Thursday, November 21, 2024

The retired life

Life continues very busy with my choir-chairing responsibilities (which I think are slowing down now, famous last words) but we went up at the weekend to visit Son and family on a beautiful, if chilly, autumn day. We went for a walk in a wood. 

Medium Granddaughter swung. 


And the sun shone. 


Then another day we went along the coast a bit on a bus with the walking chums, and walked back into Musselburgh for 6 and a bit miles.


There was quite a sharp wind, but walking kept us warm. 


This stands in Port Seton, and is made up of  metal objects salvaged from the nearby Cockenzie Power Station when it was demolished. According to Google, "This consists of a set of large steel balls and a ring, which came from one of the coal milling machines used to grind coal to a fine powder for firing the boilers." 


Such a lovely day out with nice friends. 


Look at the size of Big Grandson! He's a lot taller than me, and every week seems to have shot up another six inches. He's still a lovely boy, though. Is he reading a good book here? No, alas, he's watching a YouTube about trains or something. Each to his own. 



 









Friday, November 15, 2024

Sewing

The other day we went with friends to see an exhibition of historical stitching in Scotland. For example, here's a chaise longue - it hasn't been sat on much, I shouldn't think, since it's very unworn. And one can understand why!

Look at the stitching! 

This one wasn't actually stitched in Scotland, but commissioned from India for a Scottish house in the early 1700s. It's a pair of curtains. Look at the background - how long would that take, never mind the flowers? 


Here's our friend admiring the curtains. 


And here's a bedcover stitched by William Henry Kennedy Erskine's mother - his initials are at the top, hers at the bottom, with "From Mother" sewn prominently. He was born in 1828 but sadly died at the age of forty-two. 

It must have taken months and months. It's thought his wife may not have liked it, because it's more or less as new... .


And a huge 18th century bedcover, with very detailed embroidery. 


And this table cover, more like a rug (but you wouldn't want to walk on it). Doesn't the black set the colours off? 

All sewn by hands long stilled. But it's good that they've left these lovely things and that we can still appreciate them. I do sometimes reflect that when I'm long gone, some of the quilts I've made will still be around somewhere. They're much less impressive than these things, though!

 

Saturday, November 09, 2024

Voltaire

 Oh for goodness sake, America, not again! How very depressing and worrying. 

Well, Voltaire said that the only thing to do was to cultivate one's garden, and I feel he was largely right. 



I haven't had much time - hardly any - to cultivate my garden, but we did have a walk in the Botanics, which was, as ever, soothing and healing to the weary soul. This (yellow) red hot poker - not normally my favourite plant - caught the light nicely. 


And look! it's spring! Well, no it isn't, but this rhododendron is blooming in a very spring-like fashion.
 

The last of the Japanese anemones. 


And another day we went down to Dawyck Botanic Gardens, in the Borders.


The best of the autumn colours were lying on the ground but there were still enough bright leaves and berries on the trees to cheer us. 






The reason I've been so busy is that I've reluctantly become the chair of one of the choirs I sing in. The AGM was two weeks ago, and since then I've been frantically working out what the chair does, and then doing it. There's been a lot to read! Not that any one thing is terribly onerous, but there are a lot of these things, especially as it's a month till our carol concert. I don't know why the AGM is at the end of October, but it's not a good time. Basically you become chair and then people say, "Now it's very urgent that you organise this carol concert and here are the 97 things you need to do," and then when you've done them, you discover that there are another dozen or so of which you were unaware. 

Ah me. I'm glad I'm not running the United States.