I haven’t actually got a beard, but I’ve always been partial to them on other people. Mainly men, it has to be admitted.
Once the sun is up, I start the day with a gentle ten-minute yoga routine in front of an open window which, if nothing esle, gets a little early-morning air into my lungs and reminds me to breathe deeply. This morning, looking out across the frosty vista, I decided a walk was in order, so I headed out to the local meadow. I wore the weatherproof boots I invested in for the trip to Helsinki early this year and I was glad of them with the meadow being part-frost, part-bog. There was a bit of a chill in the air but I’m not sure I’d go so far as to say it was actually cold.
It was lovely on the meadow, at least until the part where a rather nasty dog made me decide to head for home. I like dogs and I’ll always stop and chat with them and their accompanying humans, but I’m afraid some dogs are not fit to be out in public. This particular one did actually scare me which is a very rare event. That, however, doesn’t spoil what turned out to be a very worthy photography trip which had me humming a variety of tunes and also mulling some of my favourite poetry.
I was so inspired that when I got home I took some shots of my African Violet; it’s having a little party with four flowers at various stages of opening. I reckon this is exactly the same colour as my Heather Sweater because it’s nothing like that colour in real life.
I hope that this little stirring of my blood will enable me to approach my knitting with a little more skill this afternoon. I did a minimum of work on it yesterday and I’d say my accomplishment was only just better than zero. My pattern memory and ability to work the simplest of stitches had apparently taken an unannounced break and zoomed off to Titan. The only way to deal with a day like that is to patiently finish the minimum amount of knitting that I feel comfortable with and then walk away. If I just bundle it away as soon as I realise I’m not going to get anywhere then I fear that I will never pick it up again; if I work through the pain and get just a little positive progress then I know I’ll be back to it when the blip is done. My plan is to hunker down for an afternoon’s knitting. I might pop “The Hitch-Hiker’s Guide To The Galaxy” on – I have the original two radio series on CD and it’s been forever since I listened to them.
This week I’ve caught up with a couple of BBC Radio dramas/readings, very probably from their back-catalogue. I enjoyed Juliet Stephenson reading Jane Austen’s “Persuasion” although I’m very far from being an Austen fan. I always think I don’t know the stories particularly well, then when I come across one, I’m amazed to find that I’ve either seen, heard, or read it before. I know “Pride and Prejudice”, and it turns out that “Persuasion” is the one where they go to Lyme. The other one I am reasonably familiar with is the three sisters who have to move into a cottage with their mother and one of them goes out in the bad weather and catches a cold – I think it might be “Sense and Sensibility”. But which is the one where they go on the picnic? Perhaps that’s “Pride and Prejudice”. Perhaps it’s all of them! I’m sure I can count on the Austen afficianados in my life to set me straight.
The second drama I enjoyed was a two-part adaptation of Robert Louis Stevenson’s “The Master Of Ballantrae” which, it turns out, is very much darker than Jane Austen. The cast, led by David Rintoul, were excellent. I was interested that Mr. Rintoul pronounced the Louis as “Lewis” where I’ve always pronounced it the French way. Given that he, like RL Stevenson, is Scottish whilst I am not, I bet that his pronounciation is right. You live and learn and thank goodness for that.
I hope you’re all having a lovely day and that your crafty and not-so-crafty endeavours are progressing.
Quotes in the photos are from:
“I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day” by Roy Wood/Wizzard
“Meeting Point” by Louis MacNeice.