2009

31 December 2009

John and Sam have already called to say happy new year. Not because they’re old and have headed to bed already, (though they are and they have) but rather because they’re in the middle of the Malaysian jungle and over there they’ve already stepped into the new decade. Stepped very carefully, mind you, lest giant millipedes decide to jump up their trouser legs. Giant millipedes, incidentally, are apparently about the size of chorizo sausage. There. You’ll never eat that again, will you? You’re welcome.

I’m not sure I’ve ever done one of those retrospective posts. Not because I’m all for looking forward, or any of that arse, but because it seemed too much like hard work. But it turns out that if you can blog a fair amount during the year – bam! – it’s half-written for you by the time you get to New Year’s Eve.

So what have I done? I’ve done a bit of travelling of course. I never thought I’d be one for needing annual travel insurance, but thanks to a job that leads me to the continent and the UK’s handy-dandy proximity to, well, all of Europe, I’ve turned into a bit of an itchy-footed one. Lauren and I took the Eurostar to Lille for a day in March, where we photographed everything they have and then just two days later I flew to Salzburg for 30 hours to attend a book launch. In April Suzy and I went to see Hubert’s concert in Saarbrücken and then at the beginning of July we headed to Austria for the finale festival of Hubert’s three year project. We flew to Salzburg and then went to Gmunden. We met up with the band and went to Hallstatt. Where they heartlessly abandoned us. Then we were rescued. And then mildly abandoned again in Ischl. Finally we made it to Linz in one piece for the next three days of music from around Europe rocking Linz harbour. Not content with that much travelling though I trotted off to Salzburg again at the end of November, where I brewed the most awful cough I’ve ever had.

The Austrian part of my world also had a few nicely head-swelling things for me this year: my photos being used for concert posters, getting my name in CD liner notes and being up on stage with the rest of the team on the last evening in Linz.

Of course 7 Days was there every season to glue me – and so many of you across the world – in front of the computer, admiring photos and commenting. There were 72 people for one season, which nearly did us all in and so now the group is closed to new members except those related to or friends with current members. One photo I took in the summer was also somewhat poignant as it was of me on my way to say goodbye to my Granpop in Northamptonshire. He died a couple of weeks later from lung cancer and is much missed. I thought it would be the fact that I now have no grandparents that would feel strange, but it’s more that I hadn’t realised how often I thought to myself “next time I write to Granpop, I’ll tell him that”. Then again, if it turns out that Granpop was right about the ways of the universe after all, he already knows.

The vegetable patch at the top of the garden has been busy again this year, providing me with kilos of tomatoes, runner beans, beetroot, carrots and cucumbers. Now I’m even trying to be clever by growing forage rye over the winter to catch nitrogen and – possibly – magic gardening fairies in the soil. Success in the patch has certainly outweighed interest in knitting this year. The two needled-mojo just didn’t turn up this winter, though I did have fun making some salt dough decorations and people’s Christmas wrapping and handmade gifts this year have really got me thinking about what I could do ~~to win~~ along the same sort of lines.

My friends and I did well keeping our stomachs full and our minds interested in suitably cultural things through the year: butterflies, Ross Noble, dinosaurs, Shakespeare, The Nutcracker, posh afternoon tea, curry, Mexican, Italian and of course our traditional indoor picnics on a rug on the floor. The latest one was the Christmas picnic in front of our tree, just a week before we had another big snowfall like the one in February. This pile stuck around much longer than usual though, with a few flakes still in the garden on Christmas Day. Not exactly a white Christmas, but close enough. And now, I’m in for the night, the year, the decade, pretty much ready to see what 2010 will bring.

Happy new year, guys and girls. You’re all coming over to help me dig in the forage rye in the spring, right?

6 Comments Posted in: being me

Comments

6 Responses to “2009”

lauren
31st December 2009 @ 8:19 pm

phew! same again next year? have a good one chuck, see you soon… xx
Kristen
31st December 2009 @ 8:30 pm

Having no grandparents left is an awkward feeling for me when other people talk about theirs. And I dream about visiting or talking to my grandma a lot, even though it’s been 6 years. Then again, I still dream about smoking and it’s been 6 years since the last time I did that, too. Weird.

(Guess what Darren brought home to help me ring in the New Year? That’s right, more Irish cream!)
Thursday
31st December 2009 @ 9:35 pm

Do you know and truly, truly, yesterday I thought about that picture of you on your way to see your grandpop and wondered how he was. I’m sorry.
bethany actually
1st January 2010 @ 10:43 pm

I wish I could come help you dig. I guess since I’ll be on the Atlantic side of the country again in spring, you never know…
theUngourmet
8th January 2010 @ 6:25 am

clicked on you over at P-Dub. Great photos! :D Isn’t it great to find yourself at the right place at the right time?!
theUngourmet
8th January 2010 @ 6:26 am

sorry. this comment was meant for your bird post. oops!