Monday, 23 March 2015

The Pros and Cons of Teenage Daughters

I've lamented long and often about the perils of living with growing teenage daughters.....

The endlessly repetitive door slamming, the stair stomping and the sulks. Trying to translate their exasperated sighs into meaning. The sudden unilateral annexation of the bathroom. Their ever shortening school skirts. That improbable eyebrow phase. Their insistence on wearing metre thick foundation in a shade twelve times removed from their own skin. Oh, and the lengthening parade of slack-trousered youths hanging around the back door, grunting occasionally.

It's enough to drive a mother to drink. Or *cough* to even more drink.

But that is the darkside of living with teenage girls. There's got to be a bright side... surely

Wednesday, 18 March 2015

The Gallery .... Green

I'm joining in with The Gallery this week over at Sticky Fingers and the theme is Green.

This is the North Yorkshire Moors or at least parts of it. It has all the greens...

This is my Green.

Sticky Fingers Photo Gallery

Wednesday, 4 March 2015

The Dictionary of Teen: - Bae ...

There are many baffling moments in the parenting of teens without them developing entire new words to baffle you with as well, but they do it all the same. This is another in an occasional series of  The Dictionary of Teen ... 


Can easily be mistaken for the word 'Babe' as said by someone incapable of articulating the full word.This is an easy mistake to make, particularly if all previous communications with your specimen teenager have been conducted through a variety of grunts and sighs.  It is a sad fact that even a loquacious teen can't be expected to enunciate a whole word, complete with all existing consonants and vowels, until they are at the very least 19 years old.

The Gallery .. Black and White

I'm joining in with The Gallery this week and the theme is Black and White ...

Black and white photographs feel timeless. At first glance they look like small pieces of history whether taken years ago or yesterday ...

But there's sometimes the odd clue to tell if a shot is from the past or the present, if you look carefully enough ...

This is my contribution to The Gallery

Sticky Fingers Photo Gallery

Check out everyone else's Black and White at Sticky Fingers

Sunday, 1 March 2015

Learning to Knit ...

Three years ago there was an event in my hometown that knitted the community together, literally.

As part of  the Flock to Ossett celebrations, the centre of the small town was yarn-stormed into a woolly wonderland by the town's knitters and crocheters.

Unfortunately I couldn't make much of a contribution because I couldn't knit more than a few wobbly rows, knitting being a half remembered skill barely picked up in childhood. As the daughter of a confirmed knitter, I was the rebel who didn't.

But believe me, there's nothing more shaming than sitting in a pub backroom with a hoard of committed knitters formulating a new kind of wool based anarchy when you can't actually knit. Nothing ...

Not that I let it get to me. Not at all. Not me.

It might have taken me three years to find the courage to pick up the knitting needles without hideous flashbacks to the scorn of that pub backroom, but I think I've finally got to grips with the woolly arts.

Over the past month, I've taught myself (via the marvellous medium of the world wide web) how to knit AND crochet.

Or more accurately taught myself how to cast on, knit a neat(ish) square of wool and, this is an important bit, cast off again without it all unravelling.

I am currently accumulating a small pile of squares which I intend to turn into a blanket at some point in the future, though that could be anytime between now and when I die.

I'm still incapable of thinking of knitting anything more exotic or useful beyond a square a wool, but in time I might tackle knitting a scarf.
A scarf is just an extra long square, how hard could it be?

Amid this newly discovered burst of wool-based confidence, I decided to have a go at crochet too,

Crochet has always looked even more arcane than knitting to me; a mysterious flurry of twisting, turning and knotting wool while waving a small stick. But I had a go anyway.

Mainly because I was assured that it was easier to crochet than knit and I'd already cracked that knitting thing, obvs.

It took a tour through the free crochet tutorials on Little Tin Bird's blog but I managed to twist and turn some wool into something approximating a granny square at my first attempt.

Then,, unexpectedly I unearthed a hitherto undiscovered ability to make crochet flowers, so I did, and I am.

Lots of them.

They take about ten minutes each to make, and that includes stopping for the occasional slurp of wine. Or so I've heard *shifty look*

They also manage to look like the work of someone who knows what they're doing with a crochet hook, which I most certainly don't.

Now almost four weeks to the day since I first approached a ball of wool with serious intent, I have created an actual thing.

Not yet a blanket, or a scarf, or, sadly, a granny, but a Thing That I Have Made.

Alright. so I took an pre-existing woolly hat, put a button on it and then buttoned a crocheted flower on to that.

But it was the crocheted flower that I made with my own two hands so I think it counts (probably).

Child3 being remarkably impressed (sort of) with her new (sort of) hat.

*Takes on the backroom of the pub* 

Silent Sunday ...

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