A camp adventure

The lad and I went North this week taking a car stuffed with camping gear and emergency chocolate. We were headed to the aptly named Archiestown in Speyside. Our tent has it's own living space with room for a table and chairs. We also had a dishwasher and a fridge - of the camping kind.

We had true Scottish weather - rain, hail, wind and evenings so cold that you could see your breath, making me thankful that I packed mittens. Many an hour was spent listening to the rain and reading. There was time to let imagination flow - I thought that the view of the trees through the tent window plastic looked like an Impressionist painting.

And then the sun came out and the world became even more glorious.

Thank You

Very much indeed.

Good things versus bad things

It's ME/CFIDS Awareness Week ( actually I'm late, it was last week) and it made me think that it was about time I came out of the ME closet and confess to being one of the many people who have the condition.

So, I wrote a long and rambly post outlining the whys and wherefores that led me to develop ME (never trust the Varicella - Zoster virus ) and what rotten things had happened as a result. I wrote about losing the ability to enjoy reading books, being unable to work, having limited or no concentration span, about needing to use a walking stick on dizzy days. I wrote about being let down by a body and mind I can no longer rely on to do what it's told and about the exhaustion that is so great that there are days when the effort of just existing seems too much like hard work.

I thought about it for the week and decided that it really wasn't what I wanted to write about. The blog is my way of celebrating the good stuff and although I have a truly frustrating and limiting illness, the very presence of that set of limits allows me to slow down and take stock of what is in my life and I'm grateful for that. That doesn't make me Pollyanna believe me, there are tears, extreme grumpiness and a tendency to gloom when things are tough. The good stuff, however, is jolly good indeed.

So, in the spirit of the Mog blog, I offer you this week's activities. Some rhubarb donated by Sandy and Anne transformed into Rhubard and Ginger Jam, a hank of yarn hand-dyed and a mouse overseeing a shelf of ribbons. Like I said, the good stuff is good.

Back to normal.

After the glitz and glamour of the past wee while, things have gone back to what passes as normal in Mog Towers. A horrid cold and general feeling of post wedding flatness has caused an outbreak of domesticity and comfort food.

A trip to the Arbroath Charity shops unearthed a strange machine which has come to be known as the cookie pooper. The results are small but very tasty indeed and they may be the cutest biscuits I've ever made.

There has been dyeing and knitting too - a stripey pair of socks, the shades of spring sunlight in the garden and in progress, a Baktus scarf made from onion dyed handspun Blue Faced Leicester. The colour is less vibrant than usual on account of the mordant being copper rather than the usual alum but I am enjoying the subtle shifts of colour.

We've been wed.

Tom and Lara's wedding sped by in a blur of kilts and cake. The speeches were heartfelt, not to mention bilingual, the weather was kind and my shoes didn't hurt at all. I had a great time getting to know Tom's new family and hope they enjoyed meeting mine. Heaps of singing and dancing, including my mother doing the twist, a sight that will live with me forever.

Best of all was seeing the bride and groom having the time of their lives.

It's all a bit anti-climactic now so thankfully my chum Rangercraig came up trumps with bags full of nettles and tansy for me to dye with. The kitchen smells like a woodland gone foosty and the dyed fleece is pale but interesting. I have no plans other than to spin it and see what it would like to turn into.

A golden transfomation

As I mentioned in my last post, I do have some clever chums. None more clever than Sylvia the jeweller who makes the most wonderful things. So, as the countdown to a major birthday loomed, I asked her to make me a ring as my present to myself for turning forty. It reminds me of one christmas when under our tree was a present labelled " To Mum. Love Mum. "

The materials for my ring were special - my grandmother's wedding ring and another diamond ring provided the gold, along with a key charm that had been given to my mother for her twenty first birthday. I helped with the design and the stone setter was the man who set Lady Di's engagement ring. Though, come to think about it, that didn't turn out too well.

My ring turned out beautifully and it reminds me of the sea, just as I'd hoped it would. It might sound like an odd thing to say about an inanimate object but it already feels like a friend. I love knowing that it has been made from objects belonging to my mum and her mother and that it was made by someone who knows me well.

Tonight finds me sitting on the sofa with a full face of make up on and wearing high heels with my jeans. I'm practising being smart for my brother and Lara's wedding tomorrow. Believe me, I need the practise. In Lara, Tom has picked just the right partner for him. A real other half. I wish them lots of love and happiness.

In praise of clever friends and new cookers.

There are many things I don't know about but luckily I have a selection of friends who can help me fill the gaps. Want to spin dog hair? Ask Julie. Not sure if a mushroom is edible? Check with Anne. Medieval history and recipe advice? Grahame every time. Sometimes it feels like I live in a small country surrounded by experts. It is a very nice feeling.

Take last night, a visit to Perth Concert Hall to hear music by Gorecki and Szymanowski. My knowledge of classical music is so limited it could be written in big letters on the back of a very small concert programme. Just as well then that our chum for the evening was Haworth, who had the knowledge to lead me through the performance and recommend further listening. Glorious music and a timely reminder to broaden my horizons some more.

On a more prosiac note, this week saw us take delivery of a new cooker. The old one had holes where there shouldn't be holes and an oven door that didn't shut. No souffles for us. The new one is a thing of wonder. There is a light inside the oven so that you can lie on the floor, accompanied by a puzzled cat and watch the sponges rise. Our first meal with the new cooker was cheese on toast, follwed by an orgy of baking. I made madeleines which were eaten outside in the sunshine with Marianne ( sewing and painting advice ). Most of us were on our best behaviour.