I Resolve

Nine years ago, after pressure from friends who were doing the same, I ‘launched’ my knitting blog. I called it Pompom – partly because of the knitting connotation and partly because I’m English and live in Australia.

But knitting and crocheting should involve lots of photos and I’m a lazy (and useless) photographer.  Most of those friends were doing it much better than I was.  So this quite quickly became my place to rant (I’m much better at that).

I ranted against useless politicians (no shortage of those), religion, ridiculous use of English – it was like owning my own media empire.  I could talk about whatever I wanted but without the pressure of having to please my ‘public’.  If readers didn’t like what I wrote, they could just go elsewhere.  At its height though I was getting about 1,000 readers a week and made many friends who became friends in the real world too.

Over the last 2 or 3 years, due to the rapid rise in the use of social media I assume, most of my original blogging friends have become silent (on their blogs, anyway).  And my blog too fell along the wayside.

I think it’s about time to revive it.  I don’t usually make New Year Resolutions but I’ve made this one (and, I know, it will probably last as long as most people’s commitment to go to the gym twice a week).  In Australia, we currently have the most useless, disorganised and dishonest Government. And surely Trump alone will provide many hours of amusement and horror?  Maybe I’ll even be more able now to fit in a bit of knitting content?

So watch this space.

We Will Never Forget

Today is Anzac Day and around the world nations are commemorating.  (Note: would some media stop using the world “celebrating” – you don’t celebrate a mass slaughter).

In London there is a huge march with a service at the Cenotaph attended by the Queen.  Civilians had to apply to be allowed to attend by giving their reasons for wanting to do so.  And my sister will be marching along, wearing my grandfather’s medals.

My grandfather fought at Gallipoli with the Royal Irish Regiment (I think 10th Irish Division).  Our mother was his only child.  She was in the WRAF during the Second World War (based mainly in Sri Lanka), my father was in the Chinhill Battalion in India and Burma – And my sister herself served in the Women’s Royal Army Corps. 

Why my grandfather was in an Irish regiment nobody seems to know.  He was born and brought up in Yorkshire.  I know Ireland was then part of the UK but I’ve no idea why he didn’t join a Yorkshire Regiment.  After the war he returned to England and was then posted to India in the early part of 1920.  My grandmother followed him out (pregnant) and gave birth to my mother there.  I think they returned to England when my mother was about 3 or 4.  It’s just a coincidence that she ended up back there in the next war (she was in love with my father and wangled a posting as he’d been sent there).

I remember my grandfather because he died when I was about 4.  Judith obviously (being 3 years older) remembers him well.

We don’t have to say “Lest We Forget” – we will NEVER forget him.

Make Mine A Double

As yesterday was Good Friday, I came across a group of parents on the internet discussing how to explain the Easter story to their small children without making it too gruesome.

One woman explained it all to her small daughter who seemed to have understood and insisted on telling her father the whole story when he came home.  The father listened proudly to his daughter’s retelling of the story and all went well until the climax:

“Then Jesus got hammered”

Nearly Right

Yesterday I visited a print shop to get a quote. The assistant asked if it were for a business or myself.  I told her it was for the Knitters’ Guild.

So she duly completed the enquiry form ……… And there at the top was “Nitters Skilled”

Well, she got the skilled bit right.

I Did It!

Each year I try to post every day in March.  And I managed to do it despite the fact that very little interesting has happened round here in the last month. 

I work a bit, I unpack boxes a bit (just moved house), I knit a bit. 

But I’ve sorely neglected my blog for the last 12 months so I’m hoping this will kick-start me into action.  I’ve been posting here for 8 years and I don’t want to stop any time soon.

It’s fun and I’ve made real-life friends here.  And it gives me the opportunity to have a rant and you know how much I love that.

A Win For Everyone … and for Decency

I came across an interesting statistic a few days ago. 

The Australian Government spends just over $2 BILLION a year keeping asylum seekers and refugees in detention.  The ones we’ve dumped on Manus Island and Naura are costing us $400,000 a year per person.  And remember we have a population of fewer than 25 million people in this country footing the bill for this.

If we allowed most of these people to live in the community (at a cost to the country of about $20,000 each per annum), the country’s debt problems would be solved. We wouldn’t be talking about increasing university fees, cutting welfare payments, closing down legal advice centres, or increasing medical charges.

We’d have no children behind barbed wire. No babies born “in captivity”.  And we’d have a number of people who are willing and able to make a contribution to this country actually being allowed to do so. 

Easter Show Pics

Of course I’ve no great photos of the knitting and crochet from the Easter Show.  I’m lazy and a lousy photographer.

But as usual, Kris has come to the rescue with a wonderful set of pics.  Thanks, Kris.

Enjoy!

Service Not Included

We went for our election night dinner tonight at a well-known local restaurant. 

The restaurant boasts a relaxed atmosphere, good food and that they “keep service to a minimum”.

Well, we couldn’t argue with that.  The food was fine but the service wasn’t much in evidence. 

I have to say I’ve never seen a lack of service presented as a selling point before.

Choices, Choices

David has just asked if I’d like to go out for dinner tomorrow night. Or would I prefer to stay in front of the television watching the results of the NSW election.

I’ll take the dinner, thank you.

Praise Or Insult?

The Hand-knitting and Crochet sections of the Easter Show are divided into a number of classes – Socks, Stranded Knitting, Creative Design, Baby Jackets – but there is one class in both the knitting and crochet section that’s on its own – Entry Restricted to Exhibitor Over 70 years of age. They can enter any type of knitting or crochet in those two classes.

I’ve never understood the rationale for this.  Is it that it’s thought that over the age of 70 knitters and crocheters are too old and doddery to hold a pair of needles and a hook and therefore shouldn’t be asked to compete against those without severe arthritis?  Or is it that it’s thought to be unfair to ask younger knitters and crocheters to compete against those with many more years’ experience?

I can never be sure whether these categories are insulting to the elderly or intended to pick out their honed skills for extra recognition.