Random acts of craft

A bad day, several even worse meetings and all a long way from home. So to cheer myself up I made some earrings to match a ring I was given with some cheapie wire, a few beads picked up in Edinburgh, a pair of children's scissors and some tweezers. I quite like the way these turned out; this is my favourite colour combo at the moment.

Writing Goes Badly (or, Gits and Geese)

I have had a very bad writing experience. A commission for a big television piece has been entirely rewritten by a director without an ounce of cultural sensibility or integrity. The commissioners and producers don't see it as an issue that he doesn't speak the language the script is written in, which perhaps should have given me a clue as to the likelihood of any support being forthcoming from that quarter. I am in mourning for the characters. They have been in my head and my fingers and on my screen for so long and they have been reduced to poor, stereotyped versions of themselves by this man. My favourite spunky, punky girl has gone and I miss her particularly.

The dialogue is so wrong I can't even begin to describe it.

I have been cheering myself up with a CD of Jim Reid and wishing I had written the Wild Geese:

'Oh tell me fit was on your road
ye roarin norland wind
as ye cam blawin fae the land
that's never frae my mind?
My feet hae trevelled England
but I'm deein for the north.'
'My man, I saw the siller tides
rin up the Firth o Forth'.

'Aye wind, I ken them weel eneuch
and fine they fa and rise
and fain I'd feel the creepin mist
on yonder shore that lies
but tell me, as ye passed them by
whit saw ye on the way?'
'My man, I rocked the rovin gulls
that sail abune the Tay.'

But saw ye naethin, leein wind
afore ye cam tae Fife?
There's muckle lyin yont the Tay
that's mair tae me nor life
'My man, I swept the Angus braes
that ye hinna trod for years.'
'O wind, forgie a hameless loon
that cannae see for tears.'

'And far abune the Angus straths,
I saw the wild geese flee,
A lang, lang skein o beatin wings
wi their heids taeward the sea
and aye their cryin voices trailed
ahint them on the air.'
'O wind, hae mercy, haud yer wheest
for ah daurna listen mair.'

Maybe I should take up Scots.

A new project, but...

...perhaps not a project destined to be finished any time soon. These matroyshkas are going to decorate a cushion or a bag; haven't quite decided which. The patterned fabrics are vintage Laura Ashley and had been cut into hexagons by my mother long ago for a never-finished quilt project. Hopefully they are not destined to be incorporated into two unfinished projects.

Fairies and first steps...

... O hì, o hò, crodh an tàilleir, siosar is meuran is snàthad...

There is a Gaelic lullaby about the riches of a tailor. He doesn't have any cattle but he does have his scissors, a thimble, and a needle and thread. I like to think that he found a lady willing to look past his lack of four-legged bovine charm who accepted his proposal and lived out her days in glorious silk and satins, ribbons, braids and seed pearls.

All of which is a rough intro to the fact that I live in the Western Isles of Scotland and spend about half my life speaking Gaelic and the other half worrying about its chances of survival. When I need to escape I turn to to my back bedroom which is stuffed with paint, fabric, clay and just about anything else I can get my hands on to craft with. So I thought I might try to write about these twin obsessions in one blog, and see how it goes.

This first picture isn't even of my own crafting, although it was done entirely through Gaelic. Here are some fairies spotted in Baile Sear in Uist - rather nicer than the fairies which turn up in Gaelic stories. Perhaps I'll tell a Gaelic story next time. These lovely ladies are from a craft kit I picked up as a present on a trip to Edinburgh, from an American company called Klutz. It is inspired - after making two with help this six-year-old artist managed to produce another two entirely on her own, and they are really fiddly. I am very impressed and will be looking out for more - tapadh leat, Klutz!