My success was getting some of my shawl done. I'm over 40 rows in and its going well. If only my Knitpicks needle didn't have a split in the tip and keep catching on the yarn. My brother got me a kit and lost the receipt so I can't return it

My partial success was not to have solely pumpkin cake for breakfast, I had eggs, mushrooms, onions and cake. The cake was seperate just so you know. Having cake and onions would be fairly high up on the disgusting list.

I have just got this from CGBF, I was telling him how the Scots were a bit crap (or at least he is) when it came to cooking and we were fantastic. Based on the fact that we have our TV chefs which are on often, not constant repeats and they don't*.
Seriously thats an utter pest when your trying to serve somthing regional to your OH when there is nothing to tell you what to do. What do they typicially eat? How are you supposed to do your research* so your not eating a variation on the same thing everyday*? Well he said

We aren't a particulary culinary inclined race, as I'm sure you've noticed. Thats why we invented the deep fat fryer (along with everything else). Its so we can deep fry everything in five minutes, maximum return for the minimum effert and all that.
You wouldn't be able to phone in your deep fried takeaway if it wasn't for us either. Or watch the advert for it either, it'd be terrible.

*I'm ignoring the fancy pants big chefs whose impact is limited to those who can afford to eat at their restaraunts and don't always do stuff you'd want/are fit to eat everyday. I can't afford to buy stuff like Guyere cheese by the bucket or fling in all these expensive ingredients by the massive fistful to make elaborate dishes daily. Or the implements and what is it with foam?

*None of this is all that serious by the way. And I'm aware of 2 Scottish cook books, well 3 but one's a bit crap, The Broon's series by Ma Broon and Heiland food by Clarissa Dickson Wright and Henry Crichton-Stuart . Both of which are on my to get book.

Anyway, I should discuss my last adventures, my sausage rolls. I'll do that later though.

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Both told him he had suddenly developed asthma (he told his dr what the other had said and the useless shit just went with it, no check up or anything). They wouldn't check or do tests on him. Just brushed him off and gave him inhalers.

Never mind the fact he could feel stuff in his lungs and gunge at the back of his throat. Never mind that I also had it. He's just coming back from a work weekend in Dunfries. Got down, they took one look at him and sent him to hosiptal. Who took one look at him, did a pile of tests and said massive infection and possible pneumonia. Those useless bunch of curs.

I am going to get him to complain because what if he hadn't been a strong healthy guy then what would have happened? An eldery person might have died. Lucky CGBF didn't accept sucah a stuipd suggestion (not just because Aberdeen hospital is notorious for being totally shite) and was working on a private check but he's got this first. But what about those that can't afford it? I am absolutely raging.

Sorry about the swearing.

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Its time, now that I have the house to myself to to start the festive baking(finally, I am deplorably late). I had made a pudding, but we sent it out to be tested on CGBF's dad. We think he liked it, once he started it that is. He seems to ignore it, mayhaps to give it that false sense of security and safety that it won't be eaten. Or maybe to stop me jibbering "is it ok, do you like it/does he like it" whilst almost dancing in panic or around the corner maybe pestering CGB.

Then he stares at it, then wham a few days later, he's at it. Like a bird of prey bam into a pidgon. Actually thats a nasty analogy. I'm not descrbing my cake as a filthy pidgeon, hmmmmm... Into a Ptarmigan (I'm slightly impressed that I can still spell that). Since his mouth was full and he was only able to give CGBF a thumbs up I'm going with him liking it.

Which to bring a whole, possibly unnecessary paragraph's rambling to a summation. CGBF's dad ate it, liked it and so I need to cook more. But this time I'm making a cake.

A few weeks back I spoke to my mum for recipes. Now my mum was a professionally trained cook/chief. She is infamous in the area for being a fantastic cook. Any time there was a charity or church even they were at her door. Cakes, bakes, 40 Litres of soup, she's a master. Except for her scones which could be used in combination with a siege weapon to level small cities' walls. Could never get the hang of them. I suspect this is her recipe and her getting scundered (N. Irish dialect word for utterly sickened) with them.

So (back to the point, the Prologue) mum sent me over one of her best and favourate books. Now in comparison to Scotland Northern Irish tv(UTV) is much better. We have our own cookery programmes, comedy, history, regional things detailing a township's past on all the time. Over here its all, cash in the attic (sell your cr&p), soap repeats or buy a house and sell it for more money programmes. Anyway, the cooks have their own books which you can't get over here and they are really good. Espicially since they have the regional dishes I don't have the knowhow to make (I'm supposed to be telling you about my cake, why am I bleathering about this?). Which reminds me I should go look up potato bread, I manages to get the flour and although I dislike it. I fully intend inflicting it on CGBF (thats not fair on it, its not that bad).
I'll add the name of the book later.

She also wrote out some of the one's she's famous for.

So I picked one and looked at it in dread. Fruit mix requires the fruit, butter, spices and milk ( ) to be boiled. Thats not something that I've ever done before (and had go well anyway). But if mum says its good I'll try it.

Melted the butter with the fruit and spices first, I also added vanilla essence and some Caraway but hey, its my cake. While the butter was melted I poured flung some of the spices out, bit too enthuiastic there. Replaces it and when the spices were melted (Huh?) butter ahem was melted I added the milk. That was a lot of dairy in one space.

On to boil, and here I got lucky, to boil stuff normally I ramp the temperature up to 6. But I left it on 4 so I could weigh the cherries out for later and it boiled at that temperature. Then I left it to cool. And went hunting my tomato, I was around the worktops, in the living room. Eventualy I found it (next to where I started which is rather typical) and set the timer to 25 minutes (what? its a timer, which matches my scales). I should really go brave pass the spider and put the washing out. I'll do that now so beware of confusion form now on because I'll have lost my train of thought (but there will be pictures!). Now where are those pegs..

You know that spider is still out there but I must have twanged him off his/her branch going past because he/she was gone on my return.

But (to my relief) milk went in ok.

Time I sorted the tin. Which I had a lot of fun (spot the scarcasm) buttering. I got the tin out, got greaseroof paper to size, then realised that I couldn't wrap it around the detachable bottom and have it slide down without it coming off. Then I realised it was the wrong size of tin (I'd remembered the size wrong) and had to swap down and trim the paper. Buttered it using a butter wrapper (mum trick, naturally a bit buttery and the butter will come off easily). I had to add more butter to it but I got the base slightly trimmed then buttered with only the most minor of problems.

Then I dropped it on the book. And had to do it all again. But I stuck the old one on the bottom of the new one so I had a template. And double thickness wouldn't hurt (I think...). Buttered sides of the tin. Got it transfered in. Here's a picture to show I can do this

Weighted out the cherries, washed the walnuts,(they'd been sitting out) blended them to get them smaller. Then managed to get them out of the blender and added some 1oz (old recipe) ground almonds (mum'd been playing with it before me).
By this stage the 30 minutes cooling had ended. Put the oven onto heat (it said preheat, but considering how long it takes to fold flour in evenly chances are I'd be ok). Added the eggs, then I got a really sore arm folding the flour in.

Actually here it is, part way through adding the flour in.

Like my spatula? Well normally I'd consider festival cookery implements a bit tacky and classless. However I know a good spatula when I see it and its fantastic. So I got it some friends and they are great too.

Then I decorated it. In my own style rather than my mum's who had lovely corner to corner lines of almonds and radiating patterns of different colours of cherries, fruits and nuts between it.

You like?

For some reason I forgot this will have icing over the top of it which is a shame.

I'm almost hyperventiliating, I went to download pictures and the computer wiped this post. I love that it automaticially takes drafts. I only lost a few lines.

Wrapped it around with greaseproof paper. Maybe a bit too high is double the height of the tin too high?
Here it is.

Then in it went. Now I was reading Malakeas blog and she's made hers and she suggested adding a metal bowl with water in it. I hunted the kitchen for a metal bowl for ages. Nothing (besides my scales bowl and I'm not risking it). You know sometimes I qualify as the blond I once was (hair naturally darkened) and I'd just had a flashback. Baking tins. Gaaaggh.
Thanks Mala .

My duvet cover is down. Crap.

Now as it went in I realised that I hadn't checked it. Tonight's tea was in there along with this (which doesn't belong to me).

Now all charred and with the paint bubbling. Eeeek.
I tried to get a close up but the shot kept going red

What went through my head was DunDUNDUNNNN, angry implement, going to get you, in revenge, DunDUNDUNNNN, turned the shot red, full of angry DunDUNDUNNNNNN.

20 minutes until its cooked. Hope it comes out well. Just checked it.
Bugger, its raining. My washing . Well sod it I'm not going out in that. i should clean my window though.

Away to check again... Oooh, its ready.

Here it is.

Woohoo.

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The Hap Shawl pattern from the Shetland Hap shawls, Then and Now book.
Well I should say its a lovely book but I'm having problems with the Shetland Hap shawl pattern. Just looking at it has caused me to spend the best part of several months with my brain going blaggn bloop bloop before it rapidly degenerated into an organ zombie and started to try and eat its way out of my skull. The rest of my body going still and my eyes staring off into the distance whilst it does it (I will add, I don't drool).

It just fries my head and its totally not the books fault. But this morning some loving Angel (actually I watched the scary Angel episode of Dr Who. This has reminded me of how much it scared me. I cower before the thought of these things. How bad is that? Well more insult, I left the room towards the end because there was no one there to hold my hand and hide behind. I don't really need to add to that do I? Eeeek) Anyway, some totally loving angel must have reached into my head and petted the brain. Til it became calm and stuff started to make sense.

And I went wow, this book does make sense.
At least I could determine that along with the fact it has a lovely bit about the history, lifestyle and some really nice pictures (I would have to confirm I'm adult right about now and I didn't buy the book for the pictures).

I was wondering why was what and which thing went with which. Now some would say that its my own fault for opening at random pages to look at the many wonderful pictures, both of life in Shetland in bygone days (one would hope they were bygone days anyway) and some of the shawls and suggested modern colour combinations as well as traditional patterns. However someone that might be me if they didn't know fine well this was the entire source of the problems might say sod off. But since its true and anything else would be an insult to the author I won't (although I will mutter about.. things and stuff in a non audiable fashion). Others might say that I was reading the captions about the pictures, or even that I was just looking at the pictures. I'm not even going into that. Denial works.

So we are clear a Hap (meaning cover) is a type of shawl. traditionally worn in Shetland and exported in Victorian times and earlier by the islanders who'd processed the wool often from start to finish. They then hand knitted the shawls as well as other garments and sold them (often in exchange for tea seemingly).

Mine is for my lovely cousin Wendy and its a (March, or is it May?) wedding gift. No pressure there then. Its going to be in cream and grey yarn to go with the oyster coloured dress. Which she may just have picked a design for (nice to know no one's rushed). I'm making this one in a different colour. Instead of mainly grey mine is going to be mainly cream Colour L1A with the same bands of colours as the grey 2 ply one swapping the colours and with a cream border on the outside.

I realised in my lovely (utter-bliss-and-relief-it-happened) clarity moment that traditionally people used to decide I want it to be ummm... so (waves hands) big so that is
a score (20)+ sums= how many stitches per side.

Start at the outside and knit inwards. Then do the center square and sew it all together. Now there is more to this, but truthfully its a bit late (not much sleep recently) and I'm afraid what sense is there (in my head keeping the zombie brain company) will become scrambled and reawaken or scare the zombie brain into a zombie one organ stampede.

Now the author has (mercifully) included the changed, Shetland Victorian one (later way of doing it).

So basicially = loopy knit central square or more accurately diamond bit to width size would like. Then decrease so its symmetricial.
Then pick up the loopy bits and knit the edge out. Until its big enough.
You can do it as sides and stitch the corners together then the whole lot on the center panel. Or on circular needles knit the square then do the loopy bits pick up and then do the border as one huge oner.

See, smarter. Instead of inwards to fit (sorry for the typos or seeming distractions, CGBF's polishing his massive boots on our cream duvet (I should I suppse be thankful, there are more distracting things to polish I'm sure) and I'm keeping an eye on him. He really picks these things doesn't he ). Outwards until the pattern is finished or (maybe) your sick of it totally.

Anyway, the summary is, I've figured it out and he's distracting me so I'm going to go.

Have a fun weekend.

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* You just know their is going to be something strange and not quite right when they are in quotes like that. My excuse is that the pasty wasn't fully thawed and I couldn't make small ones. So 2x 500g ones should be good enough for 3 blokes. Hope they like them.

My yarn from Shetland has arrived and I'm really happy with it (but as to their customer services, not so happy). If only I could understand the knitting pattern now. SO many options and I have the lingering doubt that I'm understanding what "2" is in the 2+2= sum.

I have just spotted some muddy bootprints on the sheet. What is that doing there and what has CGBF been doing. Must have fallen onto the bed backwards after a nightshift again. I hope he didn't hit the hot water bottle. Oh well, better go strip the bed.

Well I'd better do the dishes and off to bed. I am so looking forward to seeing CGBF later (1am). Not seen him much the past 2 weeks.

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It was one Eeep*/Ooops/ Aragh crap.

Innocently (of several things at that point) I wandered into the kitchen. I'd left a ring on. How I do not know because I'd checked them before I left the room after making tonights tea(s).
Pan out, tiny bit of butter in, whoosh sizzle sizzle. Considering it was on one the hob was very hot.
Loot the fridge, lazy ginger and garlic puree.
Hmmm nice smells,
Mince in. Or trying to go in. The packet was bisected and still it would not come out.
Ginger and garlic rapidly getting towards being burnt, aaagh whacking at the packet and franticially stabbing the mince trying to rake it out.
Got it out and started to stir it, all good, smushing everything so it was all browned.
It browned, spices.
red packet=curry powder, red packet, red packet, where's the red packet Ah ha.
1 table spoon in. Crap. I don't actually own plain curry powder , I own powdered ingredients. This is chilli powder. Eeeeeek
Garam Masala, that'll do oooh help me if he dies or is sick. Its getting cooked out. I heed to get it in. Where is it, Eeek, turn the hob down.
Where is it, oh what have I done with it. Rearrangements no use if you've lost everything.

Found it, no thats something scary and fossilised in an unused pan. Thats nasty *fling it across the room to the bin* (its at the base, he'll find it tomorrow. Why be selfish in that "joy").
Flavour the cupboard, a Wok, pan, some chestnuts and the floor with Garum Masala (Hi gorgeous, love you *mutters where's the most hopefully smiley, or maybe the most deluded . That won't go down well. Ummmmm mmmm mmmmm sorry loves. Not.Touching.The.Fire.Hoover).
Put some in.
Put it back. Oooh, Turmeric, I'll fling some of that in.
Fling
Have horrible realisation verging on horrific that I haven't drained the mince. Pour pour pour. Watch the spices slowly drain away In a swirl of orange. red and brown. Crap.
Watch as mince plinks into the draining pan (another sauceman hahaha, saucepan actually).
Retrieve mince and then get tomato puree.
Never realise it was necesary to wrestle it out. I go from the bottom towards the lid rather than just squidging it in the middle. I squidge and squidge and just ended up chasing it around the tube. The Three quarters full tube. Grrrr.
Eventually (5 minutes to get two tablespoons out). Seriously.
Mix and leave to marinate overnight.
Realise I forgot to do the onions (I cooked them earlier with out tea)
Better go through do that now.

*I've recently realised a workmate of mine listens for the "Eeeep" and asks what have I done. If I just swear then he gets puzzled and comes over to see whats going on.
I must say that I am undecided, (but very tempted) if I should go Eeep at random moments. Quietly.

Sleep well everyone.

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So back to the important things. Why have the socks been abandoned? I, like most people (so not going into anything the rest are up to, each to their own and its none of my business) don't like being jabbed with jabby things socks go with. The knitting needles, which being metal ones are really sore. Espicially on a bus which sometimes has only the loosest association with suspension. Combined with a road that has potholes big enough that if you dropped a toddler or a small dog (for size comparison) into it you'd hear the impact 5 minutes later (I do not advocate dropping pets or infants, espicially into potholes in Aberdeen. Anywhere actually. Try a ball, a bouncy one. You may get it back. Maybe.) Others you could bathe them in, ha, an adult could bathe in one near my work. Espicially when it rains because it fills up instantly. If they weren't filed with chunks of the asphalt that go up to the size of a man's fist. Hurt your bum bits that way.

So all in all jabby and likely to be innacurate because I'll miss some stitches.

Anyway, I'd better go get started. His tea then knitting.

Have a fun night everyone.

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But, despite being lurgified I've been thinking. Of stuff other than the lurgy. About my shawl and casting on (how you start knitting) with the thumb method. I'd like to redo my shawl with it wider and a bit shorter maybe (it doesn't need to be down to my knees on both sides). I was thinking, the cast on end was slighly thinner than the cast off end. Now I'm a tight knitter and I wonder what I and people who want big shawls and are either tight knitters or have small hands should do.
Find a person with monster sized hands (I'm taking this from a note I made earlier so I'd remember this, I initially wrote "Find a monster".)

What if the acquaintance population demographic should be tilted towards the small hand end of the scale? Its not as if you can go ask randomers on the street and ask them to cast on using your thumb.
There are some obsessive people out there so somewhere we'd end up with hand stalkers. People wandering around sneaking looks at hands and bothering them for the use of their thumb.
Or people buying the palm reading hands and using them, But seriously. Will this affect things? I don't want to have to swatch up to get the guage. Well I don't want to knit with the Blur Mohair either and have it sticking to me some more. But I've got it now.

I am off to bed now with my hot water bottels and a mug of lemsip even though its early. Gaagh I feel awful.

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One person sitting beside their computer
A random train of thought . Or mayhaps semi melded (is it one strand? is it to, you never no because... it always... shifts. And sometimes splits) spagetti tangle
The will to share aforementioned "train" of thought (we'll go with train, its quicker to type)
The ability to blog
The inability to blog (once i got locked out because I put the anti pop up full blast)
the urge to trawl YouTube to listen to music I don't own. Such as Paloma faith. I had a dream of her singing over her shoulder and saying "whats wrong, are those d$mn birds still there. I forgot those hadn't been removed". How off is that? Anywas I digress (the Prologue)
A malfunctioning phone so I can't really speak to someone (stupid thing I'm going to take a mallet to it. Once I get one)
The complete and utter disinterest in leaving the flat
Spyware which brings up pop up adverts without me doing anything.
My computer security thing being in denial or... lying to me. Like so* "Nope there's nothing there. Nope. Your clean, I am a scanning wonder, nothings there and I'm saying so. STOP asking me to scan"

*hypotheticially. Honestly.

Seriously I've been offered more chances to gamble, buy clothes, booze, put a picture in so I'm a model/cartoonised (all I need to do is look suitibally pouty-ha) or visit Holland than should be legal. AND THEY WON'T CLOSE DOWN. They won't leave me alone and it makes me sad. Seriously, the only thing I wasn't offered was prostitutes. And I'm not sure about that. There was loads of Amsterdam adverts and its legal there. Ok, I was offered everything, including in an indirect way prostitutes. Just what the average person wants (intense sarcasm there ).

Now I'm wondering is the add selection random. Or who's been using this computer because CGBF has his own and refuses to touch this one. Have I been sleep googling? I doubt it somehow. I can't even get out of the duvet (my secret anti me walking weapon is a king size duvet. I end up entangelled and stuck and have to resort to talking about everything being covered in butter and being underwater) nowadays and have to make do with kicking the wall.

Lucky I was knitting away or I would have been raging. you'd do nothing for ages then one'd pop up and you were tortured by the things because you didn't have to do anything. You could be away for 30 minutes, the only thing active is the security thing. Scanning. Or saying your clean. Right next to loads of these little flashing pop ups. Grrrrr.

I have just found someone who is knitting a 1940's bra. I want to follow this blog. Maybe I should link to her because that emcompaces all kinds of cool. You find all sorts of things when trying to find out how many competitors there out there buying it people love Schoppel woll zauberballthing wool.

GlamGirlKnits

Well its late and I, need my bed, see, there's a wee sleepy yawny face . And to figure out what to knit next as a new project. The Shetland wool company has sent the yarn but its not arrived yet. I've done gloves and I was too dosy to knit this morning after a restless night I'm still stuck with the socks.

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Numa numa song

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So why is my 100% pure wool stuck to the radiator? Said wool has left tufts of itself still stuck to it. The rest doesn't look or smell damaged which I'm glad about so it should be good to go soon. I'm also glad to say that it, when wet still smells of sheep, but an awful lot less than the roving I have bought in the past which is nice.

And so I must conclude that the paint has melted and the wool has sunk into it.

Here's the gloves, with the Syphilis. Finished. Woohoo. over one year later

I've got the washing in, It was almost totally dark (street lighting out the front saved that). I had to sneek past the spider in the dark. He's been a few days out there in the blueberry plants. Ggaaggh.
It did give me a reason to test the shawl (the washing run, not the spider) am really pleased with it. I've worn it out several times and its really cosy. It reaches to my knees with it around my shoulders and down the inside of my elbows.

I've been thinking about the simple pleasures in the life. Things that make you feel a bit happier, make life better but aren't really noticed.

Such as garlic to cook with. How many cultures don't use garlic? Foods boring without it.
Seasoning and sugar. Its a rare person that doesn't use some form of seasoning. In Roman times pepper was used for ransons instead of coinage.
The happy knowledge that you finally got that bugger of a fly.
Relief that fluff isn't a spider.

Have a good week everyone.
Oh I've just tried that pumpkin bread. Anyone have a recipe they can reccomend?

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I was knitting under the influence. You see, ahhh, I was a bit addled from meditating (what> you don't think I was drinking? don't touch the stuff. Seriously) to help me ignore the cake induced nausea and came out of it a bit ungrounded, so I was a bit addled and couldn't figure out what was going on and being a bit silly.
Lesson for the day (which so won't be listened to), don't knit under the influence of meditation.

Once this is done I'm onto another set with the pink yarn. I'm going to make them shorter. I may want some that come most of the way up my arm, but I don't assume other people do.

Here is a picture of the gloves after ripping back.

I've tidied the kitchen. Then pretty much instantly mucked it all up again making pumpkin bread. I started to make it until I ran out of flour, then I had to stop for a few hours until CGBF got some more. I could have tidied then before I made some more of a mess, but no. I've got a huge mess to sort. Its baking away so I'm also waiting for it to finish. I made a double batch and my arm is so sore from all the stirring. I realise that oil and water are unmistable but I didn't expect it'd take so long for both things to go into the gloop at the bottom. I feel like I'm dragging it behind me. Obviously its not that long that it drags but it feels how dragging your leg behind you looks. Sans the walking bit. Its just quicker using the other arm now. Yay for semi ambidextrousness. Boo for not thinking of swapping arms and stirring with the less dominant one. Its really imparing my knitting.

What else have I done. Ummm, more washing oh crap the washing. Our pillow cases are out there. I was washing them all at the same time and risking a lot with that one action. Ever since the bedmuda triangle hit I've only had two spare (6 missing). So I have been rotating them 2 at a lime. Lime? time. Its a pest trying to remember which are on and which are needing to come off. I decided that they were all being done today and its dark so the dew will have got them. At least I haven't figured out which item has disappeared off. Can't miss it if you don't know.

I wonder when this lot will introduce a spellchecker?

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I've just fixed my gloves. I forgot to put the thumb in so I had to find the area it should have been and unravel those 7 stitches. Then I knitted with the dumby carn and knitted the 7 stitched back. I'm going to find some KnitPro interchangeable needles so I can get that thumb started.

But I got side tracked, figured out why the heating wasn't on and wet Sardine's yarn (to help it set). Better go find the needles

I was quite bad, I ordered series 5-7 of Old Harry's Game (audio comedy by the BBC).

Gaaaggh I feel really awful. I'm going to camp out in the bathroom. Psychological thing, I feel better in there. The coolness also helps.

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Tried an experiment to see if I can steam it. Yes/no. It can be steamed, but it needs less water. Bit obvious really but I only thought of it once it was poured in .

Something off the line was missing (light was getting low so got it first.)

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Fresh bread, knitting and my washing flying across the lawn.
What more could you want?

Hmmm, a curry maybe. Where's my book?
Oh I'd better go check on my cake. I'm trying to steam a chocolate puddle pudding Gastronomy Domine. (I've just figured the link thing out, WOOoohoooooo )

Om om nom nom nom.
Hmm, cake or rescue the washing?

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A few weeks ago I made some caramelised onions and bottled them. Meaning whenever I need caramelised cooked onions in a hurry (such as this morning when making CGBF scrambled eggs with mushrooms before he left the house in a hurry (if I find he's left the wet towel sitting there will be annoyances) I could add some of these onions and things were yummier.

I could have added some to the bread mix with cheese and made cheese and onion loaf (obviously). I should go check on that bread and if its nice, maybe I'll go ahead and make some.

I have noticed the bread maker has this beep put topping on now. But I may have got the wrong beep, because its diffficult to putt a topping on, when its wuzzing around at speed. Everything seems to end up on the wrong side or down the side. Oh well, the seeds will all be in there.

Getting there on those gloves. 30 rows left (I obviously wasn't as far along as I had thought).

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I just put the washing out to dry. B%**£r. P.s. you really shouldn't have said "Britian lash by the storm of the year" England (and on rare occasions Wales) doesn't= Britain. England, Scotland and Wales= Britain, thats why I'm paying taxes to Westminster.

BBC2 people please note, in contrast to what you said recently the North Sea isn't empty, its full of ships, Oil rigs, fishing vessels and three sets of islands. These are called Orkney, Shetland and the Faroes. And all of those things have people on them. And they, like London and (this may suprise you BBC 4 people as well) everyone outside of London, also has weather. Do the weather reports accordingly. Espicially since they all (besides the Faroese who may listen to the world service) pay their tv licenses. So do your work and cover everyone.

I'm also trying the bread maker again. It smells really strongly of burning still.

I'm also knitting on my part finished glove before doing stuff to the Sardine yarn and sticking it onto dry.

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But this I want to block and make a bit wider.

I finished the heel but yet again I am stuck. I need to pick stitches from along the sides of the heel flap. I should get either 15 or 17 stitches. But I have 5 and 6 more. Generous sock. Cruel sock. Sanity testing sock.

I also took CGBF out for Sushi at a tiny local almost cafe style Suishi place. It was really nice and freshly made for us by two really nice gurls who sat and chatted to people sitting up at the bar. We were further away at the window seat but when they were over they were lovely to chat to. You could actually watch them make the Sushi up themselves. We had a mixed platter (the vegetarian Goygo dumplings-spelt so wrong were amazingly good) and I tried Wasabi. Which was totally not intentional and will never happen again should I be able to avoid that ghastly concoction. Green means sick, you eat it, you feel sick. Wasabi is green, it makes you feel sick. Its as appealing as sick. Sick= bad, avoid it and wasabi.

The rest of it was delicious. CGBF and I had Kimchi. Which is a Korean dish of pickled spiced (it is essential that people realise thats not a nod towards that culinary sentiment. That one word is vital and liberal).
It is spiced, spiced to the point that you end up end up gasping Oh dear God and bolting CGBF's ultra hot tea just to wipe the what-is-thisEEEKKKKK burn taste of it out of your mouth. Or when you realise with a feeling of dispair that its not shifting to burn your tastebuds so you can't taste it. We got a variety platter which was very good but I am still convinced tofu is blagggh.

We also had rice cakes which was in fact a squidgy paste type thing. One of which was green (and fed to CGBF pronto, I love that man). The other was white with a band of chocolate up the center and covered in sesame seeds which was very nice. If strangely textured. The other dessert we had was chocolate cernterd and dusted rice with nuts. Very odd.

I may have also spent over £100 on yarn. Eeeeep.
Firstly I got the yarn from Jamieson and Smiths for the Hap shawl(www.shetlandwoolbrokers.co.uk).
Then I went to Wool for Ewe after work. I got some more Bigga in purple and the sick colour that doesn't actually look like sick. Here's some proof of that.

And the rest of the stash.

I got some of the Twilleys of Stamford in the Sardine colourway, one in "Verve" colourway (green blues and purples) because theres not many things more annoying to a knitter than running out just before you finish an item. And its cold. I want my fingerless gloves. Its at the bottom of the picture but its a very bad picture. But I can't be bothered trying some more. Since Egypt this awful phone has been dodgy. The heat got to it. One thing I found is that sticking a hot phone suffering from heat stroke and verbal abuse is to stash it in the fridge for 5-10 minutes. Cooled things right down.

Anyway (The Prologue) I got a few patterns and a felter thing (you stab a woollen item with it and it felts. The wool, not the felter).

I also encounters Schoppel Wolle. I have realised I am in almost utter yarn love with a type of sock yarn. I finally see the appeal to sock yarn. Its the colours. If the lady in wool for Ewe handn't been there. I'd have been in that basket having a yarn wallow. It feels so soft and silky I was contented (and its got the most cute logo, but I like cats). Just contented. To sit. And enjoy the yarn. Its very expensive though, but you get a lot (3 pairs) and it feels amazing. I got myself a ball and 2 for CGBF. Here's a picture of my yarn haul.

I've just realised a lot of the photos I put on for the last post are on the main page.

I am still fighting the urge to confess something about Berets Don't need to say a thing at all.

Comments

Yesterday I revealed that the beret was affecting people's mind. Sardine doesn't like them, now she does, and she's building up a collective. They are gathering others to it so that when there is a critical mass of them.... They'll eat her. Yea seriously.

Not only that (please stay seated and please, put hot drinks actually drinks and food in general down) it affected mine to get it made. Which means... it is capable (stay seated readers) of affecting people, backwards in time.
Seriously.

Because I foresaw sniggers (psychic me) I set out to prove this to you all. And I must say I've found a couple of very interesting blogs. But I have found evidence most terrifying of what happens (and I'm extrapolating the possibilities ** from what I've seen around chocolate). From what I can tell they have little suckers to hold on. These may secrete something, but at times when the food item (that's Beret wearers, in the wild and domestic captivity (you pay taxes and get your food from a store your in the latter category)). I believe Berets evolve individually. They pick their victem, feed off their brainwaves (I originally had branwaves there) and change to best fit in with the food item. I have gained photographic evidence that they grow tenticles or... suckers and when there are no humans about, they'll eat cauliflours, this one here. Yuck.

Situation A,
when the friends come around or your meeting new people and you just have to tuck in and sod the diet or waiting until the thing's ready. This one is a bit strange, its tried to complement what the prey person is wearing. Fashionable beret monsters. How strange. *

Situation B,

You fancy something young, or a quick snack. Even if it means dressing up. Now horrible is that, I discovered this one that was getting ready to eat a child. Predating on the most vunerable people. Just like any predator. *

Situation C,
you've got mature, your pretty big now, your not going to share so everyone else can just sod off so you can engulf the entire thing. * The example I found here had evidence of colour shifting. Which I found very disturbing. Sardine beware, yours was doing this. Ahem (I may need to confess something about that at some point).

Situation D,
The muhhh brains, brains need brains cravings becomes too much and you just have to eat it all by yourself irrespective of the size. Here they evolve tentacles to subdue their prey. Picture 1 *. You've got to wonder what that moustache is up to.

So knitting. I've almost finished a heel. Then I'll be off to knit the other heel. it was really confusing knitting this, but I've been going to the local stitch and bitch in the Belmont cinema bar and one of the ladies there helped me which was rather good of her. Basicially, sit down, relax and do what it tells you to do. You'll understand when its done. And she was right. The way you knit it means that heel has that natural bend in it which is a mini micacle to me.
CGBF is officially well heeled, but only half heeled.
Here's a picture. It doesn't show it that well, I'll try and edit it for the next post.

I've still not finished the Afghan shawl. I'm almost there but I've got very sleepy when I finally got to go sit down to do some knitting on it. I'd been considering taking it to the stitch and bitch but in light of my inability to feel happy following the simple instructions, I'd left it behind. So I didn't get it done, I worked on the sock heel. I'm knitting on the sawl now (still wearing it) however so maybe I'll get to finish it and wear it at rhe weekend.

Or failing that when the Eddie Izzard DVDs I've ordered arrives I'll get it done then. Its a really simple pattern and since its super chunky it won't take long. Wonder why I haven't got it done already then.

Spinning, here's a picture of that yarn.


Isn't that lovely? I need to wet it to set the twist. Because I suspect the yarn was maybe sat on or abused maybe, not sure whats happened to it exactly the yarn has been sitting around for a bit its almost slightly felted. . So it shall have to wait for another day to allow the twist to set. Then I shall wet it and dry it over the raidiator to set it even more.

I am going to go here, the beret thing has upset me

**Maybe if we have to be totally accurate, which isn't strictly necessary because all of this is feasible I could have partaken of some artistic license with this.

Comments

Tonight I'm really looking forward to snuggling up in the duvet, with my hot water bottles (I have 2 on the go) and being warm, comfortable and contented instead of being inclined towards staying up.

Usually when CGBF's not about I mope about the flat and watch pants tv. Or family guy which (more than slightly) wierds me out. But the past two nights, been happy to seek it.

Its a strange sort of meditative calm.

Wow, spot me living in the fast lane.

Well today I've not set things on fire, jibbered at my manager/workmates, imagined that there are any little people in bins on the main street about to jump out at me or petted Merino (worried I may hit that critical level and overdose).

I have... not started knitting the gloves , but I have made progress. Now not having started knitting the gloves doesn't really sound like progress to anyone. But I decided to try a different approach to the scarf. Since now, like then I'm knitting with two balls of yarn at once.... Why not ply them together*? Make things a little bit more robust, prevents it untwisting and coming apart, allows the colours to blend nicely so you don't get one strand predominating, stops having yarn scooting around the place as well as being more manageable. Lots of benefits.

Notice I've not listing the detriments, cos there isn't many. It shortens the length, also involves the spinning wheel. Well the spinning wheel coped well and I've filled a bobbin. I'll leave it to rest for tonight before doing something with it tomorrow. It has to be allowed to sit so the wool can basicially get used to being twisted and adopt the pose. Post rest I'll skein it up, take a photo then when there's more of it to see and then knit with it. When there's enough to make it worthwhile photographing the syphilis will pose with it.

*plying is when you take two or more single strand of yarn and spin (twist) it in the opposite direction to that the single strands. Rope is plied as is string and many types of yarn. Twillies of Stamford is just a single length. Which means it untwists and then there's noting holding it together so it comes apart. Instigating screams and sometimes, swearing.

Looking at the yarn now, its really nice with a nice loft** to it.
** Its fuzzy. Fuzzy in a nice way, that retains the heat nicely.

I also worked on the sock heel. Not much else I can say about that.

So what did I learn yesterday?
Its not a particularly good idea to sing (for some really bizarre and unknown reason) "all you need is love" whilst kicking vaguely in a cancan fashion while having a shower. Knees down only flinging outwards and to the side sort of thing.

Skiting about isn't really conducive to a long and happy and above all pain free way. In fact there is a direct correlation to that activity and skiting about the place.

I also dropped the soap and it sat on its end. Which maybe easier than managing that with a coin.

Right, yet again the Afghan shawl and my bed are looking appealing.
Have fun.

Comments

You take a fancy to doing some dishes (of all the things, and it does get weirder), then your gloves teleport out of your pocket. Yes out of them. No that's not typical here either.

You get to work, your pass is still tidied away somewhere too tidy for you to comprehend or remember. Then you spot there's a large, fat possibly lady persuasion spider sitting right by the buzzer. And wandering inexorably towards it. But you have to buzz it. Then a spider drops on your head (almost). The yard guys of a different company spot you staring at the ground in fascination. Attention absolutely riveted to it as you stare trying to figure out (after your panicked song and dance) is it still on you. Then, as you decide that standing on the next doorstep up for safety you remember the second spider. Then almost get swiped off the step by the door as someone comes to rescue you.

Which heralds a small dose of hysterics about the big spider at the buzzer. By now my manager is used to me gibbering about them. But he doesn't know I did a visual sweep of the office to see if there was any more waiting for me. Lucky he has a different office and my workmates weren't in yet.

I've realised that i maybe quite lucky with the whole DPN not in the bra thing. I stabbed myself (no that's not a normal thing, actually it is, its just not a desirable thing) in the hand and its really sore. Wooden or bamboo needles good, metal ones bad. But they clang, that sounds quite dramatic and loud, I'm not dropping a church bell. More accurately tinkle when you drop them

Then I sent an email to a customer whose stuff had been sent. Somehow I think that saying
"Goo morning" and "King regards" won't impress. You never know but somehow I doubt it.

Now for a tale about a tenacity hat. And CGBF's friend Sardine (Hello )

Two years ago there was a hat, it was a beret. Which I dislike intensely (a junkie who used to threaten me because she got caught on camera shoplifting wears one and I had to tell her she was banned. I say used to, I've moved. None of that caused the beret dislike, but it didn't do anything for berets as a whole), but this one appealed to me.

With its slightly bobble nature and lovely little spiral on the top with the decreases. So I flirted with knitting the beret. Then the love affair ended. And ended up attempting the 5 times. Three times due to a tremendously stupid mistake and the other two due to pattern confusion. But I got there. After a brief murderous stint. After ending up with a vast writhing seething mass of bramble stitch (imagine what'd happen if you made 3 stitches per stitch every second row for ages until it ate your hand like a paper shredder would).

In a most lovely colour of Twilleys of Stamford Freedom Spirit with purples, pinks and blues. Would you believe that I've been looking for a picture of the yarn... When I have two balls of it in my bag? Its colourway 510, its 100% wool and it felts. Just so you know. I finished it a paltry 18 months later. I think she forgot about it, you'd hope she had considering how long it ahem didn't take, no it was made as soon as it was thought of. Once I got the replacement magazine to make up for the one I left on the bus. Ahem.

Here's the yarn. I think I have some this is from the same dye lot as the one with the label. I shall seek it out later at some stage tonight.

I was tempted to keep the hat, as a symbol of my tenacity (I'd never wear it, its a beret) but I did send it away (She's from Belgium, she's more predisposed than a British person to liking them. Almost as much as chocolate). Festive present.
And she (apparently) liked it. We have a picture of her (anyone accepting bets on CGBF deleting the message) on the beach wearing the hat as she stands by a rock pool. Its a good picture.

Last year I designed my own pattern of scarf with cables and Bracken stitch and made that with two strands knitted together. I knitted and knitted, ignored the RSI and then I knitted some more. Late into the knight, finally as CGBF gnashed his teeth about the present box being sent off... I finally cast off.

Its that time of year again. This time around, cabled gloves in that same colourway (I bought loads. Hopefully loads= enough) in the pattern I've knitted some for myself, his mum and soon, Sardine. I was planning ahead, hat- bracken stitch, gloves-cables and scarf-both bramble stitch and cables.

I've just printed the pattern off. I'd better go get started on it. To find DPN. Actually it occurs to me, these are wooden. Bugger, I still can't use the bra to stash them in in the mornings. Ah well.

Anyway, knitting.
The sock heel is coming along well, here's a picture of it. The pattern for it makes the yarn feel much thicker and very soft. I find its hard to progress fast when your busy petting the bit you've knitted. But I must be strong. Keep knitting. Here's a picture of it.

The red is a lovely deep red which I keep admising, the siler needles help bring the colour out. I'm hoping that the thickness that is caused by knitting the heel that way will make it harder wearing. Having it in a different colour wil help me replace the heels. CGBF is monsterously hard on the toes and heels of socks. After having spent so long on them I am not throwing them out after a few days wear (seriously).

Here's the syphilis with the Sardine yarn and the Harris socks.

Anyway I'm away to cuddle up against the cold with the Afghan shawl. Its rather long now and almost finished (on the 8th and final ball of yarn now). Its so long, I can wrap one end around me, and knit on the other end wilst simultaniously feeling smug about it for no good reason.

Here's a picture of it with the syphilis reclining on top of it. I really must say that despite what the picture shows, it doesn't actually look like sick in real life.

Look what I found in a shop!

Obviously mums/dad/parent substitutes can play with food (on a small child's behalf), how else can they get children to eat but do the whole here comes the aeroplane, bringing the food and in it goes. My mum also got mashed potato and flattened it down and did fork marks on it told my brothers it was a field. If there was gravy she mixed it in and it was a ploughed field. Worked too but it meant that she had to do it for the two of them for every meal and they refused plain boiled potatoes. Bless, poor mum.

Actually I did the aeroplane thing to CGBF once to get him to try something vegetarian. He wouldn't eat it. Laughed a lot, but eat it no, no, not at all.

Anyway (The Prologue) yes, don't play with your food. So why does the box sho it as having been played with already? The makers, are playing with it. Thats just wrong. And encouraging bad behaviour but definitly wrong.

Malakeas, you have good taste (psst, the photos went away, I'll include the hat under here for you). I love knitting because its really soothing and creative. Its also so constructive, I spend and hour daily on a bus and I spend most of that time knitting and staring out the window (multi tasking).

Many people go thats a granny hobby (-10 to cool/acceptable factor). And I tell them (in my head) do not mock the granny for she is fierce (I'm not a granny by the way, I just know a lot of fierce grannies), or the hobby. Anyone wielding pointy jabby things that can be used as jabby things for jabbing people. Espicially if they are annoying. And by the granny (or granda) stage (s)he'll know all the vunerable areas and bits to poke. Or any others pokeworthy ones. They'll be more than experienced enough to know a fool when they see one, and/or be game enough to try for a few different places and see what causes what reaction.

Anyway, my shawl is looking appealing now. I'm going to relax. Maybe bake something now the smell of burning has gone away I can go into the kitchen without doing an inadverdant Will Smith impression when he screamed "and what the hell is that smell". Only without an alien to start kicking.

Here's the Llama hat, I'm positive I blogged it. I definitly told it too. Very puzzling .

Comments

But first of all a thought for the day. Does anyone else find that when jogging on the WiiFit programme that the Wiimote works best when strapped to your tummy bits? Treacherous thing.
Mine doesn't register me moving except for the most tiny, almost minuet movements. I am going flat out, panting like the horribly unfit thing that I am and it barely registers. Does anyone else go Right that's it and go chasing off after one of your friend's Miis? Then find your still barely moving>

The looms a bit traumatic (a huge epic proportion of lots of trauma) so I'll leave it until last.

Knitty.

I got Sirdar Bigga in a rich chocolate brown and a mixture of yellow and browns. I'm 3 stripes (ball per stripe) into the Afghan shawl out of the "Shawls Two". It so such an easy pattern to memorise and it is gloriously fosy and smughy (warm, cosy, something you want to cuddle up in). Its baltic here and the River has bust its banks again so thats my anti-winter neck freezy safeguard device.

I finished CGBF's hat and threatened to steal his current hat to get it off him (so he could try it on I maybe shouldn't have made it seem like I was on a his hat liberating spree). He's very attached to that hat. Once he realised that there was another hat to take its place he was happy to relinquish it. We weren't wrestling in the street but we were having a stand off. Until I waved the white Llama on a hat of red coloured truce hat. I need to line it and I have some Red Twilleys of Stamford Freedom wool for that.
I've started on another hat. Which I'm adapting... New pattern... new ear bits...new opportunities to screw up and miss entire lines (and add in another one to replace it).
same wool but this one is brown with a flamey pattern, with Llama, in the middle, and Llamas, on the flaps (spot the Llama shaped trend? I love Llamas. Mhurrrrr).

I am also flying along with the Harris socks. I have another cm (approximately anyway) and I can start on the heels. We went out to see CGBF's parents and they live just north of Aberdeen so I got loads done on the bus. Until the bumpy bits when I dropped stitched and had the yarn equivalent of mud wrestling to get them pickled up again or re knit. The yarn is shades of grey so I'm not sure what colour to do the heels but I am looking forward to starting.

There is on or two things that really irritate me about knitting with DPNs (Double Pointed needles). When you are wearing a thick puffy coat they get caught on them making it hard to knit. The other thing on the bus is I have difficulty stashing my fifth needle. I knit with 5 needles, 4 in continous use and the fifth being swapped in continously as one of the 4 is full. So where to stash the 5th needle. I, not wearing polo neck jumpers all the time find it easy to stash them on my bra. What? Its safe, easy to reach, utterly common sense and totally not suitable for the bus. But I keep reaching to stick it in there and sooner or later there will be trouble. When I had a knitted/woven scarf on then I could stab it into that. But my new scarf has made that option defunct. Grrrrrrr. But at least the ones I have are metal (not a favourate) so I can hear them chinking if they fall. And then chase them down the bus (happened last night).

Spinning.
No Can Do. Will try something along the lines of chunky wool soon though because I spoke to Linzi the Alpaca spinner lady and she's never had problems swapping the flyer unit over.... Oooh won't that be exciting.

I've had some of the petting only yarn in my arms, around my neck and snuggled up around my face for a while now. Just being petted, like Blowfelts cat. Squidgy soft Merenio. Hmmmmm
It just feels sooooo good. All it needs to do is purrr, climb on the work tops and nick your tea. Espicially if you consider the flyer hooks to be claws we are onto a fairly accurate description here. It even takes up some of the best spots in the house.

I just love squidging it, just petting my lovely roving. Even when its getting into some crazy tenticled bondage frenzy and pulling me by the fingers and hair into its depths. Which just happen to be in a flyer. Which is rather small. With hooks.

I've just realised that I have enough roving to make a pile big enough to snuggle up into. I may just be lost. I may not go to bed tonight. CGBF's not here so I could do it.

I forsee a cunning plan that I cannot complete. My dream of smuugying (cuddling approx) up with the yarn is twarted.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Oh cruel and not cruel in a fantastic way world. Fleece felts, with agitation and warmth, I'd end up, trapped, in the middle of an irreversablly wool matting cocoon. Sob and I plan to sell or gift some of this once spun up so I cannot do this Noooooooooooooooooooooo. I fall to my knees with a over dramatic wail

There's no point tooo. What a waste of a stupid idea I could have kept for another time. I wear pjamas. I couldn't feel it anyway and considering this stuff's kinky bondage love. Seriously if you lot knew the amount of stuff that it gets tangled and tied to including my hair, you'd see what I mean.
I'd never get out. Prob wake in time to have a struggle then be clambered over by a spider or see one march past too.

But still.... sniffle

Could make a hot water bottle out of it..... But I have NO BOBBINS

Loom...
I also spent 2 weeks planning a scarf for CGBF. I picked out the green (from the stash), got some stone. Then I went and brought CGBF with me to the yarn shop. Where I let him pick some yarn out. It was orange. Bright bright flamey orange. and it didn't go well, it was much too strong.

I didn't like it. But he asked for it. The things you do for love for i was at the anything for love stage here. SO I spent TWO weeks, yes two getting the warp ready, cutting it to the right length (failing miserably there).
Eventually not weekend past, but the previous I started to warp. I was a designer in a frenzy, calculating the correct thickness. Unleashing my urge to get a little of the orange in there so it wouldn't overwhelm the green and stone. I'd have tartan like stripes, thick and thin, I'd gave it a fancy pattern (2 2 twill) and I'd be interesting and do the yarn justice (at £5 per 50g I'd try use it to smother him in his sleep if it didn't. I think I'd get away with describing it as an extreme fashion accessory. Misused to keep the cold at bay. Then I'd do the whole sue a God thing with the weather because he isn't maintaining it. Its too cold here). I grouped them by colour bands, checked for twists, brushing out the (supposed) 4x bed length long strands. Then I tied them, I looked at it and the colours were. Not. Thick. Enough. So what could I do? I made more heddles with string at the end. Then I started again.
eventually, many many many many many many many many many etc hours later I had them all on. I think I now know a bomb disposaol expert feels they are getting all stressed over the yellow wire blue wire They Are All YELLOW scream scream ScreammMMMMm panic Eep.

Finally, all were tied to the back thing which was around the right way. I am so close to finishing, all it needs is some cereal boxes and the winding on. The best way to explain this is think of toilet paper. The stuff thats not being used is wound up on a roller at the back. When you need it its wound off. however unlike toilet paper the yarn can fall into the little spaces between the previous rolled layer.
This is bad. Terrible in fact, disasterous/very annoying. Why because then they don't wind on evenly (we'll see some of this later. Joys) and the yarn at the end isn't taken in at the same rate and like me you end up with bits that are hugely long.
I put flattened Cereal boxes (ahem cardboard) in for the first few turns. But it was a bit thick and angular. So I only put two in and since its very important. It prevents the falling into the spaces thing.

Another important thing is... Pure wool (like me but a little less apt to go crazy about it) likes wool. It loves to snuggle up with it and doesn't want to be seperated from its new yarny friends (like hair once its tangled, or cats from your new colour contrasting top). So it the little hairs start to eye each other up and then snuggle up to ewach other (I'm not making this up, honestly) and then they intertwine. It felts into a much smaller mass that cannot under any circumstances be seperated (other than you being Dr Manhatten). Friction and a change in temperature cause it to speed up.
So what happened next?

I wound on the yarn and I pulled on it to keep it the one length (which didn't work). Did you spot it? Just there, movement. One general and one personal.
The yarn at the ends were (did you notic that prologue there? Yea, its that way) a foot different that I took a break. I'd finish it tomorrow.

Went away and I did feel a bit paniced at not finishing it off. I have no idea why, I just felt really unsettled about it and if it wasn't nearly 11 (I get up at 8) I would have continued. Maybe there is something to the Navajo belief that you need to do it in one go. Came back the next day........

I would re wind it. Which involves unwinding it. Unsuprisingly truthfully but since it was here at this early stage that the problems started. And refused to end afterwards. Because I didn't get far. The falling down between threads had happend and they'd started to felt. They were sticking and were not coming unwould with the rest. So it looked like some were wound the wrong way. Picking at them didn't help because the amarous little sods had started to snuggle up. My head was in the loom, untangled warp yarn snaked and wound around my neck and arm my head was bashing against the top shelf thing of the table as it lowered and raised itself at random. Pulling at threads and my hair as one untangled then tangled instantly and the other it just tangled and attacked my eyes. Yes, in the midst of all this, it was trying to take my eyes out (not sure why, not as if my hair has much use for eyes. It can see where it is not to go perfectly well as it is.

So there will be no more warping until I have a warping board and reassured my sanity. Insofar as it is possible.

bit fed up of describing them now.

On an unrelated note I've got to make slow roasted parsnips for CGBF's tea which means preparing them now. I've tried stuff from a certain cook book and this is what I wrote about it the next day

I made Winter vegetables in a creamy coconut sauce in the slow cooker for tonight.
No Celeriac, so thought celery would be fine. Not enough, i put half a big leek in.
No parsnips, so I put extra carrots in.
Eeeek, two packets of chilli powder and no curry powder, ground some Garam Masala and put it in (in too deep to back out now).

Went in this morning, it looks like sick.
I wrote a poem about it (as you do at 6:20 am).

Slow cooker Disaster poem
Someone's been sick in my slow cooker,
Its really horrible to see,
It smells rather plesent to me
Its just really horrible to see,
How disenchanted would you be?
When you discover sick instead of something tastee?
Can you imagine how disgusting it do be?
When you look in and thats what you do see.
I lament that althought there smells like there's curry here to me
I've wondered and pondered endlesslee
How come there is sick here instead of my tea

I've been in a very domestic mood recently as evidenced by all the baking and tidying. I made porridge this weekend for CGBF's breakfast. Not the powered stuff I used to make myself that was like dust. This is actually oatmeal. How Ace am I (joke lol)

He was rather chuffed when I offered him last night.
I was really really thankful cos I really didn't want to have to go out and buy him cereal (awww loving me hmm?) and I can't let him go out of the flat hungry. I could have made bread but it was a bit late to put it on because the flat below is arranged differently so its someone's bedroom below our kitchen and the bread maker is really noisy.
Anyway, sending him out warm on a cold morning would be perfect.
I was up like a shot before he was up and spooning out the mixture that I'd had steeping all night in apan from the original one to cook it.
Why? Because someone didn't re read the portion size for the mixture I'd ended up steeping enough for 4 people. Arragghhhh.

This stuff looks fine, then suddenly all the liquid disappears. Totally. Your stirring at it like crazy, thinking the temperature's low and its still sticking whats going on. Glance away and what you are left with, is this thick gloopy cross between wallpape paste and a mud volcano making gloop noises frantically at you.

I am convinced that porridge absorbes 34 (to the power of 10) times its own weight and instant;y multiplies up to double its mass.

It was totally mad.
But I sent him off with it and a cup of Earl Grey and he ate it. And seemed to like it! Obviously it wasn't just the situation that was mad

But what did he do? Had a attack of the pleb and instead of cutting the sugar bag he ripped it. Spilling sugar over the hob. Arraggg. Sigh.

Well I made some for me at a more reasonable hour and I had mine with lots of dried dates and cranberries and some flax seeds. So they hid the taste of the gloop. Yummy yummy yummy.

I was singing this to 'like a Virgin' to myself in a very Northern Irish accent (it comes and goes so it seems).

Liking porridge, gloopping in my pan,
Its gloopy porridge, in my pan.
Its gloops porridge, sticking to my hand
Feeding a hungry *CGBF's surname fits in well here but I'm not going to say it here*
Fecking porridge, its sticking to the pan

I can't remember anything else Aragh I'll try remember it.

I also had a girls tongue in my mouth last night (at his parent's house).
Don't worry she was adult (was? still is, since there's no evidence of physical regression) and not his sister (ewwwwww) . I was chatting away to CGBF and bam, she got me. Tongue hooked right into my mouth, no warning at all. I am astounded, she does this every time without fail. This time there was forelimbs around my neck and in my hair.
You think she's distracted and can't manage it but without fair it happens anyway as soon as your not focusing on what's happening. Every time. That dog is unerring. And has a massive tongue that just hooks around and in. What?

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Set the hoover on fire.
Burned incense which hid the smell of the following point
Almost caused a fire in the bread maker.
Caused blackened charcoaly sooty bits in the bottom of aforesaid bread maker
Filled the entire flat with the mysterious smell of burning bread.
Caused 10 foot high wardrobe door to fall on own head. Necesitating the second door to require being partly removed to put them both back on the rails and fix them. Involving adept S shaped manouvering like some strange gymnast on tippy toes on top of a chair to get up and unscrew bits.
Developed wandering hands when CGBF was repairing it. And was slightly distracting. Ummmmm.
Generated lost of dust that made it hard for CGBF to breathe.
Screamed, shrieked like the spider phobe that I am at the large spider that was racing around the living room.

Jumped and almost shrieked when a street bin door (on union street, Aberdeen's main shopping street) swung open because I thought there was someone in there who pushed it open (ask not).
Burned my hand.
Talked in my sleep and told CGBF to go away because he was fidgeting too much (we were both asleep).
Ate some of the chocolate for cooking. Nom nom nom.

I should speak about knitting.

That'll be the next post.

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I finished that blog post and decided to check out how my knickers (favourate pair that were on the floor as part of the rip-everything-out to try and tidy things effort) and the hoover were. Then I'd check on the bread that was in the bread maker. CGBF'd said be'd be back for his break soon and I'd made (more) potato and leek soup (a favourate of mine which is probabally noticable) for him.

I realised that the smell of burning was very strong in the entire flat. Not just the bedroom. There was no reason that the kitchen or hall should smell that strongly. That hoover went through very quickly so there shouldn't have been such a overpoweringly strong smell.

The bread mix had been over enthuiastic about rising and It'd risen over the layer of the container and had spilled down the side. Several bread dribble staligitites had reached the burners below the baking tin.

Its been removed and all the bread excavated. Several large pieces are charcoal and the air vent was also close to being totally clogged. The inside is rather soot covered.

I hadn't been able to smell it because I'd been burning incense in the bedroom.
The bread maker is right beside my recipie books and the bag of flour.

If the hoover hadn't started to burn, I wouldn't have called CGBF or thought to check the bread. I wouldn't have left the bedroom at all.

That was very close.

I definitly need some chocolate or a lie down. But I suppose I should behave myself. I have eaten all most of the less charcoally bits (with home made jam nom nom nom ).

Here is some of the charcoally bits

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Seriously.

I turn around with the nossly bit to hoover the windowsill (hey why not, its huge and saves a cloth being cleaned) and what happens? I smell burning. The. Hoover. was. On. FIRE. There was smoke billowing from the body of it. The. Hoover. was. On. FIRE. There was no indication Why it was on fire. Just rancid thick strong smelling smoke.

Turn it off, pull the plug out (lucky it was beside me) then hussle it outside. Where it is still, currently residing.

I phones CGBF. Who despite being quite a distance away tried to persuade me that it was in fact smouldering. The. Hoover. was. On. FIRE. It was not smouldering , It was. On. FIRE. I am not mucking about with erronious and irrevevant states of being.

It had decided that like my jeans* that my panties are in fact mutually attractive to the entire world and in this case itself. And it was going to have them away. But the knickers caused the The. Hoover. to go. On. FIRE.

My bedroom is filled with smoke and a semi hysterical me.

CGBF mearly laughs, its happened before. Am I the only one thinking the The. Hoover. was. On. FIRE. Its status in the past is not relevant, its on fire now and why, did he not tell me before that The. Hoover. was. On. FIRE? NOW.

*My panties are mutually attractive to the entire world, which must be why my jeans keep sliding down at the back and the zipper keeps coming down. They've decided** to share the joy.

**This must mean their sentient. Hardly bers thinking about does it?

I think I need a huge pile of chocolate , a hug, a huge pile of chocolate and nut chocolate which I don't have, a thick blanket to hide under, a lie down.

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You find the strangest things in odd corners. Like a paper crown from last year's festive season. What it was doing under the desk in the bedroom is a mystery.But I also found a Thomas the Tank engine mould and Lost season 4. In the latter case happy days as I haven't seen it.

I've just found a carry out menu (for a very nice place) and carry case sponges. I wonder how many of those sponges I can throw at CGBF before he gets my length. Oh I've just found his watch in a drawer.

See my side is perfect. No rubble at all. The window may need some clearing and there us a few items of clothing (jammies in case I get too hot or cold). It should be said that my side is directly up against the wall but thats not the point. I'd better go get the hoover soon.

I really fancy some chocolate and nuts. I don't have any. Maybe I could go play some Age of Empires.

Gaaah there is coat hangers everywhere. Must keep going.

Now in case I get asked why am I tidying the flat on my lonesome, CGBF's at work. And whilst many people would use that as an excuse to skip and dance around the flat whilst covered in Merino or possibly trying to bathe in it whilst listening to and singing More than a Feeling or watching The Lion king (each to their own). But I want this place immaculate.

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CGBF bought me two potato bags and a cheese one which I got free. I will be using one of the potato ones for carrots. These bags are fantastic, I have some already. They discourage veggies from sprouting or getting nasty and sweaty and going off. (I already own the mushroom one). I also got a jam and preserves book, a square cake tin, flan dish, brownie tin and some Dinosaur bun moulds. Made by a company called "Nordic Ware" in case anyone wants one.

How fantastic is that?
I love and adore that man.

I think I'll include a recipie here. Its for my version of Shooter's sandwich. I got the idea from this fantastic food blog http://www.gastronomydomine.com/2006/09/shooters-sandwich.html

Your supposed to use rare cooked steak (so juices make the bread moist) but I used roast beef that had been slow cooked which was left over (don't touch that, I'm going to make something with it tomorrow). Mice was intended as a main meal and since the beef was pre cooked and fully cooked I added moisture.

Get an unsliced loaf (I baked my own for this) and cut the end off and hollow it out. Leave a nice thick layer of the insided.
Cook 2 Portabello and some sliced chestnut mushrooms in butter, parsley and garlic. You may need to cut the stalks off to make it easier.
Prevent errant hands making off with some of the mushrooms.
Add some of the stock (beef with some red wine and herbs) to make them nice and saucy. Remove the muchrooms and thicken lots of the sauce.
Add some of the beef so it gets coated in the sauce.

Add one of the Portabello mushrooms to the base.
Add the bread insides to the thickened sauce and allow it to soak it all up.
Layer upwards with the beef, gooey bread filling and mushrooms. Using the bread as a filler. Use the end of the bread you cut off to fill the hole. Wrap the whole lot in cling film and compact overnight.

CGBF was a very happy man and I was a very sad lady. Because it smelled gorgeous and because I'm vegetarian its off limits.

He even took some to work.

I should go get ready...
Me? procrastinating? Never.....

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I have successfully in my sleep somehow somehow kicked the wall hard enough to lame myself IN MY SLEEP. That was Tuesday through to Wednesday night. I didn't even wake up when I did it. I am still wondering why. Now the whole office (as well as it being now in my medical records) knows I sleepwalk fidget and talk (I ran away at the mouth with explanations).
I got stuck in my own shoe, seriously. I couldn't get into it then I couldn't get out of it.

It was abysmal. It was painful and I (this is Saturday) am still hobbling around like I'm wearing high heels of different heights (them being from different pairs). Considering that my normal (some would say natural) state of being when wearing heels is flat on my face/back. Two steps and I'm down. I usually can't even get up afterwards either.

I kicked the wall and somehow hurt the ball of my foot. Not the toe, somehow it escaped unscathed. It didn't even have the consideration to bruise. I could barely walk as it put pressure on it and the hedge looked awfully appealing. I was looking for holes in the pavement for little potholes to put the ball of my foot into.

I was sent to A&E, got poked at (by a bloke whose hands thankfully are a lot warmer than our first aider. It was like being poked with ice. Not very plesant.) and I couldn't go into work this past two days. I'm grounded and bored. So what have I done? Well yesterday I tidied the kitchen and baked whilst being a very fuzzy person and kneeling backwards on a chair (stupid drugs). Its amazing what you can do when your bored and want to do something constructive based on the fact the first day I felt groggy from the pain killers and lay in a heap listening to cars go by.

I gathered all the stuff I needed on the worktop (after I scrubbed it, all the joys and what a fast lane speeding life I live) one place so I didn't have to move. I made 3 pumpkin pies, 3 pumpkin loves, leek and potato soup and bread. ALthough since the latter was made in the bread maker as quantified by effort that isn't very impressive. I also put the shopping delivery away (it only took a week). For some reason I ordered 8kg of museli by accident. Mistaken identity. Bumhats.

Right,

I don't like typing about Egypt, why?
The local people are a complete pest, nightmare and I have wanted to be nice. If there wasn't children hanging or swinging from your trousers, or even rowing up along the cruise ships demanding money, they (adults and children alike) wouldn't get out of the photos (The syphilis hides a multitude of sins, trust me) then they'd demand money (I as sure as hell don't want them in there I'm most certainly now rewarding them for it)We were told at the start DO NOT tip children for no reason because they will then fight and beat each other up and bring more towards you. Gaagggh.. They (people) wouldn't let you go anywhere as you'd get blockaded by them trying to get you to buy stuff, the guards (including the Ak something or other armed police, which is scary) would demand to know what you were doing then tell you to follow them, you'd find out that they only wanted to show you an Ankh, then wouldn't let you go until you bribed them and several times different ones wouldn't let us out of a tomb, or have peace because they were pestering you to look at something. They were also trying to screw you out of every penny you had.

Which is a complete and bl$$dy nightmare if you don't have change. Or can't swap currencies.

I would to see lower Egypt. Espicially now we are a bit wiser to the crap the people put you through.

On one of the last days one of the group (younger guy in his late teens) went on a trip on a horse drawn Kalesh. The driver took him off to his brother's shop and screamed and harassed him until he spent bought a pile of stuff, hugely overpriced. Guy wouldn't take him back until he did. He spent all his money and then he got screamed at because he couldn't pay the fare (also hugely inflated). Lucky his parents came out looking for him and got the guides involved and one of the tourist police.

Not one of the people around the monuments cared about them. They were a means to an end. There was no interest, reverence or anything. It was disgusting. These were sacred to the ancient Egyptian people and if it was anywhere else they wouldn't have been whored out and treated in the manner we saw them treating them.

I should say acting like a total blond vapid idiot works wonders (they give up in disgust). But even when you weren't they'd treat you like you were a fool.

Day 2 Tuesday what did we do, The Valley of the Kings, Queens and the statues of Memnon. In that order. No photo's in there though.

We got up really early, 4 o clock our time! They'd already put their clocks back for winter time-I didn't think it'd make that much of a difference to be honest. But it marked us leaving the insufferable terminally stupid heat time that is summer into the slightly cooler barely more sufferable terminally stupid heat time that is the winter.

we got the alarm call, climbed up and over the lip of the bed* staggered out and around the room. Staggered around confused and shocked, must-remember to clean teeth with bottled water. We

Then dressed and off, with not an insignificant degree of apprehension. It was really nice, fresh fruit including banana, papaya and melon (Gala and water). Breads which were lovely, fig jam, omelettes which were made in front of you, a cooked strange sausage and veg thing with wraps. The breads are much nicer and (astonishingly) very flavoursome. I knew they were much nicer tasting than outs but on tasting them was a nice surprise. There was more sticky and sweet ones and the more savoury studded with sesame or black onion seeds. There was coffee, tea, orange juice and chilled hibiscus tea. I had another go at that. I still wasn't sure. I had an cheese omelette, bread and some Gala melon with orange juice most mornings. The only thing is the jugs dribbled more than the average toddler. I loved the omelette, the chef had two on the go and was flipping them and kept them going whilst looking round himself at the people wandering (staggering in a very groggy manner) around the room.

* The mattress for some bizarre reason had a lip or rim around the edge. Its not as if its tidal enough to affect it all the way up there and since the river was dammed its not going to have sudden change in level. A note, it was much better than that in the Best Western. I could sleep on it for a start. It wasn't fantastic but it was ok. Truthfully I wasn't sure what to expect, its an old boat.

We'd been seperated into different groups the night before and we'd been assigned to Lena (who was very nice). And we headed off at her heels to The Valley of the Kings. On the way there we saw Hatshepsut 's tomb, the Deir el-Bahri Temple in the distance

Howard Carter's house

And the sacred peak which was the reason that the valley of The Kings was placed where it is. To the ancient Egyptians the West bank was the bank of the dead, not to say that only the dead resided there, but that the Souls of the dead followed the path of the sun and like the sun went into the west when the person died. There was one big peak on the other side of the River form Luxor that looked Pyramid shaped. So the valleys under it were sacred and would be protected.

We couldn't take photos in the valley sadly and the photo with all the vegetation is actually taken from the east coast which was actually taken from the back of the camel on the Sunday. In the others you can see several little tombs, especially the second. These are the tombs of officials who were in charge of the different building projects, at the time.

We got there early and we still baked. I apparently went a very bright puce colour under the hat. It was the first day of wearing the Hijab and I was so nervous. Should I wear it? in the end I decided that I disliked putting sun cream on my neck and getting it in my hair more than maybe looking stupid in front of people I'd never see again. The front of it went up and down according to where the sun hit my face.

I would say that if you can afford to (its very cheap) pay to go into extra tombs instead of just seeing the 3 free ones that you get when you buy the ticket in. Those tombs are better preserved and there are fewer people in them you so you aren't rushed. It was amazing to see them with the paint from all those thousands of years ago still fresh and vivid. Don't bother with Tutankhamun, its busy, stifling hot and to be honest, besides the outer sarcophagus there wasn't much to be seen. We'd have rather left him in peace, I suppose you only go there to see what its like and its not worth the effort.

The other tomb (Ramses VI) was virtually deserted, cool and stunningly beautiful. We spent ages in it admiring and just looking at the scenes. This tomb was built before Tutankhamun's and as a result Tutankhamun's twists down and around steeply to get under it. The main shaft down into it was really long (Total length: 116.84 m) with a gradual slope and had a "small" pillared hall in the middle. Which tied into the hypocaust halls of the temples.
We got to see the gorgeous roof scene and journey of the Pharaoh through Nuit. The door (remains) to the tomb chamber and the scarphogas was immense, several feet thick in fact. We found out late (5 minutes ago through the joys of google when I was checking it out) that it was built by Ramses V, Ramses VI's older brother and predecessor. This brother took the unfinished tomb, leaving on the brother's name instead of over scribing them. I'm not sure if he was being nice or lazy there. The brother was actually found in the tomb of another king Amenhotep II.

Out of the free ones we saw Ramses IX which was the most worthwhile out of them. It was much larger so it wasn't as crowded as well as being in much better condition. Because of the heat and cramped conditions the other 2 while nice, were not nice to be in. I never believes that I could want to be out into the sun the other two were ghastly. Too many people, humid, baking hot and almost instantly your back was instantly a puddle.

Anyway the paintings were glorious and we spent ages in there gazing at them. The paints were vivid and to see them and try to understand what they were protraying was such a joy. Getting out of the tomb less so. The bloke had given us a bit of card to fan ourselves, we thought ahh, lovely (part of the service). Leaving he wouldn't let us out and was demanding something in Arabic. I thought it was a demand to see my ticket so I held it out. I got berated for ages by this angry looking and widely gesticulating Egyptian. And he wouldn't let me out for a bit. I was telling him (not that either of us understood the other) that he'd stamped it. We did get loose but he was annoyed.
http://www.touregypt.net/featurestories/ramesses9t.htm

The tomb of Ramses IV was ghastly and hot inside (which also isn't nice when the guide/warden doesn't believe in deodorant) but the pictures were so vivid. The sarcophagus was huge. High wise you were dwarfed by it. The worst thing was how little time you got to see them. You were hussled through it as fast as possible and I rapidly started feeling sick from the humidity which was bound to be damaging the paintings. You actually felt sticky and I needed a breather to clear my head once I got outside. CGBF and I were livid at some dosy tourist going "aren't they so fresh" and scratching at the paintings. I was seething and we were both complaining long and loud every time she did it. Grrrr. The sarcophagus was almost the same size as the main room.

In this tomb the guard was too busy trying to cajole money out of tourists in exchange for fanning them.

I should also note that some enterprising bugger had stolen all the toilet roll out of the toilets and was charging people for it.

We were on the backwards facing last seat on the tuft tuft (train to the main areas of the tombs from the entrance) and we got chased back the entire way by an gigantic hornet. It would zoom back and forward and from different angles towards CGBF (he must have done something fairly objectionable but we could never figure out what). We were ready to just belt out of there when the train slowed down because neither of us wanted to imagine what an eyeful of 2 inch long hornet would be like. But at the last bit it was flying long side. Which meant we'd have to pile out my side. Which was utterly impossible because that side was filled with someone howling "you buy these lady" and doing his utmost to poke them up my nose the entire trip. We were saved by a hornet in hornet action, a fist fight. In some sand. They'd be the yellowshirts dying then (anyone spot the reference to The original Star Trek there?).

True Egyptian (rather than Ptolemic or Roman) have a multitude of scenes and deities. Whereas the latter have the same deities and scenes repeated. Shows the lack of understanding that came with the "wow, this is impressive. I'll get in on this, I think I'll include this, and elaborate that" attitude they displayed.

The Valley of the Queens likewise was a no camera zone and could we get out. We were accosted and only got out when we bought someone. I should have told him a pile of utter nonsense such as this-> that I was a Goddess worshiping infidel and although I had no sisters for him, I was sure my brother wouldn't mind some well tanned rump. I hope either of my brothers read this. They will never find my body. They (and I) aren't homophobic but I'm willing to bet that he is and the thought of me willfully (not only getting run out of the valley of the Queens by a raging mob) but using them to terrorise tourist pests would not please them. Well it may amuse initially.

We got off the bus and ended up fleeing in front of the mob of sellers and ended up in trouble with the guide for wandering off. Its comparable to the spam count on your inbox after posting your email on a really busy website (never done it but heard about it). Like a cloud of flies buyzzz thizzzz youzzz lookzzz? At this point I'd like to mention that its hard not to look when its waved in your face by someone who jumped out in fromt of you.
Ggaaggh, what to give for a Brian Blessed voice, Desist petty MORTALS, Your cheap tat doesn't impress me. BEGONE"

In the valley of the Queens we saw several tombs belonging to children. Who because of their young age were depicted as being introduced to the Gods by their father and offering them stuff. CGBF nearly fell into a hole in one of them. Out of the three tombs we couldn't enjoy looking around them because the guides were pestering us and we had difficulty getting out. Everyone else had gone back to the bus early but we wanted to have a look around.

Next we went to the statue of the Pharoah Memnon. Where there were children being sent off to pester you as well as adults. You actually saw their parents pointing out where they should go. Here the Syphilis got pawed and was much disconserted as they kept trying to pull him out of my hand or pocket.

If you see the Syphilis very large in these photo's he's hiding a small annoying child who was pestering me for money.

When we got back the boat left for Edfu. And I took loads of photos on the way some above and below deck. I was literally running on tippy toes because the deck was burning the soles and upper surface of my feet.
In the cabin the cleaning bloke had been, he'd indulged in topiary!

of my feet.

Right, CGBF has offered to take me out tonight and I'd better get ready. I couldn't find him a gift in town

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Day one still. The photo thing here was irritating me immensely and I stopped.
The heat (Wall of Hot) was astonishing, you actually felt your arm drying out it was that hot. Scary hot. All you could se was desert and the airport. Going through the airport was rather easy. You had to find a pen, then find somewhere to write on. Then past the rather bored and (exceedingly) grumpy looking guards (they didn't care if you smiled, you had a dose of the glare to sort you out) and then had to wait for ages at the baggage carousel.

We were seriously panicking at this stage (CGBF wasn't stressing, he was calm and merely hyper aware what'd happen if our bags went awol. The Syphilis felt sad that he had no luggage or changes of clothes). Why were we (was I) so alarmed. CGBF's sister had left for Egypt 6 hours before us. Hers was missing. It had never left Charles du Galle airport with her and as a result she was in Cairo with no changes of clothes, wraps/sun stuffs or assorted bits of lady kit (shoes) that people need when going anywhere. It also meant that Cairo airport had an absolutely Livid person to deal with. we were worried and I was laying bets that there would be unhappy baggage people in two cities if it didn't show up fast (The Syphilis didn't take it).

Eventually (it always seems longer when your stressed doesn't it) they arrived, quick check, yes they are our's and we were off towards the coach. Our first glimpse was sand and date palms. Here there no no gentleness to the land, there was the burnt heat and giant mountainous seemingly lifeless sandy crags in the distance. We couldn't see much lushness from here besides the manicured lawns, complete with more date palms and locals in the traditional dellijab outfits lounging in the shade under them. The smell was like nothing else. Heat, scorched earth and desert. I would like to say there was no cases of sand or dust being blown about. Much to my suprise. The light was blinding and even in the shade looking at something in the shade with you it was necessary to squint.

You just had to stop thinking and just marvel, take it all in at how different and exotic it is in comparison to the UK (and this was just at the airport). Where I grew up it was lush green farmland, hills and mountains so you couldn't not gape. For all of 10 seconds before self preservation instinct kicked in and sent you trying to curb the whole start-pelting-towards-shade dear merciful shade oh bliss bliss bliss I love you shade and bus shelter (it was a bus shelter for busses, not people waiting for a bus).

We were directed towards the coach with the warning not to tip anyone or let anyone take our luggage echoing around. Just give it to the bloke putting it onto the coach. Somehow missing the role call which kind of made us, "You, I know you" infamous. Ooops-be assured there is a guilty look residing on my face right now). Here we got our first experience of someone trying to bug us for money. I didn't know what was going on. The bloke was taking the luggage (his job) and was snaking his hand out at everyone and he had a coin in it. I thought someone must have dropped it and he was trying to give it back to the person in front. I thought of saying to the person who'd just left you've dropped a coin and when I hesitated he started to snake his arm towards me. Last I saw he was jabbing his hand at my rapidly escaping back. I cleared off at this stage and said to CGBF what happened and was told, nope, he was trying to get a tip (naive me). The company's policy is to take £15 each per person and tips people from that, the people are told you will be tipped at the end and not to bug people. It thankfully worked on the boat.

The bus drive along was spent with me jammed to the window (remember kids who spend most of the journey plastered all over the window leaving smeary marks? Yea, that was me). i couldn't see enough and I was fascinated by everything. There was date palms everywhere, gorgeously colourful blooming flowers up all the verges. It is a different world. There are two types of houses, modern ones, adorned with concrete columns with a forest of steel spikes stabbing towards the sky. These meant that another level could or would be added at a later stage. And the older, traditional mud huts. Rich brown colour and often seeming to have paused in the middle of cascading dust. These were one only story high from what I remember and the roofs were wooden beams covered with with palm or banana leaves. Later I found that this was the outer "courtyard" type area. The insides had a more sturdy roof that provided more shelter. A great many of the larger, more wealthy ones were compounds, surrounded by high walls and railings which made me at least pause to think.

You can see the plastered mud brick houses (in very good condition in comparison to others we seen) and the newer ones with the pillars here

The sky was the most amazing colour. You just don't reach that at home. The palest of colours shaded everything as the sun and light rapidly faded. The sunlight is so bright that dark colours aren't possible.
The land got more lush as we approached the Nile. Which was immense, and dark. Surrounded by boats and palms and with the mountains in the near distance behind all under a blue lilac sky.

We had arrived on the day after Ramadan had ended (good if accidental timing) and the people were out in force. It is customary to get new clothes and walk along the river at dusk, to see friends and family. Sounds appealing. Not so sure about the clothes shopping though.

We headed out to the tour company's compound. Because we were going along the main road to Cairo we passed loads of check points, elevated vantage points and armoured, weapon carrying men (ahem, surrounded if there was shade) filled pillboxes. Not a comforting sight when you realised that they weren't lounging around chatting to their friends. Not to say that wasn't happening, but they were all alert and watching the world go by.
Being from Northern Ireland I am used to armoured and beweaponed men wandering around looking a bit scary.

When we saw the Nile it was very scenic (and I must admit I did wonder would there be any crocodiles upstream in a less populated area). It was amazing the colours, sandy rock, dark green river waters, pale wooded date palms and the lush foliage covered in blossoms. Behold piccies

As we headed out we saw lots of donkey drawn carts (very heavily laden). I think these were the main transport of goods outside the village but there were cars, people on 3 wheel buggies, horse drawn gigs, a compound with camels in and loads of bicycles. often multi passenger irrespective if they are supposed to have them or not. All of which seemed to be driven with the horn being wacked as often as possible. Everywhere you went it was a chorus of beep beep beep beep Beeeppppp hoanck beep beep mrrrmmmmm beep beep beeeeeep Bla bla bla etc etc.

It was a very surreal moment when someone went speeding along on a motorbike, a madly grinning friend squidged on behind him, holding on his shoulder what looked like part of a door with a huge mound of bread rolls cling filmed on top! we saw that several times, but could I get a photo? Impossible. At first I was looking at CGBF and eventually asked, was that bread? yea it was wasn't it? then degenerated into laughter about it.

The ship was docked in a compound and when we got on we were greeted, then they took our passports away from us. Scary. The floor was made of marble and the railings were made of brass along with the massive incense burner which was regularly used. So the whole area was frequently perfumed with the most lovely fragrance. Afed (I hope that's right) the (very friendly) shop owner got me some which was really good of him. It was all very impressive, even The Syphilis was impressed. Our room was on the top passenger deck (it was that or the bottom one and I'm not going for that. Someone from Ireland in steerage, nope, not happening) and sadly at the back. So when the ship was running we could hear the engine and when the staff were feeling musical them treating the piping like drums and playing a little tune on them. Erratically and at random intervals.

The Syphilis was amused at my shriek as I found what I had initially perceived to be a camel in the wardrobe. It was a just a big lumpy hairy blanket but still. I also found one of the tinyest baths ever. Bit bigger than mum's footspa truth be told. But not by much. The lock didn't work so you needed to sing if you were in there when the other person wasn't about.
The first night's food was nice enough but a bit unexciting. Someone remarked that they wondered what the 4 class ship's food was like. But this night was the exception and considering that the ship (if I remember correctly) is inspected by a UK based company every single time its about to sail before passengers get on. So all in all you can understand that it was probably disrupted. Veggies and fish for me, stewed steak for the meat eaters.

After we got to settle in the main lounge area, watched a video (the tourist will do this and have fun. Nice of you to tell us. You will have fun) and got with a glass of Hibiscious tea (main ingredient in many fruit teas). Now I could drink loads of the Hibiscious tea (can be drunk hot or cold). Not because I like it, but because I'm not sure if I do. You'd imagine that I'd be able to make my mind up, but no. I'm uncertain. Its a bit hmmm, do i don't I.... hmmm edging towards yes. swallow and it edges towards dislike. Its quite strange. I kept thinking of Data not being sure if he likes the drink and realises he hates it. Not quite sure if I'm more primitive because I can't make my mind up. I hope it means my palate is still being refined and isn't sure if the multi layered quality is to my taste or is t just that it is ok going down, but the after taste is a bit blaagggg.
We also got warned about the water, bottled water only for everything. Just because the natives "have stomachs that can digest live crocodiles" doesn't mean we do.

The next day, we were leaving at 6:30 (alarm call at 5:00) go to... The Valley of The Kings, The Valley of The Queens and the two statues of Pharoah Memnon. Then sailing in the afternoon Wooohooo. We were about to get started (though I must admit at an anti social time)

I should mention the craft side of my life.
I have finished those two scarves and I intend in warping the loom again tomorrow, I've just made up the warp (not to people, string makes a crap measuring length. It stretches at a differend rate to yarn so you never entirely sure whats going on. I need a warping mill). I shall include a picture when I get a photo sorted out.

I for some reason ordered a peg loom. Which is more primitive than what I have. But at least I can get rid of that stuff I'm allergic to and make rugs that I can felt.

Yarn. I had a bit of a bender, I got a lot of yellows and brown yarn I want to make a chunky shawl or coat for myself with (I don't normally like yellow but I live creamy browns so maybe that was it).

Knitting. I finally figured out where I stopped knitting on the Blur shawl before I left and.... I finished the hat today. CGBF's liberated it and I've found another pattern which I may use for the Bob. I also worked on the Linda Wings shawl and AnneyLamie got her shawl. She liked it . Once I've finished I'll make that lilic one for her which should be more a managable/wearable size (the latter from experience seems to be fairly crucial. Let me know any fun experiences you lot have had out there with this).

Hopefully I'll blog sooner. I've had a sensitive tummy recently so I've been curled up under a blanket a lot.

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But first onto an update note. I'm back at work and not even remotely happy about it. Yesterday with very little effort and no intention of doing either of these I got stuck in the kitchen by an arachnid (a spider). Then 15 minutes later in the bathroom (again) by another arachnid (Harvestman) and created an erratic cloud (it was if I was sending smoke signals with white powder) in work's car park. This would happen on the same day that I got told about this being a "Year of The Spider". I was plating the tea up and I looked around. And there, less than a meter away from the defenceless me (I refuse to kill them deliberately) and our poor defenceless tea (chicken one pot and potato and leek soup, too thick for the spider to sink into and drown. But the former was bubbling a lot and could have engulfed it. Either could have burnt it. Which actually disproves the defenceless and makes them more harmful than me, but they can't run away. Why am I rambling like this?).

Anyway (The Prologue), less than a meter away, there was a spider in the lobby by the kitchen door. CGBF got shrieked upon-called is way to calm by a massive margin. And through he came. Armoured with a bill (mine, why didn't he use on of his own? He's happier about them than I am) and one of my Jam jars (not sure if I can ever face placing jam into it again no, I feel a certain mild apprehension which may err towards pre-trauma about the jar now). It was rather large, but reassuringly smaller than the jam jar lid. I wasn't particular happy with its presence. However, unlike me the spider was perfectly calm. And was happily (all legs intact and uninjured=happy just so you know) ensconced in the jar, and vacated it once the jar had been put on its side outside.
Spider mark2. which was in fact a close relative of the spider family (same class), it was a Harvestman. Which did the most singularly cruel thing and showed up when I was on the loo and headed right for me. Right along the bottom, of the door which is tightly fitted or I could at least have hope that it may have got frightened by my shriek and mad scramble to get finished before it got my length. But no. Not at all. It had to go up and lurk on the hinge (at least it paused so I could get away with dignity-always dignified). So I could. NOT. Open the door (without squishing it) . So I was well and truly stuck in there. Shrieking at CGBF who, alerted by the yowling (think something along the lines of a cat stuck outside) was lurking outside (he wasn't getting to watch the news uninterrupted but was still surprisingly sweet tempered).

Lucky for me it moved, the door was opened and the jam jar was produced. This too was deposited outside.

On to Egypt. Prequel and Day one.
We left from Aberdeen (which was disgustingly sunny) the day before amidst a flurry of "I still haven't picked a knitting project", loosing patterns and "I might need to knit something else" mind changing. I also wove and left the binoculars which I'd gone in there for beside the loom. And finally tracked down assorted undies and socks (which took aagess). Got through knitting through the search points intact (a really tense time that) waited, watching planes taking off which was surprisingly relaxing. Cast on the Lighthouse sock from Knitty somewhere over the borders. It started with purple. EEEEEEEP.

Landed fine and tracked down the bus point for the hotel. It was about half way along the bus stop that we realised neither of us had taken any notes on what the hotel was called. Bu$$3ry.
That's what happens when you decided to go for something special. Something nice. You forget the details. Quick (rather grumpy) jaunt around the airport to find the Internet. Not I know you can't find the Internet (unless its stored in a box that's normally kept in a top secret place near Big Ben (IT crowd joke) but we did find an Internet cafe-does anyone have any idea why the word Internet needs a capital?). Then we tracked the email confirmation down and found the bus waiting there. We went for the Great Western Moat house.

And it was awful, we usually go for Premier Inn and leave happy. We get a good room, large, well presented, lovely bathroom with a comfortable mattress, nice meal, good breakfast. We leave happy. In this place the only good thing was the breakfast (best scrambled eggs and mushrooms I've had in a long time and it had Danish pastries, now that's a breakfast I'll support). The room was a third of the size of any that I have got at Premier.

Old furniture with a dated look. Barely any room to walk beside the bed. Only one bedside cabinet (nothing really matched to be honest) and the mattress was bust. I've never tested a mattress that has been dumped but I'm sure they'd have a similar amount of support. Seriously you sat on the edge and the whole thing sagged and more than once one of us over balanced and fell backwards into the center. It felt like a Star Wars Sarlack like beasty was pulling you over and into the middle. Resulting in hardly any sleep that night. The food was almost cold (so cold the cheese on my risotto didn't melt, blaggh) and extremely lack luster.

Maybe its just me but I like to chat during tea, I prefer it to needing to bolt my food down before it goes cold. To be honest, it tasted like it came out of a packet and had mushrooms stirred in. The desert and especially the fruit looked and tasted like it was old and had been sitting for ages. It'd shrivelled and the outside had gone leathery. At least couldn't hear planes. The breakfast was good though. I fully support serving Danish pastries for breakfast. The scrambled eggs were fantastic but I reckon that if I'd come down later they'd be nasty having sat on the hot plate for ages.Bus was broken. Who'd have thought a taxi would be cheaper. 1 statement about Gatwick that covers everything. HUGE queues. Two words and that's it summed up. Let me put it to you this way, Luxor was far better. Huge queue to get checked in and on and after seeing a queue almost half a mile long in Gatwick to get through security we successfully found the shorter one upstairs (overheard man with a wavey sign telling people about it and ran for it). Got through with knitting intact although CGBF's shoes did cause some stress. Twice, they are checked, you get frisked then 5 steps away from there, you get checked. Again.

Got into the airport and was asked for my travel boarding pass in order to buy plasters (I'd burned my arm) so they knew who'd bought it for some sort of customs reasons. Seriously, scanned and recorded a packed of plasters from Boots. How ridiculous is that?

Boarded etc and we were off. Sadly no window seats but it was horribly cloudy so I console (lie to) myself that I missed nothing. We flew for what seemed ages and I knit quite a bit.

We landed in the desert and we walked into a wall of hot. And our guest and my extra travel mate joined us from here. Now I do not want to post my picture on the Internet. And I also did not want to just post a scenery picture like everyone else. I wanted something that added my stamp to it. I was here, I saw this. Meet, The Syphilis. Here He is waiting at Aberdeen airport and reclining on my hat (apparently its quite comfy).

Imagine if you will a microbe, that has been enlarged to 1 million times its actual size and made into a small fluffy toy. A giant microbe (Giantmicrobes.com). You will from here be regaled with tales from the Syphilis and with occasional comments from myself or CGBF.
You would not believe the heat that hit you or how you feel your arm burning as soon as it gets into direct sunlight. I was glad of my hat (even though none of the security guards along the way liked it, there was a lot of this->).

Anyway, wall of HOT. Here is what we saw is all its scary glory (the scenery, not the planes).

Here is some pictures of what Luxor is like along an irrigation canal. To clarify it is filthy. 1 part dirt, 1 part dust to 8 parts rubbish.

And here is the nile at sunset. Awe inspiring.

Here is the West bank and the Nile


But there were flowers planted along the verge which were quite beautiful.

Here is a picture of the lobby as you come in the door of the boat. I don't have a picture of it (as it is on day one) because they stack up side by side. And we reached it by walking through the lobbies of other ships. Which got a bit hairy for a lot of people as they weren't always level. We were the fourth or fifth ship out. You can see the door onto the next ship just above The Syphilis's head.

Here is The Syphilis on the stairs to give you an idea of scale.

I shall blog more soon. My eyes are about coming out of me from looking at this thing for so long.

However here is a picture of The syphilis reclining by the pool.

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