and acrylic) in a brown shade (2090) and a pale blue shade (2095). I'm thinking colours of winter skies and brown desert...very Australian now. Bobbles on the brown. Bands of colour. Being an ex-English teacher I'll come up with some metaphorical allusion that I can knit more meaning into.

Sssssssshhhhhhh! I'm creating.

A Duck for a Darling!

Jemima Puddleduck is finally finished! Five days after this little girl's first birthday I was able to present her with it.She was interested but wary, looking at this squishable big white beaked thing that almost stands eye-level with her, especially if you grab it by the neck.

Her mother and I used to sit in the staffroom buried under mountains of senior English essays, and visual representations from Year 7 and fantasize about all the fun we would have together when I retired and she went on maternity leave. Quiet cups of tea. Uninterrupted chatting. It's all come true! But now it's accompanied by chortles and sub-vocalising. And it's so much fun.

The Alan Dart pattern was a true joy to knit with and I'm so grateful to Irene for giving me this copy. I love it! I keep feeling that I've blogged about this before and told you all about my excitement at Irene's generosity, that she gave me this treasured gift of laminated pages from a 1994 English Women's Weekly. She bought the original pamphlets for the patterns on a trip back home to the UK so these were 'spare'.

The pages that Irene gave me also contain patterns for Peter Rabbit and Jeremy Fisher so I'm looking forward to having a go with them. Eventually. When I'm strong enough.
I felt terribly stressed when trying to put Jemima together at the eleventh hour. The birthday party started at 11.30 am. Here it was, 11 am and my geometry-challenged brain, she of the wonky spatial analysis variety, couldn't work out which way the bonnet was folded, how much stuffing to add, and then realised that I had made only one foot. The Swiss darning for the shawl was beyond me so I knitted about 12 separate Paisley shapes and hand sewed them on. That took quite a deal of time.My husband called a halt at 11.30 am because he could see me dissolving in stress-filled waves of despair. I took Jemima to the party-legless, faceless, half a bonnet...but my friend got the picture. I finished her after the party that night at 9 pm. I wanted to rush around with her then and there and only that I had visions of sleeping cherubs not being disturbed, did I desist. Also desisted lobbing her through the car window on my way to Sydney the next day for the knitting challenge. The Vet was right, exchanging Jemima for a quiet cuppa and endless Felicity-photographing opportunities, was much better.

Glad we thought to 'hide' Jemima up high where the Horseflufloozies couldn't see her. As I put her into a bag, Elka went on high small-critter kill alert. She started jumping. She knew that smallish-largish soft toys were only ever for her and her sister to ravage.

But knitting Jemima was so softly sensuous to knit in 8 ply pure wool.

Tim Winton's 'Breath' wins the 2009 Miles Franklin Award

Hmmmmm...interesting. Journal of a consuming passion. An obsession. A compulsion to live on the knife-edge of fear.

I posted a discussion on this novel in December last year. It's reassuring to think that novels seemingly devoid of contemporary political perspectives, can win 'national' awards; that defining Australian voices can rise above and beyond parliamentary debates to explore a relationship with the 'land' that challenges the essence of personal boundaries.

Congratulations Tim Winton. 4th Miles Franklin!

Knitted Toddler Blanket

I've decided that I need to blog here more frequently because a lack of blog posts certainly doesn't indicate a lack of blogging knitting activity!I'm knitting all the time and this morning when I realised that I was NOT going to finish reading Barrack Obama's Dreams from my Father by tomorrow morning's book club, nor was I even really capable of listening to the 6 CD set of Obama himself reading his book, I just had to seek the comfort of 8 ply pure wool and 4 mm needles and the knit one purl one consolation of the current beanie for the Homeless project that I'm involved in. Two lines x 100 stitches each, and I felt that soothing feeling of calm descend. What a relief. Better than Valium. And alcohol.And cupcakes. And chocolate. BECAUSE there's no feeling of guilt or pain after the pleasure's worn off. After knitting, you still glow for a long, long time!

I finally finished the toddler blanket and it seemed to take an age (started in March-ish this year 2009-finished in early-ish June...I guess that that's not too bad) and I was certain that my friend's dear little grandson would be dragging the toddler blanket into the old age nursing home as a knee rug by the time he got it! Thankfully he's still only one and I managed to present it to him when I was down in Sydney for the Guinness Book of Records World Record Knitting attempt, with his Grandma...see previous post/s.

My maths is hopeless and gives me anxiety attacks when I try to grapple with it, BUT the blanket measures about 36"x 42 1/2" and it was 184 stitches wide and it took me about 15 mins to knit one row of pearl and 12 minutes to knit one row of plain. And there's a lot of rows in the blanket. I adore my circular Knitpics and the cord has no memory, which is wonderful, but the blanket still became quite awkward on my lap in the final stages. One of the pics above shows me knitting in the aftermath of a migraine on the lounge, and if I looked exhausted, you're right!

The initial challenge and the reason for the odd mistakes was in changing from Moss stitch to the pattern, especially at the border end. And it's so deceptive knowing when to change into Moss as you can see from this carefully aligned photograph. I tried not to get picky because I'd already undone it x number of times and I didn't want to frog anymore.

I had originally attempted to knit a toddler blanket in a pure wool variegated pattern and went totally spare. This has now become a scarf and beanie for the Homeless project. I first tried to adapt the pattern by leaving out the central moss stitch strips, substituting them with alternate clumps of pearl and knit, but have come to appreciate the structural engineering capabilities of Moss stitch in a project this size. Three balls of wool in, it was seriously sagging all over the shop! Elka wasn't quite sure why she was allowed near the project at all, but at least she had the nous not to race off with the wool as has been her wont.

I knitted this everywhere, even in Darwin's absolute heat and humidity in February, so it was started a little earlier than I thought. Not fun shifting stitches as I think the yarn was variously affected by the humidity and the air conditioning but I so wanted the therapy of knitting that I took it along to visit daughter anyway.

I reassured Jacob's Mum that this green blanket was acrylic and could be tossed in the machine and was happy on a spin cycle-I'd already tested it to my huge relief. And I'm honestly happy for it to be treated as a member of the family and tossed around any old how. I'm not precious about these things. They're like all works of art, you hand them over and let them go for others to interpret how they like.

Jacob's Grandma and I had great fun presenting the blanket to Jacob.

Now I'm off this afternoon to present a completed Jemima Puddleduck to one year old Felicity. It's only a few days late.

Chasing 'The White Tiger' to the end of the tale while holding on calling Mumbai

Every so often I need the confidence-boosting dose of a visit with my friend Helen, she of the ex-English teacher variety who totally gets why, having once chosen a text to read and decided to embark on it, you trust your instincts and see it through to the very end. I hesitate to say that it's like medicine a vitamin tonic-it may not taste like it's doing you good but you trust that its particles will seep into your being and fill up the weary blanks in your schema outlook. The trust in the choosing is absolutely the thing. The trust that by following this pattern you may get to read what you need to read as opposed to what you want to read.

Sooooooo, I finished reading The White Tiger a day or so ago. I trusted the Booker Prize Committee to get something right and choose a book for our times, if not for my particular culture. I liked that our Friday Lady's Literary Luncheon Group had chosen to read Kiran Desai's The Inheritance of Loss and Adiga's The White Tiger in succession. It was useful to make comparisons. To feel the bleakness of loss in the last image in Desai's work and to see the grim, wry acceptance of a similar scenario in the final moments of Adiga's novel. Negative despair encapsulated in a man forced to don an old woman's ragged nightie to cover his total loss versus the Robin Hood-like notion of the driver-made-good despite all.

Learning to read India through Indian eyes is an ongoing project and reading these two books close together has been very helpful.

I'm very conscious that I have a love of Indian culture in all its colourful complexity without a knowledge of what it truly all means. Vikram Seth's very broad canvas in A Suitable Boy is a good place for an Anglo to start. There seems to be a strong sense of identity in lots of writing about Indian, which must be difficult given all the sub-cultural diversity of it all.

And with these concepts of a cultural-consciousness raising in mind, I gave myself permission to totally enjoy watching Mumbai Calling currently showing on Australian television. The range of characters is wonderfully presented together with the almost-exhausting consciousness of the need to respect the traditions of the huge range of sub-cultures that is contemporary India. Whilst Adiga's book is full of black comedy, and Desai's even bleaker in her ironic humour, Mumbai Calling is quite consciously hilarious whilst fondly acknowledging similar social inequities that the other two novelists are writing about.

'New Idea' Guinness Book of Records Knitting Record Martin Place Sydney 15th June 09!

259 knitters. 8.30-8.50 am.Pink 8ply (DK). 9 mm bamboo needles for all. Sydney winter gorgeous day. Official Guinness Monitor ( man with mic). Friendly knitters.
We came. We knitted. We made a bit of a square to finish off later and post back.
Record achieved!

Re-inventing Australia(ns) - another gratis PhD topic giveaway!

No, no, no! YOU do the work! I'll just generate the thematic territories/schemas. BTW have you finished the 'pioneering epics by women' one yet ? No? Perhaps this one will be tastier.

I had brilliant ideas for programming when teaching. Perhaps the other teachers didn't truly appreciate that my brilliant ideas meant that the hours of work involved was finally worth it? Perhaps the students didn't quite appreciate my creative genius, and the HSC was a hard taskmaster and even though the syllabus encouraged independent exploration, the UAI cracked the whip and we followed like lemmings. Anyhoo, we're all grown up now and some of us are doing advanced studies in English lit, so I'm offering yet another little gem.

The organising concept is the reinvention of Australian identity. Somehow re-examining our historical post-European contact image combines both the convict past and the post-contact indigenous past. It's as if The Apology, the Mabo Treaty and the Stolen Generation report have become a conceptual vortex sucking our ideas backwards and white Australia is taking a long hard look at the practices of our ancestors. The Rabbits, the picture book by John Marsden and Sean Tan, explores this beautifully and you could add a discussion of it to your research context. Fair enough. We don't like what we see. We don't like the ways in which we are represented in the literary record, and we're having another crack at it. But have you also noticed that in re-examining our treatment of Australian aborigines, we are often referring to the treatment of our convict ancestors in the same context? As Peter Carey commented when interviewed about his novel Jack Maggs, Jack Maggs could have been his ancestor and he felt that that required a fresh look rather than maintain the same bad PR.

And furthermore, don't you find it riveting that Charles Dickens is the critical target of both Carey in Jack Maggs and Flannagan in Wanting? The influence of Charles Dickens in shaping our Eurocentric outlook in the nineteenth century, seeping through until today, is enormous. I sniff yet another PhD topic developing there as well!

Anyhoo, here goes...an Antipodean Revisionist Schemata:

• Fringe of Leaves by Patrick White (based on the true story of Eliza Fraser's shipwreck on Fraser Island in Queensland; she is taken captive by the local Aboriginal tribe).
• Remembering Babylon by David Malouf (a ship's boy is cast ashore and taken in by Aborigines)
• Jack Maggs by Peter Carey (rewriting of Great Expectations from Jack Magg's POV)
• Gould's Book of Fish by Richard Flannagan (Tasmanian convicts)
• Wanting by Richard Flannagan (link to Charles Dickens and Tasmanian indigenous population)
• The Rabbits by John Marsden and Sean Tan (picture book analogy of the loss of indigenous populations represented by numbats and the invasive introduced rabbits)

Only that I have a knitted Jemima Puddleduck to assemble before a little girl's 11 am first birthday party tomorrow, I'd stay around and give you more inspiration. PhD topic generation is easy. I'm terrified about putting this duck together all by myself!

"The Yarn Harlot's 'Guide to the Land of Knitting' "

If you're not on Ravelry and have never been initiated into the secret rites of knitting, nor have you been able to wangle an introduction to the Yarn Harlot, then rush out and buy this book before people cotton on to your guilty secret! The art work on Stephanie Pearl-McPhee's blog banner is nowhere near as startling and confronting as that encountered on this blog, but be assured that the blog, like the blogger, has a unique personality, is wildly honest about knitting disasters and is inspiringly creative. In the concentrated form of her colourful voice in books on knitting, she's outstandingly fascinating. How can she know my own guilty secrets lying in the depth of my stash or my exponentially growing collection of knitting needles and handmade tote bags chosen for various projects whose nomenclature I've forgotten???

I bought the book in Sydney in George St opposite the Queen Vic building at Kinokuniya bookstore. Also bought another couple of her books there, and I NEED to buy more. Actually Kinokuniya is a great bookstore for knitting references. When the wool shop in York St had run out of the Victorian Lace Knitting book, I was able to source a copy there. I'll be in Sydney again on Monday so will definitely check it out again. Leave something for me, please!!

I digressed. Again.

The conceit of this book is one of a travel guide similar to the Lonely Planet ones. It takes as a premise that if you've never seen the point of knitting and find it all too much of a foreign land, then this is the guide you need: "You taught me that knitting is not just a hobby, but a destination." Topography, population, culture, it's all there. The concept that a knitter's time=love expressed in many clicks and yarn moving, is an indication of the linguistic particularities of this dialect, nay idiolect.

If you're too unreconstructed to get it for yourself, at least buy it for a knitter you know, and wrap it up with my love. xoxoxo They'll realise you have hidden depths.

Vale Dr Chris O'Brien - a prince among doctors

Dr Chris O'Brien's State Funeral was held in Sydney this morning.

You may remember that I posted a discussion of his autobiography a little while ago. No, I wasn't a patient. No, I never knew anyone who was a patient of his. I had noted that in his book he praised the work of one of his then registrars, Dr Hugh Lukins, who has performed 4 operations on me. And I noted the same genuine care for patients and attention to detail in both these members of the medical profession.It seems to be an attitude that a consumer easily picks up on. Difficult to hide a basic lack of interest in the person underneath the disease.

Too often in my former career as a school teacher I watched clever, able students strive to enter medicine because they could. I suspect that they saw the potential dollar signs, the attendant status attributes, the acknowledgment from society that they had brains, and off they went to medical school. Rarely did I hear any reference to vocation. Perhaps it takes a certain maturity and life experience to develop compassion and empathy. One can only hope.

So, it was with a great deal of interest that I read Dr O'Brien's book, followed the progress of the cancer institute that he worked hard to get going, and learned with great sadness of his passing. I could never watch RPA on television, too much gore and heartbreak but I'm glad it existed.

And here's hoping that more bright young things see Dr O'Brien's life story as more than a ticket to a lifestyle.

'The Girl who Played with Fire'

Stieg Larsson. Wow!

Talk about suffer the little children...

I'm supposed to be picking up the Horseflufloozies from their holiday house, after a magic micro-school-reunion Queen's Birthday long weekend in the Hunter Valley, but I've just compulsively finished this novel with my toast and honey and tea, and I can still feel frissons of fear emanating from somewhere deep within my thankfully still intact spine. It's the second of the three in the Millennium Trilogy.

This much evil is way beyond my ken and it's strange how reading fiction about such sadistic violence highlights a basic paradox in our society. The ways in which we spread news about our world almost inures we adults to reality. Forget about the little children and their X-box war games! Our fully developed adult imaginations fueled on the daily television news bites of unmitigated horror that is world war, that is internal national war, that is factional war, that is neighbourhood war, that is domestic violence nuclear family war, may perhaps be also fully accustomed to interpreting conflict in this animalistic brute strength manner. The few seconds of television footage thrown in with the newsreader's stock phrases and semantic cliches of a routine horror-coloured reaction are entirely part of our cultural life.

What a novelist does it to dissect out the hours and months of unfolding violence into highly structured vignettes of semantic detail that readers can't flick their eyes away from. The words grab hold of our internal stock of images and we are the directors who translate the words into the metallic smells and sounds of horror. I think that that is perhaps scarier than any reality show. Our own imaginations are entirely capable of supplying the flecks of gore that hit our own skin.

Novelists also feed us subjective perspectives of the participants and this is vital in swaying our involvement. Objectivity has no place.

Where The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo is Blomkvist's story with Lisbeth Salander's back story, in this novel the roles of the protagonists have been reversed. This is Salander's story.

The plot revolves around the concept that investigating injustice may be the legal role of the police but it is often not the way that justice is served. That the police are first and foremost flawed individuals is a basic premise. That vast swathes of information are kept from the public and from individuals by government, is a given. That our rights to information are basic to the human condition is subject to philosophical dissection. That journalists can work towards the same ends as the police and with higher ethics is validated. That there are police and there are police; that there are journalists and there are journalists, is a truism in this text.

The really truly scary thing, that individuals in society can be horribly flawed regardless of status and positions of trust, is the totally unnerving fact that this novel emphasises.

European espionage. Domestic violence. Police corruption. Professional corruption at all levels. Sexual politics of rape. The ethics of journalism. It's all there in a beautifully detailed Swedish setting.

If you're not aware of the hype around these novels, Larsson - an investigative journalist himself, delivered the 3 novels entire, then died soon after.

In a way this is simultaneously a relief and a thing of great pity.

Virtually speaking: 'The First Tuesday Book Club'

Now you might think that two face-to-face book groups is enough but we're bookaholics remember, and this is stuff we do. It's in the nature of the beast. We read. We think about it all. We react. We discuss.

The online book discussion format stuff is a little weird and you may recall my attempt to join the Guardian UK's online book discussion - it (the site!) died before I realised that the book I'd bought was talked about two years before!!! Still haven't read it. But I do have it. Stasiland.and I will get on to it. Sometime.

There are a plethora of book bloggers out there as well but usually the Comments are limited to a few words of agreement-whatever. The format doesn't seem to allow for depth. It's tricky steering the line between formal book review format, subjective reader response and academic analysis.

I've searched all over the net for good online discussion groups. Even tried to con talk my English teacher friends into setting up a multi-author blog where we could all post discussions on books we liked and no one would howl us down for having English-teacher-thoughts about cool language or great structure or fab symbolism. No one took me up. Scared of the the technology? Who knows. No go.

And some other online groups I belong to seem very commercial or self-promoting and less of the indepth discussion type.

Actually, the best book discussion I had online recently was on FaceBook with an ex-student commenting on my Status post about reading Steig Larsson. Always had a good head on her shoulders that Alice did.

Soooo, the technology is out there but meanwhile the ABC's Jennifer Kyte's The First Tuesday Book Club is a good substitute. It's still not of the calibre of an intense uni tutorial but it's satisfying in its own way.

'The First Tuesday Book Club' = a license to sit around in your pjs, hair askew, small dog/s on lap, slurping on hot cocoa and ranting on at the screen interrupting willy-nilly and forcefully enthusiastically airing your opinions. NB. Make sure that anyone else sharing this space is similarly engaged or is tolerant deaf and willing to indulge your manifestations of free speech and bookaholicism.

10 pm's stretching my bedtime these days and I'm rather pathetically grateful that this show is repeated on the following Sunday afternoon and if I'm not having a Nanna Nap, this is a very good thing. They've also made it very accessible in other formats such as enabling it to be downloaded once I work out what acronym I want it to be delivered in.

Really enjoyed listening to Richard Flannagan (he of Gould's Book of Fish and Wanting) and   Chimamanda Ngozie Adichie ( here for the Sydney Writers Festival-key note speaker) last night. Intelligent discussions. Amusing. Great guests. Glad I got to know them.

Sooooo, I've ordered in next month's novel, The Housekeeper + the Professor by Yoko Ogawa. Sounds interesting from the various bits I've read about it on the net. Mathematics...hmmm. Come the first Tuesday in July I'll be ready to rant and rave.

Why does THIS seem like such a BIG secret????

World Record Knitting Attempt. In Martin Place. Sydney. 15th June 7.30-9.30 am.

Girlfriend and I went on a Road Trip to Dubbo last Friday. Sort of Thelma and Louise but this one was Irene and Steph. Why, you ask? Why not, I say! Adventure! Excitement! Thrills! Channeling Toad from Wind and the Willows.

Anyhoo, the car kind of steered itself to Spotlight as it does. And I picked up a pamphlet on a New Idea magazine/ Spotlight Guinness Book of records knitting attempt to have the most knitters knitting simultaneously in the one place in Martin Place in Sydney on the 15th June. There's still time to get involved provided you register today!

Should be fun! Join us!

All Things Cupcake

My Google Reader site has to be my favouritest computer tool-thingy. Each day I wake up to the thoughts and pics of bloggers from around the world. My friend, who knows all about my cupcake mania sent me the link to All Things Cupcake, a delicious site with a plethora of cupcakery artefacts. I sent my cupcake mosaics to them and they put them up to share with other afficionados. How excitingly sweet.

Baby Gifting,Gifting Baby

Finally finished this little pure wool cardigan. I started it in June 2008 for a totally different little baby girl. I bought the wool in Emerald, the home of 'Puffing Billy',in the cold depths of Victoria's Dandenong Ranges.

I was visiting my much beloved sister, and knitting scarves for the homeless. I handed over one scarf to her that I had knitted totally in moss stitch. I almost went crazy knitting it. You really have to think way too much for moss stitch in a project that big when you want to knit mindlessly. Anyhow, she was knitting something quite complicated and we discussed our mutual enjoyment of knitting. I was inspired to start knitting for a new born I knew.

Not used to lace-like patterns I stunned and amazed myself at the patience with which I undid rows time and time again to get the pattern right. Could this possibly be moi???

The Cleckheaton Merino Bambino 4 ply was beautiful to knit with but again, I wasn't used to such skinny wool or the 3.25mm needles. The other problem I had was learning to smoothly pick up stitches to make the band. I'd never done it before. Now, after making dozens of knitted cupcake cases my skills have improved quite a lot. In fact, I'd highly recommend that approach to anyone wanting to learn how to pick up stitches to knit along a piece of finished fabric. Everything I ever learned about knitting I learned from cupcakes!

So, it's almost June again. Another year has whipped by, and lo, behold, another tiny baby girl has entered the world. Her advent inspired me to finish the cardigan by adding tiny pink heart buttons, washing it in lavender delicates wash, blocking it in a way and wrapping it up. She's only tiny. I forget the size of the cardigan. It should be useable before summer. Just. The beauty of baby clothes is that they can be handed on.                  

Now, I just need to:
(a) knit up 2 more 100 gm balls of pale green wool to finish the toddler blanket. My wrists are starting to ache and it's very awkward trying to manoeuvre it around on my lap as I knit. On one hand I'll think twice about knitting such a large project again but on the other hand, I'll bet I'll be thrilled and proud when its finished. Was tempted to stop and finish it today but in talking to my dear knitting friend I decided that I'd always feel a failure if I didn't commit to the end,
(b) complete the Beatrix Potter figure that I'm knitting for the one year old birthday, the same little one who I started knitting this pink cardigan for last year. Thank heavens I have fertile young friends so that my efforts aren't wasted! Bless them. I'm really enjoying knitting the various pieces of the character as it gives me a break from the toddler blanket. 184 stitches a row in 8 ply is a struggle. Have I said that before??? -and-
(c) try not to lust so much after the new yarns I've bought to start knitting my first pair of socks, hopefully lacy; and the Victorian lace scarf so that I can learn to make a shawl...eventually.
(d) eagerly await the two sets of tiny cupcake stitch markers that I ordered on Etsy, and the Ravelry branded tote bag that I ordered.

Happy Knitting to you all...   :)

Beware! Gen Y Novice Knitter at Work. Potential Knitting Addict in Creation. Don't Scare Away!

Inducting virgin knitters into the gentle art and lifestyle of the knitter's world needs to be undertaken with delicacy and extreme attention to detail. The mood has got to be just right or it's going to be an experience they'd rather bury and forget. They've already got hangups about grannies and issues with the perceptions of their peer group who have issues with image and fragile young egos. They think that knitting's a cold weather concept only. You don't want to tip the balance.

If the gender of the novitiate involves a lot of testosterone then even I'm not sure how you handle that one. That's deeply dark virgin territory for me. For that situation you'll have to research knitting blogs of male knitters. It helps to show them the sites of male knitting designers. Not my brief here. The real reason is that I'm about to knit the morning away with a friend and I simply don't have time to put that info up here. But I'm sure you could. Even in a Comment on this post. In fact that would be very welcome.

You could rabbit on about meditation and therapeutic alternatives to FaceBook addiction. Avoiding that uni essay? Knit instead. They can justifiably say "I need to finish this jumper before I freeze and my brain turns to slush and mush and eats itself!" It has that real ring of truth.

Novice knitters are okay with ideologically politically correct yarns such as recycled saris and bamboo fibres and ecologically sustainable sheep yaks. Perhaps they're even poor enough to see the stylistic advantages of choosing their own styles, yarns and colours to create something truly individual and warm or comfortably cool according to season and yarn and pattern. Recession knitting may appeal to them. They can role model coping sustainably. If they get to unravelling thrift shop handknits and reknitting them up to their own standards, then you know you've successfully inducted a Gen Y into a lifelong love affair.

Sooooooooo, it's worth the expense of setting them up properly in the first place! To tempt my Gen Y friend in case she feels intimidated and browbeaten by my proselytising really wants to have a go at knitting herself because it sounds like fun, I've already assembled a Novice Knitter's Kit as a gift for her. I adore knitting with Knitpics. The ' Harmony wood' straight needle is so smooth the stitches just slide gloriously off and they're so light to hold. I bought 7 mm because it's inevitable that the easiest way to teach a novice to knit is to knit a scarf. Size 7 mm because it will knit up quite quickly. I might have made a mistake in buying a hank of yarn rather than a neatly wound ball but I'll be there to show her how it's done. I had to buy the hank because I simply adore this New Zealand Aspire Super Chunky 200 gm wool. I knitted my Baby DELL laptop cover in this wool. J'adore it! It has the advantage of knitting up quickly. And Merino and Alpaca. Divoooooooooon to handle! Gen Y thrive on instant gratification. You don't want them to think that knitting=work. And why not?! Picking the colour was a little tricky. I recall what I've seen her in. I'm thinking it's okay.

And the final thing is that you really really really really need to love the wool and needles yourself because if you fail in your quest you can do something special with it yourself. An inherent danger in that though is that you may never hand it over!

Soooooo, here's a picture of the Gen Y stash. I could be trading a homecooked ( by Gen Y-er) breakfast in my kitchen for it.

Cupcakecornucopia

Busy Busy Busy. Yes Mam. I HAVE been knitting!

Enough said really. That's not me in the Nursing Home with my lap rug! That's a toddler/baby secret  present. Ssssshhhhhhhh. I took it to Book Group on Friday. I took it out to lunch at the cafe while we waited for our meals yesterday. I knitted while we waited for coffee. 184 stitches a line. 8 ply (DK). 4 mm needles. I may yet take it into the Nursing Home. 2 1/2 100 gm balls to go. Go ahead! You can call me crazy!!! I mutter it often enough.

And reading and loving and commenting on the Yarn Harlot's blog as well as her books. And buying two knitting magazine titles that have exciting new designs in them that I'll probably never be cluey enough to knit. And buying knitting pattern books because I saw them reviewed in one of my magazines and was totally inspired. 

The Knitter is a British publication and this is the third issue. I bought two books that I saw reviewed in the previous issue of this. One on Victorian lace knitting and one on crazy teapot cozies. The designs are refreshing in that many of the designs would suit a range of age groups, they are generous with their patterns and I do so love looking at their advertisements and wondering whether we'll ever take that Long Service Leave before my husband retires in 3 years or whether I'll have to wait until he retires as well so that I can travel and pop into some of the shops advertised. Sigh. I can cheer myself up with the thought that online shopping exists!Now  that is a cheery thought. lol.

The front cover of American publication Designer Knitting says it all. Such sexy styling! Extra helpful tutorial type articles like the excellent one on "Knitting with Skinny Yarns" by  Carol J. Sulkoski. And again, the advertisements and new Products articles are to drool over!

And I made another knitted cupcake for Lizzie, a dear young friend. I designed an extra special one inspired by a glossy magazine on real cupcake icing designs. Adapted the idea. Sewing a grid with silver thread is a challenge. The silver balls and dark and light pink crystals are all Swarovski crystals. The lolly is a lampwork bead. This cake is a tad easy to overbalance because of the weight of the lolly. And Maia couldn't believe her luck when I placed it on the ground on the autumn leaves to photograph!!! 

Did I tell you I'm also knitting Jemima Puddleduck for a special little birthday girl celebrating her first birthday in June. So far I've knitted the body and I'm currently knitting the head. Reading the finishing instructions it looks like putting it all together will really test my deprived spatial awareness neurones but thankfully I have my friend Irene to help. She's knitted any number of Beatrix Potter characters and I'm using her copy of the pattern.

Soooooo, enough of this. Work to do! And I can hear the thunder of little paws leaping up the stairs to give me their traditionally raucous rambunctious morning greeting.

Book Group Rituals Laced with Kindness

I'm a member of two very delightful book groups. As far as I know no one else in the groups blogs about books or reads blogs like this, so I'm safe to spill as many beans as I like. Not that I'm really going to.

Both groups meet once a month but somehow the stars and the planets have shifted and realigned themselves so that now I have one book group meeting on a Thursday night from about 7.30 pm - 11 pm, and the other the very next day from about 11 am to 2 pm. Getting the books read and sorted in the midst of my other bookaholic activities is a bit of a task and lately I've realised that I need to be more disciplined in my reading. Allocate regular time slots, make sure the Horseflufloozies are out in the back yard and perhaps even take the telephone off the hook. Surround myself in a cocoon of silence so that I absorb and remember what the heck I read where and why and possibly when?

I had read neither book in its entirety this month. No one minded or tut-tutted. They understood. They knew I would follow the discussion and contribute to the best of my ability. We trust each other. Visits to medical specialists in Sydney and a month long cold had me exhausted and hungry for crime.

The Thursday group's Jane Austen's Persuasion I'd studied before and watched the DVDs so I was fairly safe. I hadn't read the Friday's Aravind Adiga's The White Tiger either. Perhaps the first 90 pages out of 321. But no more. That was never going to be a problem because I don't mind spoilers. For me it tends to make me pay closer attention to the craft of the writing as it unfolds. And I'm someone who frequently turns to the last pages to see how it all pans out, again so I can better appreciate the clues and developing themes.

The White Tiger was not popular with Friday Literary Luncheon Ladies. For various reasons no one had finished it and most were unlikely to do so. One had 20 pages to go and she could just not bring herself to an end which she knew was going to be dire.

Discussion revolved around cultural differences, attitudes to corruption and the sheer oppressive weight of poverty in India. Given that our last novel was Kiran Desai's The Inheritance of Loss, we were feeling overwhelmed. However I intend to finish it. I hate leaving a book unfinished and as a former teacher of literature I am deeply committed to reading something just to be able to analyse it and appreciate it on an intellectual basis. In fact I read another chapter with breakfast this morning. So perhaps the plan of disciplined reading is already working. But then I took a second cup of tea back to bed and compulsively read more of Stieg Larsson's physically weighty second novel.

It was my turn to host the Thursday night group. When people arrive we offer wine and cheese and nibbles. I'd bought a mix of New Zealand and local regional wines. I'd splurged on King Island cheeses.

 

Then after the discussion at about 10 pm-ish the kettle is boiled, tea and coffee passed around with a plate of something sweet. I decided to make brownies from Rachel's internet recipe I'd made before ( to much acclaim at the Vet's workplace anyway, so he tells me).

I decided to make a double batch and throw some in the freezer for unexpected but very welcome guests. I used up local Four Jay's hazelnuts, some glace cherries I found at the back of the fridge as well as throw in a mix of dark chocolate and white chocolate buttons. It worked although you might need to crush the hazelnuts smaller than I did if you want a clean smooth cut. The recipe makes about 15 brownies x 3cm squarish. More if you double it and cut them smaller as they're deliciously rich.

On Fridays at our Literary Luncheon the hostess puts the kettle on and we all settle down for a very light mid-morning snack. Although last Friday 3 separate delectable slices were offered to accompany our book chat. Then at about 12.30ish the hostess serves a light-ish luncheon according to time and inclination. There are only 4 of us. We could probably handle two more members but then the delicious lunches that we've grown to enjoy so much would become a lot more onerous. We're keeping us small.

This week to our delight the hostess offered an aperitif before lunch! Homemade sweet parsley wine or parsnip wine. All from her own garden. She's a chemistry teacher. This was then followed by hot vegetable soup, crusty bread, wine, and dessert was a chocolate confection covered in raspberries and a berry sauce. Did I say I loved being retired?

I don't like Rampant Textuality.

I love it!

And I'm sure S.T. Coleridge, with his love of exclamation marks, would have welcomed it as well. And if you're a card carrying member of the Grammar Police you'd better stop reading right now. I mean really. What I'm about to discuss will have you quaking self-righteously in your boots. You have been warned!

Of course I'm talking about the deliciously, gloriously, outrageously,exciting use of text in our 21st century life. SMS speak. Email speak. FaceBook speak. Grabbing bits of our alphabet and punctuation systems and making them wonderfully your own. Computers and mobile phones are designed to give you the expressive freedom that our evolving individuality yearns for. No longer need you be bound by the shackles and restraints of imposed rules. It's all about context. It's about knowing who you're writing for. That elusive sense of _audience. ^{(In composing my blog I'm not quite sure who I'm writing for, hence the use of fairly traditional text)}As long as the responder/recipient of your message can understand your intent and the details of your intent, I say GO FOR IT! And while we're at it, I HATE the people who say that uppercase words are shouting in computer text. I don't care! I have always used uppercase as a form of bold when bold didn't exist. And surely the rest of my message will indicate to you whether I'm a tad perturbed. I mean, reaaaaallllly, the Grammar Police have shifted to computer-speak. I say, move over, because you just can't stop the music, the movement, the delirious anarchy of contemporary text.

It's all about achieving the nuances of tone, the composer's attitude to the subject. Perhaps it's due to a semantically deprived subgroup who don't understand complex language big words, and are afraid to use them. I say "get a dictionary and learn how to use it". The words are waiting there for you to discover their rich untapped vein of potentially awesome ways of conveying meaning.

Meanwhile, there's SMS speak. And I will be the first to admit that I'm still coming to grip with the conventions. U no wot I mn?

When I was Head of English at high school I was rung up a number of times by a journalist from the local newspaper trying to write a story on slipping literary standards. She knew my age and responsible private school role. She had me pigeonholed stereotyped gray-haired-little-old-lady-cast. She never did use my quotes. The ones that said I had no problem with SMS texting. That the students seemed to understand context and text, with the odd slip-up.That I enjoyed using it myself. I'd been taught by a girlfriend, 7 years older than I who'd been taught by her daughters. Sharing the skills. Although I do get miffed when young friends see me texting and react like they've suddenly seen a dog flying. I mean really! Wots hard about txtg? I can even make up my own phonographic rules.

I could have directed the journalist towards the Imagists, a poetry movement in the early twentieth century full of poets like Marianne Moore and Richard Adlington, who were right into minimalism. Who saw the point of placement and layout of text on the page and how it influenced meaning. Ezra Pound.Poets who used the layout of a paragraph and called it a poem with a different structure so that the lines between poetry and prose were blurred.

I could have directed her towards Michael Ondaatje, contemporary Canadian novelist and poet who writes and places text where his intention directs him. You need to read beyond The English Patient to discover this. He happily places poetry in the middle of prose. Intentionally. And for a real textual merry-go-round try reading his The Collected Works of Billy the Kid where text types textual genres are intermixed to suit his creative purpose.Photographs are integral to his fictional purpose here. Newspaper accounts. Direct speech. It's a textbook example of text types really.

I could have shared my delight when I discovered that Kiran Desai's editors had allowed her the odd moment of Rampant Textuality in her novel The Inheritance of Loss. Only that I've lent my copy to my 81 year old mother to read, I'd scan in a page or two to show you. You'll just have to take my word. In some places her text size increases exponentially in the one word.

Rampant Textuality is all about giving written language visual cues to replace all the wonderful nuances and codes of face to face communication with its rich voice dynamics, body language and colour.

Technology has ever influenced the way we communicate in written text. Whilst potentially fascinating from an archaeological perspective, the thought of leaving my beloved keyboard and using a stone chisel and tablet, fills me with horror. I can still remember my mum tapping out all 32,000 words (over the limit by two thousand words but no one was counting in 1974) of my honours anthropology thesis with 3 carbons in the typewriter. Every time she'd have to correct something there were 4 separate pages to address. By the time 15 years had elapsed I was typing my honours English lit 16,000 words on my computer and shifting whole paragraphs, dropping them in for a better fit.

Sooooooo. Language is a living thing. And I applaud and celebrate its evolutionary nature. I can't wait to see what the evolutionary impetus drive will do to written text in the future.

Soooooooooooooooooooo. Rampant Textuality? Bring it on!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Robyn's Cupcake Collection now includes my gift of 3 knitted cupcakes!

She also seems to collect shells. I haven't attempted to knit one of those yet!

See if you can see my 3 knitted cupcakes that have now been added to my friend Robyn's cupcake collection of soaps and candles carefully arranged on a wire cupcake stand. She even has some real cupcakes there as well! I'm glad that my gift has obviously found a very warmly, welcoming cupcake home!

I've been reading and loving the Yarn Harlot ,Stephanie Pearl-McPhee's books, and the one  I was reading today mentioned teaching your young to always, always value the hours, skill and thought in a hand made gift. So true I thought. So wise. And in that spirit, it is lovely to see Robyn's appreciation of my gift.

Riding the Crime Wave & Other Guilty Pleasures

I've such an insatiable lust for crime at the moment. I'm reading it by the bucket-load. And loving it!

Fav bookseller person asked me the other day what I was reading, and as a bookaholic, this can lead to the onset of palpitations, much sweating and a very real sense of confusion. Just defining the time period has the potential to upset me. Do you mean today/this morning/last night/yesterday/the contents of my handbag/the books beside my bed???? It's ALL entrancing books about the anthropology of knitting by Stephanie Pearl-McPhee, and all my fabulous new knitting pattern books crime!

What I especially love is each author's creation of  the personal foibles and skills and autobiography of the 'detective' figure. Crime is far more than finding out who got the victim. It's about how society (you and I) responds to "nature red in tooth and claw". Classically since the beginning of crime fiction, detection has not necessarily been a paid occupation (my ex-students of Extension 1 Genre Fiction: crime- can stop moaning, NOW!) It has been the keenest and most demanding of intellectual puzzles. Forget chess/Sudoku/Scrabble/ crosswords! Become a detective instead! It is our insatiable need to find out and our deepest desire to know that ultimately justice will prevail. Think Miss Marple and her knitting. Or it has been a by-product of another occupation. Investigative journalist. Bail bonds-woman. Retired policeman. Motor mechanic. You know you can add to my list!

I've devoured any number of crime fiction novels from a wide variety of sub-genres and authors. It started off as non-demanding Comfort Reading, the kind where you're sick and crabby and want to be beguiled without having to supply work out the meaning of life from every utterance. Soooo, so far I've recently read (does "in the last week" count as "now"?) Lizbie Brown's Shoo-Fly, Reginald Hill's The Roar of the Butterflies, Janet Evanovitch's Motor Mouth, Linda Fairstein's The Kills, and (currently, as in this precise moment in time, EST 7.54 am, Friday 15th May 2009) Stieg Larsson's The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.

I'm totally loving Larsson's book and I hear from my fav bookseller that this isn't nearly as exciting as volume 2 in the series! I know that everybody else seems to have read this but who knew that they could be on to something? I mean like really? Soooo, what do I love about it? I didn't love getting used to all the Swedish surnames. Most of the Christian names I could cope with but I really had to work hard to integrate the challenging syllable combinations and it took quite a while for the reading process to become a  smooth flow.The exotic setting works really well for me. The Closed Room mystery of the secluded island. Wondering what Swedish people drink and eat and wear in far northern parts in the middle of winter. And spring. And summer. Kind of a travelogue as well.I adore the minute descriptions of the ways in which -30 degrees C can affect your body. I mean, I wore a woollen jumper in the middle of Stockholm's summer of '88 ( in my defence, I had flown there directly from 3 years residence in Java on the Equator).

It does take an effort to work out the vast cast of family characters even with the acknowledgment of the challenges of this by the author speaking in his protagonist's voice. The main character, Mikael Blomkvist, is an investigative journalist whose career has been interrupted by a successful libel charge. So he accepts a year's employment to document the lives of a commercial dynasty but in fact he's been asked to solve an old crime. For me, the actually brilliant real piece-de-resistance is the characterisation of the uber-weird 'assistant' Lisbeth Salander.Wunderkind. Computer nerd. Everything unusual nerd. Misfit.All round scary brilliant troubled psychotic, you'd adopt her if it didn't look like 24 hour guard-duty and thank goodness I'm over teaching raising teenagers. Did I say I'm loving this book?

I've never read Lizbie Brown before. Happened on Shoo-Fly  in the library. I'd read her again. Elizabeth Blair is her private detective character. A patch-working American expatriate living in the British countryside and working with a cast of individuals with wonderful foibles and strengths. Sign of a good crime book when you're equally interested in the lives of the detective figures as well as the unfolding of the crime. And the character of the victim is fascinating not the least because it is an essential piece of the puzzle. I'm too scared to say more in case you pick this up yourself.

The Roar of the Butterflies.Yes, this is Reginald Hill, the Dalziel and Pascoe man but it's a different series. Joe Sixsmith must be an entirely contemporary British character reflective of multicultural Britain.I love him. The British people's preoccupation with class is a strong aspect of this novel. The upper class determined to keep the lower classes firmly embedded in their position. But justice prevails.

I had occasion to ponder the all pervasive prevalent implications of class whilst watching our two female (I hesitate to call them 'bitches) litter mate 22 month old adorable Shitzu -Maltese cross dogs. Elka is definitely top dog and works constantly to ensure that Maia knows her place. Maia is often seen to be grooming Elka's face but Elka, never, but never grooms Maia's face. Unfair I say! "You're not thinking like a dog" the animal welfare vet says! Well, no. And we go on to discuss innate behaviours and then I extrapolate to humans and suddenly the British class system makes a bit of wobbly sense. No wonder upper class come-upperance is a successful theme. And I doggedly stand up for Maia's rights as well.

Linda Fairstein creates a strong, utterly likable female protagonist and I really, really, really want her Martha's Vineyard lifestyle without the hurricanes and the axe-murderers. I thoroughly enjoy this series. Once again we have the complex lives and philosophies of the detectors and defenders informing their ratiocination. And the promulgation of sex offender sociology is a social necessity.

Thank you Jess, wherever you are, for the wisdom of your 16 year old self in introducing me to Janet Evanovich. You know I love Stephanie Plum but who'd a thought that the Vet's life long love affair with Formula One car racing would help me access a crime novel? Engineer girl protagonist to the rescue with Evanovich's trademark sassy sexual tension and innuendo building to a very satisfying climax.

Always make room in my life for a little more crime fiction!

I'm off  to buy some knitting wool to make a crazy tea-cosy. As you do. And knitted strawberries. And I've a cupcake to complete decorating. Housework? No thanks. Friends to see. Tupperware to buy. Bills to pay.

Byatt Buzz Around the Book Blogs

Okaaaaaay. I'm officially excited.

A.S.Byatt has just had another novel published. The Children's Book.

I first read about A.S.Byatt's new book on The Genteel Arsenal.The added link to an online Guardian article was a valuable read. Then today I'm happily catching up on the prolific posts of Dovegreyreader and find that she has also blogged enthusiastically about Byatt's new book there as well. So with two very good recommendations, I'm sold.

A.S. and I are mates. She may not know it but I've spent hours and hours in her company. And in the company of those who've critiqued her. I've written pages and pages and pages of insightful, brilliant...okay, the right word is obviously not going to magically materialise, but all that verbiage earned me an Honours degree in English literature. I wrote about Possession. I wrote about Possession and Post-modernism. I was possessed by Possession. I lived, ate and breathed Possession for a full year."Mimetic Poetry in A.S. Byatt's Possession". I can still feel frissons of ecstasy rippling through my soul and psyche as I type those very beautiful, oh so evocative words!

The truly wonderful thing about Byatt in this novel is her ability to re-create the voice of poets. Voice is such an individual thing. All one's idiosyncrasies are poured into one's idiolect (yep, it is a word, not a neologism on my part!). Great literary hoaxes have often been found out because the voice of a particular writer is soooo distinctive. The discussion about Byatt's use of voice revolved around about 3 Victorian poets. I'm on Browning's side in some of Byatt's poems especially when you read anything about Sludge.

But sssssshhhhhh! I have a confession. I have the DVD of the movie of Possession. It's unopened. For some deeply obscure reason I can't bring myself to watch it.It's been four or so years and it's still on the shelf. You know how it is. That book of the movie you read the book of first.

J'adore Possession! Especially when one has studied the poets Byatt loved/loves; researched the Melusine myth and asked the Vet returning from the UK Foot-and-Mouth Wars to search amongst London bookshops for a monograph on an actual symposium that was based wholly on Melusine, and my excitement on his return was mixed with his ability to produce Melusine of Lusignan: Founding Fiction in Late Medieval France. Perhaps its like Groening's comment on The Simpsons that suggested the more you read the more jokes and references you get when watching the telly programme.

Sooooo, I can't wait. Theoretically. I'm sure all the copies of this latest novel won't be sold out whilst I'm diligently reading all the other books that I have on the go.