things move around

Last night I got chucked out of a bar for the first time in quite a while. But I didn’t care, because it was a wanker’s bar.

1.  What is the one knitting accessory you could not live without?

My thimble. My thumbs would be so much sashimi without it.

2.  If you’re heading on vacation, do you take knitting with you?  If so, how much and what type of project?

It’s not a vacation if it doesn’t include knitting! When I went on my Alaska cruise in May, I knitted mufflers for all the other people on my deck. I was so busy knitting I only left my cabin once, to stock up on yarn in Anchorage.

3.  Where have you travelled to that you’d consider your favorite spot?

Probably Alaska.

4.  What is your favorite knitting book at the moment?  Do you own it?

Right at this moment I’m reading Designer Knitting with Kitty Bartholomew (or Knitty Bartholomew as I call her!) two or three pages each day from the shelf of my local knitting emporium.

5.  Do you listen to podcasts?  Which is your favorite(s)?

No.

Last night I dreamt that my hair was an inch longer than it actually is.

Kate and I went to see Timon of Athens by Bard on the Beach the other night. These crazy Canajuns pronounce it to rhyme with “Simon”, I don’t know why exactly, perhaps to increase the pun potential for reviewers, or perhaps because that’s how Timon himself would have pronounced it, although it doesn’t sound right to me. I always thought it rhymed with “demon”. Timon the Demon, that would have been a better title. Shamefully, the first thing that came into my head when I heard it pronounced was whether it would be funny to do an Australian version called “Timon kangaroo down, sport.”

For what it’s worth, it was highly entertaining with a great live soundtrack. Subplot, who needs one?

Yesterday E and I wandered over to Second Beach, via Lost Lagoon, to see the Hare Krishnas and their own brand of tentertainment. Some adolescent devotees were staging a hammy production of some Indian myth or other which seemed to be aimed at the under-threes, although it had attracted a large audience of gaping adult Vancouverites. There was free chow on offer, and for some reason people go absolutely mad for free food, even if it’s not great and they’re not hungry. As a result the atmosphere was euphoric, everyone noshing their lentil mash from paper plates and thinking about reincarnation. The Hare Krishnas really are a pedigree cult, and I’m glad we went to see them yesterday.

Rain on the flowers,
rain on the tree,
rain on the green grass
and rain on me.

After learning about the fantastic fruits of Peru, I was inspired to search my library for any references to them in literature. Of course, most people have heard of the famous lesbian novel, “Granadillas are not the Only Fruit”. But it seems that Peruvian fruit also appears in some of the greatest works in the canon, e.g.:

To satisfie the sharp desire I had
Of tasting those fair Melocotóns, I resolv’d [ 585 ]
Not to deferr; hunger and thirst at once,
Powerful perswaders, quick’nd at the scent
Of that alluring fruit, urg’d me so keene.

- Satan, Book 9, Paradise Lost, Milton

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a pacay?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each

- The Waste Land, Eliot

Sweet prince, you learn me noble thankfulness. 
 There, Leonato, take her back again: 
 Give not this rotten granadilla to your friend; 
 She’s but the sign and semblance of her honour.

- Claudio, Much Ado about Nothing, Act IV Scene 1

How have you made division of yourself? 
 A chirimoya, cleft in two, is not more twin 
 Than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian?

- Antonio, Twelfth Night, Act V Scene 1

I have eaten
the guanábanas
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

- This is Just to Say, William Carlos Williams

And most remarkably of all:

Pigmalion noght, though he ay forge and bete,
Or grave, or peynte; for I dar wel seyn
Lúcoumas, Zanzis, sholde werche in veyn
Outher to grave, or peynte, or forge, or bete,
If they presumed me to countrefete.

- The Physician’s Tale, Chaucer

I’d be interested to hear of any similar examples of Peruvian fruit in English literature. In Spenser, perhaps, or the Romantics?

I’ve just been talking to a Peruvian about fruit. These are his top seven recommended Peruvian fruits:

• Granadilla - shaped like maracas. One slices off the top like an egg, to reveal the fruit, which resembles a brain, floating in potable translucent juices within.
• Lúcuma - a round, greenish fruit with tangy orangey flesh, widely used in desserts.
• Melocotón - a white peach.
• Chirimoya or custard apple - green skin, white flesh, black pits.
• Guanábana - like a sour, soggy chirimoya.
• Pacay - long, flat, darkgreen, grows out of a tree, thick, thick green skin - one peels it, to reveal a fruit arranged inside like broad beans, nestled in a soft white pulpy lining. The lining is eaten and the rest discarded.
• Tuna - cactus fruit, bright red, figlike, with hundreds of edible pits.