venice16 436venice16 437venice16 438venice16 439venice16 440venice16 441venice16 443venice16 435


venice16 069

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?


Well hello! A chat with a dear friend this week made me think about whether it was time I was ‘playing in my own playground’. I confess I’ve been a lot in Facebuik (sadly tethered to it was my beloved craft group organises via it) twitter @fatblackcatspaw where I get driven mad with distraction about politics (particularly local politics- I now know FAR too much about what is happening locally) and much more joyfully but addictively instagram also @fatblackcatspaw.  The problem is that you become a consumer of posts or reactive instead of standing in your playground playing. So as a huge enormous weight has shifted off me a few hours ago. Another annoying irritating local political shenneigans has finished its first consultation round. I’ve said my piece I can now think about other things.

I dyed these balls of yarn while I was ill in the last few weeks. They came to me via a craft group destash. Japanese yarn in slightly shaded green and pink and I over dyed them. I’m trying to wean myself off acrylic partly all the publicity about plastic me thinking about where our stuff goes and also the influence of two podcasters Knitbritish and Mrs M’s Curiosity Cabinet. 

The result has been that I’ve been making do and using up my stash. Not even buying from charity shops! I have had quite a few donations but even so I’m slowly making my way through it. I find that I have more than I thought in the under stair cupboard.

In other news the Fat Black Cat herself is sadly not so fat, has kidney disease and thyroid cancer so we sit together trying to give each other comfort. She may be furry but she holds my heart between her paws.


Standing infront of a Fringe hoarding tonight in Edinburgh with a friend guesticulating rudely at the sight of 3 male comics advertised infront of us. Where are the women? And frankly Edinburgh’s pretty well over the comics too. ( You can tell the festival is coming a sleugh of London types are starting to follow me on twitter.)

Leith is full of young men cycling on pavements. They are drug couriers – a friend of mine yells after them ‘Ya mammy no let you on the road’ to try and embarrass them. Leith Polis in the style of getting Al Capone via tax – make the wee buggers bloody walk.

I’ve spent 24 hours trying to get the Fat Black Cat to pee into a litter tray to get a sample for the vet – she is most affronted and plotting to phone Catline.

I went on holiday to Galway and hurrah! the last vestiges of the desire to achieve have left and spent it pottering around quietly mostly in this awesome bookshop.

While I was having lunch at Ard Bia the owner came up and showed me a photo of a lady with a crocheted shawl and asked if I could make one (I was crocheting a shawl for the person I was going on to stay with) which lead me to look at photos of shawls on the Arran Islands.  I’m definately going to rock the shawl, scarf, black dress and sensible shoe look this year.