Let’s pretend it’s Wednesday, even though we’re well into Thursday as I’m writing this. I don’t know what happened to Wednesday; I know I got up, I know I went to bed, I know I knitted a little and read a fair bit, but I didn’t do anything I had ear-marked to get done. Most specifically, I didn’t get any photos taken of my new jumper and in the end I decided the finished object post will happen when it happens. The weather is just at that indescribable murky stage which is least conducive to photography. It’s too bright to put a light on and create a cosy atmosphere, yet too dark to use natural lighting. It has its pleasant moments – the lovely misty start to the days, with the milky light softening the view; the little group of birds (rooks I think) who choose one particular tree to rest in for a while just before teatime each evening. All I’m saying is it’s rubbish for taking photos, which I like to think proves the superiority of the written word.
I’ve picked up the Heather Slope Rib Sweater again and resumed my steady amble through the second sleeve. I’m just above the elbow now and that’s reasonable progress. When I get to the back and front things will be slightly more interesting. The back is mainly the slope rib pattern relieved by a straight rib ‘yoke’ for the top five or six inches. The front will be my winging it area, interpreting the cardigan instructions to turn the garment into a sweater and working out how to make the mock button band work. The thing is, until I begin the front, I have the option to just follow the pattern and make a cardigan, so the future of this project retains a pleasing degree of fluidity.
If we accept that today is actually Thursday, then today is World Book Day. Happy World Book Day everyone. I am engrossed in the omnibus edition of the final three Fairacre books by Miss Read which was a birthday gift. Miss Read was one of my mum’s favourite authors and I’m enjoying being at the stage of life where I can appreciate these stories of village life. There are occasions, however, when I find myself at odds with the central character who narrates these stories and I find her interesting, but not aspirational. Not least because I can’t imagine ever wanting to live in a village – I’ve always been well aware that the rurality gene passed me by.
World Book Day makes me feel slightly guilty and I’m sure that’s not quite the response that it was designed to engender. As a reader with a social conscience (admittedly quite small), I feel inclined to shoulder that burden of trying to make sure my actions reduce the strain on the planet’s resources wherever possible. I enjoy buying books second-hand and I appreciate the gift of a second-hand book just as much as if the book had been purchased brand new off the shelf. I frequently give second-hand books as gifts and most people appreciate the nod to a more ecological way of life. On the other hand, I am also very aware that we need to buy new books in order to keep the book industry running. An author is only getting paid for the book the first time it is sold and my gut feeling is that living authors deserve our support. Second-hand books are ideal when the author is already dead or, if they are still living, when the title itself is out of print; they are also a boon to readers who are down on their luck and to whom a brand new book is a luxury item. Whether to buy new or second-hand is a thorny issue, and one of those instances where you can’t do right for doing wrong.
Well, I will wrap up this slightly hither and thither blog post by noting that the sun has come out. Now, when the photos are taken and the words are written. Thank-you, sun.