22 January 2013

another messy tuesday

I am in what has become known as the knitting room.  Not that much knitting goes on in here because I seldom knit, but when my niece visits she charmingly asks to go up to the knitting room because there is always business going on in here.  Today, as on many other days, it is a mess.  The mantelpiece is the tidiest spot.  The table where I am sitting is a shambles with books, envelopes, diaries, two - one for what is coming and one for what has been and gone, books, fabric, yarn, mending, receipts.  The bed, for there is a bed in the knitting room for those occasions when a secret nap is needed, harbours more flotsam - blankets, a scarf, a skirt to be upcycled, scraps of faux fur.  On the sewing machine, more scraps, a broken lamp (it fell onto the floor yesterday!) and, somewhat oddly, a large carton of mixed spice next to the scissors and pins.  The only point of comfort is the fireplace where some orange fairy lights twinkle and fool us - for I include the cats who often join me here - into thinking that there is a real fire.  It is a remarkably effective trick.

The reason for this messier-than-usual mayhem is that there has been rather too much gallivanting.  Norwich, and later Cambridge by train; longish local walks to reclaim well worn routes through old stamping grounds; a new sewing class; a trip to the Southbank to hear the T S Elliot Poetry Prize nominees reading from their work; glee-filled hours snatched with WI buddies; rather too many visits to cafes.  Riches recorded only fleetingly, all part of the doing a bit more resolution.  No wonder each room in the house is littered with discarded scarves, hats and bags for bringing home booty and a scattering of blankets for staying warm.

Tucked away in my head, more small pleasures.  Kathleen Jamie's no-nonsense walk to the lectern, launching straight into a poem from The Overhaul, knocking the hail-fellow-well-mettery of the men into place, and the breathtaking finale of Sharon Olds reading from Stag's Leap; an Eccentric Flint, just one of many beautiful pieces at the stunning Sainsbury Centre for Visual Arts; buying a Sooty glove puppet for one besotted fan's birthday in a proper toyshop.  And at home, the too-short reflected light from a day's snow before the streets and pavements turned to ice and grey slush.

Bathroom window, Sunday
Now that the sun has gone down, all is quiet in the knitting room apart from the occasional drip of snow melting from the roof and the snore of a faintly disgruntled cat.  Thankfully the muted light makes it look just a little less chaotic.

If I get my metaphorical skates on I'll be in time to buy a zip and some raisins before the shops close.


Joanna said...

I love the sound of your knitting room and am rather envious of your poetry outing. Inspired by one of your previous posts I have ordered Sightlines but have not yet explored Jamie's poetry - clearly a treat awaits.

Knit Nurse said...

Ah, Sharon Olds. I dug out my copy of her collection The Sign of Saturn a couple of days ago on hearing of her recent win. It's been too long since I read her poetry, but I discovered that particular collection still wakes strange and conflicting emotions in me. I'm so glad I didn't send my poetry books to the charity shop in the big clear out.

As for doing more, sometimes it's important just to forget the orderly way of living life, and to concentrate on the bits that make it fun.

colleen said...

Joanna - So pleased that you have invested in Sightlines. I am sure it will suit you and you'll be able to work through it in small bites.

KN - I rather like the idea of "the orderly way of living life". I wish I knew what it was - if only to diverge from it! I'd never read Sharon Olds, and still haven't, but her reading of her poetry was totally mesmeric. It was the last reading and yet she totally commanded the audience with her gentle cadence and deep, dark words.

Liz said...

Is there such a thing as too much gallivanting? My dad, though fastidious himself in everything domestic, used to say to me "Why worry about not sorting the mess? It'll still be there for you tomorrow".

Annie Cholewa said...

I like the sound of your knitting room. And that's a proper crafter's shopping list, a zip and raisins. My list is getting long as I haven't been able to get to the shops but includes wood varnish, a new darning needle and lemons (for lemon curd when I feel up to the task). Thank you so much for the get well wishes, very much appreciated :D

SmitoniusAndSonata said...

I wish my mess looked like yours . Mine just looks messy ....

Catherine said...

Gallivanting sounds fun! I think we all need more of that.
Most of my days are messy, and having rediscovered by blog recently, far too much time is now spent reading about other people's lives and not actually getting on with mine.
Oh no,the dreaded word verification - here goes.