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Hiding from Love
Sep. 11th, 2016 08:54 pmThis weekend I have been round the bay to Port Fairy for the annual book fair. I did not buy anything in the second-hand book sale. Was I ill? My mother shopped up big, though. Her best friend has just had a dual hip replacement and my mother is going to visit next week, so she bought a stack of books (total cost: $5) to take. Books browsed, we bought salad rolls at Port Fairy's excellent bakery and crossed the road to her friend Sue's plumbing and quilt shop to have lunch.
On the way back, we stopped at the Dennington Woolworths so I could get some stuff to make a cake. (Dennington is the City by the Sea's suburb. It's just the one suburb, but it's a start.) I have never been to the Dennington Woolworths before, and it is excellent. The fridge aisles have doors on them, which pleased me. I always think it's a waste of energy when they're open.
After that, we went out to the village where John's house is. We've had quite a lot of rain this week, flooding rain in some parts, and my mother wanted to see how high the river near the house is. Quite high, was the answer. Just touching the bottom of the bridge.
We had to drive past John's house on the way back. It's a long story, but short version: the step-daughter of John's son Simon is living in it until it can be sold. Simon offered it to her rent-free, as long as she mowed the lawn and maintained the garden. Which she's not doing, it turns out. The grass is long and straggly, and there are thistles growing in the border garden that took my mother years to establish. So that was upsetting for her.
Back home, I used my cake supplies to make a chocolate and ricotta brownie for Ben Next Door, to thank him for mowing our lawn during the week. Unasked! He's a nice kid.
This week's knitting. Here's a scenario: Imagine me, knitting away. Knit, knit, knit. I finish a round and click over the next number on what is apparently a kacha-kacha, although I only ever call it my row counter. I pause for a moment to admire what is now about a third of a sleeve, then think: I don't remember changing to bigger needles when I finished the band. Gripped with icy dread, I scrabble in my knitting bag and dig out, lo!, the bigger needles. In other words, ( the sleeve has gone backwards )
On the way back, we stopped at the Dennington Woolworths so I could get some stuff to make a cake. (Dennington is the City by the Sea's suburb. It's just the one suburb, but it's a start.) I have never been to the Dennington Woolworths before, and it is excellent. The fridge aisles have doors on them, which pleased me. I always think it's a waste of energy when they're open.
After that, we went out to the village where John's house is. We've had quite a lot of rain this week, flooding rain in some parts, and my mother wanted to see how high the river near the house is. Quite high, was the answer. Just touching the bottom of the bridge.
We had to drive past John's house on the way back. It's a long story, but short version: the step-daughter of John's son Simon is living in it until it can be sold. Simon offered it to her rent-free, as long as she mowed the lawn and maintained the garden. Which she's not doing, it turns out. The grass is long and straggly, and there are thistles growing in the border garden that took my mother years to establish. So that was upsetting for her.
Back home, I used my cake supplies to make a chocolate and ricotta brownie for Ben Next Door, to thank him for mowing our lawn during the week. Unasked! He's a nice kid.
This week's knitting. Here's a scenario: Imagine me, knitting away. Knit, knit, knit. I finish a round and click over the next number on what is apparently a kacha-kacha, although I only ever call it my row counter. I pause for a moment to admire what is now about a third of a sleeve, then think: I don't remember changing to bigger needles when I finished the band. Gripped with icy dread, I scrabble in my knitting bag and dig out, lo!, the bigger needles. In other words, ( the sleeve has gone backwards )