DROPPING LOOPS, MAKING HOLES AND STUFFING THINGS

A feature on yet another revival of homely hand knitting reminded me……. At primary school, the girls’ craft classes were the bain of my life. Could I knit as a six year old? Much as I tried, sitting at an old wooden desk, with oversized knitting needles and a well re-used ball of wool, made the whole experience a clumsy affair with little to show for it. There were some loops on the needle and maybe I managed to put some wool through a loop or two, I don’t really remember.

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I do know, that there were some stitches on the needle that did not seem to be very productive.  I was glad when the tortuous efforts came to an end and another lesson began.

Then there was the class where the better little hand-stitchers made bunnies with lovely fluffy cloth already cut to shape, probably by the teacher, a grandmother figure, who taught that girls’ class. Once stitched to the required point, busy little hands had lots of fun stuffing the bodies, arms, legs, hands and ears of their creations, (through a small opening left in the seam) with what I believe was Kapok. Polyester fibres were not in use all those years ago to stuff things. The opening was then closed up by each young  ‘creator’ with even and neat little running stitches.

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We, the ones relegated to the ‘untalented’ corner, (the majority of the class) had a bit of rag each plus a needle and thread to practice with. I cannot say what others may have thought, but it seemed to me, the three or four bunny-makers looked more than a teensy bit smug.  Just a bit of me would have liked to have been with them bathed in their success.

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A couple of years later, I discovered the Grandmother figure really was granny to two of the girls in her ‘better’ group.  Also, another teacher in the school, who was French, was her daughter-in-law.  By then, I was old enough to understand that a big war ended not so many years before, so, it was likely that the girls had no dad.  Mum and granny were supporting each other and the two girls on prescribed lower women’s salaries, much lower than their working male teaching counterparts.

From the amount of time we spent in church and on religious education, I wonder if there wasn’t some hope of recruiting future nuns and priests.

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This primary school was certainly schooling the girls, for at best, domesticity, sweat shops, or, subservient jobs, and the boys, likewise, to be unskilled. We weren’t seen as having much potential.

Poppy Memorial Scott Monument

Scott Monument Princes St Edinburgh+ Poppy Memorial

When we all divided up to move on to our next secondary stage school experience, it was really surprising how many children started to thrive in a different educational environment, even though the development of domestic/service/cooking skills, was still a theme for girls.  Many of us as schoolchildren, were undervalued. Notwithstanding, many of my school friends, both genders, broke the expected mould.

YaY !!

OPENING PANDORA’S BOX

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Pandora’s Box

I meant to unplug my charged up  e-tablet and ended up instead, opening up Pandora’s Box.  Don’t ask me why, I can’t tell you.  I opened a file drawer.  It’s one I have used for nondescript and personal  ‘stuff ‘.  Mind you, I have been known to create a folder or two there, just because it wasn’t over-stuffed like the actual filing cabinet we both use.

can-of-worms-vector-id180621048For a couple of hours I was absorbed in reviving memories, (a lot of them not good ones) and slimming down the contents of folders. When I had finished with the first folder, my hand crept to the next one.   A can of worms had lain there too. This one was approximately a sixteen years old triple sandwich, with a mildew mild top filling,  fizzing chili in the middle, mercifully, followed by a layer of cooling cucumber.

It is hard curating sorting out your own ‘stuff’, your own interconnected paper trail of life.  I found I was not able to be totally objective.  Even after many years, emotions can and do ripple. I wonder if I had planned to do this job, I might have felt any different.

A shredded bucket of my life later, my pack of plastic pockets has swelled with a great many Woolworth’s ones that I freed up. (That’s a store long gone).  They seem to be a better quality plastic pocket than those they share the packet with.

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Comprends, Entiendes, Capisci, Understand?

There are still the remains of sales in some local shops. I am looking for something in particular and  I was in the one shop that might just have provided it. I browsed the department upstairs where you find cushions, bedding, curtains and some menswear. So far no luck, I could not see what I wanted.  All the staff work downstairs, which is where  I found a shop assistant.  While I was asking, it occurred to me that she might not understand what I was looking for:

Me –“I am looking for a counterpane, do you have any?”   Assistant- “ Could you tell me what that might be?”

It seemed I was speaking a foreign language. I explain it is a bed-cover….she continues to look vacantly at me….. I’m thinking quickly about what might be the current trendy modern bed-cover translation and I tentatively suggest “A throw”.

Some comprehension dawns.  The assistant tells me there are no throws……“Throws are for Christmas”

🙂   ❓

 

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QUOTE FOR THE DAY

I was having a phone chat  with a very happy sounding lady called Kelly in the  telephone accounts department.  A couple of messages had attracted a surcharge as picture messages and I could not understand why. There was not a modicum of a picture in sight in either one, not even an emoticon.  I read the two messages to her and counted the digits in one of the them – fifty-five, (160 is the text limit).   Kelly just couldn’t understand it… I checked my settings, all okay there.

As I still had the messages and could account for what they were, she agreed a refund to my account, then added with a sigh;

I hate smart phones, they’re getting too smart for me!” 

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WHAT AN IMPUTATION.

Certainly unexpected, but, as I was only the messenger, I put the originator into the line of fire, so-to-speak. As the recipients were out, a gift of two  cheese truckles were left by the originator for the recipients to find upon their return home. The cheeses were bought at a specialist counter, a rather special one at that too. The originator was not one to shop at the best of times.

Recipient 1. I found some cheeses here, were there a lot lying around the house.…….

Me. What?……… I will pass you on.

I repeat what has been said. Originator’s expression changes from bemusement to realisation, to irritation.

WHAT A SURPRISE!

A couple of weeks ago, I was  caught in two really heavy downpours of rain.  The first time I was sodden.  When I got home I had to strip off  all my clothes and dry myself. I put on fresh and dry clothes.  I felt so much better.

The day improved, it became drier and sunnier and I decided to go out again, this time to buy groceries.  I was leaving  the grocery store when unexpectedly the heavens turned on the torrential taps.  I used the carrier bag trick I had resorted to before.  You  roll the opening back until it looks like it will sit on your head like a rain hat, admittedly, a bit of a large and unusual one.  A few people grinned, others looked and a lot of people stared, fixed stares.  I smiled. At least I had a jacket on and with my improvised head cover,  my hair stayed dry.

in-china-can-produce-yellow-PVC-plastic.jpg_200x200Hubby roared with laughter when he saw me coming from the car with the shopping wearing my ‘designer’ plastic bag head gear,  which just happened to be a capacious Lidl’s plastic carrier bag advertising me in large lettering as……  “ONE OF LIDL’S SURPRISES”     ❗

🙂

TESTING OUR WITS

I drove into town to meet hubby.  We had a coffee and tested our wits with the day’s newspaper nonogram, which had an odd set of letters to play with. We managed a score of 17 words against the 34 the newspaper said they got.

Jauntily walking home hand-in-hand with hubby in the crisp bright day, he turned to me and said, just as we neared our street,

I think I’ll  get the hose out and wash the car“.

I stopped in my tracks…. I forgot the car! ***!!!**&&**!!   I left it parked in the town…..

Guess who walked back to retrieve it…..well, it was a nice day and I told myself the extra walk was good for me; and so it was.

 

nice car

nice vintage car….not mine

 

Courtesy Of Photobucket 

GREAT EXPECTATIONS…MAYBE

Oh great….there’s a reply to the email.  I click on the link and open it up.

You daft thing! It’s the one you’ve already read…..and it’s not the one.

I guess we all do it.

Just in case you’re wondering; no, it’s not a billet doux, or a Valentine’s message.  I am waiting for a quotation.

🙂

 

 

 

 

OF SANTA AND ELVES

1.To Sender

A quiet knock at the door at tea time when it was dark, revealed a man dressed all over in red.  He proffered me a box. What gave him away was the electronic signing machine in his hand. There was no doubt he was a 21st century e-Santa.  I think his elves were getting a lift in his reduced sized  square covered carriage. (Austerity measures).   It kept them out of the damp and cold.  e-Santa loved my hat, he said.

The wee elves have been pestering me to open up the box. Being sensitive to their demands, I did so, with the assistance of the large elf who resides here.  Nestling within the box were several beautiful packages. I have explained to the elves that for the time being, the packages will stay pristine and  reside in the big box in which they arrived.  Having found a ‘from’ label on the box, we know that you instructed the man in red and the little elfen people to endow us with this visitation and the gifts.  For this we mightily thank you.

2. From Sender

Glad it arrived OK. Given the way the weather’s been, I did ask Santa to take extra care. He asked, “Why?”. I replied, ” It looks like rain, dear”.

SELF-DESTRUCTING BLOG

Blog.Co.UK (BCUK), whose registered offices are in Germany, is completely removing its blogging platform during the day of the 15th December, 2015. It is a very final act. I have never before seen a blogging platform self-destruct out of all existence.  BCUK will be history.      smile emoticon kolobok

Blog UK was an intuitive site to use, a vibrant and supportive social site in its heyday, it was easy to make blog friends who actively shared comments. Its demise, though slow, was really inevitable after it was sold on. The new proprietors gave access to avalanches of spammers.   Inappropriate mails stopped being dealt with.  Lots of genuine bloggers voted with their feet. Many, like me, occasionally posted and kept in contact with favourite BCUK bloggers. Groups of friends kept going.  smile emoticon kolobok

Users of BCUK were given lots of warning of the proposed end, as were sister platforms in other parts of the world. At the same time we were given detailed instructions in English on how to export our posts to WordPress (WP) and how to save them.  The instructions would not work for the likes of Blogspot, where I was regularly posting.

The French bloggers also received their instructions in English!   smile emoticon kolobokI spent some time translating the instructions into French with the assistance of Google Translate. My translation was posted on the French site, with lots of grateful thanks.

Exporting blogs to WP was not difficult, though perfect, it was not. I will have to edit through ten years worth of posts. I have given it a rest while I’ve been learning to use WP.  By default WP has become my primary site.  It is a bit complicated and there is a lot of clunky programming.   Bloggers from other countries have found sites elsewhere and find it easier to stay in touch with me on Blogspot. smile emoticon kolobok

A few blog UK friends decided it was time to say goodbye to blogging.  Some have have connected up here on WP. It’s nice because linking up on WP with other people who want to genuinely inter-communicate in words about this and that, and not sell you something, is not easily facilitated with the WP set up. smile emoticon kolobok