Oh well. It was just a run down of how quiet Christmas had been (other than the last verse of Hark the Herald, which achieved an impromptu 4 part harmony at midnight mass - and was particularly impressive given that it was nearly 1 am at that point. The vicar likes to chant, which is why it took a congregation of 70 about as long as it takes a congregation of 200 for mass).

There has been some rather nice presents, some sploshing round getting lost running near my parents' (note to self, do not allow Dad near muddy trainers if you don't want them to be, literally, dripping wet by the time he's done), a trip out to see Dad's canal works on Boxing Day, and not enough knitting. In fact, there has not been any knitting.

I did try knitting today. It hurt. So I'm still sewing. And frustrated by it. I do have some rather nice quilting to do, and I'm finishing off Em's cross stitch sampler. I sewed and mended while at my parents' too, and, all in all, the sewing basket is looking remarkably healthy. But Oh! I want to KNIT! And it just hurts.

And, on that note, I'm going to go and order an inflatable TARDIS for a guiding event. As you do.

xxx

This is what happens when you have an altercation with a baked bean tin (stupid office tin opener that did not work is now in the landfill), think to yourself that you must be careful, and then lacerate your thumb to the tune of seven steristrips in A&E and almost fainting. I've got another 3 days and then I can take them off and really inspect the damage. It's right over the tip of my thumb, and down, and curvy (I've had a little look). And, because my thumb hasn't been washed in a week, it's a little stinky.

So we went off to Iceland, and saw the Northern Lights (yes, you can just see them on the right hand side of that black picture, if you look closely. Mostly, I decided to look at them rather than try to photograph them), and fainted at the price of food, and walked across a frozen lake, and visited some museums and went up to the top of the church tower, and decided, basically, that it's a pretty cool place. We'll hopefully go back in the summer and visit the lagoons. And not try and go away on a Friday, because, as per usual, there was the usual panic that always seems to happen when I go away - this would be the parents not bothering to pick up the messages regarding the fact that I wasn't there, and PHONING while I was away. Having been told in three different ways (letter, email, text) that I was away. It rather took the edge off the holiday. This is why I dislike being away on a Friday night. Something always happens.

It was a lovely break. Plus, three days away meant that the poor thumb had a chance to heal without having to deal with day to day life. It was a little interesting washing my hair, I'll give you that, but I had help, so that was fine. I've now managed to work out how to get the rubber glove more-or-less sealed while hair washing. More or less. I did like all the lights in the windows: they were so pretty and bright and cheerful, which is necessary in a place with a scant four hours of daylight in the depths of winter. I rather wish I had a functional windowsill for one of these:

The flat is now partly reorganised - the knitting stash, and the sewing stash, have moved into the spare room. It's also functioning as a drying room, which means that the sitting room isn't so damp, and that there aren't drying racks occupying half the floor for most of the week. This is the first time since leaving home to go to university that my living space has not been occupied by drying racks. Even at university, I never quite managed to get everything dry in the laundrette, so there was always something hanging up. My peak flow seems to have stabilised in the last week as a result of this reduced dampness. Much happiness. As long as I don't have a bath. That seems to dampen things somewhat. Ho ho.

I had coffee with L & K this evening, which was lovely and peaceful, and we put the world to rights, wondered about how people design the covers of the books they publish, concluded that certain publishers have no artistic clue, and then headed home. I went via Charing Cross Road. For once, the very first book shop I entered had precisely the books I was considering buying - the second two volumes (and not the first) of Pat Barker's Regeneration Trilogy. The first and last of the Trilogy are in the 1001 books you must read before you die list (I'm about 1/3 of the way through that. Proust counts as one book. As does A Dance to the Music of Time...). I bought Regeneration in September, and it's stay up late reading brilliant. It's not often that the books that are for sale in the secondhand bookshop are the ones you are looking for - usually, I end up going in and out of several shops without joy but with distraction. This time, though, I was very lucky. They cost £5 for both (and, considering that new they're £8.99 each, I am very pleased).

xxx

Oh yeah. On holiday. Then at Towersey (we made Zombies), then, rather coming down from the whole entire "oooh, I seem to have been away for much of August" and thus fed up, back at work, failing to really sleep properly for a couple of nights (on what planet is it easier to sleep on a leaking air mattress in a tent while the rain falls and the wind blows, but far harder to sleep in a bed with sheets, blankets, pillows, and windows that don't rattle?).

And then it's the weekend, and the football season. This means that N is off at football, and I am faffing about (score is currently 1-all, and they are playing Norwich. I shall be astounded if Norwich actually win. Fond as I am of my old stomping ground, I'm not sure football is its strongest point). I am definitely faffing. I am on the verge of cutting out a clothkits skirt, but I thought that, maybe, I could check in here first.

I achieved uploading some photos. My holiday snaps are up in the appropriately named album "We've gone on Holiday By Mistake". For some odd reason, they are in No Particular order, so you'll just have to guess if you're outside Uncle Monty's Cottage, Chatsworth or the bizarre little mill museum we detoured round on the way back from Derbyshire. Oooh. Point. I didn't say where we were going. We spent two days near Penrith, looking at Withnail & I locations (go and watch that film if you haven't seen it. Not an awful lot happens, but it's done beautifully). Then we bounced up to Fort William, and climbed Ben Nevis. My asthma behaved, there was mist but it was blowy rather than damp and in one place, and I was no longer recovering from bronchitis well over a month earlier, so I didn't have any repeat of the issues that marred our trip to Wales last year. I have now climbed the three tallest peaks in the UK. N & I will go back to do Scafell Pike next year, as he's not done that one (and I'd rather like to climb both it, and Snowdon, without The Welshman. I am now of the opinion that The Welshman was charming, but treated me fairly appallingly in an intermittent manner over the space of 18 months, and I have unfriended him on Facebook. I note that we have approximately 30 friends in common. The vast majority of them are MINE). So. Anyhow. We climbed Ben Nevis, we went past Glencoe, and recalled Adrian Mole's trip there, and how he met Hamish, and the otter stone that he bought for Pandora, and then we came back via Derbyshire, simply so I could visit Chatsworth rather than drive past it yet again.  Oh. On the way down we bounced round New Lanark, but didn't spend long there. Well. Long enough to buy yarn for a sweater for N.

Chatsworth was glorious. Apart from the bit where I whacked my head on a sculpture of a horse, which was rather hard, nearly had me in tears and I swear has knocked out some brain cells. I keep muddling my words more than normal, and coming out with complete garbage. I am pretty sure that neuroplasticity will sort this out in due course, once everything's had a chance to pull itself back together and create some new pathways. We stayed at Chatsworth from opening time to closing time, didn't manage to see all of it, and could happily have spent a second day there (there's a behind the scenes tour that you have to book online, which would have been super to go on). 

Most of my photos are from Richard Arkwright's Masson Mills. Ridiculously cheap to enter, you can just poke about the place to your heart's content. We tried on gas masks (what were they doing there?) resisted taking home tuffs of cotton for spinning, poked at machinery, prodded, spun bobbins about, touched absolutely EVERYTHING we could. Because there was no-one standing about, no CCTV. Just stuff. I like museums that are Just Stuff.

And then we were home. And there was a spot of work, and then there was Towersey, with dancing, and felt zombies, and some extremely good tomatoes (Purple Calabash), and beading, and I learned how to make shambala bracelets from Fiona, and I have PLANS involving Christmas and such things, and yes, it was far nicer than last year. Being able to stand up in the tent for the first time since about 1998 was also rather fabulous. Yes. That's the last time I went to Towersey with someone who had a large tent. And it was a much smaller festival then. Honestly. It's grown massively since then. Still has its charm, though. Just with more things to do.

So, that brings us to Tuesday. Then there was work, then there was morris dancing, then one of the morris dancers has lung cancer with secondary brain tumours (but is going to plough on with RT etc), and two other friends have tumours (one melanoma, one brain - but that one might be benign), and then there was much working late, and the weekend happened. And here I am.

Weird. Actually sitting on the bed and writing a blog. I ought to be doing something useful about Brownie sixes, but given that half the parents haven't confirmed that their little darlings are going to show up, I'm not going to. I do need some inspiration about what to do with them on Friday night, though. First week back, we can't plunge into First Aid without giving people some warning. I need a nice craft for them, and some games. Dr Google may come to my aid after N's gone to see whatever horror film is on at the Prince of Wales Theatre tonight (it starts at 11.30pm, I have no interest in going - I'm not a horror film sort of person). Oh yes. Videodrome.

Tomorrow we have a 10km race, part of the kilomathon (26.2km race) training that we're doing. Yes. A kilomathon. I needed a challenge, and the half marathons are at difficult times. So why not simply run further. No I'm not entirely sure what came over me either. 

So. A list.

• laundry
• Henry Smith Charity Report
• Brownies Sixes
• Knit hat for H 
• Knit Hug for C
• Knit Baby Shawl for J
• Make skirt
• Tidy bedroom a bit more
• Put stuff away from Towersey
• Consider looking at Commissioner Resource Pack
• Pack up F's baby restrainer to mail
• Work out craft for Brownies on Friday. Make example.
• Put CDs onto iPod

Ye Gods. One of my friend's daughters now has her own twitter feed... and that's just totally derailed me. I think I should just get on with things now. Really.

The wonderful @GwenStyles puts it so well, that I have to repeat this. Because, it doesn't just apply to sixteen year olds. It applies to all of us.

And someone sprayed me with aftershave. In fairness, they were aiming for themselves, but they didn't think that the wind might blow it past them. It's a good thing I wear glasses. And that I'm not madly allergic to such things. The smell has sort of worn off now. Ish.

I had a detour into the centre of London, which meant dodging buses, confused tourists, various eejits who don't bother to look both ways before crossing a road, and Games Lanes (which are not open to bicycles). I am rather hot and sticky. Not as hot and sticky as I was yesterday when I arrived at the Prom (Elgar, Wood, Ravel and Debussy, all wonderful except the Wood which was like a cross between An American in Paris and two cats dancing on a piano with a toddler), but still quite hot and sticky. I'm not looking forward to the commute come next week. I can't remember exactly what the Games Lanes are doing over Waterloo Bridge, but I'm prepared to bet that it won't be pretty, since the modus operandi appears to be "add Games Lane, remove bus lane, cars avoid former bus lane and Games Lane and all hell breaks loose". It is also very evident that if the road is not part of a Games Lane, then there's been no budget to repair it since about 2008, and the pot holes are ghastly.

I'm off camping tonight until Monday. With a batch of Guides that I don't know (and a small handful that I do know), and a collection of embroidery threads. I need to go down to the 99p shop to hunt down glowsticks, and then perform the traditional extreme-shower-and-hairwash, so that I do at least start the next three nights clean-ish. I'll be relying on babywipes until Monday. I'm very much looking forward to camp - Em's memorial has been started on site, and I want to take pictures. It'll also be nice to escape some of the Olympic madness (but I should get to see @frogspawn21 on the telly in the opening ceremony regardless: although I'm pretty sure that there' s not going to be any morris dancers. I'd have heard about it, regardless of this, simply because 'so and so' would have been advising. We've been asked to dance in the Limpet Village, and may make it for the Paralympics...) I'll miss N like stink. 

Ceremonials continuing, I did go to see the torch. 'cos. It was at the end of the street, and it would have been churlish not to. It involved getting up Very Early Indeed. Then I went for a run.

xxx

I am actually at the point, this weekend, where the boring part of the list is done (or needing some further information) and, therefore, I can now enjoy myself and knit whatever I fancy, or sew something, or leaf through various magazines (Mum keeps marking bridal things in Hello), and eat a lovely dinner with N, and watch a film.

I have no idea how this happened. I am even packed and ready for camp next weekend (other than the lack of blanket being packed), and I have made N's travelcard holder from an old Cheetos packet and some oilcloth. I am Astounded.

Right. Now is the moment to work out how supper needs to be cooked (instant boeuf bourginon from Morrison's with mashed potato), cook and eat it, possibly with wine, and then wind up some yarn for my next yarny adventures.

xxx

Probably because I'll get myself in trouble with Girlguiding UK. Which is a pity, but there we go. I am Lying Low at the moment. Well. Apart from the polite, and short, email I just sent pointing out how disappointed I was with the 'standard' reply I'd had to the previous email, but that, really, I did need an answer to at least one of the questions that had been ignored.

I've got tea now. And Radio 2 is playing Thoroughly Modern Millie. And my waterproofs are being re-waterproofed, and making such a nice comforting noise in the washing machine. I have plans to make two of these when C's been round to show D & I her Queen's Guide Award Community Action findings off. The Brownie accounts are done (first draft) for 2011-2012, and there is £13.22 in the tin ready for next term (and more in the bank. Much more. Worry not). I may well tidy up my personal dry laundry, shove Jo's in her room, and then knit until C arrives. You know. Once the table is tidy and I've located my shoes.

I did come here to produce a list, in order to get my brain into some sort of order. The week's worth of Guiding Furore (worthwhile, but, oh, exhausting), has left me unable to think slightly straight. Plus, N's doing this all day (yes, he has entered the 6 hour race), which also gives me the space to write something: I just can't quite blog easily when he's in the flat. Odd. What with all the rushing about last weekend, learning to spindle spin, going to a baby shower, and not going to Plymouth to collect N from doing this (he and his friends dropped out when the campsite disappeared in a sea of mud more usually found at Glastonbury: it wasn't so much the conditions for riding as the quantity of mud involved in going back and forth to the tents...), I didn't really have time to do anything last weekend. So.

• Go through Div C paperwork delivered by other C. Deposit box in Garden Cupboard. Under data protection, do I need to keep, e.g., my own application to become a leader from 2003? So much paperwork that's entirely out of date... Awaiting response from County. The other stuff is either copies of the Rainbow/Brownie/Guide Programme from 3/4 years ago (so also out of date), or "useful information" which does, indeed, look useful. What to do with the Guiding Ambassador's badge?
• put laundry away, well that which was dry. Also Jo's laundry. That way the sitting room is free from drying racks. Rah.
• Put Brownie-min away, prep bag for Friday
• Test Chinese Lanterns for Monday, put matches into bag.
• Hard boil eggs for Monday You know what? It'll be way more fun with a raw egg....
• Finish the garter-stitch part of J's baby blanket. Cast on for Bannoffee's blanket.
• Make at least one baby-restrainer
• Do something useful about sending Olympic goodies to the three people who commented on my Xanga-versary post (from which I deduce that everyone is, actually, fairly fed up with the Olympics). Please could you direct message me your addresses, or say "Oh, Hebe, you HAVE it already"?
• Remember what else it is that I've forgotten...

xxx

I cannot wait for this term to be over. I'm hoping that the Div C job will calm down a little once we've all got used to having a Div C again, and once the fun of camp and holidays and end of term trips has concluded, and all the niggling jobs that have been hanging over since we previously had a functional Div C (about a year ago - she fell pregnant, and had an awful first trimester, and then her husband was ill, so, really, although she stopped in November, there wasn't much going on at all) are done, then it should be a little calmer, and more routine.

Bar panics about this, that, and the other. And about QGs. I really will be glad when the current batch have completed, as they are proving distinctly wearing at times. Reading emails on the subject late at night or early in the morning does not help matters. I must learn timing!

So, I've skipped morris, I'm propped up in bed, I've dealt with a couple of admin tasks, I've posted the last June photo-a-day pictures to flickr, and I'm about to knit and hopefully finish a pair of socks (K, I'm really not sure about these. If they prove uncomfortable, I'll knit something more conventional for you).

xxx

I've had this blog for 8 years today. So, happy blogiversary to me, and if you comment (shameless me), I'll pick out some nice piece of Jubilee or Olympic memorabilia (notice how I didn't say tat) and mail it to you...

In the meantime, have a picture from Trooping the Colour yesterday...Yes. I saw the Queen. I stopped taking pictures, and waved, and I'd swear she looked right at us and smiled a lovely happy beam.

(And no, I'm not posting from work. I put this onto auto-post, because I didn't want to miss the date).

xxx

June's, so far, are here.

My favourite? Richard Griffiths' autograph.

xxx