My knit in shining armour

I have been out of action for a long time which has been noted by my legions of followers. I have been busy holidaying in Ibiza and upskilling, developing my talent* for knitting. Thanks to my kind colleague Anna I've learned plain, pearl, casting on, casting off - the lot, with only a few dropped stitches along the way. I knit(ed) every single day to and from work on the tube for six weeks to meet my (self-imposed, far too tight) target of 24th September. I set that target because I was visiting my Mum for the weekend and I knew she'd finish it off much better than I could.

During the final two weeks, as my deadline loomed, I took it up a notch and was known to knit while in pubs, on the phone and even managed to stick my needles into Denise's checked-in luggage for our holiday.(she maintained a 'disgusted' face at any mention of the knitting). But, I did manage to turn this:

Into this:

and this:

In the pipeline I have a navy balaclava to match my camel winter coat that I have yet to buy, a tea cosy to go on our very unusual shaped tea pot and a surprise for sharon which I will reveal after I've made it otherwise it wouldn't be a surprise, now would it.

I've managed to find that pic we took in the belt shop, which gives a good view of the vast RANGE of bizarre stock they have as you'll see I'm holding up what I think might be a rather large belt for dogs...

* v loose attitude to the word talent.

Tuesday 31st August

We bought this poster to do up our already deadly (v 1991) apartment without realising that it was actually a photo of graffiti about 5 blocks from our house. So naturally we headed directly down there to have a look a few weeks ago.

It's a poster of Banksy graffiti, though when I got there I saw some of it has been graffiti-ed over (is that a term?) as you'll see from the exceptional photography below :)

Tuesday 24th August

There is an age-old story about the time I and two un-named mates booked a holiday a week too early and so ended up in Madrid rather than Gran Canaria. I still can’t really bring myself to go into detail about it, but I can reveal that we did show up at the airport, bikini clad, (under our clothes obviously, it was March in Ireland) only to be sent back to our house to book a Ryanair flight to Madrid. I won't reveal who was with me on this 'holiday' since we actually lied to a lot of people about it because we were so embarrassed about our stupidity. So, it is understandable that I am approaching my upcoming holiday to IBIZA with TREPIDATION. Everything is booked correctly, and even though I’m borderline terrified ta sceitimini orm!

Before booking the holiday I carried out extensive research on all of the neighbouring hotels and I came across one of the funniest reviews I have read in ages and certainly the funniest holiday review I have ever read.
Highlights for me are:

The fat frog!

The corrie actor

Speaking of reviews, I read a restaurant review this week that really got my goat, AA Gill wrote in last week’s Sunday Times about Bethnal Green, my fave place. Old AA properly slagged off the restaurant and the area. You have to pay to view content on The Times website, but thanks to modern technology and my craftiness, here is a very blurry sample of the review:

He is partly right about the last part. Viajiante (fave restaurant to Marc Jacob's former boyfr according to the same publication!) IS across the road from workshops that buy broken glass and fit security shutters. Which is hardly a surprise given it's location. Come on AA give BG a break.

On a final note, I do have to mention tuning in to the Rose of Tralee this evening and yesterday. Not just because it is an absolutely brilliant national institution founded by my grandad but also because I am now in the advanced stages of a proper crush on Daithi O'Se AND because the winner was THE LONDON ROSE!

If you only do one thing today...

Listen to the Sunscreen song... what an uplifting piece of music/prose. I know it's very 1991 or whatever, but really, have a listen!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xfq_A8nXMsQ&feature=search

In other news... well I saw this sign near Uptop Park at the weekend and something about the entire area (and the football hooliganism stories that I was being told for the duration of my time there) instilled a trace of doubt in my mind that the sign is definitely a joke.

Trials of a gardener

This week I'm full of complaints and bewilderment about plants. Sharon and I have four in our house (including a coral busy lizzie, my fave) and honestly, even though we give them SO MUCH love and attention they always seem to die.

We have tried over watering them and underwatering them and just watering them, but they always look like they're on their last legs. When my mum was visiting last weekend she gave me a gem of advice.. put the plant on a saucer of water and let the plant take water as it needs it. I've been doing this since yesterday and I can already see some improvement. Today my friend Kate suggested we put some sugar in the water, which I'm going to do tonight. Any other suggestions?

I've put the pic below so I can do a before and after style showcase. I've been thinking it can act as a sort of before and after weight loss pic, like obviously the person is totally depressed when they get the fat pic taken, but they get it taken all the same to show just how skinny they get. In the same way, I'm not too happy about exposing my limp flowers (particularly the unfortunate rosemary) but hopefully I'll be showing off some allotment-style flowers before the week is out..


Take note of the mysteriously BLOOMING orchid in the background!

In other news.. I went INTO the belt shop last week. The front door was mysteriously open as I was walking to my bus stop so we took a peek inside. We were being properly shady and since (as I suspected) there were no other customers in the shop, we attracted attention
a. because we were horsing around
b. because I made Sharon take a pic of me as evidence
and
c. because we expressed way to much interest in a really bland gold belt.

Sharon managed to persuade me to buy this belt. It cost 3 pounds and was gold. I've already worn it twice and it was just a week ago.

So anyway, on the way out Sharon, asked the shopkeeper what were the opening hours. He said:

"Monday to Friday, nine to five"

and she said:

"Well today is Saturday"

Shopkeeper: "oh yes, some Saturdays too"

dodgy.

A brush with a Boris bike

Lst week the ‘Boris Bikes’ were introduced to London, similar to the bike scheme that was introduced in Dublin last summer. I’m probably going to sign up for this, but I’m waiting to see how empty/full the docks are around my area and to see exactly where they are located before I do. So basically this is a review by someone who has yet to cycle the bikes but likes the idea of them. Feel free to stop reading now. Over the weekend we hopped onto the bikes, when I say that I mean we hopped on the stationary bikes and I took the pics below. They were taken at the dock outside Shoreditch church in case you’re interested. So far there seems to be plenty of bikes at each of the stations and I have seen a good few people out on them. People riding these bikes have that look that I remember people sporting when the bike scheme was introduced in Dublin, it’s a face of perpetual delight. Incredulous perpetual delight. Jane is giving it a fair stab below and I didn't even request it. The bikes weigh 23kg. I don’t know much about weight of bikes but I reckon that is pretty heavy.

I also came across Frying Pan Street the other day. I have no angle with this, I just thought it was funny. It’s near a market where they sell (potentially) stolen Topshop gear and I have been there so often that the vendor recognised me. Although it was probably because I was wearing the playsuit that I bought from him at the stall about a month ago!

Midweek musings

I’ve had a bit of a chequered history with the Irish police, starting with my friend’s picture being put on my age card when I was 18, up until a pretty funny phone call last weekend from Deputy Murphy.

My weekend bag was stolen on a train from Dublin to Belfast in March. In fairness to the police in Belfast, they at least pretended to start an investigation into it at the time, but since it was stolen somewhere along the track we all knew the chances of it ever turning up were very slim.

I was pretty much devastated because it was a beautiful bag and a present. Also, it had my passport in it, which is crucial when you're moving country and there is an ongoing strike in the passport offices.

I was properly distraught for a while, so, when I got a phone call on Sunday from Deputy Murphy, who, by the way, I had never heard of, I was surprised and a bit thrilled - hope is a thing with feathers etc.

The conversation went like this:

DM: Hi Ann-Marie, I'm just giving you a call about the investigation into your bag that was stolen on March 18th on the train to Belfast (just to note, he was reading a script)

Me: Oh great!

DM: Yes, I'm giving you a call to let you know we've no leads on the investigation, we haven't managed to track down the perpetrator of the crime.

Me: Oh, ok, but did you find the bag?

DM: No, we didn't. As I say we've no leads, nothing has come up. I was giving you a call to let you know

[4 MONTHS LATER?]

Out of courtesy I then took down his direct extension number and promised him that I would call him if I had any other further questions.

What, dear readers, could these questions POSSIBLY be? Also, who is paying this guy to make these redundant calls?