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beads, Harrogate, knitting, jewelry
Mar. 21st, 2010 01:26 amBead fair in Harrogate was very good. I got some excellent bargains, some things which I had decided I needed, and some things which I had no idea about but which I couldn't refuse once I saw them.
Got a taxi from the railway station to the place where it was happening (a large show ground area, apparently regularly hired out for this sort of thing -- there was a book fair and a paper/card convention of some sort going on in the general surroundings at the same time, but alas, I didn't manage to visit either, as they all closed at 4pm.) I know it was only two miles, but it was raining, and I would have had to find the way by map, and I did not find the thought encouraging. Had a nice friendly taxi driver who was kind enough to wait while I checked the location (we got misdirected by the traffic guy at the gate) and didn't charge me extra for it.
Lovely day, anyhow. Got back to Harrogate around 4.45pm (there was a bus which went back Harrogate-wards, and it's always easier to take the bus back than the bus to, since at least that way you know when to get off) and managed coffee and cake. Which was needed, because in the enthusiasm of bead fair I had managed to miss lunch.
Part of it is the beads, but the other part is being around people who understand your enthusiasm and share it. Like any convention.
LJ has got its act in gear again, it seems, and I can once more do things with my photos/scrapbook. Which means I have updated my knitting and jewelry folders.
This baby blanket was a gift for a coworker whose wife should be giving birth shortly. He liked it.
And here is a load of new jewelry I've been doing, everything except the first one on that page, which is older. This goes back several weeks. I'm bad at remembering to upload photos. But that's the memory wire stuff I've been talking about.
---
Last Answers
I wrote a poem on the mist
And a woman asked me what I meant by it.
I had thought till then only of the beauty of the mist,
how pearl and gray of it mix and reel,
And change the drab shanties with lighted lamps at evening
into points of mystery quivering with color.
I answered:
The whole world was mist once long ago and some day
it will all go back to mist,
Our skulls and lungs are more water than bone and tissue
And all poets love dust and mist because all the last answers
Go running back to dust and mist.
-- Carl Sandburg
Got a taxi from the railway station to the place where it was happening (a large show ground area, apparently regularly hired out for this sort of thing -- there was a book fair and a paper/card convention of some sort going on in the general surroundings at the same time, but alas, I didn't manage to visit either, as they all closed at 4pm.) I know it was only two miles, but it was raining, and I would have had to find the way by map, and I did not find the thought encouraging. Had a nice friendly taxi driver who was kind enough to wait while I checked the location (we got misdirected by the traffic guy at the gate) and didn't charge me extra for it.
Lovely day, anyhow. Got back to Harrogate around 4.45pm (there was a bus which went back Harrogate-wards, and it's always easier to take the bus back than the bus to, since at least that way you know when to get off) and managed coffee and cake. Which was needed, because in the enthusiasm of bead fair I had managed to miss lunch.
Part of it is the beads, but the other part is being around people who understand your enthusiasm and share it. Like any convention.
LJ has got its act in gear again, it seems, and I can once more do things with my photos/scrapbook. Which means I have updated my knitting and jewelry folders.
This baby blanket was a gift for a coworker whose wife should be giving birth shortly. He liked it.
And here is a load of new jewelry I've been doing, everything except the first one on that page, which is older. This goes back several weeks. I'm bad at remembering to upload photos. But that's the memory wire stuff I've been talking about.
---
Last Answers
I wrote a poem on the mist
And a woman asked me what I meant by it.
I had thought till then only of the beauty of the mist,
how pearl and gray of it mix and reel,
And change the drab shanties with lighted lamps at evening
into points of mystery quivering with color.
I answered:
The whole world was mist once long ago and some day
it will all go back to mist,
Our skulls and lungs are more water than bone and tissue
And all poets love dust and mist because all the last answers
Go running back to dust and mist.
-- Carl Sandburg
