Something to Chew On

There are two things that I continually do which by this stage in my life I should have learned not to do. One is tell Mads about play-dates in advance (because she's so, like, devo when they fall through)and the other is to get overly excited about an up-coming event.

Our trip to London last weekend was kind of a disaster. We didn't even take any pictures because the whole thing was mostly traumatising. There were good things about it, of course - catching up with friends, mostly understanding stuff on the TV - but there were a whole lot of things that weren't so good. Missing our flight from Frankfurt for one. We decided to be super-smart and take only hand-luggage which we figured meant that we wouldn't have to be at the airport quite so early. Clearly we were too cocky because when we arrived at the gate it had close 5 minutes before and they wouldn't let us on. Oh bother, as Mads would say.

So then we had to buy new tickets (for a a lot more than the original price) and endure a lecture from the Lufthansa rep on making sure we arrived two hours before an international flight. Afterwards it dawned on us that if we'd checked in luggage they would've been much less likely to take off without paging us. Shtoopid.

Then it started to snow. Heavily.
Then the flight was delayed.
Then they made us board and sit in the plane for an hour and a half before taking off.
Then there was the hot stinky tube ride into the British museum where our friend had been waiting for us for two hours.
And that was just Saturday. One Sunday there was my near-death experience.

The previous weekend's hilarious near death experience was almost being hit by flying roof tiles as we went sight-seeing in Strasbourg (during a cyclone - yes, smart). This weekend it was near-death by choking. I met up with an old work friend who is living in London and we decided to get all Englishy and have a roast lunch and a cider. And it was all going well until a piece of beef became firmly lodged in my throat. Gaspingly, blue-in-the-face lodged. I think it's the closest I've ever come to actually dying and all I could think while it was happening was; 'this is so humiliating.' I just knew that it would taint everyone's sympathy for my passing because of the comic way I'd departed. People might not laugh at first, but after a little while it'd be 'Oh yeah Meredith. She's the one who choked to death on a Sunday roast. Ha ha.' Too, too embarassing.

Somehow I managed to force the bit down and I am seriously considering a return to committed vegetarianism. Either that or a baby food only diet.

On the whole I was happy to return - alive - to Frankfurt, where I have continued working on the blanket I'm making for my sister's unborn child. Crochet is my daggy secret - it has none of the urban-cool of knitting - but as I am now nearly 40 now I don't really care so much. In fact, I'm nearly at the stage where I'm prepared to crochet in public. Nearly, but not quite. I have finally finished the squares and am in the process of joining them up and sewing in the loose threads. I have totally ripped off the design and colour scheme from here although I added green to the middle and I'm joining the squares up with caramel because I aint no copy-cat OK? (Now I think about it white would've probably been a better joining choice than a baby-poo colour but perhaps this will end up being a good thing).

My blanket won't look nearly as neat and professional as the Bee Handmade one as I am a terrible corner-cutter and I also can't count which is kind of important with this sort of thing and means that some of my squares are a little wonky. But as a project-abandoner from way back I'm proud of myself at having stuck at it.

So this week my plan is to finish the blanket. And remember to chew.