How mumbo-jumbo conquered the world: a short history of modern delusions, by Francis Wheen. London: Harper, 2004.
Jeremy Paxman's comment, reprinted on the cover, was "Hilarious". I'm not sure I'd agree but Paxo's a battle-hardened journalist who probably hears some of this stuff every day. Wheen's fervent beliefs in Enlightenment values such as secularism, science and reason are battered at every turn by the forces of religious states, New Age mysticism and just plain silliness. From the ascent of Ayatollah Khomeini and Margaret Thatcher to the death of Diana and the dotcom boom, Wheen looks at what happens when leaders and thinkers take leave of their senses and descend into emotionalism and dogma. A fascinating analysis, but with very few laughs...
The body farm, by Jefferson Bass. London: Quercus, 2011.
Another excellent Jefferson Bass novel; this one set in and around Tallahassee, Florida. If you want a guide to quite how creepy this one's going to turn out to be, do listen to the Mountain Goats' song of the same name. Actually, "Oceanographer's Choice" from the same album, would do the job too. Bill Brockton goes to Florida to help a fellow forensics person with the apparent suicide of her sister, and becomes embroiled in older killings which are potentially even more sinister. Warning: if you get the hardback do not read the synopsis inside the cover. "Soon" does not mean what the composers of this think it means and you risk spoiling two thirds of the book...
Protect and defend, by Vince Flynn. London: Simon & Schuster, 2007.
A commenter, I think it might have been Babalor, talked about a previous book by this author as an exercise in seeing what the other side was thinking; and it does become increasingly like that. I don't like Mitch Rapp very much, and although this is a well-plotted, very convincing book centred around the Iranian nuclear programme at Isfahan, I'm not sure I'll be going on to the next book. I'm pretty convinced that some US dark ops do go to this lengths, given the results; but I'm also fairly determined not to read about it in fictional form.
The visitor, by Lee Child [audiobook]. Read by Hayward Morse. Whitley Bay: Soundings, 2000.
Jack Reacher is picked up by the FBI because he fits the profile of a killer who's targeting victims of harassment by the US Army; but actually all's not what it seems and he's recruited as a consultant to help out. I think that if you hadn't worked out who the killer was and why on the 4th cassette of 14, this would have been gripping. Plot-wise this was a major so-what for me as a result, but then this is the first time I've outguessed Lee Child so this may have been a total fluke. Having said that, I like Reacher; unlike Mitch Rapp, his sense of morality works with mine, and this is an interesting one from the point of view of personal relationships...
Fade away, by Harlan Coben. London: Orion, 2002.
The third Myron Bolitar novel, and the best so far. Myron's trying to deal with the unlikely revival of his basketball career (destroyed by injury before his first NBA match) allied with a new detective case, a renewed relationship with his ex-girlfriend Jessica, a very old relationship with his ex-girlfriend Emily, his sports agency business, and the undying loyalty of sociopathic, martial-arts-expert, über-WASP Winston Horne Lockwood III. Any semi-hard-boiled detective novel which makes you want to cry several times is a good one, in my opinion...
Friday, September 21, 2012
Sunday, September 09, 2012
Summer of Sport
So; damnit. I'm listening to the closing ceremony of the Paralympics.
I said and thought a lot of bad things about the Olympic mascots over several years, and recently. Maybe I've just been worn down by them; but one night last week, having resisted all summer, I ended up in the 2012 shop at St Pancras, picking up a keyring-sized Wenlock and Mandeville to go with DipsyWiggo. (More on the medal in the middle later). It sort of says everything about this summer.
As a typically cynical Brit who travels into and through London every day, I was so sure we'd make a mess of these Olympics and Paralympics. Something very London would happen - the Central Line would just die; the Jubilee Line would, as it does three times a week, lapse into sulkiness and signal failure; a main sewer or water main would just give out under a Games Lane. Or it would rain steadily throughout. Or there'd be a terrorist threat, real or hoax.
As it turns out, it's been just lovely. The weather's not been great (particularly over the two weeks I took annual leave) but it's been good enough; the Olympic Gamesmakers and Ambassadors have been wonderful, and friendly and smily even to those of us just trogging to work and back; people have smiled and laughed on the Tube (gasp); and people, cars and houses flying the Union Flag don't worry me.
And here are Wenlock and Mandeville again, in the gardens just east of St Paul's Cathedral and seen from the top of a bus.
This is nowhere near a Games venue but there it is - people tipping up and loving it and being photographed.
Oh, and the sport was pretty good too; I've watched very little on catch-up because the radio coverage was so good. And if there was anything going wrong between the two events, we seem to have sent a member of HM Household out to get his kit off abroad to distract attention...
Tonight, unbelievably, I'm even enjoying Coldplay.
I said and thought a lot of bad things about the Olympic mascots over several years, and recently. Maybe I've just been worn down by them; but one night last week, having resisted all summer, I ended up in the 2012 shop at St Pancras, picking up a keyring-sized Wenlock and Mandeville to go with DipsyWiggo. (More on the medal in the middle later). It sort of says everything about this summer.
As a typically cynical Brit who travels into and through London every day, I was so sure we'd make a mess of these Olympics and Paralympics. Something very London would happen - the Central Line would just die; the Jubilee Line would, as it does three times a week, lapse into sulkiness and signal failure; a main sewer or water main would just give out under a Games Lane. Or it would rain steadily throughout. Or there'd be a terrorist threat, real or hoax.
As it turns out, it's been just lovely. The weather's not been great (particularly over the two weeks I took annual leave) but it's been good enough; the Olympic Gamesmakers and Ambassadors have been wonderful, and friendly and smily even to those of us just trogging to work and back; people have smiled and laughed on the Tube (gasp); and people, cars and houses flying the Union Flag don't worry me.
And here are Wenlock and Mandeville again, in the gardens just east of St Paul's Cathedral and seen from the top of a bus.
This is nowhere near a Games venue but there it is - people tipping up and loving it and being photographed.
Oh, and the sport was pretty good too; I've watched very little on catch-up because the radio coverage was so good. And if there was anything going wrong between the two events, we seem to have sent a member of HM Household out to get his kit off abroad to distract attention...
Tonight, unbelievably, I'm even enjoying Coldplay.
Saturday, September 08, 2012
2012 books, #76-80
Codex, by Lev Grossman [audiobook]. Read by Jeff Harding. Whitley Bay: Chivers, 2011.
Edward Wozny, a banker on two weeks' holiday between his old job in New York and a promotion in London, is asked by a very valuable client to catalogue a library of old books. Edward is (happily) as bemused by this obvious plot-device as the reader, but becomes fascinated by the books, and by a young woman he meets at another library he visits for information. He is also intrigued by the owners of the collection who are extremely rich eccentrics living in the UK. At the same time, he's introduced to an addictive multi-user computer game by a geek friend... The plot sounds unlikely (and I mightn't have carried on with this one if it hadn't been a Jeff Harding-narrated audiobook) but it's actually surprisingly gripping. And while it has Dan Brown elements, it's much better, and more humourously, written.
Injustice for all, by J A Jance. New York: Avon Books, 1986.
Still not sure about these J P Beaumont mysteries even after the second one. I'm sort of bemused by the fact that the man's still undeterred by the fact that three women he's been in close proximity with so far have ended up dead shortly afterwards... and slightly unconvinced by a woman trying to write the part of a hard man, particularly when it comes to sex scenes. But the plots rattle along with some quite surprising elements, and there's a lot of self-deprecating humour and some nice relationships... The next one's not available at the library, so gives me an excuse for a hiatus...
War crimes: underworld Britain in the Second World War, by M J Trow. Barnsley: Pen and Sword Military, 2008.
Trow writes non-fiction as engagingly as he does fiction; here, he examines the nature of crime in Britain during the war years, with chapters on the fifth column, crime in the blackout, the black market, GIs, the changes to childhood, the police and the judiciary. As you'd expect from the author of Let him have it, Chris: the murder of Derek Bentley, he is particularly interested in the sort of climate children growing up in cities in the war years experienced. Some of the statistics make fascinating reading, and there's a great mixture of individual cases and overall trends.
Rain gods, by James Lee Burke [audiobook]. Read by Tom Stechschulte. Bath: Clipper, 2009.
Can't remember who recommended this but it was very good, and the reader was excellent. A sheriff who is also a former POW in Korea digs up nine dead bodies behind a Texan church, after a tip-off. The women are from the Far East, and have been machine-gunned. Sheriff Holland has the case taken away by the federal authorities, but is determined to find out what happened on his patch. Very gripping, with lots of Southern detail.
On writing: a memoir of the craft, by Stephen King. London: Hodder, 2000.
After about the fifth author I admire mentioned the excellence of this book, I decided to see what they were on about; and indeed they were right. Part memoir, part textbook, this is a brilliant description of, and instruction manual for, the writing process. King is absolutely direct and very funny, entirely without pretension when talking about his craft (not art). I think anyone reading this book might come out a better creative writer, but equally may well leave a better reader. I need to find some of King's fiction now - preferably one which is more suspenseful rather than direct horror.
Edward Wozny, a banker on two weeks' holiday between his old job in New York and a promotion in London, is asked by a very valuable client to catalogue a library of old books. Edward is (happily) as bemused by this obvious plot-device as the reader, but becomes fascinated by the books, and by a young woman he meets at another library he visits for information. He is also intrigued by the owners of the collection who are extremely rich eccentrics living in the UK. At the same time, he's introduced to an addictive multi-user computer game by a geek friend... The plot sounds unlikely (and I mightn't have carried on with this one if it hadn't been a Jeff Harding-narrated audiobook) but it's actually surprisingly gripping. And while it has Dan Brown elements, it's much better, and more humourously, written.
Injustice for all, by J A Jance. New York: Avon Books, 1986.
Still not sure about these J P Beaumont mysteries even after the second one. I'm sort of bemused by the fact that the man's still undeterred by the fact that three women he's been in close proximity with so far have ended up dead shortly afterwards... and slightly unconvinced by a woman trying to write the part of a hard man, particularly when it comes to sex scenes. But the plots rattle along with some quite surprising elements, and there's a lot of self-deprecating humour and some nice relationships... The next one's not available at the library, so gives me an excuse for a hiatus...
War crimes: underworld Britain in the Second World War, by M J Trow. Barnsley: Pen and Sword Military, 2008.
Trow writes non-fiction as engagingly as he does fiction; here, he examines the nature of crime in Britain during the war years, with chapters on the fifth column, crime in the blackout, the black market, GIs, the changes to childhood, the police and the judiciary. As you'd expect from the author of Let him have it, Chris: the murder of Derek Bentley, he is particularly interested in the sort of climate children growing up in cities in the war years experienced. Some of the statistics make fascinating reading, and there's a great mixture of individual cases and overall trends.
Rain gods, by James Lee Burke [audiobook]. Read by Tom Stechschulte. Bath: Clipper, 2009.
Can't remember who recommended this but it was very good, and the reader was excellent. A sheriff who is also a former POW in Korea digs up nine dead bodies behind a Texan church, after a tip-off. The women are from the Far East, and have been machine-gunned. Sheriff Holland has the case taken away by the federal authorities, but is determined to find out what happened on his patch. Very gripping, with lots of Southern detail.
On writing: a memoir of the craft, by Stephen King. London: Hodder, 2000.
After about the fifth author I admire mentioned the excellence of this book, I decided to see what they were on about; and indeed they were right. Part memoir, part textbook, this is a brilliant description of, and instruction manual for, the writing process. King is absolutely direct and very funny, entirely without pretension when talking about his craft (not art). I think anyone reading this book might come out a better creative writer, but equally may well leave a better reader. I need to find some of King's fiction now - preferably one which is more suspenseful rather than direct horror.
Saturday, August 18, 2012
2012 books, #71-75
Mr Briggs' hat: a sensational account of Britain's first railway murder, by Kate Colquhoun. London: Little, Brown, 2011.
I have two objections to this book I'll get out of the way straight away. One is the punctuation in the title and throughout - I'm firmly in the "s after the apostrophe" camp, after living in or near a town with a Queen's College and a Queens' Road (named after multiple queens) for the last 25 years or so... I know style-guides differ; but I'm nothing if not fixed in my opinion about these things. The second is more of a warning - if you want to avoid being totally spoilered, do not even glance at the second set of photographs before reaching the end - grrrrrr. But apart from that... this is an extremely enjoyable book. There's a surprising amount of pre-forensic forensic detail, and a real attempt to recreate the crime from its artefacts. There's a lot of interesting stuff on the general climate of the times as regards crime and punishment, and a lot about the development of London. And there's a genuine and ongoing mystery and ambiguity at the heart of the book. I'd recommend getting the paperback if you can - I read the hardback but a book-group friend read us the post-script from the paperback edition; the publication of the hardback brought out some further detail from relatives of the victim and some early 1860s photographs of him and his family.
Skin, by Mo Hayder. London: Bantam, 2009.
Another rather gruesome offering from Mo Hayder, but nowhere near as nasty as Ritual; and develops the relationship, or lack of relationship, between Flea Marley and Jack Caffery. Somehow, this middle book in a sort of trilogy is a bit of a filler, despite having its own plotline; but none the less readable for that.
One shot, by Lee Child [audiobook]. Read by Jeff Harding. Whitley Bay: Soundings, 2005.
Another excellent Jack Reacher book. This time, a shooting by a lone gunman in a small Indiana city looks like an open-and-shut case, until Reacher rolls into town. He, more than most, knows that the gunman is guilty - the same man carried out a similar killing 14 years before in Kuwait City. Sometimes, though, the evidence is just too perfect... and Reacher can't resist investigating.
And a rantette. At one point in this book we get a rundown on Reacher's appearance. 6'5"; dirty blond hair; piercing blue eyes; 250lb. So; who have they cast for the films? Anyone who said "Tom Cruise"; well done... While I realise there's some sort of willingness to suspend disbelief for the movies, you can go too far... many of the elements in this book just wouldn't work with someone of smaller stature. Brute force is part of Reacher's repertoire, and while Mr Cruise is a fine actor, based on The Firm, A Few Good Men and Rain Man, he ain't Jack Reacher. Needless to say, not something I'll be queuing to watch.
Until proven guilty, by J A Jance. Large print edition. Bath: BBC Audiobooks/Harper Collins, 2005.
Hm. I had these recommended on Ravelry when we were talking about settings for novels and I was wondering if anyone had written a series based in Seattle, and on the basis of the first one, I'm not sure I'll go all the way through. The plot is interesting enough, although it's pretty obvious from early on who the murderer is, but the main character does come over as a bit of a gullible idiot... I have the second one though, so will give this series another try...
Drop shot, by Harlan Coben. London: Orion, 2002.
Another Myron Bolitar book, this one set around tennis and the US Open. The dialogue in these books is so funny, and the main characters so interesting, that an excellent, twisty plot which is genuinely surprising at points is a very nice extra... A young woman, a former tennis prodigy, is shot at the US Open while looking for Myron. On investigation, there's a connection between her, one of Myron's current clients, and the murder 6 years before of the girl's fiancé... and the plot just keeps on thickening...
I have two objections to this book I'll get out of the way straight away. One is the punctuation in the title and throughout - I'm firmly in the "s after the apostrophe" camp, after living in or near a town with a Queen's College and a Queens' Road (named after multiple queens) for the last 25 years or so... I know style-guides differ; but I'm nothing if not fixed in my opinion about these things. The second is more of a warning - if you want to avoid being totally spoilered, do not even glance at the second set of photographs before reaching the end - grrrrrr. But apart from that... this is an extremely enjoyable book. There's a surprising amount of pre-forensic forensic detail, and a real attempt to recreate the crime from its artefacts. There's a lot of interesting stuff on the general climate of the times as regards crime and punishment, and a lot about the development of London. And there's a genuine and ongoing mystery and ambiguity at the heart of the book. I'd recommend getting the paperback if you can - I read the hardback but a book-group friend read us the post-script from the paperback edition; the publication of the hardback brought out some further detail from relatives of the victim and some early 1860s photographs of him and his family.
Skin, by Mo Hayder. London: Bantam, 2009.
Another rather gruesome offering from Mo Hayder, but nowhere near as nasty as Ritual; and develops the relationship, or lack of relationship, between Flea Marley and Jack Caffery. Somehow, this middle book in a sort of trilogy is a bit of a filler, despite having its own plotline; but none the less readable for that.
One shot, by Lee Child [audiobook]. Read by Jeff Harding. Whitley Bay: Soundings, 2005.
Another excellent Jack Reacher book. This time, a shooting by a lone gunman in a small Indiana city looks like an open-and-shut case, until Reacher rolls into town. He, more than most, knows that the gunman is guilty - the same man carried out a similar killing 14 years before in Kuwait City. Sometimes, though, the evidence is just too perfect... and Reacher can't resist investigating.
And a rantette. At one point in this book we get a rundown on Reacher's appearance. 6'5"; dirty blond hair; piercing blue eyes; 250lb. So; who have they cast for the films? Anyone who said "Tom Cruise"; well done... While I realise there's some sort of willingness to suspend disbelief for the movies, you can go too far... many of the elements in this book just wouldn't work with someone of smaller stature. Brute force is part of Reacher's repertoire, and while Mr Cruise is a fine actor, based on The Firm, A Few Good Men and Rain Man, he ain't Jack Reacher. Needless to say, not something I'll be queuing to watch.
Until proven guilty, by J A Jance. Large print edition. Bath: BBC Audiobooks/Harper Collins, 2005.
Hm. I had these recommended on Ravelry when we were talking about settings for novels and I was wondering if anyone had written a series based in Seattle, and on the basis of the first one, I'm not sure I'll go all the way through. The plot is interesting enough, although it's pretty obvious from early on who the murderer is, but the main character does come over as a bit of a gullible idiot... I have the second one though, so will give this series another try...
Drop shot, by Harlan Coben. London: Orion, 2002.
Another Myron Bolitar book, this one set around tennis and the US Open. The dialogue in these books is so funny, and the main characters so interesting, that an excellent, twisty plot which is genuinely surprising at points is a very nice extra... A young woman, a former tennis prodigy, is shot at the US Open while looking for Myron. On investigation, there's a connection between her, one of Myron's current clients, and the murder 6 years before of the girl's fiancé... and the plot just keeps on thickening...
Sunday, August 05, 2012
2012 books, #66-70
Until it's over, by Nicci French [audiobook]. Read by Adjoa Andoh and Paul Tyreman. Rearsby, Leics.: Clipper, 2008.
Astrid thinks her day's pretty ropy after she's been knocked off her bike by a careless neighbour's car door, but when the woman's body is found behind her bins, life's about to become a lot worse. This is an intriguing structure - the first half is told from Astrid's point of view, and the second from the point of view of the killer, whose identity gradually becomes clear. Both readers are excellent, too.
Ritual, by Mo Hayder. London: Bantam, 2008.
The first of the Jack Caffery/Flea Marley books; and extremely gristly. Not one I'd like to see as a film... It's very well plotted though, and the relationship between Caffery and Marley is well-drawn. I'll have to read the next one, Skin, as that's the one between the two I've read, and when one of the stranger events in the sequence seems to take place...
Lestrade and the Ripper, by M J Trow [audiobook]. Read by the author. Whitley Bay: Soundings, 2010.
This is an excellent romp. Unlike the Lestrade of Conan Doyle's books, Trow's Lestrade isn't stupid (although he is ridiculously clumsy). An excellent plot - based on the Ripper murders but with a sub-plot - and the sort of horrendous puns we expect from Trow's Maxwell books. (We have a character called Ovett who runs very fast, and there are two clerks in the hotel called Gable and Kent...) Trow turns out to be an excellent reader of his own books; I hope there are more of these...
Calendar girl, by Stella Duffy. London: Serpent's Tail, 1999.
Quite a flimsy thing, this, and oddly styled. Alternate chapters are narrated by Saz Martin, private investigator, and by an unknown woman whose circumstances become more and more sinister. The connection between the two becomes extremely guessable quite early on, but it's a quick, interesting read regardless, with a quick twist in the tail for good measure.
Death wore white, by Jim Kelly [audiobook]. Read by Roger May. Oxford: Isis, 2009.
A queue of cars is trapped by a fallen tree and a snowstorm on an isolated part of the West Norfolk coast, out of mobile phone contact. One man has a heart attack, and when the authorities arrive they also find that the driver of the leading vehicle is dead in his cab, with no trail of footsteps to or from the pickup... Another excellent Kelly book. Midway through listening to this, I went to King's Lynn for the day and walked past several of the settings for this book. Having read the sequel out of sequence, I was spoiled for some of the cliffhangers, but the plot is a real locked-room puzzler and uncoils like a snake...
Astrid thinks her day's pretty ropy after she's been knocked off her bike by a careless neighbour's car door, but when the woman's body is found behind her bins, life's about to become a lot worse. This is an intriguing structure - the first half is told from Astrid's point of view, and the second from the point of view of the killer, whose identity gradually becomes clear. Both readers are excellent, too.
Ritual, by Mo Hayder. London: Bantam, 2008.
The first of the Jack Caffery/Flea Marley books; and extremely gristly. Not one I'd like to see as a film... It's very well plotted though, and the relationship between Caffery and Marley is well-drawn. I'll have to read the next one, Skin, as that's the one between the two I've read, and when one of the stranger events in the sequence seems to take place...
Lestrade and the Ripper, by M J Trow [audiobook]. Read by the author. Whitley Bay: Soundings, 2010.
This is an excellent romp. Unlike the Lestrade of Conan Doyle's books, Trow's Lestrade isn't stupid (although he is ridiculously clumsy). An excellent plot - based on the Ripper murders but with a sub-plot - and the sort of horrendous puns we expect from Trow's Maxwell books. (We have a character called Ovett who runs very fast, and there are two clerks in the hotel called Gable and Kent...) Trow turns out to be an excellent reader of his own books; I hope there are more of these...
Calendar girl, by Stella Duffy. London: Serpent's Tail, 1999.
Quite a flimsy thing, this, and oddly styled. Alternate chapters are narrated by Saz Martin, private investigator, and by an unknown woman whose circumstances become more and more sinister. The connection between the two becomes extremely guessable quite early on, but it's a quick, interesting read regardless, with a quick twist in the tail for good measure.
Death wore white, by Jim Kelly [audiobook]. Read by Roger May. Oxford: Isis, 2009.
A queue of cars is trapped by a fallen tree and a snowstorm on an isolated part of the West Norfolk coast, out of mobile phone contact. One man has a heart attack, and when the authorities arrive they also find that the driver of the leading vehicle is dead in his cab, with no trail of footsteps to or from the pickup... Another excellent Kelly book. Midway through listening to this, I went to King's Lynn for the day and walked past several of the settings for this book. Having read the sequel out of sequence, I was spoiled for some of the cliffhangers, but the plot is a real locked-room puzzler and uncoils like a snake...
POTW: 5 August 2012
Things I've liked this week:
The Olympics: the buildup
I used to be someone who described herself as not keen on sport. I've always liked cricket, and used to watch tennis at Wimbledon and the world snooker championships, but really, until I started following the Tour de France a couple of years ago I'd have described myself as a non-sports-fan with a strange fondness for cricket...
However, as a family we always watched the Olympics, and obviously the buildup in London has been quite fierce. I took most of this week off, but was wandering around last week taking some pictures:
The Jubilee Line signage gearing up for the sheer number of Olympics venues along its length (and, although I didn't get a clear photo due to the ban on using flash in the station, I'm loving following signs to Lord's cricket ground to get onto the Tube!)
The Games cars are quite swish, here seen in front of the Treasury Building in a dedicated Games lane...
A couple of hours before the Torch procession came down Whitehall, the (presumably-non-sponsor) Blimp going past Big Ben over the towers of Portcullis House
At King's Cross, the students of St Martins (which has just moved up there) have put together a Songwall, which consists of thousands of rotating balls, each half black and half yellow, to be manipulated by passers by. (I don't know what the song connection is as it doesn't seem to make a sound...)
Also at King's Cross, rainbows inside
and out
and some rather stunning graphics across the front of the German Gymnasium.
One of the more alarming features of the Olympics is the scary monocular mascots - but these strange Cyclopses are currently clutched, in fluffy form, in many small hands. Presumably small children don't feel as worried by their strange, police-state CCTV stares... Here's an example of a Wenlock (for the Olympics; the Paralympics one is Mandeville), outside a church in Bishopsgate near Liverpool Street station.
And just by accident, I happened to arrive early on Friday morning last week, as Big Ben was striking 40 for the beginning of the Games, 12 hours before 20:12 when the opening ceremony started... And there were so many people who turned up to watch. It was really quite moving... Here they all are:
The Olympics: the events
I absolutely loved the opening ceremony - listened to it all on the Friday evening, and then watched it on the Saturday evening to see if the pictures in reality were as good as the pictures in my head (just for a change, they were). I loved its quirkiness, and its Britishness, and its willingness to send itself up. And I thought the "cauldron" made up of all the petals was fabulous. I gather each nation will be given its petal to take home and the cauldron will cease to exist, which is both a nice bit of symbolism and saves someone the bother of wondering where on earth to put the thing afterwards...
Desperately sorry for Cav and the rest of the road race team on Saturday afternoon (and great kudos to him for turning up to commentate cheerfully on the track events this week when he could have retreated to lick his wounds); and many congrats to Bradley Wiggins for a majestic win in the time trial (quite literally majestic given the ridiculous gold thrones at Hampton Court...)
Some support was given from here...
And I think the Guardian's headline was just about perfect...
Like Cavendish, Wiggins is looking like a man who doesn't want to leave the party and go home - having used his victory interview with Radio 5 to pitch for an invite to A Question of Sport on the grounds they hadn't asked him for ages, he then popped up to commentate on the track cycling on Thursday...
I've also been enjoying the frankly incomprehensible rules of the track cycling events, and the fact that UK competitors turn out to be good at things you only hear about every few years, like trap-shooting...
(And there's been Test cricket, too - we're not doing stunningly against South Africa, but it's wonderful listening to TMS - Blowers yesterday afternoon lamenting his inability to tell the difference between men and women, and there was that time in Saõ Paolo... sadly we never heard the rest of the story...)
Holidays and friends
I was on leave from Monday afternoon to Friday this week, and managed to catch up with some people...
On Saturday Sue and I went to the Tickell Arms at Whittlesford for a very belated birthday celebration (Sue's, not mine)! Excellent food and a lovely atmosphere. We got back to Sue's just too late to see the road cyclists come in...
One of the benefits of the Olympics is that out-of-towners were visiting London for the events. Nic, of Yarns from the Plain, was one - we met for the first time at That Knitting Event Neither of Us Travelled To two summers ago; and it was really nice to see her again and meet her husband on Monday afternoon after they'd been to watch the archery at Lord's.
On Tuesday night we had a small impromptu get-together at the Devonshire Arms, just four of us; and on Friday lunchtime I met Sarah for lunch... and then there was knitting on Saturday afternoon, during which we watched tennis (mostly; once the stroppy man who comes in and changes the TV channel in front of the people sitting there watching it and then stalks out again had gone, and I'd ambled over to security to get the guard to change the channel back again)...
Oh, and some crafty things
We shall not speak of my Ravellenic Games knitting project. Put it this way, making a cardi in 4-ply in my size was already very ambitious. It turns out I knit a lot more when I'm travelling back and forth to work than I ever do if I'm on holiday. And it also turns out that despite many attempts while joining both fronts to the back at the armholes (this is a top-down cardi), I managed to twist one armhole once and the other one twice in the joining, necessitating the ripping of over a day's work. Gah. I'll put it down at the end of the week and take it up again during the Paralympics, I think...
Still, a pair of socks was finished... this is the Lindsay pattern from Cookie A. and the yarn is Yarnscape's Footsie-HT in colour Wisteriosis (a club special):
I can now show the shawl I made Sue for her birthday (or at least a blocking shot as I forgot to photograph it once the pins came out) - seemed to be popular though as she wore it for lunch...
And so was a scarf, the first of two woven ones for the Ravellenics...
The weft yarn for this one was also from Alison at Yarnscape; Dance in the Moor colourway.
My second Ravellenics weaving is a present for my Mam's 75th later in the month; warp in merino from KnitPicks, weft in 100% cashmere from KnitWitches. Beautifully soft, even before washing... This is where I's got to at the end of the time-trial on Wednesday; there's another couple of feet done now and some more due later... This is the first time I've done weaving in laceweight and used my 12.5 dpi heddle - really enjoying it so far...
Two other things arrived through the post on Tuesday; a new book, and more lovely club yarn (for Lammas). I did some test-knitting for Woolly's latest book, and also copy-editing; there's something about an actual book rather than a PDF, even though the PDF is excellent for printing out and moving around with!
This post is reaching War and Peace length, so I'll stop now. It was a nice week. Hope you had a good one too.
The Olympics: the buildup
I used to be someone who described herself as not keen on sport. I've always liked cricket, and used to watch tennis at Wimbledon and the world snooker championships, but really, until I started following the Tour de France a couple of years ago I'd have described myself as a non-sports-fan with a strange fondness for cricket...
However, as a family we always watched the Olympics, and obviously the buildup in London has been quite fierce. I took most of this week off, but was wandering around last week taking some pictures:
The Jubilee Line signage gearing up for the sheer number of Olympics venues along its length (and, although I didn't get a clear photo due to the ban on using flash in the station, I'm loving following signs to Lord's cricket ground to get onto the Tube!)
The Games cars are quite swish, here seen in front of the Treasury Building in a dedicated Games lane...
A couple of hours before the Torch procession came down Whitehall, the (presumably-non-sponsor) Blimp going past Big Ben over the towers of Portcullis House
At King's Cross, the students of St Martins (which has just moved up there) have put together a Songwall, which consists of thousands of rotating balls, each half black and half yellow, to be manipulated by passers by. (I don't know what the song connection is as it doesn't seem to make a sound...)
Also at King's Cross, rainbows inside
and out
and some rather stunning graphics across the front of the German Gymnasium.
One of the more alarming features of the Olympics is the scary monocular mascots - but these strange Cyclopses are currently clutched, in fluffy form, in many small hands. Presumably small children don't feel as worried by their strange, police-state CCTV stares... Here's an example of a Wenlock (for the Olympics; the Paralympics one is Mandeville), outside a church in Bishopsgate near Liverpool Street station.
And just by accident, I happened to arrive early on Friday morning last week, as Big Ben was striking 40 for the beginning of the Games, 12 hours before 20:12 when the opening ceremony started... And there were so many people who turned up to watch. It was really quite moving... Here they all are:
The Olympics: the events
I absolutely loved the opening ceremony - listened to it all on the Friday evening, and then watched it on the Saturday evening to see if the pictures in reality were as good as the pictures in my head (just for a change, they were). I loved its quirkiness, and its Britishness, and its willingness to send itself up. And I thought the "cauldron" made up of all the petals was fabulous. I gather each nation will be given its petal to take home and the cauldron will cease to exist, which is both a nice bit of symbolism and saves someone the bother of wondering where on earth to put the thing afterwards...
Desperately sorry for Cav and the rest of the road race team on Saturday afternoon (and great kudos to him for turning up to commentate cheerfully on the track events this week when he could have retreated to lick his wounds); and many congrats to Bradley Wiggins for a majestic win in the time trial (quite literally majestic given the ridiculous gold thrones at Hampton Court...)
Some support was given from here...
And I think the Guardian's headline was just about perfect...
Like Cavendish, Wiggins is looking like a man who doesn't want to leave the party and go home - having used his victory interview with Radio 5 to pitch for an invite to A Question of Sport on the grounds they hadn't asked him for ages, he then popped up to commentate on the track cycling on Thursday...
I've also been enjoying the frankly incomprehensible rules of the track cycling events, and the fact that UK competitors turn out to be good at things you only hear about every few years, like trap-shooting...
(And there's been Test cricket, too - we're not doing stunningly against South Africa, but it's wonderful listening to TMS - Blowers yesterday afternoon lamenting his inability to tell the difference between men and women, and there was that time in Saõ Paolo... sadly we never heard the rest of the story...)
Holidays and friends
I was on leave from Monday afternoon to Friday this week, and managed to catch up with some people...
On Saturday Sue and I went to the Tickell Arms at Whittlesford for a very belated birthday celebration (Sue's, not mine)! Excellent food and a lovely atmosphere. We got back to Sue's just too late to see the road cyclists come in...
One of the benefits of the Olympics is that out-of-towners were visiting London for the events. Nic, of Yarns from the Plain, was one - we met for the first time at That Knitting Event Neither of Us Travelled To two summers ago; and it was really nice to see her again and meet her husband on Monday afternoon after they'd been to watch the archery at Lord's.
On Tuesday night we had a small impromptu get-together at the Devonshire Arms, just four of us; and on Friday lunchtime I met Sarah for lunch... and then there was knitting on Saturday afternoon, during which we watched tennis (mostly; once the stroppy man who comes in and changes the TV channel in front of the people sitting there watching it and then stalks out again had gone, and I'd ambled over to security to get the guard to change the channel back again)...
Oh, and some crafty things
We shall not speak of my Ravellenic Games knitting project. Put it this way, making a cardi in 4-ply in my size was already very ambitious. It turns out I knit a lot more when I'm travelling back and forth to work than I ever do if I'm on holiday. And it also turns out that despite many attempts while joining both fronts to the back at the armholes (this is a top-down cardi), I managed to twist one armhole once and the other one twice in the joining, necessitating the ripping of over a day's work. Gah. I'll put it down at the end of the week and take it up again during the Paralympics, I think...
Still, a pair of socks was finished... this is the Lindsay pattern from Cookie A. and the yarn is Yarnscape's Footsie-HT in colour Wisteriosis (a club special):
I can now show the shawl I made Sue for her birthday (or at least a blocking shot as I forgot to photograph it once the pins came out) - seemed to be popular though as she wore it for lunch...
And so was a scarf, the first of two woven ones for the Ravellenics...
The weft yarn for this one was also from Alison at Yarnscape; Dance in the Moor colourway.
My second Ravellenics weaving is a present for my Mam's 75th later in the month; warp in merino from KnitPicks, weft in 100% cashmere from KnitWitches. Beautifully soft, even before washing... This is where I's got to at the end of the time-trial on Wednesday; there's another couple of feet done now and some more due later... This is the first time I've done weaving in laceweight and used my 12.5 dpi heddle - really enjoying it so far...
Two other things arrived through the post on Tuesday; a new book, and more lovely club yarn (for Lammas). I did some test-knitting for Woolly's latest book, and also copy-editing; there's something about an actual book rather than a PDF, even though the PDF is excellent for printing out and moving around with!
This post is reaching War and Peace length, so I'll stop now. It was a nice week. Hope you had a good one too.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
POTMW: 29 July 2012
You know, I nearly typed 2013 there - it seems so long. I've had some very, very frustrating weeks at work (anyone who's played with a new-and-as-yet-unready IT system which will not allow them to do their job will understand), and quite a busy time otherwise... So this is sort of going to be a couple of the big things, rather than the little things I jot down in a notebook which amuse me...
I've also stayed with family, and had family staying, twice in that time; my parents during the Sunderland trip and my brother, SIL and nephew the week before last; both very nice visits but generally photo-free, unfortunately!
This is a long post without many photos - apologies!
Midsummer Night: The Boss in Sunderland
Sometimes you hitch your teenage wagon to an artist or a band, and you just win and win, for decades. While Born in the USA wasn't the first Springsteen album I bought, it was the first I was aware of, growing up with classically-inclined parents, because it came out when I was 14 or so and starting to be politically aware; in the end Darkness on the Edge of Town was the first I bought (because it was cheap at Makro, the cash and carry), and I haven't regretted that decision...
So, we got three and a bit hours of Bruce in blistering form, racing all over the place; stuff from the new album, stuff from the oldest, stuff which only gets played live. One track I didn't know, one track my cousin didn't... and while it was very strange not seeing the Big Man on the stage, his nephew Jake did a pretty good job.
I'd love to say it was a hot summer night; but it wasn't. It was damp, and chilly. But it Wasn't Actually Raining. This, in and of itself, was a miracle - the forecast was somewhat apocalyptic, and I gather Manchester wasn't so lucky the next night and many of the roads around the stadium were flooded out. But Bruce came on and said "We don't need no 75 degrees and sunny; this is what we EXPECT in England!!" and everyone just went for it; shouting, screaming and dancing were done...
I also have to say that I've never been to a stadium gig so utterly awash with alcohol, and so completely chilled out (in a good way...) Third Springsteen gig I've been to (previous ones in 1992 and 2003) and the three best gigs ever.
And nobody pulled the plug....
Middle of July: Fibre-East
Talking of weather... I'm sure this is another reason I haven't blogged more this summer - I seem to have spent an hour drying out every evening...
I can sort of use the damp as the reason why I have no useable photos from this time - in that my specs lenses were either steamed up or dotted with rain. But actually, I'd knocked the camera into the macro setting in my bag and I'm so unused to the little one that I hadn't noticed so carried on attempting to take pics against the odds. However, despite the sog (and the burned-out car which meant going home took two-and-a-half times the length of the outward journey) I had a great time, and while I spent a fair amount, it was all stuff on my list...
Late June to late July: Les Deux Tours
No, not the second volume of the Tolkein trilogy; the Tour de France, and the Tour de Fleece... The last couple of years, I've really enjoyed spinning my wheel alongside the Tour de France, and joining in with other people in discussing what I'm making. This year I ended up catching up with a lot of the footage from the third week on the last weekend of the Tour, but did spin for the equivalent of an hour a day while watching the highlights on ITVPlayer, and did more spinning while listening to the last stage and the arrival in Paris...
Things I always love about the Tour de France:
Over the Jubilee weekend, I washed a Manx Loaghtan fleece I'd had sitting in a plastic bag in the back bedroom (which was being converted into an actual back bedroom for my nephew to sleep in, rather than the storeroom hip-high in various bags of assorted craft supplies and complete rubbish it started off as); drying it was a bit of a challenge but the Monday and Tuesday were actually OK drying weather...
Washed, it was surprisingly free of straw and other rubbish
and carded, it was lovely and soft.
So far, I have about 400m of chunky-weight bright brown yarn. (One of the really interesting things about Fibre-East, having spun up a chunk of the fleece by then, was being able to identify yarns and fleece from this particular breed around the marquees from a distance...)
Because part of the fun of the Tour is being able to vary what you're spinning, I then went on to coloured rovings and batts; in the end I produced quite a respectable basketful of yarn and singles for plying into yarn later... The two additional bobbins I bought at Fibre-East came in handy.
The last couple of weeks I've been wandering around London with a camera taking some pictures of things surrounding the Olympics; and I've also overcommitted myself for the Ravellenic Games (both knitting and weaving) happening at the same time; more about that next time.
I've also stayed with family, and had family staying, twice in that time; my parents during the Sunderland trip and my brother, SIL and nephew the week before last; both very nice visits but generally photo-free, unfortunately!
This is a long post without many photos - apologies!
Midsummer Night: The Boss in Sunderland
Sometimes you hitch your teenage wagon to an artist or a band, and you just win and win, for decades. While Born in the USA wasn't the first Springsteen album I bought, it was the first I was aware of, growing up with classically-inclined parents, because it came out when I was 14 or so and starting to be politically aware; in the end Darkness on the Edge of Town was the first I bought (because it was cheap at Makro, the cash and carry), and I haven't regretted that decision...
So, we got three and a bit hours of Bruce in blistering form, racing all over the place; stuff from the new album, stuff from the oldest, stuff which only gets played live. One track I didn't know, one track my cousin didn't... and while it was very strange not seeing the Big Man on the stage, his nephew Jake did a pretty good job.
I'd love to say it was a hot summer night; but it wasn't. It was damp, and chilly. But it Wasn't Actually Raining. This, in and of itself, was a miracle - the forecast was somewhat apocalyptic, and I gather Manchester wasn't so lucky the next night and many of the roads around the stadium were flooded out. But Bruce came on and said "We don't need no 75 degrees and sunny; this is what we EXPECT in England!!" and everyone just went for it; shouting, screaming and dancing were done...
I also have to say that I've never been to a stadium gig so utterly awash with alcohol, and so completely chilled out (in a good way...) Third Springsteen gig I've been to (previous ones in 1992 and 2003) and the three best gigs ever.
And nobody pulled the plug....
Middle of July: Fibre-East
Talking of weather... I'm sure this is another reason I haven't blogged more this summer - I seem to have spent an hour drying out every evening...
I can sort of use the damp as the reason why I have no useable photos from this time - in that my specs lenses were either steamed up or dotted with rain. But actually, I'd knocked the camera into the macro setting in my bag and I'm so unused to the little one that I hadn't noticed so carried on attempting to take pics against the odds. However, despite the sog (and the burned-out car which meant going home took two-and-a-half times the length of the outward journey) I had a great time, and while I spent a fair amount, it was all stuff on my list...
Late June to late July: Les Deux Tours
No, not the second volume of the Tolkein trilogy; the Tour de France, and the Tour de Fleece... The last couple of years, I've really enjoyed spinning my wheel alongside the Tour de France, and joining in with other people in discussing what I'm making. This year I ended up catching up with a lot of the footage from the third week on the last weekend of the Tour, but did spin for the equivalent of an hour a day while watching the highlights on ITVPlayer, and did more spinning while listening to the last stage and the arrival in Paris...
Things I always love about the Tour de France:
- It's in France. Very obvious, but as previously mentioned I'm a complete Francophile, and I love the towns and villages flying by, particularly when, as in three stages this year, they're villages I know reasonably well.
- It's all done in French. The peloton- so much more attractive than "the main group". Mark Cavendish isn't just a great water-bottle-fetcher for the duration, he's a superdomestique. When it's not done in French, the interviews aren't dubbed, they're subtitled, so you can hear what the guys sound like.
- The scoring system, race plans and tactics are somewhat fiendish. You have at least five races going on at once: the maillot jaune/GC race, the points (maillot vert) race, the King of the Mountains, the young riders and the team race, quite apart from the individual daily stage wins, and every team's going for a combination of these; and although in the end you only get one guy standing on the podium, it's actually a team race. It couldn't really get much more complicated if you got Messrs Duckworth and Lewis involved.
- The commentary team. Gary Imlach, Ned Boulting and Chris Boardman are brilliant together; they have a dry sense of humour and a huge amount of knowledge, and not to bang on about it (although obviously I will), Boulting and Imlach are also able to interview in French.
This year, obviously, the way the Sky team overhauled everyone, and the performances of the four British guys who won stages, were absolutely brillant. I do love Bradley Wiggins; the combination of absolute commitment and laconic comments managed to win over the French as well (helped by, yup, his ability to make equally laconic comments in French)... And despite his unwillingness to be regarded as race leader, he stepped up when so many riders were felled by some moron strewing carpet-tacks on the road during the middle weekend, and pulled the peleton back...
Anyway, on with the spinning.
Over the Jubilee weekend, I washed a Manx Loaghtan fleece I'd had sitting in a plastic bag in the back bedroom (which was being converted into an actual back bedroom for my nephew to sleep in, rather than the storeroom hip-high in various bags of assorted craft supplies and complete rubbish it started off as); drying it was a bit of a challenge but the Monday and Tuesday were actually OK drying weather...
Washed, it was surprisingly free of straw and other rubbish
and carded, it was lovely and soft.
So far, I have about 400m of chunky-weight bright brown yarn. (One of the really interesting things about Fibre-East, having spun up a chunk of the fleece by then, was being able to identify yarns and fleece from this particular breed around the marquees from a distance...)
Because part of the fun of the Tour is being able to vary what you're spinning, I then went on to coloured rovings and batts; in the end I produced quite a respectable basketful of yarn and singles for plying into yarn later... The two additional bobbins I bought at Fibre-East came in handy.
The last couple of weeks I've been wandering around London with a camera taking some pictures of things surrounding the Olympics; and I've also overcommitted myself for the Ravellenic Games (both knitting and weaving) happening at the same time; more about that next time.
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Woody
Woody Guthrie, July 14 1912-October 3 1967
I'd planned to write something about this today when I heard Billy Bragg on Today earlier in the week, but in the end was writing it while listening to a wonderful Archive on 4 broadcast tonight. If they're going to make it available, it'll be at this link.
It seems strange to be celebrating the "100th birthday" of a man who was robbed of so much of a century of life (including a number of the years he was actually alive), due to Huntington's. and had so many hideous tragedies along the way, but it's certainly worth commemorating.
As a small child I remember my Dad playing "Take you riding in my car car" and "Hard Travelin'" on the banjo, and when I started listening to Dylan in my teens, of course, there was Woody.
Later on, I listened to music which was completely different, I thought - Billy Bragg, bard of the Thatcher era, evolved into thoughtful social commentator, and Bruce Springsteen, bellowing about the same period of Reaganomics and continually moving and learning.... But then, of course, Billy becomes the curator of the Woody Guthrie archive; and, of course, Springsteen stands with Pete Seeger and Seeger's grandson Tao Rodriguez to salute Obama (please, I pray you, don't click on the offered links; but do enjoy President-Elect Obama singing along at 3:18 or so) by singing This Land is Your Land.
I've no idea what Woody would think about all the Establishment recognition, given that he was once rejected from membership of the US Communist Party. But he wrote the stories of poor people having a hard time, and he passed that on to other songwriters who influenced my generation, and then influenced the next generation, via the magnificent Indigo Girls, if P¡nk's Dear Mr President is anything to go by (join in at 1:44 or so if you're not up to people you don't know congratulating each other)...
RIP Woody. Thanks for the songs and the fury.
2012 books, #61-65
Get her off the pitch!, by Lynne Truss [audiobook]. Read by Lynne Truss. Bath: Chivers, [n.d.]
Lynne Truss tells the story of her four years as a sports reporter for the Times in the late 1990s, often hilariously but with genuine emotion. She illustrates the point Andy Miller was making in his book that if you find out about a sport, you'll often end up falling in love with it anyway. And there's genuine passion there, sometimes when she's criticising aspects of a sport such as football which she loves. One of those authors who really should read her own work.
Death toll, by Jim Kelly [audiobook]. Read by Roger May. Oxford: Isis, 2011.
When a cemetery at King's Lynn is removed to higher ground due to flooding, a young black man's skeleton is found in a local landlady's grave. Who is he, and when was he put into the 28-year-old grave? What are the landlady's family hiding, and what lengths will the murderer go to to cover his tracks? Some very good characters here, not least an utterly unpleasant racist who sounds like someone Kelly might have actually met.
One day, by David Nicholls. London: Hodder, 2009.
Emma and Dexter have sex on the night after their graduation, the day before they separate and go their separate ways. This book tracks that night, the 15th July, through their lives. Emma plugs on in the usual sort of path, Dexter becomes a children's TV presenter, but they remain inextricably in touch through ups, downs, catastrophic relationships, mental breakdowns and triumphs. When Harry Met Sally, it ain't; but it has some of the same fascination. Being roughly the same age as the protagonists helps too - some of the cultural references made me laugh out loud. This was a book group book; other people disliked Dex a lot more than I did. I found this book unputdownable though, and not only because I had left my usual not-quite-enough-time to read it...
Gone, by Mo Hayder. London: Bantam, 2010.
Someone is jacking cars with young girls in the back of them, and is then terrorising their families with notes and worse; Jack Caffery and Flea Marley investigate. Caffery and Marley both have a fair amount of mental baggage, and so do the families whose children have been taken. This is very tensely plotted throughout and really does rattle along. I think the most interesting moment for me was the process by which the criminal is finally identified; not something I've ever seen in a detective novel, and yet something so blindingly obvious with a serial offender that you wonder why it's not standard practice! I don't normally read two books by the same author back-to-back, but I realised I had Ritual, the book before this in the Caffery series, in the to-read pile so have started that one...
Midwinter sacrifice, by Mons Kallentoft. London: Hodder, 2012.
Malin Fors is called out on a cold midwinter morning to witness a huge man's naked body hanging from a tree outside Linköping; there's no indication of how the man got there, and it takes some time even to make an identification. Rather like Death toll, this death has happened in the heart of a very closed community, among families with secrets they're unwilling to give up that easily. Fors and her choir-singing partner Zeke have to dig into family history to find the truth. Meanwhile Fors's 13-year-old daughter Tove is proving something of a worry, and her estranged partner Janne isn't helping... Interestingly, I wouldn't have known whether the author was male or female without Camilla Läckberg pointing it out in a review on the back cover - a male author with a female protagonist. This is the first of the books but another seems to be available.
Lynne Truss tells the story of her four years as a sports reporter for the Times in the late 1990s, often hilariously but with genuine emotion. She illustrates the point Andy Miller was making in his book that if you find out about a sport, you'll often end up falling in love with it anyway. And there's genuine passion there, sometimes when she's criticising aspects of a sport such as football which she loves. One of those authors who really should read her own work.
Death toll, by Jim Kelly [audiobook]. Read by Roger May. Oxford: Isis, 2011.
When a cemetery at King's Lynn is removed to higher ground due to flooding, a young black man's skeleton is found in a local landlady's grave. Who is he, and when was he put into the 28-year-old grave? What are the landlady's family hiding, and what lengths will the murderer go to to cover his tracks? Some very good characters here, not least an utterly unpleasant racist who sounds like someone Kelly might have actually met.
One day, by David Nicholls. London: Hodder, 2009.
Emma and Dexter have sex on the night after their graduation, the day before they separate and go their separate ways. This book tracks that night, the 15th July, through their lives. Emma plugs on in the usual sort of path, Dexter becomes a children's TV presenter, but they remain inextricably in touch through ups, downs, catastrophic relationships, mental breakdowns and triumphs. When Harry Met Sally, it ain't; but it has some of the same fascination. Being roughly the same age as the protagonists helps too - some of the cultural references made me laugh out loud. This was a book group book; other people disliked Dex a lot more than I did. I found this book unputdownable though, and not only because I had left my usual not-quite-enough-time to read it...
Gone, by Mo Hayder. London: Bantam, 2010.
Someone is jacking cars with young girls in the back of them, and is then terrorising their families with notes and worse; Jack Caffery and Flea Marley investigate. Caffery and Marley both have a fair amount of mental baggage, and so do the families whose children have been taken. This is very tensely plotted throughout and really does rattle along. I think the most interesting moment for me was the process by which the criminal is finally identified; not something I've ever seen in a detective novel, and yet something so blindingly obvious with a serial offender that you wonder why it's not standard practice! I don't normally read two books by the same author back-to-back, but I realised I had Ritual, the book before this in the Caffery series, in the to-read pile so have started that one...
Midwinter sacrifice, by Mons Kallentoft. London: Hodder, 2012.
Malin Fors is called out on a cold midwinter morning to witness a huge man's naked body hanging from a tree outside Linköping; there's no indication of how the man got there, and it takes some time even to make an identification. Rather like Death toll, this death has happened in the heart of a very closed community, among families with secrets they're unwilling to give up that easily. Fors and her choir-singing partner Zeke have to dig into family history to find the truth. Meanwhile Fors's 13-year-old daughter Tove is proving something of a worry, and her estranged partner Janne isn't helping... Interestingly, I wouldn't have known whether the author was male or female without Camilla Läckberg pointing it out in a review on the back cover - a male author with a female protagonist. This is the first of the books but another seems to be available.
Friday, June 29, 2012
2012 books, #56-60
Signal red: a novel based on the Great Train Robbery, by Robert Ryan. London: Headline, 2010.
I found this a riveting read, not so much for the account of the train robbery itself, which is pretty well-known, but for the background in the London of 1962, where well-known villains were using the same tailor as the Beatles, and drinking at Ronnie Scott's club. Taken as a ripping read, and not as historical fact, this is really excellent, and comes with an afterword from Bruce Reynolds, the leader of the train robbery gang, and some facts about what happened to the individuals involved. I suppose my only quibble with this one would be that because it's a novelisation, and because some of the characters have been created by Ryan rather than having actually existed, it's difficult to separate fact from fiction... This wouldn't stop me reading other books by Ryan - I gather he's given Lawrence of Arabia and Scott of the Antarctic similar treatment...
Blood harvest, by S J Bolton [audiobook]. Read by Clare Corbett. Bath: AudioGO, 2010.
S J Bolton illustrates again why she's the expert in the really quite creepy psychological thriller. I can't sum it up better than this review in the Observer, except to add that I loved both of the main characters, Evie and Harry. Harry in particular, as vicars in British crime fiction are often either sinister or inadequate... The reading is extremely good, even if Harry's Geordie accent is somewhat overdone; you can always tell who's speaking. Corbett also read the Elly Griffiths books, which I also enjoyed...
Deal breaker, by Harlan Coben. London: Orion, 2002.
The first of the Myron Bolitar novels. Bolitar was a promising young basketball player until a smashed knee in college took him out of the game; he's now working as a sports agent. One of his clients, Christian, is the ex-boyfriend of Myron's ex-girlfriend Jessica's little sister Kathy, who went missing two years before. Now Christian is receiving messages and photos of Kathy, and it's putting him off his game. Myron investigates, accompanied by the genuinely scary Windsor Horne Lockwood III, trust-fund millionaire and blackbelt tae kwon do expert. This is very well-plotted and with a genuinely surprising ending, but also extremely wittily written. Having come across one of these by accident, I'm going to read the rest in order.
The preacher, by Camilla Läckberg [audiobook]. Read by Cameron Stewart. Bath: Oakhill, [n.d.]
This was intriguing, but I think going away for the weekend in the middle of it didn't do the book any services; and nor did several characters having similar names. I'll read another of this author's books, but I'm not entirely sure what actually happened! The characters are interesting though, and it rattles along in an interesting way.
Northern sky, by Mark Radcliffe. London: Hodder, 2005.
I loved this book. It's been sitting on the shelf as a "wildcard" pick for the last couple of years, having been acquired at a now-defunct bookshop on their £1 shelf. Mark Radcliffe has been involved in music as both a player in folk bands and a DJ (Mark and Lard/Radcliffe and Maconie) for the last couple of decades, and it shows. Here, a former university lecturer who has been sacked for hitting his boss ends up back at home with his (wonderfully dotty and rude) recently-widowed mum, and getting back in touch with his old girlfriend and mates at the Northern Sky folk club. It's a touching, funny book; and probably very true if you're familiar with the way commercial interests meet with small folk clubs.
I found this a riveting read, not so much for the account of the train robbery itself, which is pretty well-known, but for the background in the London of 1962, where well-known villains were using the same tailor as the Beatles, and drinking at Ronnie Scott's club. Taken as a ripping read, and not as historical fact, this is really excellent, and comes with an afterword from Bruce Reynolds, the leader of the train robbery gang, and some facts about what happened to the individuals involved. I suppose my only quibble with this one would be that because it's a novelisation, and because some of the characters have been created by Ryan rather than having actually existed, it's difficult to separate fact from fiction... This wouldn't stop me reading other books by Ryan - I gather he's given Lawrence of Arabia and Scott of the Antarctic similar treatment...
Blood harvest, by S J Bolton [audiobook]. Read by Clare Corbett. Bath: AudioGO, 2010.
S J Bolton illustrates again why she's the expert in the really quite creepy psychological thriller. I can't sum it up better than this review in the Observer, except to add that I loved both of the main characters, Evie and Harry. Harry in particular, as vicars in British crime fiction are often either sinister or inadequate... The reading is extremely good, even if Harry's Geordie accent is somewhat overdone; you can always tell who's speaking. Corbett also read the Elly Griffiths books, which I also enjoyed...
Deal breaker, by Harlan Coben. London: Orion, 2002.
The first of the Myron Bolitar novels. Bolitar was a promising young basketball player until a smashed knee in college took him out of the game; he's now working as a sports agent. One of his clients, Christian, is the ex-boyfriend of Myron's ex-girlfriend Jessica's little sister Kathy, who went missing two years before. Now Christian is receiving messages and photos of Kathy, and it's putting him off his game. Myron investigates, accompanied by the genuinely scary Windsor Horne Lockwood III, trust-fund millionaire and blackbelt tae kwon do expert. This is very well-plotted and with a genuinely surprising ending, but also extremely wittily written. Having come across one of these by accident, I'm going to read the rest in order.
The preacher, by Camilla Läckberg [audiobook]. Read by Cameron Stewart. Bath: Oakhill, [n.d.]
This was intriguing, but I think going away for the weekend in the middle of it didn't do the book any services; and nor did several characters having similar names. I'll read another of this author's books, but I'm not entirely sure what actually happened! The characters are interesting though, and it rattles along in an interesting way.
Northern sky, by Mark Radcliffe. London: Hodder, 2005.
I loved this book. It's been sitting on the shelf as a "wildcard" pick for the last couple of years, having been acquired at a now-defunct bookshop on their £1 shelf. Mark Radcliffe has been involved in music as both a player in folk bands and a DJ (Mark and Lard/Radcliffe and Maconie) for the last couple of decades, and it shows. Here, a former university lecturer who has been sacked for hitting his boss ends up back at home with his (wonderfully dotty and rude) recently-widowed mum, and getting back in touch with his old girlfriend and mates at the Northern Sky folk club. It's a touching, funny book; and probably very true if you're familiar with the way commercial interests meet with small folk clubs.
Saturday, June 16, 2012
POTFeast 2012
The annual Feast Post - hope to get a POTW done this week, too, as I didn't last week! Click to open up any of the photos in Flickr.
Anyway; the forecast was absolutely dreadful for the Feast this year, but during the week it gradually improved, and this was the scene outside my bedroom window at 8:45 this morning: little train duly installed and people trying to hold down bits of awning in a stiff breeze...
There were two parades this year. The 39 Engineer Regiment are moving to the north of Scotland soon as part of MOD reorganisation and the base is to be closed; so they had a separate march through the village...
... preceded by the Royal Engineers regimental band who were tremendous.
There was a lot of applause...
We'll miss them. There have been a lot of jokes at the army's expense about the chip shop and Chinese takeaway closing; but there's more than a grain of truth! When they're not deployed, they also provide great support at this sort of community event.
Their attitude to a coconut shy is obviously slightly different from the average civilian's, for example.
Between the parades, there was wood-roasted pizza, and then knitting; Jackie, Frances and I knitted along to Waterbeach Brass... There's very little more civilised than knitting while listening to a good brass band on a mostly sunny summer afternoon.
So, then, for the second half of the parading festivities: Majorettes! In this case, the Soham Fenlander Majorettes, celebrating their 25th year.
The parade and stalls theme this year was Something beginning with F. Whoever started that series was genius; they can just sit back for at least another 15 years, even if they need to combine some letters!
So we had France - no stereotypes there, obviously.
The child in the cardboard Eiffel Tower reminds me of Scout in To kill a mockingbird dressed as a ham for her school pageant. Hopefully she had a happier end to the day.
Then we had Farms
Flowers
Fireworks - I was rooting for this one to win best float (it didn't)
more Flowers - and waves at friend Chris with little Robert on his shoulders!
Flags - any flags, although obviously with the JubiEuroLympic summer, there were a lot of Union flags around.
And then Family - the army families in particular. Lots of them; many in T-shirts with their serving family member's name embroidered on them, which is a great alternative to scribbling your mobile no. on the back of your kid's festival wristband...
The lady with the sash was saying "Goodbye; thanks for having us"; the banner behind her just says "goodbye"... the Feast procession is usually quite emotional, but this year particularly so.
However, to cheer us up, the local chapter of the Society for Creative Anachronism - I see these guys fighting on the Green on Saturday mornings and Sunday afternoons sometimes...
Let's have another view; yes, the guy at the back is in a full metal breastplate on a summer afternoon.
And then finally; before Waterbeach Brass resumed their set, the Royal Engineers band was back to play us a selection of disco classics, including YMCA, Staying alive and How deep is your love.
As ever at the Feast, surreality, we haz it. Things not depicted: synchronised beating-people-up the army PT way, Jazzercise, belly-dancing and more majorettes (purple-clad, this time...)
And it didn't rain...
Anyway; the forecast was absolutely dreadful for the Feast this year, but during the week it gradually improved, and this was the scene outside my bedroom window at 8:45 this morning: little train duly installed and people trying to hold down bits of awning in a stiff breeze...
There were two parades this year. The 39 Engineer Regiment are moving to the north of Scotland soon as part of MOD reorganisation and the base is to be closed; so they had a separate march through the village...
... preceded by the Royal Engineers regimental band who were tremendous.
There was a lot of applause...
We'll miss them. There have been a lot of jokes at the army's expense about the chip shop and Chinese takeaway closing; but there's more than a grain of truth! When they're not deployed, they also provide great support at this sort of community event.
Their attitude to a coconut shy is obviously slightly different from the average civilian's, for example.
Between the parades, there was wood-roasted pizza, and then knitting; Jackie, Frances and I knitted along to Waterbeach Brass... There's very little more civilised than knitting while listening to a good brass band on a mostly sunny summer afternoon.
So, then, for the second half of the parading festivities: Majorettes! In this case, the Soham Fenlander Majorettes, celebrating their 25th year.
The parade and stalls theme this year was Something beginning with F. Whoever started that series was genius; they can just sit back for at least another 15 years, even if they need to combine some letters!
So we had France - no stereotypes there, obviously.
The child in the cardboard Eiffel Tower reminds me of Scout in To kill a mockingbird dressed as a ham for her school pageant. Hopefully she had a happier end to the day.
Then we had Farms
Flowers
Fireworks - I was rooting for this one to win best float (it didn't)
more Flowers - and waves at friend Chris with little Robert on his shoulders!
Flags - any flags, although obviously with the JubiEuroLympic summer, there were a lot of Union flags around.
And then Family - the army families in particular. Lots of them; many in T-shirts with their serving family member's name embroidered on them, which is a great alternative to scribbling your mobile no. on the back of your kid's festival wristband...
The lady with the sash was saying "Goodbye; thanks for having us"; the banner behind her just says "goodbye"... the Feast procession is usually quite emotional, but this year particularly so.
However, to cheer us up, the local chapter of the Society for Creative Anachronism - I see these guys fighting on the Green on Saturday mornings and Sunday afternoons sometimes...
Let's have another view; yes, the guy at the back is in a full metal breastplate on a summer afternoon.
And then finally; before Waterbeach Brass resumed their set, the Royal Engineers band was back to play us a selection of disco classics, including YMCA, Staying alive and How deep is your love.
As ever at the Feast, surreality, we haz it. Things not depicted: synchronised beating-people-up the army PT way, Jazzercise, belly-dancing and more majorettes (purple-clad, this time...)
And it didn't rain...
Saturday, June 09, 2012
2012 books, #51-55
The skeleton man, by Jim Kelly. London: Penguin, 2008.
The fenland town of Jude's Ferry was bought out and evacuated by the Army in 1990, to be used as a live firing range; Philip Dryden, now of the Ely Crow, was present at the evacuation for his Fleet Street paper. Now, in 2007, he is present at one of the live firings when a stray shell demolishes a farm building, and a skeleton is found hanging from the rafters of a cellar which shouldn't have been there. Meanwhile a man with amnesia is pulled out of the Ouse lacking the fingers on one hand; and there's another connection with Jude's Ferry. Dryden investigates, to uncover long-hidden secrets. Another fenland mystery from Kelly; excellently plotted and with characters you care about.
Black out, by John Lawton. London: Orion, 1995.
Set in London in 1944, this is a very atmospheric novel; Sergeant Frederick Troy is handed a man's arm which has been found on a bomb-site by a dog. Details point to the man being German, but there's no indication of where the rest of the body could be. The actual murder then becomes secondary as there are political ramifications and the US Army Command becomes involved. Like the blackout itself, the plot is only visible in small flashes, and Troy becomes steadily more confused and entwined. There are a couple of fairly dramatic twists in the tail of this story too, but it does become a little shapeless before the end.
Nothing to lose, by Lee Child [audiobook]. Read by Jeff Harding. Whitley Bay: Soundings, 2008.
That great combination of Lee Child and Jeff Harding works again here. Jack Reacher is in Hope, Colorado, and takes a detour to its neighbouring town of Despair, just for the sake of it. Unfortunately, the residents of Despair fail to provide him with the cup of coffee he was hoping for, and instead charge him with vagrancy and run him out of town. This is, of course, just the sort of thing which whets Reacher's curiosity, and he becomes determined to find out the town's secrets, particularly when two women ask his help in locating their missing husbands, last seen in Despair...
Killing the beasts, by Chris Simms [audiobook]. Read by Toby Longworth. Bath: Chivers, 2006.
Set in Manchester in 2002, around the Commonwealth Games. Two rugby-playing friends, DI Jon Spicer and advertising executive Tom Benwell, are both feeling the pressure for different reasons. In the aftermath of the games, a series of brutal killings send Spicer looking for a serial murderer. It's a strangely-shaped and -paced book, this one, and I'm not sure I'd have kept reading it, but Toby Longworth's performance made it worthwhile...
Eleven days, by Donald Harstad. London: Fourth Estate, 1998.
Four people are murdered in a normally tranquil area of Iowa, and the sheriff's department calls in help from the FBI in the shape of agent Hester Gorse. Gorse and the main protagonist, deputy sheriff Carl Houseman, make a great combination, and the other characters in and around the police station would make this book worth reading even if the plot wasn't as tightly-controlled and gripping as it is. An extremely well-put-together book which I found irresistible reading. Turns out that the author is a former deputy sheriff in a similar part of Iowa, so I'm assuming that a lot of the station banter and the relationships are taken from his own experience.
The fenland town of Jude's Ferry was bought out and evacuated by the Army in 1990, to be used as a live firing range; Philip Dryden, now of the Ely Crow, was present at the evacuation for his Fleet Street paper. Now, in 2007, he is present at one of the live firings when a stray shell demolishes a farm building, and a skeleton is found hanging from the rafters of a cellar which shouldn't have been there. Meanwhile a man with amnesia is pulled out of the Ouse lacking the fingers on one hand; and there's another connection with Jude's Ferry. Dryden investigates, to uncover long-hidden secrets. Another fenland mystery from Kelly; excellently plotted and with characters you care about.
Black out, by John Lawton. London: Orion, 1995.
Set in London in 1944, this is a very atmospheric novel; Sergeant Frederick Troy is handed a man's arm which has been found on a bomb-site by a dog. Details point to the man being German, but there's no indication of where the rest of the body could be. The actual murder then becomes secondary as there are political ramifications and the US Army Command becomes involved. Like the blackout itself, the plot is only visible in small flashes, and Troy becomes steadily more confused and entwined. There are a couple of fairly dramatic twists in the tail of this story too, but it does become a little shapeless before the end.
Nothing to lose, by Lee Child [audiobook]. Read by Jeff Harding. Whitley Bay: Soundings, 2008.
That great combination of Lee Child and Jeff Harding works again here. Jack Reacher is in Hope, Colorado, and takes a detour to its neighbouring town of Despair, just for the sake of it. Unfortunately, the residents of Despair fail to provide him with the cup of coffee he was hoping for, and instead charge him with vagrancy and run him out of town. This is, of course, just the sort of thing which whets Reacher's curiosity, and he becomes determined to find out the town's secrets, particularly when two women ask his help in locating their missing husbands, last seen in Despair...
Killing the beasts, by Chris Simms [audiobook]. Read by Toby Longworth. Bath: Chivers, 2006.
Set in Manchester in 2002, around the Commonwealth Games. Two rugby-playing friends, DI Jon Spicer and advertising executive Tom Benwell, are both feeling the pressure for different reasons. In the aftermath of the games, a series of brutal killings send Spicer looking for a serial murderer. It's a strangely-shaped and -paced book, this one, and I'm not sure I'd have kept reading it, but Toby Longworth's performance made it worthwhile...
Eleven days, by Donald Harstad. London: Fourth Estate, 1998.
Four people are murdered in a normally tranquil area of Iowa, and the sheriff's department calls in help from the FBI in the shape of agent Hester Gorse. Gorse and the main protagonist, deputy sheriff Carl Houseman, make a great combination, and the other characters in and around the police station would make this book worth reading even if the plot wasn't as tightly-controlled and gripping as it is. An extremely well-put-together book which I found irresistible reading. Turns out that the author is a former deputy sheriff in a similar part of Iowa, so I'm assuming that a lot of the station banter and the relationships are taken from his own experience.
Monday, June 04, 2012
POTW: 4 June 2012
It's been a difficult week; and probably more difficult after last week being so excellent! Some of the interesting things weren't exactly cheerful; some of the work stuff which should have worked out fine went all to hell... And then there was an internet thing which derailed me a bit. I would love to be one of those people who can shrug things off; but I do tend to dwell on the things which go badly, and I had a somewhat upsetting post about a project I felt relatively happy about. a softer world got it absolutely right, as ever. It's just weird when you experience it in a place in which you usually feel pretty safe.
Anyway, enough about my head. There's a Jubilee. And it looks as if the weather was absolutely awful for the flotilla of boats along the Thames; which is a dreadful shame for all the people who put all that effort into it. Having said that, it seems that everyone just put on their little plastic rain-hoods and got on with it... as we do. If that link's still there when you look at this post - when they go past the National Theatre and there's the War Horse (from about 0:45) - the Queen's "look, look, Camilla", is interesting... well, it was to me, anyway.
Has to be said that the level of Jubilee effort put into this household was probably best expressed by my realising I had an appropriately-coloured tea-towel out yesterday afternoon...
Sadly, the picnic up at the local recreation ground was cancelled the night before - wisely as the weather was dreadful. Still, with any luck the weather will be good for the Feast, which is in a fortnight...
Knitting
I finished a baby blanket, and a hat. Both are sort of secret... I took photos for a test-knit, and I think they were pretty good. Otherwise, my main knitting project (not a test-knit) went a bit awry. I've PMd the designer to find out what she suggests, as this is the first project for this pattern on Ravelry and I don't seem to be able to work out how to get one of the more attractive things on it going...
Music
I had a bit of a splurge on CDs a few weeks ago - birthday money. I bought the Fleet Foxes' Helplessness Blues and am really enjoying it. For the last 3 months or so I've been playing wall-to-wall Bruce Springsteen, mostly the utterly superb Wrecking Ball, (here, have a link to the audio of Death to my hometown to listen to while you read the rest of this - but please for the sake of your own sanity don't read the comments); something different around the house is nice.
Weaving
Needs a little more planning. Thinking has been a bit off because of the internet-derailing... I can't decide whether to do something in laceweight (got a new heddle for the loom, which should handle finer yarns) or whether to weave some table-mats in the "log cabin" pattern which is the first slightly fancy thing in the fabulous weaving book I got for Christmas, Jane Patrick's Weaver's idea book ... Weaving isn't something you want to start without considerable mental forethought - warping uses up so much yarn that if you find you've done it wrong, you've probably wasted two-thirds of your supplies before you even start...
Not a lot of spinning on the go, either...
Today I've started doing a couple of more positive things; clearing up in the back bedroom so my nephew has somewhere to sleep in July (will have to start looking at chairs which turn into beds) and washing a Manx Loaghtan fleece. Photos of that next weekend, maybe... I'm accomplishing the tidying up by reminding myself how much I enjoy Stephen Fry reading the Harry Potter books (which I have on cassette); and then taking the cassette player and the kitchen timer up to the back bedroom and leaving them there. I can't stay up there for more than half an hour or so at a time because of the dust, but that's probably just as well.
Food
Went to Leon in Spitalfields on Monday night with some other knitters - first time I've been to one of their restaurants; but as they have a takeaway in the new King's Cross concourse, definitely not the last. The dinner menu is slightly more extensive than the one I've linked to, and it's very good food at reasonable prices (certainly for central London); it arrives fast, but you couldn't describe it as fast food...
Also had my first home-cooked asparagus of the season (I want to add "Mummy sends them from Brideshead!" because any way you say it, it sounds pretentious) - lovely. I gather it's been a terrible year for it.
Technology
After a comic interlude on delivery of a new modem (Virgin Media being majestically unaware, despite multiple confirmations, that we have some sort of bank holiday-type-thing going on today, until Realisation on May 24...) I obtained delivery of a so-called SuperHub on Friday. After a hugely time-wasting conversation on Friday lunchtime, we established after 36 minutes what I'd asked the guy in the first 60 seconds..."You've just delivered a wireless hub. I don't think my PC does wireless because it's quite old. I have a new PC coming next Friday. Can I just plug the old phone connection in for the next week until the new one's delivered and phone you then if I can't get it to work with the instructions?..." I stuck with the conversation because the guy from tech support who got me onto the internet again with this PC, despite my having realised I was going from Win98 to XP but failed to get the appropriate installation CD from them, was genius, so I thought this one might be able to magic up wireless on my old PC somehow (just before he plucked a pound coin from my ear and accurately predicted the lottery numbers, presumably). I had forgotten that the previous guy was from ntl, in the Days Before Virgin Media. Sigh.
However, I have a new Argos PC table, picked up and delivered by a friend, which was really kind; particularly when I realised that I couldn't even pick the package up, let alone schlep it to the bus station as I'd been intending. So, the current one looks like this at the moment...
And on Friday the new PC arrives. With any luck, by next weekend the next workstation will be less cluttered...
Anyway, enough about my head. There's a Jubilee. And it looks as if the weather was absolutely awful for the flotilla of boats along the Thames; which is a dreadful shame for all the people who put all that effort into it. Having said that, it seems that everyone just put on their little plastic rain-hoods and got on with it... as we do. If that link's still there when you look at this post - when they go past the National Theatre and there's the War Horse (from about 0:45) - the Queen's "look, look, Camilla", is interesting... well, it was to me, anyway.
Has to be said that the level of Jubilee effort put into this household was probably best expressed by my realising I had an appropriately-coloured tea-towel out yesterday afternoon...
Sadly, the picnic up at the local recreation ground was cancelled the night before - wisely as the weather was dreadful. Still, with any luck the weather will be good for the Feast, which is in a fortnight...
Knitting
I finished a baby blanket, and a hat. Both are sort of secret... I took photos for a test-knit, and I think they were pretty good. Otherwise, my main knitting project (not a test-knit) went a bit awry. I've PMd the designer to find out what she suggests, as this is the first project for this pattern on Ravelry and I don't seem to be able to work out how to get one of the more attractive things on it going...
Music
I had a bit of a splurge on CDs a few weeks ago - birthday money. I bought the Fleet Foxes' Helplessness Blues and am really enjoying it. For the last 3 months or so I've been playing wall-to-wall Bruce Springsteen, mostly the utterly superb Wrecking Ball, (here, have a link to the audio of Death to my hometown to listen to while you read the rest of this - but please for the sake of your own sanity don't read the comments); something different around the house is nice.
Weaving
Needs a little more planning. Thinking has been a bit off because of the internet-derailing... I can't decide whether to do something in laceweight (got a new heddle for the loom, which should handle finer yarns) or whether to weave some table-mats in the "log cabin" pattern which is the first slightly fancy thing in the fabulous weaving book I got for Christmas, Jane Patrick's Weaver's idea book ... Weaving isn't something you want to start without considerable mental forethought - warping uses up so much yarn that if you find you've done it wrong, you've probably wasted two-thirds of your supplies before you even start...
Not a lot of spinning on the go, either...
Today I've started doing a couple of more positive things; clearing up in the back bedroom so my nephew has somewhere to sleep in July (will have to start looking at chairs which turn into beds) and washing a Manx Loaghtan fleece. Photos of that next weekend, maybe... I'm accomplishing the tidying up by reminding myself how much I enjoy Stephen Fry reading the Harry Potter books (which I have on cassette); and then taking the cassette player and the kitchen timer up to the back bedroom and leaving them there. I can't stay up there for more than half an hour or so at a time because of the dust, but that's probably just as well.
Food
Went to Leon in Spitalfields on Monday night with some other knitters - first time I've been to one of their restaurants; but as they have a takeaway in the new King's Cross concourse, definitely not the last. The dinner menu is slightly more extensive than the one I've linked to, and it's very good food at reasonable prices (certainly for central London); it arrives fast, but you couldn't describe it as fast food...
Also had my first home-cooked asparagus of the season (I want to add "Mummy sends them from Brideshead!" because any way you say it, it sounds pretentious) - lovely. I gather it's been a terrible year for it.
Technology
After a comic interlude on delivery of a new modem (Virgin Media being majestically unaware, despite multiple confirmations, that we have some sort of bank holiday-type-thing going on today, until Realisation on May 24...) I obtained delivery of a so-called SuperHub on Friday. After a hugely time-wasting conversation on Friday lunchtime, we established after 36 minutes what I'd asked the guy in the first 60 seconds..."You've just delivered a wireless hub. I don't think my PC does wireless because it's quite old. I have a new PC coming next Friday. Can I just plug the old phone connection in for the next week until the new one's delivered and phone you then if I can't get it to work with the instructions?..." I stuck with the conversation because the guy from tech support who got me onto the internet again with this PC, despite my having realised I was going from Win98 to XP but failed to get the appropriate installation CD from them, was genius, so I thought this one might be able to magic up wireless on my old PC somehow (just before he plucked a pound coin from my ear and accurately predicted the lottery numbers, presumably). I had forgotten that the previous guy was from ntl, in the Days Before Virgin Media. Sigh.
However, I have a new Argos PC table, picked up and delivered by a friend, which was really kind; particularly when I realised that I couldn't even pick the package up, let alone schlep it to the bus station as I'd been intending. So, the current one looks like this at the moment...
And on Friday the new PC arrives. With any luck, by next weekend the next workstation will be less cluttered...
Sunday, May 27, 2012
POTW: 27 May 2012
It's been summer for the last few days! Definitely a favourite.
Knitting
Well, there's been some sock-knitting, but that's really boring in progress. I am, however, test-knitting a Hat for one friend using yarn from another. This doesn't reflect the real colour balance of the yarn, but here it is in progress. With any luck I'll be able to tell you exactly what this is soonish!
Spinning
I finished the yarn I was making last week... Love it. 176 grammes; 245 metres.
I've started spinning up some Colinette stuff...
Weaving
I made a thing! Actually, I finished it a couple of weeks ago, but I made it for Jackie's 50th. And ridiculously, I didn't manage to photograph it in all the time between finishing it and handing it over; but here's an idea; this is what it looked like in the weaving... Jackie seemed to love it, anyway!
Parties
It's been a really sociable week. I've had a work party, had a lovely time at après-civil-partnership drinks on Friday night,
and a relaxing and friendly 50th birthday party where I handed over the stole pictured above...
Media etc.
The Bridge - wow. I didn't expect that particular ending at all. I'm almost disappointed that I already knew there was a second series before the final episode started.
I have been loving this advert. Regardless of your attitude to the monarchy, this is a great campaign.
EUROVISION!!!
I voted for Moldova.
Honestly, how couldn't I - Improbable Trousers always get double points and it was a cheery enough song. I couldn't believe that the UK, as a man/woman, voted for Jedward. Please - people - get a grip! The Swedish song which won was actually pretty good. The Spanish singer was superb - but I'm glad Eurovision didn't finally extinguish the flame of their economy... I was wandering over to Eurovision TV on the PC in between listening to Radio 2, which was about 30 seconds ahead. Ken Bruce has obviously been taking sarcasm lessons from Terry Wogan... "So, no points from Malta.... can we have our George Cross back?" As ever, we got next to nul points for reasons which had very little to do with the quality of our song or performance; but that's pretty predictable...
Sport
There's been cricket all weekend. It's been lovely. (It's even been good cricket)... We've had the beautiful voices of Viv Richards (60 this week) and Tony Cozier from the tourists, we've had a cheery Michael Vaughan, we've had Tuffers, and best of all Geoffrey Boycott knocked off early to go to his wife's 60th birthday party. And Blowers and Aggers. And it's been summer. God's in his heaven, and all that.
Knitting
Well, there's been some sock-knitting, but that's really boring in progress. I am, however, test-knitting a Hat for one friend using yarn from another. This doesn't reflect the real colour balance of the yarn, but here it is in progress. With any luck I'll be able to tell you exactly what this is soonish!
Spinning
I finished the yarn I was making last week... Love it. 176 grammes; 245 metres.
I've started spinning up some Colinette stuff...
Weaving
I made a thing! Actually, I finished it a couple of weeks ago, but I made it for Jackie's 50th. And ridiculously, I didn't manage to photograph it in all the time between finishing it and handing it over; but here's an idea; this is what it looked like in the weaving... Jackie seemed to love it, anyway!
Parties
It's been a really sociable week. I've had a work party, had a lovely time at après-civil-partnership drinks on Friday night,
and a relaxing and friendly 50th birthday party where I handed over the stole pictured above...
Media etc.
The Bridge - wow. I didn't expect that particular ending at all. I'm almost disappointed that I already knew there was a second series before the final episode started.
I have been loving this advert. Regardless of your attitude to the monarchy, this is a great campaign.
EUROVISION!!!
I voted for Moldova.
Honestly, how couldn't I - Improbable Trousers always get double points and it was a cheery enough song. I couldn't believe that the UK, as a man/woman, voted for Jedward. Please - people - get a grip! The Swedish song which won was actually pretty good. The Spanish singer was superb - but I'm glad Eurovision didn't finally extinguish the flame of their economy... I was wandering over to Eurovision TV on the PC in between listening to Radio 2, which was about 30 seconds ahead. Ken Bruce has obviously been taking sarcasm lessons from Terry Wogan... "So, no points from Malta.... can we have our George Cross back?" As ever, we got next to nul points for reasons which had very little to do with the quality of our song or performance; but that's pretty predictable...
Sport
There's been cricket all weekend. It's been lovely. (It's even been good cricket)... We've had the beautiful voices of Viv Richards (60 this week) and Tony Cozier from the tourists, we've had a cheery Michael Vaughan, we've had Tuffers, and best of all Geoffrey Boycott knocked off early to go to his wife's 60th birthday party. And Blowers and Aggers. And it's been summer. God's in his heaven, and all that.
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