crafty special/catch them young

here's a comment that's been left for me, and which needs to be spread far and wide.

"Thought you might like to know that The Guardian are doing a one off craft guide this Saturday Feb 3rd which includes features on (amongst other crafty stuff) knitting fever, best knitting on the web, how to knit basics, knitty gritty & tips for the needle novice. Well worth a look. Please pass it on! "

Now: how's this for a case of "catch' em young"? I've been a Guardian reader since before I could read; back in the early 60s my daddy used to sit me on his knee when he got home from work and read the leader column to me! Entertainingly, he didn't read the Guardian out of political conviction (he voted Tory in those days but later joined the SDP and is now a Lib Dem). No, it was because when he went up to Oxford he discovered that the Guardian was available at a special cheap rate for students. So, thanks to a special offer c1942 I'm reading the Guardian in 2007.

the joys of dusk

I love the liminal times of day: dawn and dusk, when the subtle tipping from darkness to light (or vice versa) occurs, often with colourful skies and the sound of birdsong. (I felt really thrown when I visited the Seychelles and night came down like a theatre curtain).

A day off work is a real treat for me at the moment, as it means that I get to enjoy the dusk. Today I've watched it from inside the house, as I was VERY GLAD to be inside after having locked myself out (the neighbour who has a spare key wasn't there, so I sat shivering on the door step for some time, then invited myself round to another neighbour, who cheered me up with camomile tea, and a spare key for the neighbour who has out key result!). Hooray for wonderful neighbours.

But last Tuesday, whilst en route to the KTog, I was at the local bus stop. The sky was glowing (that inimitable winter combination of grey with apricot pink highlights) and two swans flew over. It was magical. Fortunately the lengthening days mean that I'm now heading off to work at dawn, rather than in total darkness.

a glimpse into the future...

my sister overheard my nieces (aged 10 and 13) talking today. they were discussing a great aunt, who talks and talks to them about people whom they've never met and are never likely to. they get rather bored. then they fell to wondering what their children would think of me when I'm a great aunt. apparently, I'll be sitting in a rocking chair, knitting away furiously and not talking endlessly about dull things. sounds good to me!

flat

my get up and go has got up and gone (think it is a case of post viral fatigue syndrome, boo). happily, there's a KTog to look forward to on Tuesday evening (see the Knit Cambridge blog for details)