The day the Queen came to town

Yes, our little ol' town was graced with a visit from HM.  I had no intention of going and actually seeing her amidst the throng of people, the very idea shook me to my anti-social core, but then I was seized by the memory of one summer day in 1977, Silver Jubilee year when I, as a wee child, went off in a coach to the University (I think) to see the Queen, and I remember very clearly the actual moment I laid my own eyes upon her, and felt quite awed.  Selfish, lazy me, I thought to myself, and drove Oliver into town to join the throng, stand at the barrier in the high street and watch the police motorbike escorts bring the Royal car into town.  It lasted but a moment, and she was half an hour late, but the crowd was buoyant and friendly, of all ages, and the air of excitement was palpable.  Somehow it's cool to be keen on the Queen.  Oliver was beaming, and was so clearly chuffed, the whole experience warmed my heart and made me glad and relieved we had made the effort.   Our Monarchy stands us apart from the rest of the world, and I am proud to be British because of it.

Not a brill photo, I'll grant you, but hey, it's not every day you can (almost) get your son and the your Monarch in the same shot.

Today Mark is taking out the one remaining single paned window in the kitchen/diner:

This place was built in the 30s', and had a weird cast-iron sort of sun lounge thing attached to the back.  When it was double glazed, the bedroom and dining room windows still formed part of the sun lounge so the single paned windows remained.  They are a bit hideous, and run with condensation year-round.  Because some tit before our time put the curtain rails up too tight to the windows, the curtains touch the glass, and subsequently have got mouldy over time.  Same in the bedroom.  Boy 'tis grim. 

With the advent of the new window, we can now get blinds fitted.  Whilst I am not a fan of blinds per se, when the sun is out this time of year, this room gets bloody hot and bloody bright and we end up having to close the curtains so we are not summarily cooked and blinded, and then we are plunged into such darkness, we have to have the light on.  This, in turn, sends me slightly hysterical, so this whole operation is a good thing.

And so to crochet.  The daisy ripple has caused me some consternation it has to be said.  The purples alone (even with black and white) were looking gloomy.  So I popped in a little pink, and grey, and didn't like that either. 

So I frogged it right back to here:

And started again.  Now, I am not entirely convinced that I am in love with this either;

but I have come to realise that it is the width of the stripes which is throwing it off balance, not the colours so much.  Sooooo, I have started to add in some 3-stripe colours, and I like this a whole lot more.  There we have it.  After a few more stripes, when I feel 'happy' with a chunk, I will repeat it, chuck in a notable middle section and then reverse repeat the first half.  IYKWIM?

Happy(ish) days.