Long time, no blog

Do blogs have a saddle? If so, I better get back in it. Pronto.

I've been busy, not with crochet, but with life. Or rather, death.

??????????

Not as dreadful as you anticipate, I promise.

Many moons ago, I was a funeral director. Then I had a baby and, sadly, she proved incompatible with work. I don't know if you've ever been a funeral director- pretty sure you haven't, I'm sure I would've remembered you, especially if you're a gal 'cos that's a rare species in undertaking- but the job is pretty full on. As a manager of a number of branches, there was admin, staff, accounts, cars, deid folk, funerals, on-call, training, standards, H&S etc and, with the best will in the world, I didn't want to spend my entire life at work and miss out on the small person becoming a big person. Tried to go back part time but it didn't happen *sigh* and I moved on to, obviously the best job in the world (but the worst titled) Full Time Mum.

Skip forward 3 years....gaily if you like.....and look, there I am, at an interview.  Eek! An actual interview. One which necessitated me wearing a suit that, thanks to 3 years of motherhood/eating buns, no longer fitted and made me walk like I was being unzipped, from the toes up.

Long story,yadda yadda yadda, got the job, did the training and now, after an extensive mentoring programme, I am now, ahem, a Humanist Celebrant.

Ooooooh! Check me!

Currently only available for funerals, but with the aim to complete my wedding training as soon as possible, I think I may actually have the best job in the world. If you don't know what a Humanist Celebrant does, it's pretty straightforward; I conduct non-religious funeral services. Sounds simple but it's a lot of work, hugely gratifying and satisfying work, but hard work nonetheless.  I meet a family and, over the course of a few hours, build up a picture of their deceased loved one (or not-loved one) which I then turn into an appropriate and fitting tribute. I can help with the choice of music, poetry, readings and I deliver that tribute wherever it needs delivered, in front of however many people attend; so far that's been as few as 6 and as many as 200.  Nae hymns, nae prayers and nae references to a God.

I love it.

And so far, it's going well. The feedback has been tremendous and, once I got past the imaginary hurdle of working with my ex-colleagues, I've been kept busy. It's really intense- I could know you for years and not know as much as I learn in the 2 hours I am with a family. It helps being properly interested in people's lives/nosey because you need to take in sooooooooo much information at a time when people are pretty raw or, at the very least a bit hyper and on edge.  Some people lead amazing lives, some people don't; some people have a huge positive impact on a lot of people, some people are horrendous and hard to love. My job is to pay tribute to them the best I can, a great responsibility and pretty stressful given the nature of Scottish funerals and their quick turn around.

http://www.humanism-scotland.org.uk/content/celebrants/?id=151-claire-digance

Look! There I am there, all proper and shiny new!

My mum is much happier now that I am no longer 'idle'.  Also, in her head, I am on a par with a Minister and therefore respectable and she can tell people what I do. I am no longer her secret daughter :)

Oh, and I made a complete car crash of a cake for Flora's birthday.  Looks like Dr Seuss vommed on a plate.

Tasted good but.

Phew. Better ease myself into is writing malarkey niiiiiiiice and easy. Will continue muttering soon enough.

Laters

luv Egg on a Stick x

Cinema embarassment

Me:    Andy, it's cheaper if you come to the cinema with me.  It's £5 for both of us and £5.95 for just me.

Andy: Really?  What do you want to see?

Me:    Les Miserables.

Andy: Here's 95p. Knock yourself out.

Harrumph.  Nae-pal cinema in the middle of the day for me then.

Ravaged by illness over Christmas (I was!  Ask anyone.  Apart from maybe my nearest and dearest who would claim I was 'at it'), I feel I haven't seen as much of the real world as I should. So I went to Clydebank.  Have you ever been to Clydebank?  No?  Really??  It's home to, erm, um,  a Wilkinsons and The Best Pound Shop In The World Ever.

And a cinema.  Ticket bought, I headed for Cinema 5, my Christmas chocolates hidden in my handbag next to a half box of tissues- I'd seen the stage version, I knew this was going to be a grim affair. Thing is, I went in just as they switched off all the lights in anticipation of the 'papapapapapapapapapapa, papapapapapaaaaaaaaaa PA!' Pearl and Dean song and the place was in pitch darkness.  I couldn't see the screen, let alone the seats, and as, they weren't in any hurry to start the trailers, I carefully felt my way down the aisle.  I reached a suitable row, turned right and sat down......in an old man's lap.

His wife nearly died laughing.

I nearly died of embarrassment.

My new boyfriend just nearly died.  He was very slight.  He's still very slight and a little bit broken.

Red-faced and mortified, I found an emptier seat, sank into it and promptly sobbed my way through Les Mis.  Have you seen it?  It's exceptional and, as I am currently suffering from my second bout of sinusitis in as many months, all my unfettered crying really cleared out my tubes.  Having used up all my tissues, I crawled out into the Clydebank dreichness, eyes, nose and patchy bits of my face all red and shiny.  Fitted right in. 

Lastly, decided to leave my husband and move in either with Hugh Jackman or a bunch of impossibly handsome French revolutionaries.  

Au revoir et vive la revolution!

Luv Egg on a Stick x

Bleeurgh

I've had to give in to the dreaded lurgy.  Normally I would sail through a cold/moan like a biatch but I have been totally floored by this bug.  I blame the heating being on.  I am my mother's daughter.

I am broken.

On a less self-obsessed note, found these decorations on my germ-spreading travels.  

He's not at all threatening, is he?  With his sideways wide-eyed stare and weirdly full bottom lip.  Thanks goodness he doesn't have any frien....oh.

They look like they are about to steal something.  Like a baby.

The only thing worse than creepy gnome twins would be creepy clown twins.  Erm....

This wee dude has me singing Akon's, 'I'm So Lonely' every time I see him.

***WANTED*** Angel for top of tree.  Must be sad.  And have own guitar.

Back to me.  Off to bed with a Lemsip and a sorrowful expression.

Laters

Luv Egg on a Stick x

Crochet Poppies

A friend of mine tried to crochet poppies to raise money at her workplace.  Turns out she HATES to crochet (weirdo) and, rather than watch her struggle/kill everyone, I said I would make them for her.  Her instructions?  Just keep going until the yarn runs out.  So I did.  I crocheted 310yds worth.  I have bags under my eyes and a peculiar red patch a little like a carpet burn on my finger but they are done.  

Now, before you say anything, I wouldn't want you to think that the Poppy Appeal will be losing out.  My friend works in our local, friendly naval base; to rip of the Poppy Appeal would probably lead to an actual walking of the plank.  And she's very honest, like way more honest than me.  I trust her implicitly.  Plus my husband is her boss and I'd get her fired.  KIDDING!!  Or am I?  Mwah, hah, hah, hah!

The pattern was free with the Daily Record, the yarn was Premier Value Double Knit in Shades 023 and 026 (aka red and black) and I used a size 4mm/G hook .  Not my choice of yarn obv but it did the trick and I'm sure the finger scarring won't be permanent.

1. Using black yarn, work 6dc into magic ring, join with slip stitch, chain 1 (6sts)
2. 2dc into each stitch around, join with a slip stitch, ch1 (12sts). Change to red
3. Work in the back loops only, (dc in the first stitch, 2dc in the next) repeat around (18sts). Join with a slip st, ch1
4. (Dc in next 2 stitches, 2dc in the next) repeat around (24sts). Join with slip stitch, ch1.
5. (Dc in 3sts, 2dc in the next) repeat around (30sts). Join with a slip stitch, ch1.
6. Dc in each stitch around (30sts)
7. (Slip 2sts, 5tr in the next stitch, dc, 5tr in the next stitch, dc) repeat around.
8. Join with a slip stitch and finish off. Embroider any details onto your poppy.

Each one took me about 20 minutes but I got that weirdly competitive way when you try to make them faster and faster every time, even though it's only you that's doing them. And then slowly having to unravel them because you've made another mahoosive mistake.

So far she's mugged her colleagues for £50 and still has some left to sell.  I'd call that a result.

No more poppies tonight.  Tonight's the night for painting my nails Barry M gnp4 red and eating Fruit n Nut whilst lusting after George Clarke's Amazing Spaces.

Qua-li-ty.

Laters

Luv Egg on a Stick x

Search Keywords

To the person who found my blog using the search keywords 'wee man cock', God bless you, I hope you found what you were looking for!

Night

Luv Egg on a Stick x

October Schmoctober

This week, I was awfully excited to receive an email from a nice lady who worked for a company I had never heard of, telling me I had won a competition via The Making Spot.  Problem was, she didn't tell me what I'd won and I had no idea.  S'not really a problem though, is it?  It's just a pleasant surprise when it arrives......and arrive it did, in a great big box! 

Patience is not a known virtue in this house.  Neither is the skill of being able to see through cardboard but it didn't stop her trying for twenty minutes.  I could've opened it a lot sooner but watching her trying to get various sunglasses to work as X-ray specs was just too good a spectacle *snort* to miss.

Back to the prize, ta-dah!

I'd won a Big Shot Sissix with two dies, a puppy and a tree!  How exciting! We'd used one of these during out Make Do and Mend sessions in the library and I loved the clean lines I got on wee footery shapes.  Also remarkably small child friendly; she loves turning the handle, there's no obvious sharp edges and, as long as I keep an eye on her juuuuuust to make sure she doesn't Tom n Jerry her fingers through the roller, she'd happily cut out puppies and trees from newspaper/coloured paper/important car-related documents all day.  Cue a living room that looked a little like a Moonie Dog training class.

I am yet to think what I'm actually going to do with it but it'll come in handy one day, I'm sure.  I can see it being very useful if you were a quilter because you can buy a die that cuts perfect squares.  I can't cut a straight line to save myself so if I was interesting in quilting, which I'm not, it would be a godsend.

Other things I have being doing include.....

-Painting my nails, like, totally all the time.  Obsessed.

-Making lentil soup.  This recipe in particular.  It's a great recipe- chuck in spinach for added goodness.

-Went ice skating and I sucked at it, which surprised me, given my roller skating skillz :-P

-Started making Christmas cakes

Cannae beat a Delia Smith Christmas cake. Made one last year and it was pronounced Flora's favourite cake ever.  Granted, she has tried a LOT of cakes since but she's pretty excited about these ones too.  Except she no longer likes raisins.....or currants.....or sultanas.  Now brandy, that's a different story.

And I went to give blood.  There had been an urgent call for donations and I was in town and fancied a biscuit.  Took myself off to the Blood Donation Centre in Glasgow and joined a very ad-hoc queuing system, chock-full of other right-minded individuals. So, when it was maybe my turn, a cheerless/harassed receptionist took my name, couldn't spell it (forgiveable) and then told me I didn't exist.  Turns out you can't give blood if you don't exist.  Receptionist had to phone 'someone' who could fix my non-existence and I would need to "sit over there."

     "There's no seat."

"Well, just sit over there and I'll bring you one."

  

     "?????"

Already this has taken ten minutes longer than everyone else before me and the giganta-queue is getting restless.  And nosey. 

Blood donor nurse comes over, "Claire?  Can you come with me?  If you could just come over to this cubicle.  We need to talk to you about something.  It's not a donation, it's about something on your form.  Follow me" 

I followed her.  And so did forty pairs of eyes.  Beamer.

"Sorry about that.  People get a bit narked when they think you are skipping the queue."

   "Really?  You do realise that they all think I've got some terrible disease or I've had SEX WITH HUNDREDS OF GAY MEN IN AFRICA?!" 

Imagine an unexpected and odd silence.  Imagine it happening just as I, in frazzled-talk-too-loud mode, say the last part of my sentence.  Imagine forty heads swivelling, the sound of clipboards dropping, loud coughing fits and choking, flocks of birds taking to the skies, music coming to a scratchy and abrupt end etc etc .  My interviewing nurse nearly died laughing.  I nearly died of embarrassment.

Once she unfolded me from my foetal position, she took three attempts- two pin pricks, one blood sample- to determine that I had enough iron in my blood to give blood and gleefully announced, "I knew we'd get you in the end!", then I was allowed to donate.  I existed, I was full of iron and an absolute wreck.

It wasn't all bad.  Got one of these out of it.

Blanket update.......blanket update.......blanket..oh, for goodness' sake, I've done nothing.  Will rectify next week.  Maybe.

Night

Luv Egg on a Stick x

Monday

You've got to laugh when the highlight of your day is when your friend phones to tell you he has gonorrhoea.