Count to ten..

The school Christmas Fair is now over, Santa's Grotto is packed away for another year and I've just about regained the use of my legs after sitting in the same position for two and a half hours whilst facepainting.
I miss most of the fun as the facepainting takes place in a classroom off the main corridor, away from the hall. I and my fellow PFA mum spend the entire time painting designs onto little faces (mostly butterflies this year - with the occasional spiderman and tiger to stop us from going completely mad!) and hoping that the feeling is going to return to our knees before we need to stand up again.
I usually enjoy the activity. It can be stressful, looking up for a moment and realising that the classroom is packed with children and parents..all watching what you are doing...but the children are usually very well behaved and pleased with the result. Its so nice to see their smiles. Most parents accept that there will be a queue and wait patiently, chatting to friends.
Except one.
One with a very loud voice.
One who declared that she could've painted all her children's faces in the time they had been waiting in the line.
One who finally managed to persuade her offspring that they'd be better off spending the money on sweets...
It was a very difficult situation to find myself in. The fair was organised by volunteers - to raise money for the school, in order to provide a few items for the children that would make their time in school more interesting and fun. We all worked very hard and most parents appreciate the effort we put into such events. I was very close to 'presenting' the One with a set of face paints and telling her exactly what I thought of her attitude! However, I had to remember that I was a representative of the school and surrounded by children and so would have to bite my tongue. Soooo not my default setting! I will try and feel sorry for the fact that the joy of Christmas has passed her by....and hope that her children manage to find some from somewhere.

So who's gonna make the ark?

The rain is lashing down today. I got soaked during the dash from car to school entrance and haven't warmed up since. It's dark and gloomy and I feel thoroughly miserable.

The school Christmas Fair is all planned for Saturday afternoon and I have a few hours of face-painting to look forward to. Friday afternoon will be spent assembling the grotto for Father Christmas' visit and dashing about setting up stalls and games with my fellow PFA members. Plenty of coffee and slight hysteria will be the order of the day, methinks!

I planned to spend today baking..cakes for the fair and mince pies for the freezer...but I'm finding myself very short of enthusiasm, wishing that I could bury myself beneath the duvet and emerge once the weather has improved. The constant damp affects my joints and the aches and pains that accompany my M.E are exacerbated, dragging my mood into the depths of gloom, doom and despondency.

The gifts need to be wrapped, the baking is waiting and I know I have several days of very draining activity ahead. There is so much to do and my 'batteries' are low. A little sunshine would help - until then ...soup is required - butternut squash with ginger and chilli that will warm me from the inside.

'Tis the season...

The Pink Princess is bounding about the place, reminding all who will listen that her birthday is approaching. She was due to arrive on Christmas Eve, but with her usual impatience decided that she'd hung around for quite long enough and was born two weeks early by emergency C-section. Since her arrival I feel that its not really Christmas until after her birthday...but there are things I need to get done in order to be ready in time. The problem I have is gathering the energy and impetus to start my Christmas preparations. I have a touch of the 'Bah humbug!'s this year. The in-laws are due to visit soon. They combine their pre-Christmas visit with their Pink Princess' birthday visit and so arrive a fortnight before Christmas and stay for the weekend. This means that I have to have their gifts ready, as well as those for other members of the family that live at their end of the country...each year I am found wrapping stuff frantically while they are tapping their toes, ready to depart.

This year will be different (each year I promise myself the same thing!)....I am almost done with gift shopping and I have completed a large part of my gift knitting. Just some size 12 socks for BIL (and my husband's sweater) left to do. Oh, and all the washing and blocking of the things I have managed to complete. It's do-able. Honest!

However, I have started the mincemeat for the mince pies. I make a no-added sugar version as my beautiful Pink Princess is an insulin dependant diabetic. This mincemeat is as good as any I've tasted, with the natural sweetness of the dried fruit and a hint of brandy. It doesn't keep for long but can be frozen and I've made enough for MIL and a friend whose newly diagnosed son is encountering his first festive season as a diabetic. Its not easy when they are surrounded by seasonal advertising and displays of huge tins of chocolates and sweeties. Sometimes life sucks!

One more for luck.

I don't know why vintage knitting patterns fascinate me so much, particularly those of the 1940's. It may be the link with my beloved Grandmother. Or the respect I feel for the generation of women who held things together on the homefront during the war years - I don't know if I would have coped too well in their place.

I have several knitting books of the period. Each one is full of patterns for every member of the family, from underwear to dresses and even women's suits. There are handy hints for 'make do and mend' that may become more relevant as I strive to become more eco-friendly and less extravagant.

Here is another set of cami-knickers knit from one of these 1940's pattern books. As the weather worsens and the temperature drops they are looking more and more attractive. Woollen handknits, hot chocolate and a good film - my idea of heaven as the snow starts to fall outside and the wind howls down the chimney.

My Granny would be so proud!

My beloved Grandmother was always concerned that we should make sure our vests were properly tucked in, to prevent us from 'getting a chill'. I must admit that as I've got older I have got more aware of draughts and the effects of the cold on my creaky joints. While thumbing through my collection of vintage knitting books I spotted the solution to the chilly gap betwixt vest and knicks - the handknitted camiknickers!

I used some 100% wool, baby 3ply, achieved the correct 'stitch per inch' count and dived in. The yarn was a little splitty but blocked beautifully and was sooo soft.

I originally knitted these as a bit of fun, to see if I was capable of some of the sort of knitting that would have been second nature to my wonderful Gran. As the nights become chillier and the days drift into the dark and dreary grey of winter, these soft pink clouds of warmth are looking more and more attractive. A sign of age? Or the thought of a credit crunch season ahead!

..and some knitting, too.

My Revontuli or Northern Lights shawl has finished blocking and I'm dead chuffed with the result.

I used Kauni Effektgarn in a wonderful mix of greens and browns so it reminds me of an October walk in the woods. The colours in real life are so vibrant - this photo does not do it justice, at all - but being as impatient as usual I couldn't wait for my new camera to arrive. Hopefully, once it does appear and I figure out how to use it, the quality of the photography should improve.

No holding of breath, though! I am a notorious Luddite - technology and I are not exactly best buddies and I tend to leave stuff like that to My Man ....or The Boy (who, at the age of six, is far more au fait with computers etc than I could ever hope to be). I can shop, though...and I feel the need for a different colourway of Kauni. Purples, perhaps. Or blues? Now where did I put my cards...

Kittens and glue..

The Eldest and his lovely wife have adopted an adorable kitten..named Bernard.


Bernard has this rather unusual name due to The Eldest's somewhat warped sense of humour and love of all things Blackadder. He is a sleek, black bundle of mischief and lots of fun.


My visit to see the grand-kitty cheered me up at least following my discovery that some little angel had smeared my car's rear winscreen with what appeared to be PVA glue. Lovely!
It took me half an hour to scrape it all off and I may be responsible for the expansion of the vocabulary of several passersby!
I have one thought for the culprits ...have you heard of 'Karma'? Huh?

Tie a rope around my middle - I'm going in...

I've been knitting for a long time and reading other people's blogs for the last few years. Sitting at the computer I have often thought "I could do that...", so here goes - one technophobe with a penchant for knitting enters the blogosphere. Anything, or nothing, could happen.
Now all I have to do is wrestle the Teenboy for possession of the camera and learn to a). take a photo and b). post it on here and I will be able to stop boring the family by waving my FOs under their unappreciative noses. I can bore you instead. Fabulous!