go on, admit it

Time to make some admissions. Just for the fun of it.

I admit:

 

[London WC1]

:: I have a huge, unexplained enthusiasm for 1930s architecture. I have taken to photographing good examples when I see them.

 

[London WC1]

I know as I am doing so that many (most?) people think they are not worth even this effort. But I am fascinated by the design and ideas behind them. I even cajoled Simon into visiting the iconic Modernist High and Over when the estate agents had an 'open house', a rare chance to see inside. We thought me might have to pretend that we had £2.4 million to spare, but the agents weren't daft; they asked everyone who came whether they were there as potential buyers, or just looking. I'd say most admitted the latter. (And I admit I look regularly on the Modern House website for a retirement house.)

 

[High and Over by Amyas Connell]

:: Habu paper yarn gives me paper cuts. I knitted the back of a cardigan but gave up when the yarn kept getting stuck on the plasters covering the cuts on my fingers. Don't tell me I am the only one who has this problem.

:: I have just re-read all the emails I received after The Gentle Art of Domesticity was published. It's three years this month since it appeared, and I admit that I'm still very proud of it. Thanks again to everyone who has written emails, left comments and told me in person that they like it. Many of you also made me laugh at the same time, which is always a good thing.

:: I was right. Yesterday in The Guardian an architect said he was a frustrated movie-maker

:: I have just cast on FIVE times for a shawl and still haven't got it right. I seem to be incapable of counting 182 stitches of a fine silk yarn on a thin needle. I almost need a sculptor-turned-professional-caster-onner to help (see above).

:: I'd love to show you photos of the children here. But putting stuff on the internet is not quite the same as taking a few dog-eared photos out of your purse to show to a friend in a cafe. A shame, as I like doing a (short and sweet) proud mother routine.

 

[Elsa Lanchester as the Bride of Frankenstein]

:: I'm developing a soft spot for Mark Gatiss. He's the first person ever to make me want to watch Bride of Frankenstein. I admit I am very easily frightened by horror and gore. (I used to get clammy palms just from hearing the 'Casualty' theme tune.)

 

[Nanny McPhee Returns colour scheme 1]

:: Simon and I watched Nanny McPhee Returns on our own. I'd been told by several correspondents that I should watch it but put off doing so because I couldn't coerce a child into watching it with me to make me appear less 'sad'.

 

[Nanny McPhee Returns colour scheme 2. See what I mean?]

In the end I borrowed the DVD anyway, and was fascinated by the beautiful sets and Fair Isle knitting, and the very clever, unusual colour scheme of shades of blue and yellow that suffused the whole thing. Someone must have had a wonderful time sorting out the props and clothes. And I admit it, we actually quite enjoyed the film, too.

:: I am not looking forward to this time next year. Tom and Alice have both sent off their university applications and soon we shall have just one child at home. It happened so quickly. It's seems like no time since they were learning to walk a few weeks apart and I was worrying about bumps, and now they have passed their driving tests a few weeks apart and I am worrying about bumps again.

End of confession.