So, where have you been?
Husband checked our five-day weather forecast on Google last night and whooped "That's more like it!" as he saw a run of sunny days ahead. Daughter, with a weary sigh at parental incompetence, leaned over and gently pointed out he was looking at the wrong Manchester - New Hampshire, rather than the rainy North of England.
Still, at least it isn't raining right now. It isn't sunny, either. If it was, maybe the strawberries and raspberries I've been tending would ripen up and we could think about making jam again. Rhubarb and blackcurrant is my favourite. We planted a few crowns last year and they're doing quite well, but the blackcurrants less so. Mainly that's because we redesigned the back garden last summer around an unexpectedly acquired greenhouse, and had to move both bushes. They made it, but they have taken a hit. And all we've grown in the greenhouse, so far, has been a few basil plants. Various trips and health issues have taken their toll on our free weekends. However, the little herb garden I've created is doing incredibly well. All the plants are flourishing - some rather too much - and I even have self-seeded American Land Cress coming up in between, so my salads are sorted out.
I've torn a ligament or two in my left ankle walking in Cornwall, so I'm laid up. Thought I was on the mend last week, so I went ahead with a planned trip to London to see the Kaffe Fassett exhibition in Bermondsey (just at the foot of the Shard), and then stupidly walked over a mile along the South Bank to Waterloo, then had to negotiate the Tube to Euston to get home. Result, two days of serious pain. Had foot checked out and was told in no uncertain terms to rest up or forget about serious hiking for the rest of my life. So here I am.
I'm knitting a lot. Have almost finished a nice Nordic sweater for my daughter. Also, checking out some graphic novels my son brought home - I've discovered Craig Johnson's "Blankets", kind of a graphic novel for people who think they don't like them. It's a very sensitive account of a young man growing up and eventually leaving behind a fundamentalist Christian home, and its main focus is a very beautifully depicted, innocent and tender first love affair. I was very impressed.
Talking of animation, last night we sat down as a family and watched a movie, a rare event these days with kids scattered to the winds most of the time. DD got a couple of Studio Ghibli DVDs for her birthday, so we tried "Laputa, Castle of the Winds", one of his early works, and saw the seeds of a lot of his genius in it. He keeps coming back to wide-eyed children (generally a gir/boy dyad), evil-looking old women who turn out to be kinder than expected, the beauty and grace of the natural world and how it keeps fighting back, no matter how hard we trash it, and people leaving parent figures behind to find their true selves in odd family groupings. I like the way he always puts something quirky and domestic into his adventures. There's a lovely kitchen scene on a pirate airship in this one. The old pirate lady and her dim-witted sons reminds me more than a little of the Mom set-up in Futurama - quite possibly there was a chain of influence there. There was even a weird old man stoking the furnace. I missed the dust spirits.
Reading? Presently an incredibly gruesome but fascinating biography of John Hunter, arguably the first modern surgeon, by Wendy Moore. If that doesn't make you thank whatever deity you worship that you weren't born pre-anaesthesia, nothing would. Funnily enough, the accounts of experiments on conscious living animals disturb me even more than the grave-robbing scenes. Probably because, deep down, I know that such suffering provided the buidling blocks of modern medical practice, but nevertheless it's tough stuff to read.
And that's what I've been up to. Happy Solstice, everyone.
Still, at least it isn't raining right now. It isn't sunny, either. If it was, maybe the strawberries and raspberries I've been tending would ripen up and we could think about making jam again. Rhubarb and blackcurrant is my favourite. We planted a few crowns last year and they're doing quite well, but the blackcurrants less so. Mainly that's because we redesigned the back garden last summer around an unexpectedly acquired greenhouse, and had to move both bushes. They made it, but they have taken a hit. And all we've grown in the greenhouse, so far, has been a few basil plants. Various trips and health issues have taken their toll on our free weekends. However, the little herb garden I've created is doing incredibly well. All the plants are flourishing - some rather too much - and I even have self-seeded American Land Cress coming up in between, so my salads are sorted out.
I've torn a ligament or two in my left ankle walking in Cornwall, so I'm laid up. Thought I was on the mend last week, so I went ahead with a planned trip to London to see the Kaffe Fassett exhibition in Bermondsey (just at the foot of the Shard), and then stupidly walked over a mile along the South Bank to Waterloo, then had to negotiate the Tube to Euston to get home. Result, two days of serious pain. Had foot checked out and was told in no uncertain terms to rest up or forget about serious hiking for the rest of my life. So here I am.
I'm knitting a lot. Have almost finished a nice Nordic sweater for my daughter. Also, checking out some graphic novels my son brought home - I've discovered Craig Johnson's "Blankets", kind of a graphic novel for people who think they don't like them. It's a very sensitive account of a young man growing up and eventually leaving behind a fundamentalist Christian home, and its main focus is a very beautifully depicted, innocent and tender first love affair. I was very impressed.
Talking of animation, last night we sat down as a family and watched a movie, a rare event these days with kids scattered to the winds most of the time. DD got a couple of Studio Ghibli DVDs for her birthday, so we tried "Laputa, Castle of the Winds", one of his early works, and saw the seeds of a lot of his genius in it. He keeps coming back to wide-eyed children (generally a gir/boy dyad), evil-looking old women who turn out to be kinder than expected, the beauty and grace of the natural world and how it keeps fighting back, no matter how hard we trash it, and people leaving parent figures behind to find their true selves in odd family groupings. I like the way he always puts something quirky and domestic into his adventures. There's a lovely kitchen scene on a pirate airship in this one. The old pirate lady and her dim-witted sons reminds me more than a little of the Mom set-up in Futurama - quite possibly there was a chain of influence there. There was even a weird old man stoking the furnace. I missed the dust spirits.
Reading? Presently an incredibly gruesome but fascinating biography of John Hunter, arguably the first modern surgeon, by Wendy Moore. If that doesn't make you thank whatever deity you worship that you weren't born pre-anaesthesia, nothing would. Funnily enough, the accounts of experiments on conscious living animals disturb me even more than the grave-robbing scenes. Probably because, deep down, I know that such suffering provided the buidling blocks of modern medical practice, but nevertheless it's tough stuff to read.
And that's what I've been up to. Happy Solstice, everyone.