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liquoricebonbon

Driven distracted by my life… endless cleaning and cat looking after and no work I decided to dye up a 100g ball of sock yarn |I had in hand. I used this packet of sweeties from Candersons a traditional sweet shop in Leith as my colour inspiration.  I did it without a warping board so the yarn was draped around my garden to get the right length. It was a really long repeat about 12 metres. Then I dyed it on my table. I’m pretty sure my maths was out on Sunday evening (tiredness) so the yarn is with a crafter from my craft group who is a demon sock knitter so hoping to see how it knits up soon.

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Titles St Marks – Venice

Yesterday I had brunch with a friend. She complained about getting ‘young person’s’ mixed up in her team. She said ‘They all look they same weird eyebrows up here, fake eyelashes and a bland face without a mark of experience on them’. Meetings she reports have the oldies heave with world weariness of painfully acquired experience of the word.While the youngies look as if they are coming from another planet. As an embattled feminist of about 43 years  I feel her pain. I sit scrolling through twitter either rolling my eyes in the total incredulity of young feminists (that’s if they will even accept the term) moving onto total rage when they cheerfully spend time colluding and encouraging their own oppression and erasure. Well me dear I’ve had enough. I’m a woman who knows stuff. And I’m pissed of being the one who is supposed to shut up about it. I confessed to friend I’m planning on becoming ‘redoubtable’ with a steel tipped umbrella. I threw a tantrum and Christmas when I didn’t get a gun licence. My granny had a gun (she was a spy) she was very redoubtable. She would have eaten the feeble young for breakfast. 

In the evening I decided to go to Portobello and walk by the sea and knit on the grounds we may never have another nice evening this summer. Waiting for the bus to come home. Some youths appeared to hang about at the bus stop. One started sparking  flint sending sparks all over his companions. Eventually I pointed out that that the artificial fibres they were mostly wearing would melt onto their skin necessitating a visit to A&E. This did not do down well with Master Flint. So I said I didn’t care as I would not be visiting A&E. He moved away as his bus came to another stop.  Then one of the ones left at my stop thanked me saying they didn’t know that about the fibres melting. So perhaps there is some hope?