Thursday, January 10, 2019


Eleven and ½ inches of the 16 needed for the Stronachlachar underarm have now been done. I thought my industrious application would have taken me a bit further than that. I have wound the fourth skein and joined it in – that’s something.

Thank you for your help, as ever. Pascoag Girl, I can’t find “Restoration” over here, but I found it with ease at Lacis. As before, the thing is to finish Stronachlachar, see where we are in the calendar, and present the bride with the choices, if any.

Non-knit

Shandy and Kirsten, I once left my sons behind in Kirkmichael with nothing to eat, I’ve forgotten why. They sensibly enough went into the adjacent field and helped themselves to some of the swedes which had been put out for the sheep.

Tonight’s food programme is by Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall, who can be entertaining. Tom Kerridge was pretty dull last night.

Mary Lou, my New Yorker subscription has expired, I don’t quite understand why. I renewed it on-line before Christmas. All went smoothly, except that I haven’t started getting any issues yet. I get a daily update from them, and I saw that article about the Greek alphabet there. Interesting, indeed.

4 comments:

  1. What vegetable is a swede? The internet suggests rutabaga? Or turnip?

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    1. Oddly enough, we called them turnips in Cumbria, and it was not until I moved south that I realised there was a different smaller, whiter version called turnips. We also used to make lanterns out of them for Bonfire Night - no Halloween then.

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    2. That's not just Cumbria - in Cornwall swedes are called turnips or latterly, as a concession to the English Swede Turnips. Essential for a proper pasty, and Dad could remember carving them too.

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  2. Perhaps you inadvertently renewed the New Yorker to a different format - on-line vs. paper?

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