Spiders, Egypt prequel and day one. Or part of it.

Finally, and its obviously finally (it being ages (sadly, I mourn this) since I got back) I have got around to posting.
But first onto an update note. I'm back at work and not even remotely happy about it. Yesterday with very little effort and no intention of doing either of these I got stuck in the kitchen by an arachnid (a spider). Then 15 minutes later in the bathroom (again) by another arachnid (Harvestman) and created an erratic cloud (it was if I was sending smoke signals with white powder) in work's car park. This would happen on the same day that I got told about this being a "Year of The Spider". I was plating the tea up and I looked around. And there, less than a meter away from the defenceless me (I refuse to kill them deliberately) and our poor defenceless tea (chicken one pot and potato and leek soup, too thick for the spider to sink into and drown. But the former was bubbling a lot and could have engulfed it. Either could have burnt it. Which actually disproves the defenceless and makes them more harmful than me, but they can't run away. Why am I rambling like this?).
Anyway (The Prologue), less than a meter away, there was a spider in the lobby by the kitchen door. CGBF got shrieked upon-called is way to calm by a massive margin. And through he came. Armoured with a bill (mine, why didn't he use on of his own? He's happier about them than I am) and one of my Jam jars (not sure if I can ever face placing jam into it again no, I feel a certain mild apprehension which may err towards pre-trauma about the jar now). It was rather large, but reassuringly smaller than the jam jar lid. I wasn't particular happy with its presence. However, unlike me the spider was perfectly calm. And was happily (all legs intact and uninjured=happy just so you know) ensconced in the jar, and vacated it once the jar had been put on its side outside.Spider mark2. which was in fact a close relative of the spider family (same class), it was a Harvestman. Which did the most singularly cruel thing and showed up when I was on the loo and headed right for me. Right along the bottom, of the door which is tightly fitted or I could at least have hope that it may have got frightened by my shriek and mad scramble to get finished before it got my length. But no. Not at all. It had to go up and lurk on the hinge (at least it paused so I could get away with dignity-always dignified). So I could. NOT. Open the door (without squishing it) . So I was well and truly stuck in there. Shrieking at CGBF who, alerted by the yowling (think something along the lines of a cat stuck outside) was lurking outside (he wasn't getting to watch the news uninterrupted but was still surprisingly sweet tempered).
Lucky for me it moved, the door was opened and the jam jar was produced. This too was deposited outside.
On to Egypt. Prequel and Day one.We left from Aberdeen (which was disgustingly sunny) the day before amidst a flurry of "I still haven't picked a knitting project", loosing patterns and "I might need to knit something else" mind changing. I also wove and left the binoculars which I'd gone in there for beside the loom. And finally tracked down assorted undies and socks (which took aagess). Got through knitting through the search points intact (a really tense time that) waited, watching planes taking off which was surprisingly relaxing. Cast on the Lighthouse sock from Knitty somewhere over the borders. It started with purple. EEEEEEEP.
Landed fine and tracked down the bus point for the hotel. It was about half way along the bus stop that we realised neither of us had taken any notes on what the hotel was called. Bu$$3ry.That's what happens when you decided to go for something special. Something nice. You forget the details. Quick (rather grumpy) jaunt around the airport to find the Internet. Not I know you can't find the Internet (unless its stored in a box that's normally kept in a top secret place near Big Ben (IT crowd joke) but we did find an Internet cafe-does anyone have any idea why the word Internet needs a capital?). Then we tracked the email confirmation down and found the bus waiting there. We went for the Great Western Moat house.
And it was awful, we usually go for Premier Inn and leave happy. We get a good room, large, well presented, lovely bathroom with a comfortable mattress, nice meal, good breakfast. We leave happy. In this place the only good thing was the breakfast (best scrambled eggs and mushrooms I've had in a long time and it had Danish pastries, now that's a breakfast I'll support). The room was a third of the size of any that I have got at Premier.
Old furniture with a dated look. Barely any room to walk beside the bed. Only one bedside cabinet (nothing really matched to be honest) and the mattress was bust. I've never tested a mattress that has been dumped but I'm sure they'd have a similar amount of support. Seriously you sat on the edge and the whole thing sagged and more than once one of us over balanced and fell backwards into the center. It felt like a Star Wars Sarlack like beasty was pulling you over and into the middle. Resulting in hardly any sleep that night. The food was almost cold (so cold the cheese on my risotto didn't melt, blaggh) and extremely lack luster.
Maybe its just me but I like to chat during tea, I prefer it to needing to bolt my food down before it goes cold. To be honest, it tasted like it came out of a packet and had mushrooms stirred in. The desert and especially the fruit looked and tasted like it was old and had been sitting for ages. It'd shrivelled and the outside had gone leathery. At least couldn't hear planes. The breakfast was good though. I fully support serving Danish pastries for breakfast. The scrambled eggs were fantastic but I reckon that if I'd come down later they'd be nasty having sat on the hot plate for ages.Bus was broken. Who'd have thought a taxi would be cheaper. 1 statement about Gatwick that covers everything. HUGE queues. Two words and that's it summed up. Let me put it to you this way, Luxor was far better. Huge queue to get checked in and on and after seeing a queue almost half a mile long in Gatwick to get through security we successfully found the shorter one upstairs (overheard man with a wavey sign telling people about it and ran for it). Got through with knitting intact although CGBF's shoes did cause some stress. Twice, they are checked, you get frisked then 5 steps away from there, you get checked. Again.
Got into the airport and was asked for my travel boarding pass in order to buy plasters (I'd burned my arm) so they knew who'd bought it for some sort of customs reasons. Seriously, scanned and recorded a packed of plasters from Boots. How ridiculous is that?
Boarded etc and we were off. Sadly no window seats but it was horribly cloudy so I console (lie to) myself that I missed nothing. We flew for what seemed ages and I knit quite a bit.
We landed in the desert and we walked into a wall of hot. And our guest and my extra travel mate joined us from here. Now I do not want to post my picture on the Internet. And I also did not want to just post a scenery picture like everyone else. I wanted something that added my stamp to it. I was here, I saw this. Meet, The Syphilis. Here He is waiting at Aberdeen airport and reclining on my hat (apparently its quite comfy).
Imagine if you will a microbe, that has been enlarged to 1 million times its actual size and made into a small fluffy toy. A giant microbe (Giantmicrobes.com). You will from here be regaled with tales from the Syphilis and with occasional comments from myself or CGBF.You would not believe the heat that hit you or how you feel your arm burning as soon as it gets into direct sunlight. I was glad of my hat (even though none of the security guards along the way liked it, there was a lot of this->).
Anyway, wall of HOT. Here is what we saw is all its scary glory (the scenery, not the planes).
Here is some pictures of what Luxor is like along an irrigation canal. To clarify it is filthy. 1 part dirt, 1 part dust to 8 parts rubbish.

And here is the nile at sunset. Awe inspiring.
Here is the West bank and the Nile. But there were flowers planted along the verge which were quite beautiful.

Here is a picture of the lobby as you come in the door of the boat. I don't have a picture of it (as it is on day one) because they stack up side by side. And we reached it by walking through the lobbies of other ships. Which got a bit hairy for a lot of people as they weren't always level. We were the fourth or fifth ship out. You can see the door onto the next ship just above The Syphilis's head.

Here is The Syphilis on the stairs to give you an idea of scale.

I shall blog more soon. My eyes are about coming out of me from looking at this thing for so long.
However here is a picture of The syphilis reclining by the pool.

Ill and seemingly incompetent

I feel awful and I have problems at the minute.
Here is a short list.

Seemingly I can't even manage to clean my bread maker. You think after giving it a scrub the view window it would be fine. But no. Its as inscrutable as ever.
The title thing also looks like I've typed III instead of ill. Maybe it'll work out.
My software for to get my photos off the camera (phone) is at his parents house so no photos for today.
I feel ill and head achy.
This stupid thing just deleted my post and I have to type things three times over due to it jumping and there being extraneous letters and part words turning up in odd, random and unexpected places.
I want some tasty bread. I've tried to make Garlic bread and it won't be ready for hours. Nom nom nom denied.

Grrrrrrr grrrr and once again grrrrrrr

Added: I've just checked it. Some of the writing has gone grey. Whyyyyy?

Back.

I am very late in blogging. But I have some reasons...
I am also typing this between (oh no not again runrunrun) jaunts to the bathroom. I have been EXTREMELY unwell. So if this is a bit disjointed its because I was daft enough to try breakfast. Which was sincerely not worth the effort. To quote, CGBF I have been praying to the "Oh Dear God" porcelain god Huey. Lets be politer and say that I ate something and its having its revenge. It wasn't even in Egypt, no, no Pharaoh's Revenge, it was Gatwick's revenge (Gawick is one of London's four airports). I got food poisoning on the way home. First world, not third. What is the chances of that? I feel that's a bit unfair.

Actually I'm doubly late because I have just spent 10 minutes trapped in the bathroom (that, considering the past few days, is not unusual. Sadly/tragically) with CGBF trying to find the source of the whining sound.

Last night I heard a whining sound. A very insecty whining noise which resulted in some extreme examinations of the bathroom's private corners and it being most emphatically sealed. This morning we found the source. It was a bitey looking insect that wasn't a mosquito hat (stupid thing jumps around so the "t" there went missing. I can't find it now either. Gggggrrrrrrrr. Rest assured its not a mosquito hat) that was lurking in our shower. Like a reversed Psycho (the Alfred Hitchcock film) re-enactor. A rather nippy little bug which evaded CGBF and was being chased vigorously around the room (which is tiny let me assure you, almost as much space in the shower as the main body of it). Tissues, towel whipping and in the hand a vigorous smacking he resorted to slamming his hands along the wall around the radiator until he finially managed to blat it. It was much like a cat hunting something.

Could I leave? No.
Why? We kept loosing sight of it and if one of us left it could escape. There was no way we were going to risk getting bitten by some whinny bitey insect after making it through Egypt alive (unbitten).

All was well, it was extremely hot (35C (95F) at 11 at night in Luxor), there was no Mozzy whining sounds, the food was excellent if almost entirely lacking in Egyptian fare. It was horrendously hot, bright. I feel the heat was so extremely orientated towards hot that it requires re-iterating. Especially since it was 35-47 Celsius (95-117 Fahrenheit) in Egypt when we left. And 10C (50 F) when we arrived. Hostile in the extreme. We've been arguing who should get the hot water bottle and I've been wearing my deep winter jammies. There has been no hot water bottle. But only because both of us were refusing to lead the "warmth" of the bed. Wiggling and shrieking at the same time (well I was, but there was a considerable level of man Arraggghhhhhhing from CGBF).

So I have been ill since Tuesday night and have most constructively spent most my time living beside the toilet. It was the eggs I had the morning after we landed in the UK. So I got back, was good, next day, these eggs are a bit funny, ah well, nom nom nom. Later that day illlllll.

Before I go I would like to share my sorrow about what has happened in Asia in recent days. I can only imagine how horrendous things are for people there. My thoughts are with them :(.

Anyway, I'm away off to go back in there again (I really should set a bed up in there, may as well be comfortable). Over the coming days I shall go over each of the days and add photos, I may add a summary as well (a shorter post and easier fitted into the breaks).

Going mayhaps to be an Eclair

Today I finally took action to ensure thatI am not wandering around Egypt nekked I can travel in appropriate clothing whilst being baking hot. Its 40 Celsius, is it just me or is that a tad antisocial? I know the planet does not revolve around being sociable to humans, and nor should it ever. But bloody hell that is scary.
We had difficulty in 26C heat and were pleading for someone to follow us around with a fan to prevent us from dying. I have difficulty coping in the south of France. Which I'm sure most (all sane) people will admit is not Africa nor anywhere near African high temperatures. So I am willing to place money one my one action of the hot afternoon will be to crawl into the shade with something cool. And maybe some knitting (I still haven't decided what to make. Eeeep).

From personal experience what Dara said about the melting point of an Irish person applies to people North of the border as well as south. And I am one of those things that melts, goes gooey and at the same time, crispy bright red on the outside.

However the point is, I needed clothes that did not make me look (as my mum would describe it)like a "sack of spuds tied in the middle" without spending a fortune. What is wrong with designers? It seems to me that Bigger=no waist is in their opinion a law of physics. Which may be shocking to some people when they find out, this isn't true. Anyway, off we went (CGBF to stuff me back inside a likely shop to keep me from not trying on anything). Town was heaving with people, it was a horror. Shop after shop it was like a swarm of flies all over things. I got scared.

We found somewhere quieter and there was a small child screaming in the changing room. Screaming non stop. Her dad was making her try on stuff. I could sympathise. I was 2 minutes from that happening to me. Actually the chances are I'd been that screaming child when I was wee, noisy (actually I'm still noisy) and hated the whole process of buying clothes almost as much as I do now (that dislike has been cultivated).

The first thing I tried made me look like a pudding. For some reason this led into me asking CGBF "If I was a pudding what sort would I be?".

Now he decided I'd be an Eclair.
Now what made him decide that I looked like a long, randomly lumpy sausage-like splodge of pastry coated in sticky stuff and filled with cream that squirts out when poked I do not know. Its hardly complementary is it? Apparently stuff does come out when I'm poked, its almost entirely noise though. Which he insisted on testing at random points during the day (I am quite screamy I will admit).

But an Eclair? Not something light luxurious, delicate and a rare delicacy (moi? high opinions? Never). No, a squidgy bun that is commonly available (that latter is most certainty not ever going to be true). Sob.

Anyway (the prologue) we got there eventually and he realises why I am a horror to shop with. I'll go in disparage everything, want to leave, get hauled back (repeat five times) until I am eventually stuffed into a changing room with a handful of stuff (I don't like but if I try it then I know I'll dislike it and its horrible) and reject it all. Bar one if things are going well. Repeat 3x and I have 3 trousers (one all you can leave bum prints on things, whats wrong with colourfast garments?) and 4 tops.

And rest. Then notice something and start some serious wondering.

We were in asda wandering around the clothing bit (between the DVD's and food). Oooh on the subject of DVD's we got I am Legend, Mongol and a few others I can't remember the name of including a scary sounding one. Anyway, (the Prologue) we nearly wandered into to the Granny pants (seriously they were that big, even the small ones). They were just lurking and yet looming all at once. Yes, it is possible to lurk and loom. They hid in a Granny Weatherwax fading into the background with just as much malice in a clueless manner (they are pants) and them looming out of sheer elephantine enormity, weighted down with lacy frilly fancy bits. Don't get me wrong, I'm not adverse to fancy pants just like the rest of you (assumption here but I'd like to think most of us here have style). But when it comes to HUGE Granny pants the size of a small child or almost, my Torso? I was thinking to myself that having heard people describe clothes as being fit to walk. Not mine I hassen to add, I'm compulsive about having clean and fresh frilly things and socks. Anyway (the prologue) should this Giant Pair of lacy Pants come alive, it could easily eat a child and savage small right up to medium sized dogs, maybe an adult if it moved fast enough, if it could move. Maybe the lace could take on a vast peristaltic movement that would allow it to undulate it around. That'd give us a clue how to stop it, pants have very little lace on the back.... But when you consider it Giant Savage killer pants aren't normal so that may not work because savage killer pants aren't normal so nothing can be construed as being capable of stopping them. Maybe I need more sleep. I am so talking bollocks but anyway. That at least is hardly abnormal.

CGBF just wandered in and said 'yes, yes you are'. Awwwwwagh

Maybe its the withdrawal symptoms from lack of spinning. Its making me INSANEEEEEEEEE Araghhhhh I want to spin but instead I'm degenerating into a mentally desperate person.
I can hang on until I've finished the final bobbin and plied them all up, I can, yes I can I HAVE TOOOOO.

Anyway (the Prologue)Why why why would someone try to make a 'sexy' pair of granny pants, especially those that are big enough to fit a pair of grannies in? Do 'sexy' and 'Granny pants' not mutually destroy each other like a pink frilly antimatter and matter reaction? Minus Gamma rays or an end times that could be taken seriously.

Slogans on pants, these really confuse me, the one that has me bitching has 'I love shopping' along the elastic. Why would ANYONE want the world to know 'I love shopping'. There is no way I would be happy wandering around with that embossed on my bum bits. Especially when it is a sickly egg yolky yellow and has hot dogs, burgers and other random pictures on it. How tasteless can you get, well as tasteless as nasty yellow pants but that brought it beyond the tastelessness that is that, by each tiny increment of decoration. We found some lumberjack shirts and CGBF admired, yes I did ask was he ok? And did his dad have any secrets I should know about and more importantly, did his mum know?

Some of the stuff there really smelled fusty* so we didn't stay long besides staring bemused at the pants. I mean really, who would want Betty bo on their knickers, or Tas Mania. Was glass gemstone studding one pair too. In the end we started wandering around after one of those woman who smell like they have marinated themselves in perfume as well as washed their clothes in it. Managed to pace myself so that I was in her wake, riding the bow wave. That tiny habitable patch between the awful fusty clothes smell and being overpowered by the perfume. Like a planetary system really that was. I was orbiting the over fragranced woman.

*Great Aberdonian word which I have really taken to, means something like musty and mouldy. As in chocolate cake, fusty cake, fusty cake, chocolate cake and more fusty cake (from an old manager). Another Aberdonian one is Spirtle. Which is not a porno pokemon as it sounds. Its a gadget for beating porridge or mashed potatoes up. Truthfully it looks like someone has taken a stave off a chair back. Who knows...I need to get out, CGBF has declared this. I have no bobbins and I need to tidy *sob*

We have now completed packing (I did the socks and knickers) and tidied the kitchen as well as having a dose of hysterics at the spider skin on my shoes.

Well me for now, I've slightly degenerated into a exhaustion rant but there you go. These things do sometimes happen. I need some serious canoodling to sleep before the holiday.
Will report back in just over a week :).

Spinning wheel, spinning wants.

I really want a new spinning wheel and I cannot afford that kind of money at the minute. Sadly I'm on my lonesome, well I say lonesome but CGBF is in the next room. However he has a friend over for dinner (which has very handily helped me to clear the fridge out pre holiday) so I'm in self imposed isolation in the bedroom.

Am I the only one (I am so wandering away from the original point here) who believes that the friend and partner barrier shouldn't be breached? They have been friends for years, long before we met. They have all those shared piss ups and beery nights out mixed with perving on the local wildlife ahem experiences, the in jokes and having another person, especially someone who is a bit shy like me (its bad, trust me) there wouldn't be comfortable. For me or for them. So into (utterly self imposed and enforced) exile I do go.

Which is why I am searching for spinning wheels and feeling a bit depressed. I am really protective over my stuff, I like to ensure it is well maintained. And since I swapped the flyer unit including the Mother Of All (the bit of kit that holds the whirly bits (flyer) that the wool goes into) that the wheel came with for another one then swapped back one of the Maidens (two upright pieces of wood that holds the flyer) has started to rattle. I should elaborate on that one. The Flyer unit is all the fancy rather compact and complex bit that sits above, to one side or in front of the wheel. String (the "drive band") which goes around the wheel to the flyer (a smaller wheel) and causes it to turn (the ratio). Causing the wool to twist creating yarn. By changing the size of the flyer you change the number of times it revolves per one turn of the big wheel. The faster it turns, the more twist and the thinner the yarn that can be spun. Thinner yarn needs more twists per inch to hold it than thicker yarn.

I exchanged my regular flyer kit (Mother of All) to a jumbo one designed for chunky yarn. Because it is so large it is perfect for plying because you can fit two regular bobbins worth of yarn onto it with ease. Allowing you to create a longer length of uninterrupted yarn. But since one of the two legs as it were powers (Maidens) has been loose. I think I'd need to fill it with filler and have to re drill the flyer in. But since its wood I can't tell how well this would work. So it'll have to be a repair job. Sigh.

Here is a labelled picture of my regular bobbin (this holds the yarn) beside a jumbo bobbin and the jumbo flyer (which is holding another jumbo bobbin). Which shows the size difference between the two. I've also included a 15 inch/38cm "Niddy Noddy" which is used to make skeins to act as a scale comparison. Its a pity I don't have a lace flyer unit as of yet to use as a smaller comparison.

I've just realised that the purple isn't standing out as much as I'd like. The Wool/yarn goes in here also looks like I've written Wod/yarn. Brilliant. Well hey, its better than the previous colour.

But with all the problems and worries about damaging the wheel I'm at the point of wanting a second wheel to ply with. Actually that's a point, I really should try spinning chunky yarn. Once I get a new wheel. Maybe that'll be a festive folly gift for myself.

I shall have to ponder what one to get in the mean time. I would like one with as many ratios as possible. I'm not even sure if I want to stick to an Ashford. I love their nice clean lines, lack of over fussiness, but I've never tried anything else and I must admit to being a bit curious... And I've heard of an Orkney make (Haldane) as well as one in Wales or England (Timbertops, who also do repair work). It'd be nice to support a "local" maker. Or as local as being in the same country as that counts.

Oooh, I've found a fool proof way of getting CGBF to seriously look at what I'm knitting or weaving. I now take my top off and drape it across my boobs. Works every time ;).

Well its late and I'd better head off to bed. Clothes shopping tomorrow. Blagggh (still).

More holiday stuff.

Today I have sorted the travel insurance, got heckled about it, flounced around wearing the hat (for some reason that is note worthy to me, I'm not sure if anyone else would feel the same), worked on the Blur shawl mark 2, had a dose of hysterics (CGBF used a phrase WORD FOR WORD my dad used on me, the one about doing things in good time, instead of leaving it to the last minute) and ate a vast quantity of cereal.

Since going on holiday I have knitted a vast quantity, and ate a vast quantity of cereal. It is like a veritable elephants graveyard of boxes stashed out of sight of his chair. I kind (I typed that as knid, I wonder if they are vicious/vermiscious or not) of realised he'd spotted them when I heard a (manly) scream (he maintains it was a (manly) exclamation, not a scream) from the living room. Then he wandered through and did the hug thing, where he cuddles me and asked did I eat all that cereal this week. "You did as well, I know you did" (I did too). Then wandered off with a sigh after patting my shoulder. Bless.

Weaving, I wove something yesterday and am rather amazed by just how much the weaving is narrowed by when you decrease from 1 thread every second dent to every dent. I expected a difference, but not such a large one. Guess I was clueless... (about it.)
I made a slight mistake in the weaving so 2 strands next to each other when woven 1,3 up then 2,4 up are sitting side by side. Otherwise everything seems fine. I got about 2 foot done so I'm pleased about that.

I have also realised that CGBF (who was humouring me by trying it on) looks better in the hijab than I do. Its the longer face. Sob.

I finally showed the "Sex Wax" picture to CGBF. He is insisting on investigating so we are off to Bruce Millers (a music shop).

Well that's me for today, we need to go clothes shopping (Blagh). And I still haven't decided what knitting to bring with me :(.

Holiday preparations.

I'm on Holiday!!

Woohoooooo :)

This is the first time all year I have been on a proper holiday (two days off to go and visit the dentist don't count). So what have I been doing with myself. Knitting (obvious), stash diving in the pretence of bagging it (I just want to squish Merino, which I could happily do for the next few hours but I need to blog). I am also preparing to go on holiday.

CGBF has booked us on a weeks cruise up the Nile! We leave Monday coming and it hasn't quite sunk in yet.

The effort to get holiday supplies is ongoing and so far has proved amusing. Since I only need to be in a place that is sunny to burn, not even in the sun, I burn in the shade (I seriously believe the sun goes Ah ha, there she is and instantly turns up the frazzle) I've got a hat (which I'm convinced looks like this....





but brown. I even said as much in the shop (I couldn't remember the name of the cow and I thought the flower was on the hat. Not a fan of the magic roundabout).



I'm not a hat wearing person normally, them being associated with spectacularly itchy flowery straw and spike based specimen provided by mum an encounter (dun dun dunnnn) with a rather strict church. First the flowers seemed the ultimate bad point, but once I couldn't see the flowers (the hat being on my head) the itch took over as being major massive problem. Until I realised the flowers were sending the spikes back in into my head and I just started to loathe it in its entirety.



Now normally this would be enough to make me forgo the hat as a garment but for another incident which at least gives me some acceptance towards them being useful.

High summer holiday (what possessed my parent?) in France and it was tremendously hot. Miserably so and me being a teenager and for some obscure reason having learned from experience as well as not being particularly interested in playing with sandcastles. Or indeed seeing (not playing with at this stage) people wearing nothing I was not particularly inclined to loving it whilst I burned. I always burn. Nothing good comes of beaches for me. Now most people say swim, I love swimming, but that means, burning, sun tan lotion and passing out for 4 hours in the heat (place your bets on how will I manage in Egypt now). Mum loves the sun and being on the beach and the parents (mum) were being somewhat stubborn in their reluctance to let me skulk at the campsite in the shade. So hauled along I was and told to wear a hat and slather on this thick white goopy stuff that I was told was sun cream, but looked like Lard. Smelled like it too. I still managed to burn to toasty charcoalyness the tips of my shoulders, the top of and down the inside of my cleavage. Sore sore sore. But my face was fine and I didn't have a bright red streak up my scalp where my parting was. I keep having to move the parting an inch along every time I go out so although I have a stripy scalp, one area doesn't become too bad.



So enter yesterday's hat shop trawl. Hat shopping seems to amuse me tremendously despite the fact I am buying something that is essentially frivolous what will have limited use. We found some pith helmets, a security hat and a Korean (or was it Vietnamese?) ones. I think I am being haunted by my dad's hat preference, there must be some type of hat phenotype that the man could tell with some extra innate sense (genotype is what your genes say you can be, phenotype is actually what you look like). It was bizarre, and really scary, try this, or try this, these are lovely, whilst I am screaming "Nnnnnooooooooo" in my head. one even was the same colour as his hat. But I managed to escape to the floppy hat end and proceeded to flounce (I think, I certainly tried to flounce), head mosh (owww by the way, how do people not end up with a sore neck?) or bouncing around to get the brim to wibble about whilst giggling like a complete idiot. If I could be bothered I'd maintain that I was merely testing how far it shaded me. Whilst CGBF watched, perfectly dignified and amused. He really did make spotting the spacer really easy. I wasn't much better at home though.



Here's my hat and some other stuff we got (as well as the second of the Sirdar blur shawls that I included in there because I'm not sure what knitting to take, choices choices).



We also got imodium since my Auntie went on a Nile cruise and was sick the length of it and back. I think she's been sick the length of everywhere she goes on holiday (besides Moscow). We got a rather military looking 2 litre water bottle (the shop did army supplies too), some water purification tablets, odourless garlic pills, miraculous sun cream (I'm not allergic to it, the only one in the whole of Aberdeen that I'm not allergic to. A miracle that).

Ummmm I also got this thing which is like a Hijab. Thats it on the Blur shawl (to be posted asap) and beside the hat and my first weaving project.

Muslim woman (I usually end up spelling that muslin) wear these in Egypt and I've decided to wear one (under the hat, protect my nose), not only in respect for the local's beliefs but apparently you get a bit more peace from hawkers and respect from them. The account I read said that people were more welcoming, they could go into the less touristy bits and got charged less. It also kept the sand out of their hair and their hair out of their faces. I can't even manage the latter with my hair tied back so if this helps I'll be happy. All good as far as I'm concerned.

I've played hunt-the-passport and won, all I need to do is go clothes shopping. :(

We tried but I think the Yuck, yuck, yuck, yuck, yuck, what is that? oh, ok, yuck was wearing CGBF and since besides the eye incident the day was a good one we abandoned it.

I also successfully and totally accidentally poked myself in the eye with an insurance brochure when queuing for the money exchange. My eyes were streaming for about 20 minutes so I could barely see and it was agony. I was so sore and kept giving people accidental grumpy looks, growling at CGBF (who was rather amused at my grumpiness) and having to apologise. I got lots of sympathy and assurances that it wasn’t a good idea and I shouldn't repeat it. CGBF also laughed me once he’d determined that I was ok. I was worried I’d pierced my eye or it was streaming that badly, but somehow I think that aqueous humour is thicker than tears.

Here is a picture of the Sirdar blur shawl, I started a new on Monday in purple (that's it to the side). Abandon all gauge all who knitted here applies only to the first one so far. Thankfully.

There is my first weaving and the latest addition to my stash, more of the blur before it sells out.

This is a better picture of my first weaving. Its very...... square and ummm short for a scarf, but there wasn't much that can be done about that. Besides starting again that is.

I also saw this in the front window of a shop!

Right, I'm off to try and join a knitting blog ring.