Lost for words - well, almost

I've had a busy week, out every night (rather boring church meeting, teaching evening class, choir, meal out with friends, printing church magazine) and work itself has been rather frazzling because of a difficult colleague - not to say having eleven classes, each with about twenty students, to teach every week; so was looking forward to going this morning with Son (home for the day), my mum and Daughter 1 to the Christmas fair at Hopetoun House - always a rather up-market affair.



Earlier in the week, a card had been put through our door saying that we should go and collect a parcel at the depot, since we'd been out when the deliverer had tried to deliver it. We couldn't think what it could be since we hadn't ordered anything and it was a bit early for a Christmas present. So we assumed it was something uninteresting such as a catalogue we hadn't requested for things we didn't want.



Anyway, this morning I was rapidly throwing some soup together (so that it would be ready at when we came home again at lunch time) when Mr Life returned from the depot with the parcel. For me. It had a return name and address and I recognised the name as belonging to Linds (http://lindslangdon.blogspot.com/).

But how did she know my name and address?? I opened the parcel and found...


... this. (Not the sofa. The quilt.)

Look at it!

Isn't it beautiful? And doesn't it go nicely with our green and yellow living room?

I just couldn't imagine why and how she'd sent it to me. Then I read the card enclosed in it and light dawned. Some months ago, just before she became a granny, she had a blog competition to predict the date and time of the baby's birth. And I won it. And she said she'd think of a prize for me. And I assumed it would be a bar of chocolate or something. And I completely forgot about it.

And it's a beautiful quilt for snuggling under on a sofa!!!!!

Now this is becoming a bit of a habit for me, and I have to say it's a habit I really like. Some readers may remember that in October last year, Thimbleanna and Mr T from Indiana visited to cat-sit for us (and have a little holiday) and Thimbleanna brought a snuggle-quilt that she'd made for us then. Which bowled me over. It goes wonderfully well with our other sitting room, which is mainly blue.

Look. Twins! (Non-identical ones.) One for each room.

I am absolutely blown away by the generosity - not to say the talent and dedication - of both of these blog-friends. As my mum said, if she'd made something like that she wasn't sure if she'd manage to part with it - and I feel much the same. It was so kind to make something so beautiful and - heavens, time-consuming - for someone you don't know!

Anyway, thank you, Linds (and Thimbleanna - I still love yours too!) SO MUCH!

Wow. I don't know what else to say. And that doesn't often happen. Aren't people kind?

Pinned to my study wall, 1.

Edited to add: Goodness, an unsuspected British/American language problem in my title. My study wall, Thimbleanna, is the wall of the room in which we keep our computers. This poem is pinned to the left of my desk. And Rosemary Norman is not one of my students. She's an English poet. Her poem is divided into verses but for some reason, Blogger won't let me show this.



Lullaby by Rosemary Norman

Go to sleep, Mum,

I won't stop breathing, suddenly, in the night.

Go to sleep, I won't

Climb out of my cot and

tumble downstairs.

Mum, I won't swallow

The pills the doctor gave you or

Put hairpins in electric

Sockets, just go to sleep.

I won't cry

When you take me to school and leave me

I'll be happy with other children

My own age.

Sleep, Mum, sleep.

I won't

Fall in the pond, play with matches,

Run under a lorry or even consider

Sweets from strangers.

No, I won't

Give you a lot of lip,

Not like some.

I won't sniff glue,

Fail all my exams,

Get myself /

My girlfriend pregnant.

I'll work hard and get a steady /

Really worthwhile job

I promise, go to sleep.

I'll never forget

To drop in / phone / write

And if

I need any milk, I'll yell.

She returns

This is what Daughter 2's bed looked like on Sunday night. Empty. I took this maudlin photo of it.

And tonight? She's asleep in it. She and Cassie the Cat. Her lodger (a friend of a friend; no romantic involvement) went out of town to visit his parents tonight so she came home.

Yes, two nights away and one here. We might just about manage if it's a pattern like that.

The new abode of Daughter 2

I should point out that she also loves her dad. I just happened to get the sign (see previous post) - in fact, she took the photo on my camera without telling me.

Thank you for all your empty-nest sympathy, which I canvassed for a day early. She moved a lot of her stuff yesterday but is spending her first night in the flat tonight. She's just phoned us from bed.

That chintzy material is on its way out - won't do for the young and trendy. (The sofas, chairs and curtains came with the flat. Must tell you the tale of the flat one day.)

The house is very very quiet. Just Mr Life, me and the scampering furry people.

No words

Glasgow

I am so drowning in work that I've hardly had time to visit blogs, but Daughter 2 and I did fit in a bus trip to Glasgow last Saturday to look for curtain material for the flat that she hasn't moved into yet.

I hadn't been to Glasgow for a while and it seems to have burst out into street performing. I don't know whether we happened to hit Busker Day or whether they were all hoping that early Christmas shoppers would be scattering largesse in a generous fashion, but anyway, this chap was juggling flaming torches with what seemed to me reckless abandon.

Then there were these chaps. Not sure what they were supposed to be: Neanderthal Highlanders, perhaps.

They were INCREDIBLY LOUD! How the people in the shops retained their sanity, I can't imagine. I should think you were aware of their drumming in California, Florida, Australia and so on. Did the earth seem to vibrate last Saturday?

Some native Americans. Apparently.

And lots of people selling cuddly toys.

We went to Princes Square

and met up for lunch with Son and his girlfriend, who're working in Glasgow for a year.

In the middle of the ground floor there's this tiled area where little children can run about while their exhausted parents sit round the sides. Such a good idea. My children did this when they were little, oh happy vanished days.

Out again, we rather admired the architecture of Central Station.

Some people were dancing. Don't really know why but they looked as if they were having a good time.

Others were selling balloons and... whatever these streamery things are. Daughter 2 poses beside them.

And for Anna, we have some pipery-drummy-kilty chaps.

In a material shop there were bundles of patches which I fancy may have been the mysterious fat quarters I read about, though they weren't thus labelled. This quilt, it's claimed, could be made in the first term of a quilting class. If only I had any time to myself and lived in Glasgow!

A harassed mother was there with a little girl who was perfectly well-behaved except that she kept wandering off.

I wasn't convinced by the mother's parenting skills. "River," she said at one point (yes, it was really "River". The mother's accent was English, I'd like to point out, not Scottish), "if you don't come here there'll be no sweeties next Friday." (The child was about 2 and this was Saturday. We didn't think that the events of next Friday would really seem to matter to her.)

A while later, the mother said, "Come here or I'll write a letter to Father... Santa... whatever his name is. Christmas'll be cancelled if you don't stay by my side."

We didn't actually buy material but we had a fun day. Daughter 2 will be moving out this weekend.

Hmm.

Friends

One of my classes comprises a lot of sweet but not particularly academic 16/17/18-year-olds and a couple of wise guys plus their acolytes. There's also a slightly plump, hen-toed boy. He has a haircut that looks as if his mum has put a saucepan on his head and hacked away vaguely with her nail scissors; rather old-fashioned glasses; and a lisp.

You probably had someone a bit like this in your class at school. We did, though she was a girl.

The other day he was walking in the college grounds with a friend who was randomly set upon by some youths (not our students). My student bravely tried to help and as a result his glasses were broken and he's now sporting a black eye and a bruised cheek.

Which is terrible, of course. But a welcome side-effect is that he's now seen as rather a hero by the rest of the class, even by the smart-alecs. And the college has paid for some new, cool specs.

And no, we didn't fasten the cats together by their collars.

Just having a little blog...

... to put in the time while Cassie Cat decides to come out from under my desk so I can put her to bed in the kitchen. I am too old to crawl under desks for cats and besides, she can streak faster than I can crawl.

Above: Son tries on Daughter 2's spider costume (but with his cat ears. And whiskers).

Below: Son looks very alarming.

So dignified. You can tell he's a doctor.

Aha. Cat has emerged. Now I'll race her to the kitchen.

Happy Hallowe'en, a bit late.

Daughter 2 had a flat-warming Hallowe'en party. She hasn't actually moved in yet.

Here are Son and his girlfriend. Note the tails. They're cats. Daughter 2 plans to change the curtains.

Another couple of cats: my niece and her friend.

This chap appears to be a fox but I think there was something more to it.

I made a cake.

A couple of mummies chatting to a space witch. (You'd never heard of space witches, had you?)

Daughter 2 was a spider. Note the six extra eyes on her head.

And extra legs too. Fierce!

I can't believe she's actually going to leave home. I don't think she does either.

Speaking and understanding

Language is infinitely fascinating. I've been thinking of our ability to understand our own accent or dialect, filling in the bits that aren't actually said but just exist in our heads.

For example, one day recently in the supermarket I heard one assistant saying to another, "Nyoff?" and I knew immediately that she'd said, "When are you off?" meaning "What time do you finish this evening?"

And yesterday one student remarked to another, "Lay eeay i'." To translate: "I'll hae to hae it" or "I'll have to have it".

No wonder I didn't understand every word I heard in Berlin if the Germans were speaking like this.

Cat language is much simpler. Feed me, let me in, let me out, stroke me, put me down.

Berlin 2

Isn't it a nuisance when life gets in the way of blogging? And it does; it certainly does. This life has recently featured a bit of painting of Daughter 2's new flat, quite a lot of looking after my mother (who fell and cut her head on Sunday in church - now, that's no reward for churchgoing, is it?) And work. Far too much work.

Can I tell you a bit about Berlin? (The non-toothache aspect.)

My generation grew up thinking of East Germany and especially East Berlin as a sort of badland full of grey concrete and anxious people. As it quite possibly was to some extent. I certainly never thought I'd visit it or stay in a hotel on the east side. Nowadays, however, some of it's not terribly different from lots of other cities and the visitor isn't really aware - or I wasn't anyway - of passing from East to West - apart from where there are bits of wall standing isolated and gloomy-looking as historical landmarks.

Here's Mr Life taking a photo of this chunk in Potsdamer Platz. This bit's been transplanted, I think.

But this bit stands where it did.

We walked around a lot and saw the sights: Berliner Dom,

Under den Linden (somewhat distant here)

the Brandenburg Gate,

the Reichstag.

The weather may look good but it was chilly.

And the Jewish Museum - we didn't go in. I don't think that would have been a cheery experience. And we wandered through the Tiergarten and in and out of various shops and churches.

The city is still obviously in development and there are still many derelict sites, often right next to expensive new buildings.

Indeed wherever you go you're very conscious of bomb destruction - and who caused it. You feel it when you see these gap sites, like missing teeth in a sparkling smile (why did that simile come to mind, I wonder...?). You're aware of it when you look at beautifully restored old buildings, damaged during the war. You see it when you pass churches which haven't been rebuilt entirely but just in part, half-old, half-new, strikingly reminding you of man's inhumanity to man. I felt a little cloud of guilt following us.

So I didn't find Berlin an entirely comfortable place to visit - though interesting and in parts attractive. Maybe we'll go back sometime, without toothache, and explore further.

Berlin

Well, we're back from Berlin, which was sunny but very chilly. I had to buy a scarf. We had difficulty finding one costing less than 80 Euros and some were considerably more. Who on earth pays £100 for a scarf???

We stayed in former East Berlin - which seemed very odd - near this television tower in the picture above. And then we went up the tower - which was quite a remarkable thing for me to do, since I don't at all care for heights. You go up to the big ball bit and the views are extensive - see below. I hope you're impressed by my daring.


Berlin was very interesting in various ways, but the big snag for us was that I had gone to the dentist the previous Thursday for some treatment to a tooth which was causing me no trouble (but which showed problems on an x-ray). This was on the Thursday. "It might be a bit tender tomorrow," said my lovely young Irish dentist. And it was. So I thought nothing of it. It was worse on the Saturday but we were off to Berlin on the Sunday at 4.30 am so I took lots of paracetamol and ibuprofen and crossed my fingers and went.

And the tooth got worse and worse. We were due to come back on the Friday - today - and my dentist doesn't work on Friday afternoons. So this meant that I wouldn't be seen till Monday, and I have a full teaching day on Monday... so... we changed our flights and came back on Wednesday instead. When I say that we changed our flights, I mean we had to book new ones. Mr Life had to book new ones, to be more accurate. And the dentist saw me and things are now greatly improved.

Mr Life is a saint. Never a word of complaint. Even when I fainted on the plane and had to be laid out along three seats with an oxygen mask and "Is there a doctor on board?" and all that. Cringe.


Well, we did see quite a lot of Berlin in the three days we were there.

And I'll tell you more about it another day.

And it was certainly a memorable holiday though as you'll understand not entirely in a good way. I managed to speak a bit of German, though not much.

Unfortunately, my vocabulary is not good. I kept being able to translate things up to a point, such as: "It is very important that you should something the something, so that something something isn't somethinged." Menus were much the same: being a vegetarian, I kept understanding that that dishes contained potatoes, cheese, beans and something.

Many words and phrases did keep coming into my mind, such as the German for naturally, for example, immediately, hearty greetings - but it's a bit hard to fit these into a conversation involving what's in the pasta. "Naturally I don't want any meat... For example is there sausage in this dish?.... Bring me my meal immediately.... ".

I could have described the weather a bit - "Die Luft is kuhl* und es dunkelt", I could have remarked, or said something about the landscape: "Der Gipfel des Berges fulkelt im Abendsonnenschein". The wind certainly was cool and it did get dark, though there were no mountains to sparkle in the evening sunshine. But alas, the occasion never arose to impress anyone with these conversational gems. Pity.

* Kuhl should have an umlaut. But I don't know how to do them.