Knit one, purl one

I've been concentrating very hard recently at 88. Knit one, purl one, knit one, purl one. I am learning to knit. My knitting guru is my friend, Joy. Knitter and crocheter extraordinaire, she has taken on the challenge of passing on her knitting know-how. I am enjoying it. My husband calls me 'Granny Blakeley' but I believe I am dead on trend, taking up the knitting cause.

Tackling rib

My Mum was a great knitter from the days when she and her sister would go out on a Friday night and she would knit a short-sleeved jumper each and my auntie, a professional seamstress, would run up a skirt each. She tried to teach me when I was young but I would either add or lose stitches very recklessly and eventually I gave up. But it has all come back to me vaguely, a bit like a knitting echo from the past and my fingers have stepped back into the rhythm. The nearest I have come to a knitting needle in recent years is my handy needle by the oven which I plunge into cakes to see if they are cooked and which by the way is also very effective in loosening lego pieces which won't come apart with bare hands.

Joy, my guru, has great plans for me but after my initial practice, I think I'll embark on squares and make up a blanket....of course it may all come asunder if I have to use one of the needles to prize that lego apart.

Laundered loveliness

Does anything smell as wonderful as fresh sheets, dried by the breeze? Thank goodness we are now in the season we can put washing on the clothes line. My Mum (88) always used to wax lyrical about the sun shining and a gentle breeze and washing on the line.  I used to look at her and think "Oh dear" but I know what she means now. Just as I now realise how a cup of tea can be refreshing even on a hot day - turns out Mums do know best. There is something supremely satisfying about washing, drying, putting away all within the day. My Mum would also air as well. She would just put the line dried washing for a last airing round the fire or in the airing cupboard after taking it off the line. Then and only then was it ready to fold away. I, on the other hand, am a bit slovenly with my airing - I rarely do it. And don't even talk to me about ironing.

Towels drying today

Funny what you remember about a simple thing like washing on the line from home all those years ago. I can remember the pole for holding the washing line up at one end always lent at a precarious angle until Dad retired and had the time to straighten it. It never did seem quite right for it to be ramrod straight. The clothes prop to elevate the washing skywards was an old wooden one with a fork at the top rather like a snake's tongue.  I can remember my mum running out when it started raining and depending on how hard it was precipitating (being polite there!) dictated whether the pegs were put back neatly in the basket or thrown willy-nilly on the grass. Talking of which.....is that raindrops I see...........

Daisy Daisy

Just been for my annual hunt for marguerites - bright, cheerful daisy-like flowers that will gladden my heart from now until the first frosts. My auntie/godmother introduced them to me, buying me some plants to put in pots for my back yard when I lived in my terrace house. I plant them every year at 88 as a homage to her. Dead head them and they just keep coming. Pick a few for a small vase or float the flower heads in a pretty bowl of water. I also have grape hyacinths which are up at the moment for her. I always regret that I didn't dig those little deep blue grape arrows up from her garden when she passed and transfer them to a pot. But I didn't and I lost the continuity, the handing on down but never mind.

My auntie loved gardening. She was I suppose from the old fashioned school of horticulture with lots of bedding plants and separate rose bushes around a green square of grass. I swear she sometimes swept that soil - there wasn't a weed to be detected. Her garden always looked loved and tendered. It was her pleasure.

It was all the more tragic when she suffered a debilitating stroke in her early sixties just as she had retired. She could no longer garden herself after that and I think it broke her heart really. She died in 2005 but every year I think of her with love and fondness when I see the grape hyacinths and I plant the marguerites. Here's to you, Auntie Ivy x

Library Royale

My name is Blakeley - Virginia Blakeley and I love quirky. Anything that is a bit out of the ordinary or makes me think out of the box or is a bit strange I rather like. Last night I did something which I consider quirky. I met James Bond in my local library. I saw the very loud, action-packed, exciting Casino Royale (Craig not Niven) at my local library.

It was fab. Sat amongst the book shelves, watching Mr Bond in his swimming trunks, running an awful lot as it turned out, surviving ordeal after ordeal. I loved the fact I could walk down from 88 to the impromptu cinema and that I was in an film arena of books watching a film of a book.

Just a thought -  if Hyde Library is shut and moved to Hyde Town Hall will there be the room to hold such events? I am sure these evenings raise the profile of the library and encourage more people to go through the doors. Not to mention the enjoyment they give. Just something for Councillors and managers to bear in mind. Well done to the staff at Hyde Library for organising the event.

Splash, bang, wallop

I think the most fun times I have ever had have involved water. On Saturday my husband, two children and I went to one of my best friend's daughter's 8th birthday party (keep up) in a swimming pool. There was a giant inflatable assault course in the middle of the pool. The children attacked the giant floaty thing with gusto and laughter and as it turned out with great elegance.

I watched as they bounced onto the float, over and under, quick as leaping flames and scrambled efficiently by each obstacle, weaving in and out and then a big jump over open water for their final reward, scaling a small mountain and down the slide into the deep. Gosh it looked fun.

So much so that I just couldn't resist. I asked the lifeguard if grown-ups could do it. She looked at me and said "Sure you can have a go". She was a wise lifesaver because she knew I couldn't do it. I tentatively jumped onto the float and it wobbled. And I soon realised that I couldn't do this elegantly in a swimsuit when you are 47 and have had two children. But I didn't care - I was having fun. The other parents cheered me on. I managed somehow to get to the jumping bit. My husband shouted encouragement from the pool "Just launch yourself, Virginia". And so I did. And so I splattered without decorum into the deep water. And so I came up laughing. Of course,  I started a trend: my husband, my friend's husband, another mum and another mum all launched themselves. They all splattered hilariously into the deep until another Dad showed us the way. We may be heavier, we may be dafter but we have longer legs than 8 year olds and our saviour taught us to grab hold and stride over that gap.  I was able to go home having conquered the giant inflatable.

I remembered then all the fun times in the garden paddling pool at 88, swimming in the sea in Scotland, relaxing in the deep blue sea in Greece, plunging into cold streams in Derbyshire (yes it can be fun), swimming in lidos, shooting wet my loved ones with water pistols. Gosh I hope this summer is a hot one and the water is warm.

Fruitiques on Tour : Tenerife

Have Fruitique, Will Travel

As my regular readers will know I am part of a disreputable band of sisters called The Fruitiques, beading, knitting, sewing as we go. And we thought 'go' was a rather good way to ...well...go. We thought why not see where our wares actually end up geographically; how well do they travel?

Our CFO (Chief Fruitiquing Officer), N, has started us off. Here are the Fruitiques in craft if not in body or mind (we wish) in Tenerife. As N says she doesn't quite know how she got through customs with the snarfe, sunglasses and hat combo and we'll never know how she wasn't cautioned on the beach for leaving her pants about the place but a good time was had by all...enhanced of course by her Fruitique accoutrements.

You need one of Joy's snarfes (above) in 23 degree C heat! Sonya's pants purse (below)

 

If you have taken a Fruitique on Tour let me know. I need photographic evidence!!

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Rapunzel Diaries 2 : Wainhouse Tower

Wainhouse Tower, Halifax

This is my favourite tower ever I think. There is a wonderful winding staircase which winds round a central chimney. Along the way are little windows inset into the outer wall where you have to squeeze into to let people pass you going up or down. You spiral round and round, higher and higher and wonder when you'll ever see daylight. And then you are rewarded with a fabulous 360 degree vista of Halifax and the Calder Valley.

It's 272 feet or 84 m high (shame it's not 4 metres higher and I could get my '88' in), built between 1871 and 1875 and has 403 steps to the first viewing platform. It was built to serve as a chimney to the dye works owned by John Wainhouse. The chimney had to be high to comply with the Smoke Abatement Act of 1870. Mr Wainhouse wanted an elaborate chimney but sold the dyeworks to someone else in 1874 who refused to meet the cost of such a fancy chimney so Wainhouse kept it for himself as an observatory. And good for him - I'd have kept it - a tower all to myself.

I can remember climbing it in the eighties or nineties and I am sure we were allowed up to the second of the two tiers at the top. I can still remember the excitement of another level to climb and waving down to my mum way way below. I climbed it last year with my family and alas we were only allowed to the first tier, still up in the clouds.

In previous years the Tower has been open on some Bank Holidays. Well worth the effort - just check with Tourist Information in Halifax.