I do hope you’ve had a jolly round of festivities so far. Things have been pretty peaceful here – a little socialising, a fair bit of eating, some baking, wrapping, and generally loafing around, playing with presents. Just look at that old railway lamp! The very thing for signalling the trains in, and keeping your hands warm on a cold wintery night. I’m tempted to take it with me on my commute to work one day, see if I can figure out how to make the train arrive a little faster.
I’m off into hospital tomorrow, and am anticipating a fair few hours of sitting around twiddling my thumbs and waiting for people to turn up and things to happen. Fortunately I got a fair few books for Christmas, and I’ve managed to control myself and haven’t quite read two of them so far, so still plenty to keep me occupied.
I haven’t made any more knitted robins (I think I said I ran out of brown wool), but I have experimented with a red robin, a blue tit (both largely unrecognisable) and a blackbird (difficult to get wrong). Maybe I’ll knit my way through the garden birds book while I’m recouperating.
Ooh! Before I go, I don’t think I ever showed you my bead curtain! This was born out of a conversation that went something like:
Me: ‘we’ve got too many of these strings of beads. I don’t know what we’ll do with them all. Maybe we shouldn’t acquire any more.’
Peter: ‘we don’t have too many! We’re just not doing the right things with them. Here’s some wood and a staple gun. You can make a bead curtain.’
Two hours and lots of swearing later, and here’s our entirely unnecessary and not-really-very-festive bead curtain. At the minute it’s between the living room and the kitchen, and has an alarming tendency to get tangled up at the bottom and pull you to a rather swift halt, usually when carrying several cups of tea, or the hoover.
I’m not sure it’s going to last long, although I’m already picking up the habit of looking down to check it’s untangled before I walk through, a sure sign in this house that I’m used to it already, and it’ll probably be years before we take it down.
Anyway, I’ve got a cheery pictures of a sunny boxing day walk we went on to show you, so I may pop back in the morning. If not, I’ll see you on the other side of my hospital visit, feet up, grapes in hand, probably with lots of photographs of my living room.