January in the garden

No garden looks its best in January and the garden is squelchy all over from the endless rain.  Nonetheless there are some bright points, some from the unseasonable warmth, such as the daffodils I planted at the bottom of the garden where they would be seen every time I went past the back door.  There is something rather wonderful about planning something unseen, under the ground, thinking ahead to what it will be in months to come.  Arranging bulbs in little holes in the ground, thinking out how they will look, plotting beauty.  Last year, without bulbs, was dismal, I missed the concentrated sunshine glow of daffodils, harbingers of warmth to come.  There is something so cheering in the bulbs and the way they brighten up late winter.



In the bed outside the kitchen window I have begun to put plants that offer some winter colour, cyclamen, dogwood and hellebore, again to have something to look out at in winter.  The dogwood came from Buckingham nurseries, who sell good quality plants at superb prices, and it has settled right in, working away putting out fresh shoots.  I'd like to put some holly nearby, how anyone can have a garden without holly is beyond me, my previous homes have always had holly and ivy and birds find it such good shelter and a source of food.


(not the world's greatest photograph)

My other big garden excitement is a compost bin.  Never did I think I would get so excited by compost!  Shortly after Christmas my dad arrived at the door with a mystery piece of plastic - which turned out to be the hatch cover for the compost bin and an early birthday present.  He completed the present with a bagful of his compost, complete with worms, to get me started.



Hopefully there will be more to show next month and hopefully I can keep up giving updates on the garden.  I think, I hope, I will become a gardener, being outside, absorbed in a task, is so good for my mental well-being, even if I can only do it for five, ten or at most twenty minutes at a time.

A lovely day

The Greyhound Inn

This last Saturday was my dad's birthday and one of those crisp, cold, bright, sunny days that make winter so much more bearable.  We went to Carshalton, a former village, now swallowed up into south London, for lunch at the pub in the picture above and a walk.  It was busy with a frost fair going on but the crowds were relaxed and there was a good atmosphere.  I am still very tired from it but all in all it was a lovely day.

Tufted duck

The other event of the weekend was reviving my Locke St Cardigan, which had been languishing for some weeks with only the left front left to complete.  Hoping to finish it before Christmas, certainly it is the weather for it at present!

Second Sunday in Advent

I discovered this poem last Christmas, in an Advent book called Haphazard by Starlight, which has a poem for every day of Advent and loved it.  It is another poem that connects the Christmas of long ago with now, but in a very different way, focusing instead on the hope that Christmas gives us.  Hope for the future, that Jesus will return and the hope we have in us now, a hope that cannot be counted in a census or understood by the powers of this world.

In the days of Caesar
By Waldo Williams, translated Rowan Williams

In the days of Caesar, when his subjects went to be reckoned,
there was a poem mad, too dark for him (naive with power)
      to read
It was a bunch of shepherds who discovered
in Bethlehem of Judah, the great music beyond reason and
      reckoning:
shepherds, the sort of folk who leave the ninety-nine behind
so as to bring the stray back home, dawning toward cock-crow,
the birthday of the Lamb of God, shepherd of mortals.

Well, little people, and my nation, can you see
The secret buried in you, that no Caesar ever captures in his lists?
Will not the shepherd come to fetch us in our desert,
Gathering us in to give us birth again, weaving us into one
In a song heard in the sky over Bethlehem?
He seeks us out as wordhoard for his workmanship, the laureate
     of heaven

First Sunday in Advent

This Advent I thought I would mark the Sundays of Advent by posting some of my favourite Christmas poems, one on each Sunday, although the odd poem may appear on other days as well.  I decided to start with an old favourite, Christmas by John Betjeman, which masterfully combines Christmas ancient and modern.  I was introduced to this poem when a couple of us read some of it at a prep school carol concert at the local church and have loved it ever since.

Christmas by John Betjeman

The bells of waiting Advent ring,
The Tortoise stove is lit again
And lamp-oil light across the night
Has caught the streaks of winter rain.
In many a stained-glass window sheen
From Crimson Lake to Hooker's Green.

The holly in the windy hedge
And round the Manor House the yew
Will soon be stripped to deck the ledge,
The altar, font and arch and pew,
So that villagers can say
'The Church looks nice' on Christmas Day.

Provincial public houses blaze
And Corporation tramcars clang,
On lighted tenements I gaze
Where paper decorations hang,
And bunting in the red Town Hall
Says 'Merry Christmas to you all'

And London shops on Christmas Eve
Are strung with silver bells and flowers
As hurrying clerks the City leave
To pigeon-haunted classic towers,
And marbled clouds go scudding by
The many-steepled London sky.

And girls in slacks remember Dad,
And oafish louts remember Mum,
And sleepless children's hearts are glad,
And Christmas morning bells say 'Come!'
Even to shining ones who dwell
Safe in the Dorchester Hotel.

And is it true? and is it true?
The most tremendous tale of all,
Seen in a stained-glass window's hue,
A Baby in an ox's stall?
The Maker of the stars and sea
Become a Child on earth for me?

And is it true? For if it is,
No loving fingers tying strings
Around those tissued fripperies,
The sweet and silly Christmas things,
Bath salts and inexpensive scent
And hideous tie so kindly meant.

No love that in a family dwells,
No carolling in frosty air,
Nor all the steeple-shaking bells
Can with this single Truth compare -
That God was Man in Palestine
And lives to-day in Bread and Wine.

January Ends

January feels like a month to be endured, despite having a birthday in its middle I still feel less than enthusiastic about it.  The fairy lights and sparkles are packed away and once more life is earnest, life is real.  Life is also wet, windy and dark.  So I cannot say that I am sorry to see the back of January.

Meanwhile there has been knitting activity in the background, I have finished the knitting on Dad's jumper, started the making up and in between times, in the interests of my own sanity, knocked up a quick baby jumper and a warm cabled hat.  Pictures anon I hope.

One of the little bright spots, like a missive from a brighter, happier land, has been the arrival of the first catalogue of books published by Daunt's Books, an excellent independent chain of London bookshops.  If you feel gloomy about the survival of the High Street, or wish for inspiration for how to revive the High Street, go to one of their shops forthwith.  Preferably their Marylebone High Street shop branch, which is where I found them, fortuitously, on the way to a medical appointment nearby.  Going to one of their shops is a joyous experience, the Marylebone shop is an original late nineteenth century bookshop, with a wonderful galleried room of books on every country or region of the world, arranged by region, then country, covering more traditional guide books, dictionaries and maps as well as books on their literature, history, art and cookery.

The bookshops are well curated and always have something new to catch your eye and the publishing list is similarly good.  It is like a well thought out and selected delicatessen rather than a pile 'em high behemoth and full of such tantalising titles.  Like Persephone Books they are mostly titles that have undeservedly gone out of print and I look forward to spending some of the book tokens my kind friends and family have given me for Christmas and my birthday.  But don't take my word for it - go and feast your eyes.



As a last note I am pleased to note that Persephone are currently selling Diary of a Provincial Lady by E. M. Delafield, a funny little book that deserves to be better known.  My copy is one that had belonged to my mother's cousin, 'Aunt' Daisy and although she died when I was 12, it is lovely to make that connection and read a book that I know she enjoyed - we inherited two copies, one an omnibus edition which is falling apart.  Albeit she did not managed to obtain a copy with the original illustrations; I suppose you cannot have everything?

Anyhow onwards into February, searching for signs of the beginnings of spring as we go.

New Year's Resolutions?

At the end of my last post I wrote that I would be back with some goals or aims for the new year; however, when I came to think about it being a New Year (the words seem capitalised in my head) and thinking about what I wanted to achieve in those 12 months I ended up overwhelmed.  During the closing month or so of last year I had many ideas about how the New Year was going to be, changing my life, being bolder, doing various things better, the usual sorts of things.  Then the New Year came, in its usual underwhelming style and over the first few days of the year I have felt a sense of disappointment, that things are not immediately better, that I am still making some of the same mistakes and failing in some of the same areas as before, that each day feels the same as it did last year.

My expectations both of myself and of an arbitrary division in the calendar were vastly over-inflated.  Surely I should have remembered how overwhelming it is to look at something as big as a whole year in one piece?  And I had also failed to remember that my body has not magically got better overnight, the succession of headaches that has marred the first week of the year should be a sharp reminder.

So instead I am rethinking the goals and aims and what I want to achieve and breaking things down into smaller, more manageable chunks.  Overall this year I want to live more boldly and be more prepared to try new things and take risks, albeit carefully calculated risks.  But I do need to start where I am, more rest needs to be on the agenda and my first big goal is finishing my dad's jumper, which is becoming something of a struggle due to lack of motivation.  Fellow knitters will understand when I say that I am on the sleeves, often a dispiriting section of a jumper.

On I go, step by step, taking the year day by day, with my usual slow dance of two steps forward, one step back, trying to keep trying and not get discouraged.  After all an arbitrary change of date is not enough, on its own, to change life.

A Christmas Robin

Merry Christmas everyone, I hope you have had a joyful day however you have spent it.  Our robin has been on good form today, whether he knows it is Christmas or just liked the meal worms my dad put out for him, he was around a lot and stayed in the garden while we were out there, on the feeders and on the ground, watching us and happy for us to be around.  As I have mentioned before, I love that process of building up trust and getting to know a bird like that.  My sister got a lovely couple of shots of him and I have her permission to repost them here.

When she was looking through her photos my sister did comment that the robin likes posing and I think she is right to an extent, some of it is territorial behaviour though.

Last but not least, my favourite band, Rend Collective Experiment have released a Christmas video today, a version of Hark the Herald Angels Sing that is full of energy and joy, hope you like it.

Christmas

When I was a child December seemed to stretch forever, day after day, marked out in little cardboard doors, tantalisingly keeping me from the apex of the excitement, the best day of the year: Christmas Day.  The air seemed almost to sparkle, there were endless excitements, carol concerts, plays, parties and treats, baking, decorations, pantomimes, a sense of goodwill seemed to pervade.  There were the yearly rituals, watching the Blue Peter team lighting the advent candles, helping to decorate the tree, going to the church to watch the familiar story acted out.  Then my one night of the year of excited insomnia before the Big Day with all its stockings and presents and turkey and crackers.

But Christmas now, where has the magic gone?  Now December seems a different sort of time-warp, the days falling over themselves in their rush to get away before Christmas looms.  Days full of lists of presents to be bought, cards to be sent, jobs to be done.  The reality of the work behind the sparkle hitting home.



Now instead there are small, quiet compensations for the onset of age, the satisfaction of choosing just the right present, the happiness of cards sent and appreciated, meeting old friends in the box of decorations, the heady spiced whiff of mixing Christmas cakes and puddings. While that feeling of Christmas joy and magic is more fleeting, glimpsed occasionally in a child's face or conjured up from turning on the Christmas lights at dusk and watching them make the glitter come to life in a quiet twinkling glow.  Light coming into the darkness.

Light coming into the darkness, that's what it is about in the end, hope coming into the world as the nights draw in.  Trying to find time, amidst the lists, to remember the first Christmas in all its ragged perfection.



Since I started this meditation a few days ago the weight of expectation and waiting has increased, I have slowed down (responding to the aide memoire of a two week headache) and the days seem to have joined me.  I am grateful for the slowing of the days and for the time to think, if not for the illness that creates this time.  The wind whistles and howls around the house with occasional breaks for glorious mild sunshiny winter days and a feeling of Christmastime has crept into the house on the heels of gingerbread and carols.  At the same time I have remembered some of the reality behind those painfully exciting childhood Christmasses, such as the year I slept so little on Christmas Eve that I was tearfully exhausted by seven and wasted precious hours of Christmas day in an early bedtime.  Christmases pile up memory and experience in layers, each bringing a part of themselves to each new Christmas; while my understanding grows and changes, of what Christmas meant and means.  I go again to the child in the manger and the light come into the world, and begin to ponder the Christ who will come again and the double waiting of Advent.

Charles Wesley's hymn Come Thou Long Expected Jesus is a current favourite, I especially love this version by a band called Kings Kaleidoscope

Come thou long expected Jesus
Born to set thy people free
From our fears and sins release us
Let us find our rest in thee 

Israel’s strength and consolation
Hope of all the earth thou art
Dear desire of every nation
Joy of every longing heart 

Born thy people to deliver
Born a child and yet a king
Born to reign forever
Now thy gracious kingdom bring  

By thine own eternal spirit
Rule in all our hearts alone
By thine all sufficient merit
Raise us to thy glorious throne 

Come Lord Jesus, into this dark world, bring your light, your presence and your kingdom. Thank you for Christmas, in all its meanings, Amen

Some knitting and more cake

Finally a finished piece of knitting to show off, a little jumper for a baby cousin, the pattern is Fiddlehead Pullover and the yarn Patons Fairytale Dreamtime 3ply.  Yes, you read right, 3ply.  I still have no idea when or how I ended up with this yarn, it is gorgeously soft, but knitting anything in it takes ages, especially when squeezing it in between a big Fair Isle project.  Talking of which, the jumper is now onto its sleeves, which are beginning to take shape after a shaky start.



Then there have been two more cakes made, one for the day of my Dad's birthday, a lightly spiced sponge and the other for the lunch party for his birthday, an apple and fruitcake, which matures for at least two weeks before cutting and becomes rich and moist in the process.  Both from the books I mentioned in my last post.  Where would we be without old cookbooks?


Spiced sponge, cake plate courtesy of my parents

Christmas seems to be rushing towards us at breakneck speed, how it has accelerated over the years.  When I was a child advent seemed to drag on forever and it seemed as though Christmas would never come!  So I am busy, or as busy as I can be, allowing for headaches and naps, my Christmas preparations only succeed by starting early and plodding along steadily, so on I go.


Fruit cake on left, Colin the Caterpillar cake from Marks and Spencer (which has long been one of Dad's favourites) on right.

Sunset

Today was one of those glorious, crisp, sunny late autumn days and although I did not manage to scrape together the energy to get out in it, I still enjoyed it from indoors.  As befits such a day, the sunset was glorious, our upstairs room was lit up with a warm golden glow, with the slightest hint of pink and the trees were silhouetted against the sky.



A top class sunset does seem to need some scraps of clouds to show off its colour and glory to its very best, a bit like a picture needing dark as well as light.

52 Weeks of Happy - week 6

Six weeks into this 52 weeks of happy, goodness me, never thought I'd last this far.  It has not been a bad week, not too bad anyhow, although I have been struggling to relax and sleep.  I keep meaning to write other blog posts and they keep not happening.  Today I do not feel especially positive, so coming up with four things to be positive about is a good exercise, hopefully it will help my head see that there are positive things going on, help me not to miss them.

1. A kind thought and a great quotation - a kind friend sent me a lovely cotton bag she had got on a weekend away in Sheffield, with the following quotation on it "It is impossible to be angry when looking at a penguin", from of all people, John Ruskin.  I would love to know what the origin is of this statement, I had always associated Mr Ruskin with serious matters, not penguins.  The bag has two rather gorgeous penguins following in one another's footsteps and it put a big smile on my face.  Naturally it already has some knitting in it.



2. Cabin Pressure - the radio 4 show, which each week keeps me in stitches, laughing so hard the whole house can hear, if not next door as well.  John Finnemore is a brilliant writer, mixing wordplay, situation and plain silliness into a superb and closely packed half hour.  Go and listen on iplayer while you can - the last in the series is next Wednesday at 6.30.  I realise now that I should have mentioned this sooner, before the series was nearly over, however, you can catch up with the previous series on audible most reasonably.

3. Continuing promise of spring - the buds on our wild cherry twigs are breaking and gorgeous green leaves emerging, hopefully there will soon be flowers.  They are rather hard to photograph though.



4. Prayer - I would not have made it through the week without prayer, both mine and other people's.  Sometimes it is talking things over, sometimes sitting in peace, with some liturgy in between.  Prayer helps me to keep my stress and anxiety levels manageable, my mood more stable, and helps me and others in so many ways.  I am so grateful to God for this gift and that He cares about us and our daily lives, that He is interested and wants to hear from us, no matter how small or big the problem.  Through prayer God is teaching me to rely on Him and how infinitely gracious He is.  For example, if I cannot find something I try to remember to pray, before tearing the house apart looking, as I find searching for things so tiring and they do generally appear after I have prayed, sometimes almost at once, sometimes a little while later, but they do.  Through watching Him answer prayers on a small scale I find I can learn to trust Him more for the big things.

Prayer also helps me to feel less useless within the church - I may not be able to do much else for my church and for the wider church, but I can pray.  It is so good to have others pray for me too, sometimes it is easier to pray for someone else than it is for yourself and in the past a good friend and I have arranged to pray for one another that day rather than struggle with prayer for ourselves.  I love how God equips us to help one another and love one another.

Time to try to relax and get some sleep now I suppose.

52 weeks of happy - week 5

A steadier week thankfully, once I had recovered from the "alarums and excursions" at the end of last week and was able to sleep again.  There was even a good day, which is a rare thing indeed.  I do keep meaning to blog in between these posts but keep not getting around to it,  hopefully tomorrow I can remedy this as I have a couple of finished objects to post about if nothing else.

1. Blue sky - a rare commodity over this past year and so much appreciated on the occasions that it has appeared.  I spent time sitting simply looking at it, drinking it in.  At times it was accompanied by sunshine which was lovely, even the feeble warmth of winter sunshine was wonderful and a hint of the spring to come.  I truly am praying and hoping that this year will be less overcast than last, after a while it just starts to drag you down, especially during the summer when it is supposed to be better weather - oh how British, going on and on about the weather!



2. Unexpected early buds - my dad had used some prunings from the wild cherry tree to stake some hyacinths we had in a pot in the kitchen and being in the warmth, with the water from the pot, they have started to bud.  Some are almost out, when they are I shall try to get photos and get them up here.  We have collected up some more of the prunings and put them in a vase to see if similar happens to them.  I never like seeing branches indoors like that if they've been cut off the tree just to look at, it seems mean to all the birds and insects who would benefit from them, but since the tree needed pruning anyway it is not so bad.



3. A lovely pub breakfast with knitters last Saturday morning, good food, friendly chatter and laughter and knitting, a good way to spend any morning in my opinion.

4. Having a good day - not a dramatically good day, just a calmly, nothing getting to me, not feeling too awful day, which is better than wild excitement or overwhelmingly happy in my book.  A walk in the sunshine, reading on the sofa in the sunshine, seeing two police horses go past the house (they appear to have been past our house every day this week at exactly the same time, looking very handsome but rather bored), some peace and quiet and noticing that some snow drops had come out.  Unfortunately the photograph I managed to get is not very good because there was an incredibly high wind so all the plants kept moving about wildly.



Here's to more good days in future.

52 Weeks of Happy - week 3

This has been a slightly strange week, during which the admonition to "Rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn" (Romans 12.15) has never seemed more apt.  For my friends there has been great sorrow and also some joys and I have had the joy of my birthday, it has been quite emotional at times.

Nonetheless there have been joys this week, life at its essence is a sharp mixture of joy and sadness.  The biggest joy has been my birthday so we shall make that number one.

1. My birthday, which I managed to approach with the minimum of trepidation and soul searching about "achievements" and which my family and friends combined to make special.  I had a great many cards and generous presents and messages and feel thoroughly spoiled and humbled that so many people value me.


Birthday banana cake

2. Wonderful new yarn that my sister gave me for my birthday, hand-dyed in stripes, in the colours of the London underground lines, from Trailing Clouds.  I am most excited about knitting this, I still find self-striping yarns exciting, knitting away, wondering which colour will come next and when.  Additionally I am in awe at the hard work that has gone into dyeing this yarn to create approximately six round stripes in so many colours, by hand.



3. Coffee with a new friend and her little boy who is about a year and a half.  A delightful and refreshing combination of a good chat and some play with her little boy, who is very sweet and well behaved.  To be repeated soon I hope.

4. Beautiful snow, which has been falling steadily for most of the day, giving us more light than we have had for a while and muffling noise, creating a quiet, bright, cold world, although I feel terribly sorry for the birds.


A goldfinch on its way to the bird feeders

And so on we go through the year, hopefully I will be able to shake off the threatened depression and accompanying lethargy and "what's the point" feeling more this week.  I think the weekly discipline of looking at the good things that have happened is helping though.


A cyclamen flowers on

52 Weeks of Happy - week 2

I thought Fridays would be a good day to do these posts in future, so here goes.  Positive thinking here we come!

1. The sun breaking through the clouds, it has been such a relief to see some blue sky and even sunshine today after so long of day after day of grey clouds and a feeling of never having enough light.

I grabbed a shot of this dramatic sky earlier in the week, sorry for the quality, I was using my phone.

2. The scent of hyacinths, no photograph I am afraid, but they smell heavenly.  My aunt sends us a pot of them every year, growing, so hopefully next year we shall be able to enjoy them in the garden.

3. Having a laugh with friends.  I managed to go to my church small group this week and it was lovely to be able to talk and relax and share a joke and realise how blessed I am by this group of people.

4. Knitting socks.  The sparkly socks are finally finished and I even managed to find some sun in which to photograph them.  Before I had finished them I had started the next pair - I hate not having a pair on the go and I needed some easy knitting to take out with me.  The new pair are a fairly ambitious pair of knee highs but in sport weight yarn for speed and cosiness.

I leave you with another photograph of the sparkly socks, they photograph so well and look so special.  I have not yet brought myself to wear them yet!

A belated Merry Christmas

Life has rushed by in a whoosh over the past week or so, leaving me no opportunity to post.  So it is a belated Merry Christmas, I hope it has been a peaceful and enjoyable time, however you've spent it.  We have had a quiet, but nice time and my hand knits have been well received.  I think I will blog again this week  about them and show you the pictures I could not show before.



For my sister, who cannot eat Christmas Pudding, I made a Summer Fruits Pudding, using a recipe by Jane Grigson, from her book English Food, a volume I shall be exploring more fully this year.  I was somewhat nervous about it, never having made it before but it was well received and came out of its basin smoothly.  Indeed I have a feeling I will be making this for my sister again, which is no problem as it is little bother to put together and is the same shape as Christmas pudding - my dad even stuck a spring of holly in it.



Although I have had less time than I would have liked for reflection I did find two points very comforting, the first being that the King is coming and that He will come again, simple but true.  The second being most comforted by parts of Isaiah 9, in particular verse seven:

Of the increase of his government and peace
    there will be no end.

God's kingdom is coming here on earth and it is growing and will increase without end.  Amidst all the war, violence and trouble of this world this is a valuable promise.

In fact it seems I cannot count - I said two points - there were other, related verses that have helped and encouraged me this Christmas.  While I was reading the Nativity stories in Matthew and Luke I also looked up some of the Old Testament passages that were quoted, to read them in their context and find out more about them and why they were quoted.  Micah 5.7-8 encouraged and comforted me so much:

He will stand and shepherd his flock
    in the strength of the Lord,
    in the majesty of the name of the Lord his God.
And they will live securely, for then his greatness
    will reach to the ends of the earth.
      And he will be their peace.

Lastly I've been loving this version of Come Thou Long Expected Jesus by Kings Kaleidoscope - do have a listen, or just read the words.

A cosy fireside

In a pair of socks, a work in progress. Fawkes socks knit in Violet Green's Socrates Supersock, colourway Duchess. I'm enjoying knitting these, watching the colours and pattern interacting. To me the colours are like looking into the heart of a fire, a good wintertime activity.

Red Mittens of Happiness

I've been knitting a pair of child's mittens in bright red Drops Karisma Superwash wool the past couple of days and they have been making me feel so very happy. It seems to be a combination of the cheery red colour, the delightful soft sproingy wool and the magic of mittens. Mittens are somehow soothing, reminiscent of my own childhood, they represent warmth and being well wrapped up and cared for and snug despite the cold all around. They are a frosty winter's morning with everyone's breath emerging as mist on the cold air or the riotous fun of a snow ball fight or the careful construction of a snowman.

They are also a fun thing to knit, fairly quick, especially in a child's size, following a definite rhythm and pattern all of their own. While cotton, silk and even alpaca have their merits there is something satisfying about a good smooth, soft, classic wool yarn, the ribbing has a distinctive springy stretch, the little "v"s of the stockingette stitch have a neat uniformity and definition to them. I think I am going to have to make myself a pair.

Now I will return to knitting the second mitten and hope that whoever eventually owns these mittens is as happy wearing them as I have been knitting them.

Cold weather, good books and an unexpected parcel

Yet again it has been a while since I last posted and I feel like an update is more than overdue. I am currently most relieved that the weather has returned to something akin to its senses and is no longer so Siberian in its nature. The first week of snow felt like the longest week ever, with everyone cooped up in the house and everything cancelled, though the first of the pair of socks I was knitting for Dad's Christmas present made quite admirable progress. The post still hasn't caught up with itself which is infuriating as I am waiting for a lot of parcels, mainly Christmas related. Lately I've been finding the cold harder and harder to deal with and a trip to the doctor's on Wednesday confirmed what I feared, namely that I have Raynaud's Phenomenon/disease, a circulatory problem where insufficient blood gets to your extremities - in my case mainly my fingers are effected - meaning they feel the cold very badly and can be painful. My finger tips spent the week of the snow changing colour between white, red and blue, which was at the very least patriotic of them.

It is never pleasant to receive yet another diagnosis, especially when it is yet another condition for which nothing can be done, aside in this case from wearing gloves (what did the doctor think I was doing?!). Although I suppose it is good to know that I'm not just being a sook or a wuss: my body genuinely does find cold weather hard to deal with. Partly to "treat" this and partly to cheer myself up I have ordered some Malabrigo worsted to knit the Bird in Hand mittens by Kate Gilbert. I cannot think of warmer or softer mittens!

The good books have included Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol; although the story is a familiar one I couldn't remember whether I'd actually read the original book and having just finished it I recommend it heartily. Not only is it a great story exceptionally well told, it is also a superb portrait of Victorian London and a book that gets a great message across about Christmas. I would particularly recommend it to my fellow Christians, although it is not "a Christian book", it contains a lot of the spirit of what is best in our faith and speaks eloquently of the capacity for even the most calloused heart to change. For those who find the idea of Dickens daunting, I would add that this is a short novelette or short story, that moves at a fair pace and does not contain a lot of the slower more ponderous passages contained in many Victorian novels (mainly there for the purpose of stretching them to the prescriptive length required for the customary three volume novels of the time).

My other reading material lately has included The Deaf Sentence by David Lodge, the campus novel moving into retirement, a clever and engaging novel, and some more titles from Persephone books. Persephone is a company I cannot praise enough or recommend enough: their books never disappoint. This time I borrowed Operation Heartbreak by Duff Cooper from my mother's bookshelves, another comparatively short novel but well written, Cooper has the power to make you care about his characters and he writes from a perspective of authority on the period - during which he was a minister in Winston Churchill's government. He is writing of his generation, the generation George Orwell (in his novel Coming Up for Air) feared would be forgotten, a generation whose lives had been sandwiched between two world wars. Although this has not (yet) happened, the first war left a huge scar on the generation who fought in it and Operation Heartbreak provided an angle on this that I had never seen before. Now I have moved onto The Closed Door by Dorothy Whipple - more on that anon.

Lastly the unexpected parcel... I won a competition! Just a prize draw one, but the prize is enormous, the biggest parcel of knitting related goodies you ever saw! I took a photo of it (I'll try to get the photo onto here in the morning, for now it's on flickr). I'm still getting over the shock! Anyhow that is quite sufficient for now, I always get long winded when I get onto books! Hopefully next time some thoughts on 1 &2 Samuel and the life of king David, my recent Bible reading.