Originally, it was this post that got me started on the idea for "Dear Dashboard", but circumstances prevented me from writing for a little while (more about that in a different post).
The first blog I ever read was when a friend of mine sent me the link to one of his posts that would make me understand better something we had been discussing. It did help, and of course I went and read almost all the posts my friend had written until then.
It did not take very long until I started writing my own blog, and I soon discovered that this seems to be the literary genre suiting me best - I have always loved writing ("always" meaning from the time I learnt to read and write, which was in 1973, when I was five years old with my sister starting school and teaching me in the afternoons what she had been learning in the mornings), but I lack both inspiration and tenacity to write a whole book, and there is such an abundance of topics I find interesting that I simply can not settle on ONE subject for a very long time. See - I am doing it again; this finding so many things interesting also means that I am prone to a little digression every now and then, in my writing as well as in speaking.
Over time, I have begun to follow other people's blogs. Some of these people I know in real life, the majority I have never met personally but have only come across by reading their comments on other blogs or because someone else pointed their blogs out to me.
When I fire up my computer, one of the first things I do is checking my dashboard here. And it is always with anticipation that I come here - who knows what funny, interesting, moving or informative articles are waiting for me today? So I scroll down to start where I last left off; with me following quite a number of blogs now, no day passes without something new on here.
Let me give you a brief introduction to what (or, better, who!) makes my dashboard worth visiting every day:
(I'll stick to the alphabetical order of the blog names, as it is impossible for me to give them any other kind of "ranking".)
Cooking the Ideas is a blog I follow not because I am such a good cook (I am not), but because I know the author from a small group which is part of a much larger social network, XING.
Cozy Cat Cottage is - you guessed it - maninly about cats, but, as the author herself points out, it is a place where she can have fun with her creativity. She includes poems, writes about food, quilting, crocheting, farm life, her cats, blacksmithing, camping, barns, exploring country back roads... (I have simply used her own introduction here, as you will see if you visit her blog).
Next on my dashboard is this blog from my friend Mel. I've known Mel for years through our common love for a computer game, namely "The Sims 2", and it was in the forums on the official website for the game, www.thesims2.ea.com, that we first bumped into each other. Her blog gave me a chance to get to know her better, and I hope the same is true the other way round.
Martin's blog is a treasure trove for anyone who is interested in the finer points of English v. German, be it for professional reasons or simply because of a fascination with languages - and a good sense of humour. Martin is practically my neighbour, living only two roads up from where I am.
I came across Female Sleuths while trying to find out more about an author whose book I had just finished, and google lead me to this blog. So far, I have hardly read any of the numerous books mentioned there, but the descriptions are interesting and I keep checking my local library's online catalogue for them (the books, of course, not the descriptions).
Why I am following Geranium Cat's Bookshelf should be obvious from the blog name alone - it contains "Cat" and "Book", two things featuring rather prominently in my life. Need I say more?
As far as I remember, I stumbled onto Julie Whitmore's Pottery through another blog which will also be mentioned here. Now, whoever knows me in real life might be surprised that I am following a blog about pottery - me not really being the handicraft person at all, and living in an almost clutter-free flat, with a taste for clear-cut lines, wide open spaces and empty surfaces. And yet, I enjoy reading her blog and looking at the pictures of the things she makes. Apart from that, she seems a very nice person and has left many a kind and encouraging comment on my blog.
Most likely it was here on Nan's blog that I first came across Julie's blog. Again, it may make you wonder how come I, probably one of the most unfarmy people around, would be interested in following a blog entitled "Letters from a Hill Farm". But Nan writes about many things that I also find interesting, books including! And probably because her life is so completely different from mine, I always read her latest posts.
Only today I have started following Linda's blog - I came to my dashboard this morning and found that the number of my followers has increased from 10 to 11 (I know, it's not many, but I treasure each and everyone of them!), and Linda being "my" No. 11, of course I went to check out her blog, too. Again, here is someone leading a very different life from my own, and thus I find it fascinating.
There is another one of the "farmy" blogs I am following: My Farmhouse Kitchen. The author's daily life and interests are exotic enough for me to marvel at her posts, and, just like some of the other writers whose blogs I follow, she seems kind and friendly and leaves comments on my blog every now and then.
This blog about New Driftwood, a fictional town filled with Sims (from the game "The Sims 2"), belongs to Mel who I have mentioned already.
A true gem is this blog - and there is the advantage of it being updated every day! "Rambles from my Chair" is still new on my dashboard, but I already wonder what I read in the mornings before I found it. The author has even commented on my blog, which is quite an honour for me.
Pete's blog is Tempestuous to Introspective, and if you are looking not only for information about many a different topic, presented in an entertaining manner, but can appreciate one of the most eloquent and elegant writers about, then that's the right place for you.
A bit further up in this post, I have mentioned XING, a social network platform where I am a member, and it is through there that I know Ange, who has become a friend over the years we have known each other. Therefore, it is with some regret that both her blogs, the blue marble we live in and thoughts of *A* cactus have not been updated for a long time.
The painter who owns this blog has featured before in my blog - namely in this post, and given that we have worked together for a painting, it is hardly surprising that I follow his blog.
Second to last on my dashboard is Twinridge, another blog of Mel's about her Sims.
The man who lets me partake in the rambles from his chair writes more than one blog; this one is about words and phrases, their origins and meanings, and provides me with inspiration every day.
Well, I have come to the end of my dashboard and thank any of my readers who have persevered until here. Maybe I have managed to make some of you curious about the blogs that I follow, and who knows, you might find them interesting enough to add them to your own dashboard.
PS: I have only just realized that this here is my post No. 101!
Monday, 13 September 2010
Monday, 6 September 2010
A Sunday in September
Last Sunday truly deserved its name; it was a sun-filled day and brimming with such beautiful views and things to look at, typical for late summer in our area, that this post is going to contain a lot more pictures and a lot less words than what I usually put on here.
My parents' allotment I have mentioned before; it is by car less than half an hour away (always depending on traffic, of course) and their pride & joy. They are both retired and spend a lot of time there; if possible (i.e. weather permitting), all sorts of minor and major celebrations are held there, from Easter to barbecues to mum's birthday to gathering around a bowl of punch with their friends on a winter night.
Yesterday, my dad went to the garden straight after breakfast by car. Just after 12, my mum rang my door bell and we walked to the train station together, taking the train to one of the smaller towns dotted around our slightly larger town. From there, we walked across fields and between other people's gardens and orchards to the allotment.
It was a beautiful walk, with only buzzards for company most of the time. Again, hearing their cry and seeing them circling high up in the air, making use of the last few days and weeks with favourable thermal conditions, plucked my heart strings, just like I have described in this post earlier this year.
At a very leisurely pace, it took us about two hours. We paused every now and then, mainly for my mum to catch her breath after an uphill stretch of path, or for a photo opportunity.
Once we arrived at the garden, my dad had already put the kettle on, and so it was merely a matter of minutes until we were sat comfortably around the table on the sunny patio, enjoying home-made apple cake (the apples of course being from the garden) and coffee.
Afterwards, I went to inspect how all the flowers, fruit and vegetables are thriving under my parents' care. And then I decided to brag about it on here and show you some pictures:
The roses are actually past their season now, but there are still some left.
Me not being any more of a gardener than I am a prima ballerina, I do like to be in the garden, and I regularly benefit from my parents' efforts. Right now, I have tomatos and brambles in my fridge and apples in the fruit bowl on my kitchen table (just as mentioned here) ; I finished the plums on Saturday.
As usual, I offered to do the washing-up; household tasks are something I don't mind at all, and even less so when the surroundings are as homely and picturesque as the inside of the garden hut:
While it was still nice, before any of us would feel too chilly, we went back to town in my dad's car. It had been a beautiful September Sunday, and I hope some more will follow.
My parents' allotment I have mentioned before; it is by car less than half an hour away (always depending on traffic, of course) and their pride & joy. They are both retired and spend a lot of time there; if possible (i.e. weather permitting), all sorts of minor and major celebrations are held there, from Easter to barbecues to mum's birthday to gathering around a bowl of punch with their friends on a winter night.
Yesterday, my dad went to the garden straight after breakfast by car. Just after 12, my mum rang my door bell and we walked to the train station together, taking the train to one of the smaller towns dotted around our slightly larger town. From there, we walked across fields and between other people's gardens and orchards to the allotment.
It was a beautiful walk, with only buzzards for company most of the time. Again, hearing their cry and seeing them circling high up in the air, making use of the last few days and weeks with favourable thermal conditions, plucked my heart strings, just like I have described in this post earlier this year.
At a very leisurely pace, it took us about two hours. We paused every now and then, mainly for my mum to catch her breath after an uphill stretch of path, or for a photo opportunity.
Once we arrived at the garden, my dad had already put the kettle on, and so it was merely a matter of minutes until we were sat comfortably around the table on the sunny patio, enjoying home-made apple cake (the apples of course being from the garden) and coffee.
Afterwards, I went to inspect how all the flowers, fruit and vegetables are thriving under my parents' care. And then I decided to brag about it on here and show you some pictures:
These are called summer anemona (or something like that).
My dad planted this flower bed as a birthday present for my mum; it has many of her favourite flowers, such as snapdragons, calendula, lobelia, zinnia and aster. To the left, a flask pumpkin is trying hard.
A bit further down, beans cover the ground and climb up their stalks.
Mangold and brambles, and a fig tree which reaches about hip-high for me. I don't think the figs will manage to ripen this year, it is getting too cold now.
The roses are actually past their season now, but there are still some left.
Me not being any more of a gardener than I am a prima ballerina, I do like to be in the garden, and I regularly benefit from my parents' efforts. Right now, I have tomatos and brambles in my fridge and apples in the fruit bowl on my kitchen table (just as mentioned here) ; I finished the plums on Saturday.
As usual, I offered to do the washing-up; household tasks are something I don't mind at all, and even less so when the surroundings are as homely and picturesque as the inside of the garden hut:
While it was still nice, before any of us would feel too chilly, we went back to town in my dad's car. It had been a beautiful September Sunday, and I hope some more will follow.
Wednesday, 1 September 2010
Welcome, New Month!
Don't you love the beginning of a new month?
There is something about it that holds (an admittedly unspecified) promise of things to come, and depending on what you do for a living and how you have generally set up your life, it gives you the chance of a clean slate in some areas.
Today is the 1st of September. It is cold out there, only 7 Celsius feeling like 5 (that is 45, feeling like 41 Fahrenheit for you), but the sky is a pale clear blue and the sun is casting long bright patches across my kitchen floor from the window facing East.
I must remember to cut out this month's train ticket and put it into my train pass before I leave for work. The wall calendar in the hall I have already turned over to September just after I fed the cat. Later, at work, I will clean up my email folders; only the current month and the two previous months are kept in the in and out boxes.
This picture I took from my kitchen window a few days ago. My neighbour's garden is beautiful, isn't it? A rather nostalgic reminder of what we have just left behind us for another year.
What are your little start-of-the-month tasks and rituals?
Friday, 27 August 2010
A Bout Of Shopalitis
Two weeks ago, I "suffered" a severe bout of shopalitis.
Normally, I am hardly a shopaholic; sure, I love shopping for clothes and shoes, toileteries and other such things (who doesn't?), but often, it is enough for me to just look around and not actually buy anything.
During my holiday in England, I went into quite a number of clothes (and other) shops, some of which were VERY tempting (the one I instantly fell in love with was this one in Leeds' beautiful Victoria Quarter), and yet I only bought a skirt and a top from Monsoon when we were already at Manchester Airport, waiting for our flight home.
Two dresses and two pairs of shoes... plus the cartridge and the toothbrush head.
Normally, I am hardly a shopaholic; sure, I love shopping for clothes and shoes, toileteries and other such things (who doesn't?), but often, it is enough for me to just look around and not actually buy anything.
During my holiday in England, I went into quite a number of clothes (and other) shops, some of which were VERY tempting (the one I instantly fell in love with was this one in Leeds' beautiful Victoria Quarter), and yet I only bought a skirt and a top from Monsoon when we were already at Manchester Airport, waiting for our flight home.
What made me buy those things was a combination of boredom (what else do you do at an airport? You can't read forever, it being a bit impolite when in company anyway, nor can you sit in a café indefinitely, and while watching people certainly offers some entertainment, it has its limits) and the impression of a good bargain.
(Inside Victoria Quarter, Leeds.)
When I came back, I had a few days at home before setting off to another week away, this time for working at a fair. I enjoyed those few days and spent them with such pleasant activities as celebrating my mum's 66th birthday and... well, shopping.
On that day, I only went to town for a new ink cartridge for my printer and a new head for my electric toothbrush.
And look what I came back with!
And look what I came back with!
It seemed a crime to pass those dresses - prices had been reduced only hours before I happened to stroll into the shop, and there was just the ONE in my size of each model. The shoes were from the cheapest shoe shop in town anyway and hardly mattered budget-wise - but I liked them, and couldn't decide between the two pairs, so I simply took both.
Slightly dizzy from this sudden burst of shopalitis, I carried my new acquisitions home.
My mum had bought me a coconut macaroon, and did I need that break!
My mum had bought me a coconut macaroon, and did I need that break!
Glad to tell you that I was back to normal after that, and have not bought anything but groceries and cat food since :-)
Sunday, 15 August 2010
Summer's End
It makes me sad, but it can not be denied: summer is coming to a close, and autumn is just around the corner.
More often than not, we get many a sunny day in September, and even in October temperatures can still reach a pleasant high during the day, but the substantial part of summer - what seemed to be an endless row of hot days spent in bright sunshine out in the garden, on the fields or at the public swimming pool when I was a kid - is over.
As every year, my feelings are mixed; much as I love the colourful changes to the world around me and the richness of fruit and nuts that are part of the onset of the colder half of the year, I do miss the long evenings of light and the possibility to walk around with very little fabric on me without feeling cold.
My parents have been to their allotment today, and on their way home stopped at my place to bring me apples, tomatoes and brambles.
Half of the tomatoes I had for dinner, with fresh basil leaves from the potted basil on one of the window sills in my kitchen. The brambles will go on my muesli tomorrow morning for breakfast. The apples will keep a while, so for now, they sit in the fruit bowl on my kitchen table.
Yes, I like late summer and autumn.
Still, I don't want this summer to end just yet.
It's been really good.
Saturday, 14 August 2010
About Spelling
I am picky at times, and can fastidiously be in clever-clogs-mode, as almost everyone who is in close personal contact with me - be it at work or at home - will readily testify.
One particular area where my rather unreasonable drive for perfection becomes truly annoying at times is spelling.
Spelling and grammar errors are so common I really should not bother with them at all, and I sometimes wish I wasn't so well trained in spotting them - no matter the language (as long as I know it, of course!).
For almost ten years, I worked at a publisher's. We edited and printed 60 weekly newspapers of small communities throughout South Germany, and my responsibility were the adverts.
Now, of course we had our own team of proof readers, but sometimes we were short staffed, and when that happened, I proof-read. Never the adverts that I had typeset myself - Proof Readers Golden Rule No. 1 says, Thou shalt not proof-read your own stuff. Someone else's eyes will usually spot the ortographical or grammatical error commited by the writer or typesetter who, more often than not, will fail to realize the error him- or herself.
Having said that, for my blog, I have to be my own proof-reader. And even though I always read my entries at least twice before clicking on "publish post", every now and then I re-read an older piece and still find the odd typo.
(So, please do point them out to me if you find them, ok?)
What prompted me into writing this is something I saw today when I was walking along one of the main shopping streets of my home town. Within a distance of only a few footsteps from each other, two errors caught my attention, both on handwritten blackboards on the pavement outside the shops.
One was at a telephone shop, and the notice on the board read
1 Vertrag -
3 Handy's
Now, if you do not speak German, you won't understand what's wrong here, but, in short, it should have been Handys, not Handy's, as the apostrophe is completely out of place here.
The other one was in front of a coffee bar, announcing
Coffee to go
1,50.- Euro
Nothing wrong there? Wrong. The .- is supposed to be a place holder for what comes behind the comma - in those cases where there is nothing behind the comma. If the price for that coffee had been 1,00 Euro, they could have written 1.- Euro. But digits behind the comma and the .- is simply wrong.
(I told you I am a fastidious and annoying nerd when it comes to such detail.)
To make up for my unnecessary rant, let me point you to the blog of a friend of mine who writes in a most entertaining manner about the typical errors, false friends and minor and major mishaps that can (and do) happen in the world of writing and translating.
One particular area where my rather unreasonable drive for perfection becomes truly annoying at times is spelling.
Spelling and grammar errors are so common I really should not bother with them at all, and I sometimes wish I wasn't so well trained in spotting them - no matter the language (as long as I know it, of course!).
For almost ten years, I worked at a publisher's. We edited and printed 60 weekly newspapers of small communities throughout South Germany, and my responsibility were the adverts.
Now, of course we had our own team of proof readers, but sometimes we were short staffed, and when that happened, I proof-read. Never the adverts that I had typeset myself - Proof Readers Golden Rule No. 1 says, Thou shalt not proof-read your own stuff. Someone else's eyes will usually spot the ortographical or grammatical error commited by the writer or typesetter who, more often than not, will fail to realize the error him- or herself.
Having said that, for my blog, I have to be my own proof-reader. And even though I always read my entries at least twice before clicking on "publish post", every now and then I re-read an older piece and still find the odd typo.
(So, please do point them out to me if you find them, ok?)
What prompted me into writing this is something I saw today when I was walking along one of the main shopping streets of my home town. Within a distance of only a few footsteps from each other, two errors caught my attention, both on handwritten blackboards on the pavement outside the shops.
One was at a telephone shop, and the notice on the board read
1 Vertrag -
3 Handy's
Now, if you do not speak German, you won't understand what's wrong here, but, in short, it should have been Handys, not Handy's, as the apostrophe is completely out of place here.
The other one was in front of a coffee bar, announcing
Coffee to go
1,50.- Euro
Nothing wrong there? Wrong. The .- is supposed to be a place holder for what comes behind the comma - in those cases where there is nothing behind the comma. If the price for that coffee had been 1,00 Euro, they could have written 1.- Euro. But digits behind the comma and the .- is simply wrong.
(I told you I am a fastidious and annoying nerd when it comes to such detail.)
To make up for my unnecessary rant, let me point you to the blog of a friend of mine who writes in a most entertaining manner about the typical errors, false friends and minor and major mishaps that can (and do) happen in the world of writing and translating.
Friday, 13 August 2010
In Strange Beds
Don't worry, I am not going to brag, Uncle-Oswald-style, about my numerous sexual exploits here, and me having slept in eight different beds during the past 12 days has no erotic implication at all - it is merely one aspect of the holiday that lays just behind me.
Maybe you have read what I wrote last, about getting ready and therefore already know that my sister and I went to England for a holiday.
Our holiday served a dual purpose; just as much as I wanted to go back to England for a bit, where I feel very much at home (and not only in terms of language) and get away from work and the everyday routine this involves, I also wanted to see the people whose family I became part of when I married my second husband. As most of my readers will know, he died very suddenly last year, and I am glad to say that his friends and family in England have been just as supportive as everyone over here.
The relatives and friends all seemed to be genuinely pleased to see us, and we were truly made feeling welcome. Beforehand, when we were still planning our holiday, we had so many offers where to stay that we really had to plan carefully in order to fit everything into the less than two weeks that we had. Hospitality was so kindly extended to us from all sides, and so we worked out the following route:
Ripon was our first stop. There, we stayed for two nights at my mother-in-law's; I slept in this room on the settee, accompanied by one of Mary's black and white cats:
The area around Ripon and the small town itself have much to offer to the visitor, and we had another two days there, but moved to a B&B in order to give Mary and ourselves a bit more privacy. This was our room at the B&B, which is called Box Tree Cottages:
We then went for a big contrast and took the bus to Leeds, a city of 750.000 inhabitants (as opposed to picturesque Ripon with maybe 17.000). There, we stayed at the Cosmopolitan hotel in the room you can see below. It wasn't the best of stays - the room was surprisingly spacious, but the bathroom had not been cleaned proplery (we complained, and it was sorted out instantly) and the only window in our room was very tiny, leading into a kind of light shaft which incidentally also had the tubes of the kitchen's ventilation system ending there, so that we heard the noise of that all night (not me - I simply put my earplugs in. I never travel without them.).
Our next stop was Bolton upon Dearne, where a couple of friends had invited us to stay with them. There, we enjoyed the peace and quiet of a house looking onto fields; I did not take a picture of the two rooms we slept in, for various good reasons (just believe me).
After that, we were ready for a taste of city life again, and went to Sheffield, which I found to be a lot more beautiful than I had expected. Our hotel there was a four star one, and this was our room:
For it being so comfortable, clean and stylish, we would have liked to extend our stay; alas we had the next episode already lined up and took the train to Thurnscoe, where my utterly lovely Auntie Ann was waiting for us. She gave us this room:
Two nights we stayed there, before travelling to the Peak District, where I'd never been before in my life. The scenery there is breathtakingly beautiful and so completely different from anything I know around here, and I really want to go back there and explore further where I could only scratch the surface this time. After a short hike, we arrived at our quarter for the night, a medieval barn that was practically rebuilt and furnished by the Crookstone Adventure Trust.
It was the most basic of all our stays, practically the opposite to the hotel in Sheffield, but we enjoyed it very much. The barn looks like this:
Maybe you have read what I wrote last, about getting ready and therefore already know that my sister and I went to England for a holiday.
Our holiday served a dual purpose; just as much as I wanted to go back to England for a bit, where I feel very much at home (and not only in terms of language) and get away from work and the everyday routine this involves, I also wanted to see the people whose family I became part of when I married my second husband. As most of my readers will know, he died very suddenly last year, and I am glad to say that his friends and family in England have been just as supportive as everyone over here.
The relatives and friends all seemed to be genuinely pleased to see us, and we were truly made feeling welcome. Beforehand, when we were still planning our holiday, we had so many offers where to stay that we really had to plan carefully in order to fit everything into the less than two weeks that we had. Hospitality was so kindly extended to us from all sides, and so we worked out the following route:
Ripon was our first stop. There, we stayed for two nights at my mother-in-law's; I slept in this room on the settee, accompanied by one of Mary's black and white cats:
The area around Ripon and the small town itself have much to offer to the visitor, and we had another two days there, but moved to a B&B in order to give Mary and ourselves a bit more privacy. This was our room at the B&B, which is called Box Tree Cottages:
We then went for a big contrast and took the bus to Leeds, a city of 750.000 inhabitants (as opposed to picturesque Ripon with maybe 17.000). There, we stayed at the Cosmopolitan hotel in the room you can see below. It wasn't the best of stays - the room was surprisingly spacious, but the bathroom had not been cleaned proplery (we complained, and it was sorted out instantly) and the only window in our room was very tiny, leading into a kind of light shaft which incidentally also had the tubes of the kitchen's ventilation system ending there, so that we heard the noise of that all night (not me - I simply put my earplugs in. I never travel without them.).
Our next stop was Bolton upon Dearne, where a couple of friends had invited us to stay with them. There, we enjoyed the peace and quiet of a house looking onto fields; I did not take a picture of the two rooms we slept in, for various good reasons (just believe me).
After that, we were ready for a taste of city life again, and went to Sheffield, which I found to be a lot more beautiful than I had expected. Our hotel there was a four star one, and this was our room:
For it being so comfortable, clean and stylish, we would have liked to extend our stay; alas we had the next episode already lined up and took the train to Thurnscoe, where my utterly lovely Auntie Ann was waiting for us. She gave us this room:
Two nights we stayed there, before travelling to the Peak District, where I'd never been before in my life. The scenery there is breathtakingly beautiful and so completely different from anything I know around here, and I really want to go back there and explore further where I could only scratch the surface this time. After a short hike, we arrived at our quarter for the night, a medieval barn that was practically rebuilt and furnished by the Crookstone Adventure Trust.
It was the most basic of all our stays, practically the opposite to the hotel in Sheffield, but we enjoyed it very much. The barn looks like this:
Only too soon, our holiday was coming to an end. Because our flight back to Germany was in the morning, we decided to go to Manchester the day before and spend the night at Bewley's hotel next to the airport. It is nothing special, just your typical business travellers' place to stay, and nothing about our room was remarkable, except for the sheer size of the beds (quite welcome after where we'd been before, I must admit):
As I said, the holiday was great. We did lots of different things and met lots of lovely people, had many an excellent meals and saw some truly stunning sights.
Nonetheless, after all those strange beds, my own bed felt very welcoming, and so did having my own bathroom to myself again, and having full access to my complete wardrobe.
I love travelling, I really do.
But I also love coming home :-)
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