We’ve had a slow couple of weeks around here, blog-wise: Eoin and I have both had colds, which means a lot of my spare time has been spent catching up on sleep. On the odd evening, I have got as far as stumbling to the kettle to make myself a medicinal hot toddy, then crawling back onto the sofa to watch bad television from underneath the patchwork quilt. I’ve also been having some counselling for the ongoing PND, which means I often feel a bit teary or exhausted, and, really, the last thing people want to read here is a big ranty, venty post along the “woe is me” lines. Ain’t nobody got time for that!
I’ve been feeling rather guilty about missing out on the photo challenges, though, especially as I had had a good idea for the “merge” topic. I was planning to do something spinning-related: the various shades of a splodgy, particoloured batt merging into a harmonious singles yarn, perhaps with a little digression to explain the story of how I came by the fibre in the first place. Unfortunately, I neglected to consider a few factors. Firstly, I am rubbish at blending fibre: my handspun yarns so far have been barber-poley in the extreme, and there really is no rhyme or reason to the way I shove the roving towards the wheel. It gets spun pretty much in the order in which I pull chunks of it off the batt or braid in question, and it’s really neither an artistic nor a thought-out process. Secondly, how hard would it be to photograph yourself spinning? I mean, I have a tripod, but I’m not remotely sure how I’d go about composing a shot like that. Also, I don’t have a cable release so it would be self-timer all the way, which, in practice, means I would inevitably move at the wrong point in every exposure and the whole thing would end up as a blurry failure. Lastly, and perhaps most crucially, the same things which kept me from blogging (illness, malaise, general uselessness) also kept me from dragging the spinning wheel out from her new home in the sewing room and actually sitting down to do some spinning, which was really the whole point of the exercise.
What we did manage to do though, in the brief period before the colds struck, was to visit Cardiff Castle. In a blissful 15 minutes of solitude, I climbed up several vertiginous flights of stairs to the top of the keep, and was rewarded with this view of the merging of the old and new sides of the city:
Behind the Castle clock-tower, and the nineteenth-century arcades of St Mary’s Street, the Millennium Stadium pushes its way into the city skyline, conspicuously modern. The curious thing is that it really doesn’t look out of place. To my mind, it’s a lovely example of something new merging into an older, more established environment.