I had to get this one out fast

Because I have knitting to get back to

Welcome to my head - a round up of what I have been thinking about, reading and eating.

Thinking

I have entered my granny era and I am now tethered by a ball of wool to a comfortable armchair. This is not a bad thing.

The rumblings of the granny era began when I went to visit my father in South Africa (something most grandmothers don’t get to do). Knowing that I would have little to do other than keep my (often sleeping) father company I decided to learn to crochet. It sounded like a very good sedentary activity and I am a little bit in love with Elise Myers (again, not a thing many grandmothers say). Elise is internet famous for her very funny videos and she had recently made a video on how to crochet for absolute beginners. At least that is how she sold it; turns out that I am many steps behind an absolute beginner and my attempts at crochet gave everyone at my dad’s retirement home much cause for laughter

A friend of mine was also in South Africa visiting her elderly mother (a very common trip in my circle) and she was knitting squares to make a blanket. Even though we were in different cities she reminded me that  I sort of know how to knit so I decided I also need to make a blanket - I mean who doesn’t have that thought at the beginning of Summer?

Last week, both of us back in Sydney, I went to her house with a bagful of wool and a selection of needles and, let’s just say if I didn’t need to see my family I would still be there, needles clicking and wool flowing. I had forgotten how comforting knitting feels, how the repetitive motion is so calming it’s almost meditative, how watching something appear from nothing is so satisfying.  Now I just want to knit all the time, making squares appear like a magician makes scarves appear from a hat but slower and with more clickety click sounds.

I don’t know why I associate knitting with grandmothering because that’s an old trope I should be looking to flatten. But I did have another experience  this week that made me think I have a lot to look forward to, if I should ever become a grandmother.

My niece was unable to take her daughter, who happens to be the cutest most delightful human on earth, to ballet. She is three and I use the term ballet quite loosely because, well she is three. But I can safely say that the morning spent with her was one of the more affirming things that I have done lately. It is hard to express how much joy this little girl opens up in me. Spending time with a toddler when you aren’t their parent allows you to be fully present, it is so different from parenting because it brings all of the delight with none of the responsibility. It’s all the highs with none of the lows, it’s the opportunity to reflect on how captivating innocent kids can be, it’s the chance to fully devote yourself to the most incredible of miracles without having to worry if they are going to sleep that night, or eat their vegetables or have to deal with social media when they grow up.

Right now she is the one of the only things I would put my knitting down for

Reading

I love Graham Norton, and I say this without ever having watched a full episode of his talk show, maybe that’s because I am not that interested in celebrity and I never recognise anyone on his couch. But I think I prefer his writing to his talking because his writing is sublime and lyrical and deep and resonant. And of course he’s Irish and I am yet to find an Irish storyteller who I don’t love.

Frankie is the story of an Irish woman as told in her dotage to Damien, a carer who spends nights taking care of her/listening to her story. Frankie tells Damien about the sorrows of  her childhood and her early years and how she leaves Ireland and her past behind her - desperately trying to find her place in the centre of her own story.

But it covers more than just a timeline of someone’s life, it examines faith and culture, friendships and their intricacies and quirks, it covers the New York art community of late 60’s/early 70’s and the tragic rise of HIV. It is very Irish in its telling in that the characters have been fashioned by a rich Irish history that affects the way the they feel and see things.

I remain a loyal and devoted Graham Norton fan without ever watching him on TV.

Eating

On Saturday night we went out for dinner and I was reminded of how much I hate truffle. We ordered some delicious sourdough bread to start and I immediately smothered mine in butter because that’s how I approach bread. It was truffle butter.

I couldn’t eat it.  I basically sacrificed my bread, and that is not something I am known to do.

But I did make up for it by eating this steamed custard egg sandwich on Shokupan bread at PunPun in Darlinghurst. Actually too rich, I think the words steamed custard egg gives it away, for me to finish but I certainly tried.   

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Look at that - we got to the end and I didn’t mention Trump once. Oops….

See you next week

Lana