Some weeks can be rather frustrating. I have a drawer full of half written blog posts (that'll be a mental drawer) but no time to write. And if I say frustrating, it's relative. The week has been good, time for blogging has been short. I'm not moaning, just saying hello I'm still here but there may not be any sign of my mental posts becoming real ones because sometimes we juggle with too many balls.

At work, I've been to a few really exciting events which I'd like to blog about, but preparations for our big weekend trip down south plus lovely visitors in the evening who keep me company while hubby is away in Wales mean a certain postponement.

I've also been very busy putting together a photobook of Cubling's first year with Blurb, who kindly agreed to give me a voucher and another one to run as a competition on this blog. So watch this space for the competition and the review of Blurb - hopefully the book will arrive soon and I'll tell you all about the booksmart software Blurb uses and the results of the print. For now suffice to say that I spent much more time on it than I had intended, trying to make it a perfect book. I also spent more money on it than intended, simply because the first year book has to be the best it can be.

As to my charity book project, I've had a useful critical comment from a fellow knitter on ravelry, pointing out that people who would download an ebook on knitting are likely to be internet savvy and on ravelry, where you can get lots of free patterns. Also charity knitters usually are long standing knitters who use the same (simple) patterns again and again and are unlikely to buy such a book. Of course there may still be people who would buy such a book, still, time for a bit more thinking and market research. It's a lot of work, and I don't want it to be a failure.

Tomorrow we'll make our way to a wedding in the Cotswolds. That's a 350 mile car trip methinks, and the first time we'll do such a journey with Cubling. I'm rather apprehensive, especially as advice goes to try and get past Birmingham before lunch. How on earth we can make that I don't know. It's a long way to Birmingham and somehow I don't see Cubling sitting happily in her car seet for 4 hours non stop.

Not that I feel like weddings. Or like birthday celebrations. It's a strange tension of feelings which all boil down to the wrongness of things. We should be happy to celebrate Cubling's birthday or her grampa's special birthday or even mother's day. Yet all that I can see is the empty chair that isn't even there. The huge and impossible loss that feels so much more real on days of family celebrations. It also brings back how my mother is missing out by having left us too early, how much she had longed for a grandchild. When Cubling was finally there, she no longer was, and she would have loved her so much. This grief for her is no longer very present for me, the grief for what was withheld from her still lingers after all these years. Of course the kids are oblivious to all of this and enjoying themselves. This is good. It feels right among all the wrongness.

Still, I don't want to let the clouds take over. This week, I've been very happy for my friend J and her now officially healthy bump, and I'm counting the weeks until I'll be an auntie again (that'll be 20).

I find it difficult still to post regularly. I don’t have bloggers block, but struggle with the right angle. There are various crafty posts waiting to be written, and I will explore the interface of charity and knitting as my thoughts and ideas take shape in this area. My mind is taken up with other much more important things and the blog has taken a back seat. It’s not easy to write about everyday things or even about some recent discoveries of community activities/projects, fascinating as they may be, when all you think about is something entirely different. At present, I only scrape the surface of all the potentially exciting thoughts and projects I encounter, there is not enough depth or motivation to explore further and share here. So at some point I may talk about Transition Scotland, the Glasgow Commonwealth Games, Commonweath Orchards, update you on the Karibu sewing project etc. However, I currently recharge my batteries knitting and I have a few photographic projects lined up in my mind, and hopefully soon on my computer as well, I intend to share these while not making this a crafts blog (which it clearly is not).

 

Cubling is moving fast onto her second birthday and we still don’t have a baby photo album. This has to be remedied. So the next two weeks will see me trying to get together a nice photobook. I had hoped to have won a blurb voucher on Little Mummy's competition but wasn't lucky this time, however, I'm quite taken by her results so might even go for it even having to pay for it (hello blurb people, how about I review the result on this blog, will you send me a voucher, please???!!! See, I've even given you a link for free! Ah go on. Ah you will). I also have great film editing ideas but realistically no time at present. They won’t be forgotten though. Photography has always been a passion of mine, and so far the digital age had disappointed me. Having said that, I’ve not used my beloved SLR in some time, because hubby’s digital camera is quite a good one and so much lighter to carry, and I love having the photos on my computer instantly and being able to share them. Practicalities have taken over. Truth be told though, the quality even of his good digital camera is way off what I’m used to SLR-wise. So for a long time, I’ve wished for a digital SLR, waiting for prices to come down. I’ve saved and thanks to my dad's generous birthday and Christmas fund for his daughter, the time to buy one is now. Easier said than done, unfortunately the choice of digital SLRs is quite breathtaking  and to be honest, the last thing I want to spend time on is making sure I get just the right model.

 

So then, HELP! Does anyone have a clue to digital SLRs? Which one should I get, are there good websites which evaluate different models briefly (my intention is to spend as little time as possible reading up, so it needs to be brief)?

 

Dear readers, your thoughts, would be mightily appreciated, and you’ll end up having luvely piccies on this blog in the near future!

Hello there. Anyone left reading this blog? Not sure. Thanks for your comments and emails, really appreciated them.

Funny thing after a longish absence is how to start again. I know some people are keen to find out what actually happened - well, my approach is if you want to know, leave a comment with your email address or email me and I'll tell you. I'm happy to share but not with strangers. While most people who read this blog are people I know, this is the internet and I'm not sharing publicly anything that could infringe the privacy of my family or friends. I know other bloggers do, but I'm just a tad paranoid that way, which is also a reason I won't post photos of faces of my dearest.

One thing I would like to say though is that mummy, daddy and Cubling are fine and though we were plagued with flu, ear infections, chest infections and snotty noses since before Christmas, we are all almost in coughfree country. I had the strange acquaintance pulled chest muscles, brought on by coughing I believe. I was sure I must have broken a good few ribs - the pain was agonising and even two weeks later it's still with me, but GP was adamant it is nothing serious. At least it gives me an excuse to tell Cubling that, no, she can't go "hoch", she'll have to walk for once.

I suppose I also have a lot of blogging catchup to run through but still find it hard to actually write anything of interest, or anything even remotely humourous. I mean, I"ve got a backlog of photos and stuff, but can't seem to find the inclination or ability to put it into blogposts. So posts may stay infrequent for a while yet.

This Christmas time has been filled with lots of emotions. There were also some happy moments, some happy surprises - and emotional as I am, I cried tears of joy when my friend T told me she was pregnant and a facebook update broke the news of N & S's marriage (what a way to tell the world!). And even the pregnancies of some of the writers of my favourite blogs have touched me so congrats to You'll take an Eye out and doubly so to The Trial of Labor. And on top of those Christmas period good news, another 3 friends told me about their pregnancies well before Christmas.

I've started my new job and it's all working rather well for my work/life balance. While I can no longer pedal to work, the car journey takes me past the childminder and past any possible rush hour traffic, ending up with spare child free time during the week. Wow. Luxury. I can go shopping. I can go and get a hair cut. I may even be able to go jogging once the weather picks up. It's quite enjoyable finding out about my new job as well, and there's plenty of time for learning and exploring, all with lovely colleagues. So counting blessings is definitely on my agenda. Hope it's on yours as well!

There are boxes filled with handknitted baby hats piling up in our meeting room, awaiting to be sent to London and from there, on to international programmes across the world. In total, 600,000 handknitted baby hat have been received so far, 100,000 of these are filling a London basement because, frankly, there are more hats than can be reasonably distributed at this moment in time. I would estimate that there are at least 1000 hats in our meeting room, with more coming in each day.

The response to the "knit one save one" initiative, part of the child survival campaign of Save the Children, has been overwhelming. There are uncountable people out there who put their two needles and yarn together and started knitting. One small parish alone, in a small town northeast of Glasgow, collected 1,100 baby hats. The aim was for 50,000 hats, just to put things into perspective. There was no sense at the scale of support that this campaign would get, and yes, we were all more than a little bit awestruck by baby hats everywhere. The idea was: one person one hat one message to Gordon Brown. The reality is more like: one person twenty hats no message to Gordon Brown. People don't feel comfortable lobbying and writing to politicians, even if all it takes is one short message on a postcard. They do like to make things for the less fortunate ones in our world.

The problem with the quantity of hats is that it actually costs money to send them to the countries where they are needed. To reduce these costs there is a policy that they are to be taken in the luggage of workers posted out to international locations where they are needed. There are many more hats than luggage space at the moment, so I'm sure lots of hats will have been sent by post, and those that are surplus to requirements will continue to accumulate in offices for the moment. In panic we are shouting out - please no more hats! In delight the knitters ask, what can we do next?

Even if we currently have more hats than needed, are drowning in them and cracking jokes about the hats invasion, and the hidden costs that are ignored (like me picking up hats 20 miles away, a 90 mins return trip by car, our postage costs, the staff costs of sorting the hats and distributing them), the campaign more than anything achieved to engage people who may not have the means to donate money or the inclination to write letters to men in suits - which is of course what Save the Children really needs and asks for to make a lasting difference. Of course, baby hats alone don't save a child's life. Of course what we really need is free health care, free education, stable and uncorrupt governments, working democracy and fair trade so that child mortality can be tackled in serious. Yet my heart is touched at the enthusiasm of the knitters; the sheer number of people who are jumping at the opportunity to do make something that will physically connect with a child born in some other and less fortunate place. I know all too well how special it is to knit something with the person in mind it is for. It is a beautiful thing, a special connection, and not one to be taken lightly.

So the question of the knitters remains, what can we do next? I'm not sure but maybe Soulemama may come up with a few answers in the next few months. She's just started a project called Mama To Mama. For the moment, it's about mums sewing baby hats for mums in Haiti. I'm watching the Mama to Mama space with a sense of anticipation. I've experienced how much creative fervour there is and it would be great to create more opportunities, creative outlets, real connections.

I really shouldn't be blogging right now but rather use the last two precious hours to prepare for an interview.

I've been made to compete for a job with three colleagues, one of them in my small team and my line manager. It feels very wrong. All of my colleagues are worthy of the job, and so am I. I hate to compete. It makes me feel sick.

For weeks, I've had a sore tongue. Been told this is due to stress in most cases. This morning I woke up to a tongue full of blisters. I must have been biting my tongue in my sleep, in preparation for the interview. Biting my tongue so I won't shout about the wrongness of this all into the face of my interviewers. Biting my tongue to play along to this awful game and only say the things that I'm expected to say.

Ok, this is my second attempt at this post. I lost the first one due to computer crash and now it's late...
Anyway, while organising a parental support group for asylum seeking mums at a Glasgow church hall, we were asked not to arrange for a yoga exercise class. I was intrigued. Why is yoga banned from a church? As a Christian, this was news to me.

Well, the answer apparently goes something like that: Yoga isn't just a form of physical exercise, but postures and breathing are two arms of seven which form yoga philosophy which in turn is strongly linked to Hinduism. Hinduism is a pantheistic religion and the principle of yoga is to unite Man with the divine, and recognise the divine in one self and the objects around us. Christianity separates creator and creation and is monotheistic. So the two philosophies are incompatible and therefore yoga is not to be practised by Christians.

I guess the same principle would apply for the other two monotheistic religions, i.e. Judaism and Islam. Incidentally, the church has no problem with the fact that the parental support group is an all Muslim group (apart from my own self). But then again, the same God is worshipped so that shouldn't surprise.

Where I really wonder and question is the clear link in philosophy between yoga and the mystics such as Santa Teresa de Avila and San Juan de la Cruz. As far as I understand it, they sought to experience unity with God in their religious practice, and used techniques similar to meditation to achieve this. If the ambition to experience unity with the divine is incompatible with Christianity, surely they would have been heretics. While I know that many thought just that, in the end they were recognised for their contribution to the Catholic faith. So I'm at a slight loss why yoga should present such a danger to the Christian soul if really the mystics practised something very similar. I believe the same to be true for mystic movements in Judaism and Islam.

Enlighten me if you can.

Oh bliss. For the second time running, while in my sleepy hometown of Dormagen, there was a fleemarket. I just love rummaging through bizarre collections and buy useless stuff for close to nothing. My strange collection of prey was:
three knitting needles, three soft toys, one handknitted jumper for Cubling, a mouse sweater (for Cubling), two books (guess for whom). Granddad almost fainted, while I thought I'd been comparably good. The problem is of course, as usual, flipping Ryanair who only allow 15kg worth of check in luggage, no infant allowance thrown into the bundle. It's hard on the way out, harder on the way back because I do want to bring little pressies for family and colleagues. And of course with child, you get given stuff. Which is really lovely, if it weren't for the Ryanair induced weight allowance problem.

Apparently, fleemarkets will be a monthly occurence here. That's one good thing, even better that they take place in the centre of town, on the pedestrian area, and start at a decent time (11a.m.). Compare that to Glasgow markets - Sunday out near the city dump with a starting time of 8a.m.

Cubling loved it all, she has eyes that won't miss a snake, a banana, a cat or a dog. Rather funny because mummy spends half the time trying to find the snake/banana/cat/dog Cubling has spotted. I spy with my little eyes... She's winning at the moment. We also had great fund playing the "nein" game: taking out a book from granddad's bookcase gets her a "nein" from mummy, so let's play at taking out a book from granddad's bookcase, waiting for mummy's "nein", then repeating it in the same tone of voice, big grin, and putting book back. Repeat. Until mummy bursts out laughing. She usually does, can't help herself.
I hope she doesn't think books on granddad's bookcase are called "nein".
Somehow just somehow the purpose of stopping her from taking out books is ever so slightly defeated (scratches her head).

Well, at the airport, I was convinced that my backpack was considerably heavier than Cubling, and thus danger of a hefty charge loomed. However, it seems that I'm so used by now to carrying a toddler on my hip and so not used anymore to carrying a backpack that my fear was actually unfounded. And it didn't even burst. Phew.

Seems my ideas are all en vogue. Children in Scotland have issued a press release calling for the Scottish Government to include a nurture through nature agenda in the Early Years Framework. In fact, the conference that Children in Scotland ran and which I couldn't attend due to work commitments to me had looked pretty lacking in the early years area of promoting outside education. The press release clearly redresses the balance.

Along the same lines, an anti-bullying network conference looked at the implication of an over protective stance on bullying and our society's aversion to accept any form of risk. While we all want to protect our children, they argue that we are trying to ignore that life is a fatal disease ending in death, and in an attempt to cheat death and injury, we emprison our children in environments which are neither contributing to a healthy development nor a happy childhood.

Tim Gill, author of “No Fear – growing up in a risk-averse society” put it into a nice and short check:
When you were young where did you most like to play?
Was it outdoors?
Was it out of adult supervision?
Form me the answers are yes. That's because I'm over 25. Nowadays the answers is a definite no and that's where the problem lies.
In an attempt to keep children safe, we deny them the important opportunity to play outdoors and without adult supervision. So it's time to maybe reconsider if we do have the right balance.

The answer seems to be that we need safe opportunities for outdoor and unsupervised play, which forest kindergardens, among other things, can offer.

There's something not right if you go to an open air concert and you can't see the stage because some ingenious people had the most stupidest idea of bringing and using their brollies.
I mean, seriously, you guys live in Glasgow. It rains. Most of the time. Get used to it and get a hoody, but for goodness sake leave the brolly at home when you go and see Radiohead. It's just not cool gigging with a brolly in your hand. Honest.

Nevermind though, it was our first big long night out 15 months after B-day and I won't let brollies or indeed rain ruin a fab night. Radiohead were amazing as ever (even though I couldn't see a thing all night and ended up with a stiff neck for trying anyway) and Cubling had her own wee adventure, her first sleepover at the childminder. It went well and she managed without magic mummy milk just fine (does that mean she manipulates me? Probably. Ah well). She was just a bit confused not to find her pal at the breakfast table upon arrival (as she usually does in the morning) but thought it was real cool to spend the evening with N. In the morning though she was clearly chuffed to see us turn up.
She didn't quite sleep through but boy did I.

Today was a strange one. While I'm still getting used to the idea that I'm going to lose my job in six month's time (the first "permanent" post I've ever held, and the shortest stay in post at the same time) with some hope of continuing to be employed but the assurance that my actual work will no longer be there, it's hard to stay motivated. But then again, easier than expected. Thankfully, my job is varied, interesting, worthy and also extremely busy - no time to get moody. There is some attempt to keep up normality at work, and it helps that we're all in the same boat.

Then this morning, after dropping off Cubling to the childminder, I'm stopped by the police. Apparently the car's breaklight is acting up an indicator and flashes when going over humps. And humps there are many on that daily trip. Police issued ticket and checked that the car is all registered and insured, with me standing there like the puss in boots in my strange combination of cycling lycras and work clothes. Little wonder they were suspicious. Now I have to face the daunting prospect of showing them my dodgy driving license which is a) still in my maiden name and b) a European one, (I've always felt reluctant to exchange it for a UK one).

During the afternoon, driving back very tired from a day full of running activities, a young woman appears on the road amidst the queuing traffic. Zigzagging between cars, throwing herself onto the green strip, her dark red blood pouring out of her mouth. She comes to a rest beside my car and I fiddle for the electronic window opener, think better and get out. The guy in the car in front of me is already there, but further away. Another guy also out of his car, on his mobile to the police I assume. I walk up to the woman, notice stripes of dirt on her clothes, an expression of pain, fear and despair on her face. Her movements and behaviour are erratic, I cannot make sense of what I see. So much blood, where are her teeth? I walk up to her, reach out to her with my hand asking if I can help her in any way. Then my eyes are fixed on her mouth, my hand which made her stop and look at me, retracts, suddenly aware of potential danger, AIDS, and, yes, zombies. As in "28 days later". Her appearance uncannily resembles those zombies. She notices my change in body language and runs off, zigzagging downhill, between cars, vegetation, half way on road and pavement. I gesture to two policemen I see nearby, they observe with calm, but don't act. I shout of them, trying to make them aware of urgency. There is no way I can turn or get to the woman, I have to let go, just like the two guys who are still standing outside of their cars. What's left is a feeling of having failed this woman, realising I have a grain of senseless stupidity in my brain.

Back home Cubling explored the effects of bringing together electricity and water in the form of pouring her cup into the telephone charger. I did think her hair looked a bit on edge. It did no good to her bum as we had to struggle with yet another bout of severe nappy rash. By way of recording her language development (the linguist in me cannot quite let go), she now has the following words (or versions thereof): daddy (also dida), mama, all done, tata (bye bye), hiya, nona (Rona), ssss (heiss), du (dog), ca (car). She is also proficient at imitating a fish, a snake, a cow, a monkey, a dog and a duck (the latter sounds more like a galloping horse, but never mind). As to signs, she signs duck and milk, which are similar... we haven't really kept up other signs so it's not surprising she doesn't do any others. I think she still confuses Eis and heiss, but has lost both the fear of the Eisbaer (polar bear) and Benny the puppet. In fact, she now loves Benny the puppet. She also adores Bracken, our neighbour's Scottie dog and Siegfried, our friend's cat and thinks it's hilarious if Bracken licks her fingers and if Siegfried lashes out at her with his paw because she's annoying him. Blissfully unaware that lashing out cats aren't to be messed with.

Above all, Cubling raised £150 for Save the Children by doing the mini monster marathon, and she made it into the Evening Times. Not just once, no, three times! I just adore the photo where she's being pushed by running mummy and is clapping her hands... There are also photos of mummy pushing her here, but you have to be quick so see them.