Monday, 22 November 2010

Climate of Fear (h/t WOAR)

Mrs Raft has suggested that making soup is a great way to occupy oneself in the current doom and gloom. Since October I have found that crochet is a fairly nifty distraction and also helps the repetitive strain injury caused by gripping the computer mouse.

Progress has been made and I like making things to keep people warm. I leave the soup to Elby as he somehow makes it taste like more than the sum of it's parts. When I make it, it tastes like hot water with onions and vegetables floating in it.

This is the first thing I made. It is a machine washable cot blanket for Elby's first grandchild, due in March.

This came next, an alpaca beanie, sadly too small to fit anyone but me :-)

Then I made this for a friend's doll. No pattern, just trial and error, proving how simple it is.

I just finished this shawl this weekend. It is alpaca/merino/silk mix yarn and feels utterly lush. The wool was a bargain (only £12 for the four skeins it took to make). A Christmas present.

These are for a cushion, made in a lovely cotton yarn. Another pressie.

Now I go to sleep wondering about colour combinations and wool densities rather than fretting about the Euro Gendarmerie, or the national debt.

Thursday, 11 November 2010

11/11/10 Already forgotten

Today I am very sad. An old friend is dying in hospital, whilst his family try to get him home. He is 88, and his war was spent in India and Burma, his time as an undergraduate cut short to get him to the front. He is one of the very finest human beings I have ever met. Gentle, immaculate in his grooming, twinkly and kind. Until two months ago he was playing 18 holes of golf twice a week. Until a month ago he still had accountancy clients. Then suddenly he couldn't breath, couldn't walk, his heart started failing and a series of strokes have put him in hospital. When I visited him on Tuesday I found him in a side room, contorted in a collapsed bed, with nothing to drink, and struggling to breath. Not one to make a fuss, even if he could reach the bell to summon a nurse. To the nurses he is just another old codger waiting to meet his maker, and they will get around to fixing his bed/fetching a bed pan/water/helping him to take a drink all in due course, but not until the pressing need has passed. He shouldn't be left alone. He should be at home with his loving wife of 65 years.

You are a darling man Alan, the very finest sort, I will miss you so much, and I will miss your war stories that your family tired of hearing years ago. May the bureaucrats get their arses into gear so that you may go peacefully, with a view of your garden, with your loving family around you. Thank you for everything you did to protect your fellows and to rebuild your country. I will miss you so. The world will be a lesser place without you.