Inheritance, Crochet, Knitting and Bulbs

Hello,
This is one of these rambling blog posts about little of any real importance to those of you in the non-Clairwil community but may it comfort you to know rambling pleases me.

Obviously a proper writer would find some way to link their personal situation to Gordon Brown or some other drain on the nations joy. It's bloody typical of me to become quite upbeat when everyone else is walking around with their faces tripping them because blighty has gone to the dogs.

I suspect it's the thrill of the new that's put a spring in my step. Recently I met a Lady as in a member of the aristocracy. I thought she was top form and not at all snooty -though very, very posh indeed. Obviously I felt like a bit of a midden in comparison and experienced several cold sweats about doing something non-u with an imaginary serviette. Still when all is said and done I do not believe my conduct besmirched the reputation of the lower middle classes. No doubt a huge parade of casual racism and curtain twitching will be held in my honour when the sixties semi set get wind of it.

I'm actually feeling rather aristocratic myself following mother's announcement that my granny's books are to be disposed of . Mind you, unlike the real aristocrats I don't even have the option of involving the Scottish National Trust

My inheritance snatched from me by an unfeeling feng-shui practitioner. Instead of expressing my true feelings on the subject I have opted for damage limitation. To date I think I have saved the poetry, The Book of Snobs , Three Men In a Boat and a P.G Wodehouse that I believe is in the collection but no one else does. I have also petitioned for the sale of the rest since their presence is such an affront. I cannot bear to see those damp smelling, dusty hardbacks binned.

They aren't just objects or clutter they are the library of a clever, curious woman forced to leave school at thirteen because of a lack of money, who rather than just whine about the injustice chose to combine rage with lifelong self -education. I think there is a lot to admire in that, however difficult and bitter she was on a personal level. Who can blame her? Virtually all her siblings won scholarships and went on to better things while she became a servant. You'd think Mummy would be delighted with such a legacy but no. On she trundles in her quest to leave nothing but a crap pebble-dashed semi.

Recently I've taken up yon knitting which I'm finding restful and tricky in equal measure. I cannot move for tripping over knitting needles holding the beginnings of bears, snoods, cats, balls and caterpillars. Sadly despite my best efforts crochet eludes me. For now.

My gardening, fund raising and bulb planting mission continues and whilst I think we shall fall short of the big target having been very badly let down here and there, both I and my partner in gardening crime have exceeded our targets and between us brought in a cool 7000 bulbs. All donations are gratefully received but we were particularly impressed by the good folk of the North Kelvin Meadow pitching in with £50 and priceless free labour with yesterdays planting. This donation was particularly touching because the city council are in the process of removing them from the land to sell the land to folk who will build a block of flats that are neither wanted or desirable in that area. Depressing stuff.

Strangely the council think my troop of guerrillas are just the ticket and have offered us all sorts of much needed help. Better still we're more or less a constituted group which means we can apply for funding. My aim has always been for the group to become a full time occupation -let's face it there's plenty neglected land that needs our attention. However I'd like us to at least generate most of our own income and just top up with grants and the like. Between us all we've a million plans and hopefully we're at a point where they might just be possible. All in all I'm happy.


Cheerio

Save The Adipose, Behead The Bean Counters

Hello,
I note that the BBC are harassing knitters now. God it's such a bothering channel! Say what you like about ITV but it isn't always trying to get us to behave. Why won't the BBC leave us alone? If it's not Blue Peter annoying us about bloody 'Bring and Buy', they're bothering us with Children in Need. Why can't Blue Peter just call bring and buy sales jumble sales like normal folk anyway? It's the classic hallmark of a botherer that -trying to turn life's little pleasures into something worthy. I remember they once featured an ex-employer of mine on Watchdog, our life wasn't worth living for weeks afterwards. I don't want to go into detail -suffice to say I got my head nipped by angry pensioners with anti-Scottish conspiracy theories. Awful.

To walk towards the vaguest direction of the point, a fan of both knitting and Doctor Who has knitted some very sweet little 'adipose' toys. Apparently the adipose are some sort of villains though as I gaze into their mother me eyes I find this impossible to believe. I expect they're just misunderstood. Whatever the moral character of the little sweeties, knitted versions make the BBC very cross, very cross indeed.

It's the usual old rot about copyright. What in God's name do we pay a licence fee for? We own all that stuff. As far as I'm concerned anything BBC produced is fair game whether it's knitted, boiled or painted. It's the effrontery that gets me. I'll bet the maniacs, and there is no other word for them, behind this decision have been at home boring their wives senseless about this 'threat' for days now. It's simply appalling. If we tolerate this crochet will be next.

Nevertheless I am a reasonable person, if the BBC don't want us to copy their stuff then they should stop showing it to all and sundry and scrap the licence fee.

Cheers