Another reason to crochet

As a more or less direct result of my crochet, I have had a number of interesting conversations with people this trip.

This is not a big surprise - it's generally a good way to strike up a conversation. For example, at Woodford a couple of years ago, I had quite a few people come up and talk to me because of the crochet, including a few occasions when they'd seen me crocheting earlier ("you're that knitting lady, aren't you?").

The best conversation so far has been a long chat with a woman at a craft shop in Exeter who cards, spins, dyes and knits or weaves wool - that is, the whole process from fleece to garment. She had some lovely Jacob wool in black and white, plied together, that made me think of aniseed humbugs. She also had some great stories, including having to climb over a big bag of wool that her shearer mate dropped in front of her door once. And we discovered a shared delight in yak wool.

The most difficult conversation so far was the one in the British Museum, conducted in German, with two Dutch women (or maybe they just came through the Netherlands). That's why it was difficult. Apart from the obvious limitations given my very basic level of German, I had not been expecting to need to try to speak it, and have not heard it for a while. But I dredged up enough words to communicate a bit, including the shape I intend to make the scarf I'm working on at the moment. I could not remember, however, how to say that I had lived in England, but 10 years ago, although I think I got the point across eventually.

Of course, I remembered how to say it more directly (and clearly) as I was walking home.

Words have meaning

Today, I learnt the origins of three phrases. All come from the woolen cloth trade in Exeter.

"Piss poor": so poor that you have to sell your piss.

"Taking the piss": you go to sell your piss and the buyer gives you a low price.

"On tenterhooks": the cloth was dried under tension on tenting poles. Tenterhooks were used to create the tension.

Also, Exonians appear to have a more-British-than-British sense of humour. For example, these signs.

Fraternising with the enemy

Just at the end of my first term at Oxford I headed over to Cambridge with some of my friends from Lincoln. One of these was the militant tourist type, and you can see him in this photo far ahead of the rest of the group, all of whom were content to dawdle:


There are obviously some similarities between Oxford and Cambridge - the fact that there are a lot of old sandstone buildings, for example - but there are some definite differences as well. Oxford really does feel like more of a city (albeit a small one), while Cambridge is definitely a town. It's less built up - more space between the colleges, with many of even the central ones running just a short way to The Backs (along the river Cam):


With some, the buildings themselves back onto the Cam, as at St John's:


I guess I should include some of the really iconic colleges, like Kings (we went to a chapel service to hear the choir):


And here's Trinity's Hall:


Peterhouse, the oldest of the Cambridge colleges is also a must-see:


The town also has the soft English beauty that I got a little used to (it was only when I got back to Australia that I realised my eyes had been missing our brighter colours).