I have some recollection from school days that alliteration is considered a “good thing” and “interesting” when writing, at least so long at it is used sparingly. If I look online for blog writing advice, I’m told that I should come up with interesting and catchy titles that will attract people to click on the post. I’m not convinced I’ve necessarily achieved interesting and catchy yet in terms of the online world, but at least (assuming my recollections are correct) I’m meeting some elements of “good writing”. I may also have achieved cryptic as you’ll have to read further to discover exactly what I’m referring to in this blog title.
This past week, we have been throwing ourselves into Falklands events and social life. It started with the blackwork element of this blog’s title. Many of you will know that aside from standard interests such as reading, films etc, I have three main hobbies. Two I have already mentioned in this blog, running and baking. The third, needlework, has yet to receive any mention. For the crafters amongst you who don’t already know what I do within the sphere of needlework, my hobby is more specifically counted thread embroidery, though I do dabble with a bit of crochet and am always happy to learn something new.
On my initial flying visit to the Falklands at the end of July, I came across a flyer and entry form for the Falkland Islands Craft Exhibition. The list of categories on its own, ranging from hand dyed and spun wool through to leatherwork, horn work and various forms of sculpture and photography indicated this was a major event here. Scanning the categories I was delighted to see that there were categories for cross stitch, blackwork, other embroidery and crochet. The one snag was the condition that everything entered had to be crafted in the Falkland Islands. For a competition taking place in mid-September, I would have just over 4 weeks from my return to make any entries. I duly went online when I was back in the UK and ordered a couple of small kits that I thought I could probably complete in time, plus picked up a crochet magazine with attached kit as a bonus if I managed to complete things quickly. As it turned out, I didn’t managed the crochet, but I did manage a small cross stitch kit and a blackwork kit.
Entries had to be in on Friday 14th September and it was clear from delivering them both that this was a big event in Falklands life and that there are some amazingly talented people here. There were at least 4 people taking and logging entries and when we went to view the exhibition 2 days later, the range and volume of entries was staggering. Many of the entries could easily have been sold in any high end store in London. I was not at this point all that hopeful for my two little entries.
For those of you who are friends with Richard on Facebook, I have duly spoken to him about his thunder-stealing post on Facebook earlier this week. For everyone else, whilst the cross stitch didn’t get anywhere (it was much smaller and much less detailed than my normal work), the result of the blackwork is below. I won’t be on the Islands when the next competition comes round, but I might see if it’s possible to leave some entries with Richard to put in for me.
The second element of the title for this blog post has no sporting allusions. Rather it refers to the Falkland Islands Conservation Ball, held on Friday and a major event on the Islands’ social calendar. Getting tickets is itself a challenge as they are only sold in tables of 6 over the phone with lines opening at a specific time on a specific date. In my unduly sheltered life to date, I have little experience of this as I’ve never been on the phone trying desperately to get concert tickets. We had 4 of us on the phone though at the specified time. Only one of us got through and within 15 minutes all tickets had sold out.
Balls are a rare event in my post-having children life. Before being known as Alexander and Ptolemy’s mummy, I had what I believe is known as a social life. Mine happened to include a fair number of black tie events ranging from the last night of the proms to various slightly random events in London. Post children, and with no nearby family to babysit, nights out together on our own have been rare. It doesn’t help that getting ready for such events also coincides with bath time, which leaves me trying to remember that I have only half my make up on whilst I’m getting one boy out of the bath and that when it’s sub-zero outside, some form of hosiery is definitely required with my dress whilst I’m finding the other child’s pair of pyjamas that are totally un-locatable to him from their position on the bedroom floor. Sometimes after this effort I do wonder whether it would be easier to open a bottle of wine and collapse on the sofa instead.
Fortunately for this post at least, the babysitter arrived and we opted to make it down the hill to the town hall. We were also secure in the knowledge that for the effort of carrying a pair of trainers with me, we needed no designated driver/enough money for a taxi to get back home again. This did not mean that control could be abandoned. The presence of children at home who show no appreciation for Mummy and Daddy’s potential need for a lie-in was a reasonable control. It turns out that whilst the black tie outfits may still fit, increased age since our partying days in London perhaps should be more of a control than we (read Richard) had anticipated. I was up on Saturday morning feeding the hens, the children and generally pottering albeit somewhat more slowly than usual. The same cannot be said of Richard.
The evening however was a lot of fun. We retained sufficient control to avoid bidding £11,000 to win the star prize of the charity auction, a cruise to Antarctica. We also managed to avoid bidding on the prizes inserted at the last minute by the deputy governor who has somewhat of a wicked sense of humour. One of his last minute prizes was to have the chief executive of the Islands wash your car attired in a boob tube. He knew nothing of this in advance and I have yet to hear what his reaction was.
Much dancing was done. Perhaps unfortunately my children are still a little too young to be embarrassed by their parents, though I feel it is coming with Alexander. True parenting nirvana may then be attained. It may however be a sign of age that I’m somewhat relieved that the next effort in this direction is a good 6 or 7 weeks away with the Poppy Ball in November.
P.S. The featured photo is just an example of the fabulous sunsets we get here (when it isn’t cloudy and snowing/hailing). Hoping in the future to get some photos of the Milky Way to take advantage of the lack of light pollution down here.
P.P.S. In-between writing and posting this, I have seen my first penguin! More to follow on this once I have returned and got better photos than on my phone.
Five penguins and us 