Extreme Knitting Redhead: Xmas Pudding Dash & skies 116

Saturday, December 17, 2011

Xmas Pudding Dash & skies 116 - 122

Well, once again I have blithely wrapped and delivered/sent some knitted gifts without taking photos of them.

Hey ho, suffice to say that knitted handwarmers, aka fingerless mitts or gloves, are always well received especially when the recipient suffers from arthritis and the gloves are knit in light-as-air mohair which is warm but not too heavy for sore hands.

Saturday was the annual Christmas Pudding Dash in the beautiful grounds of Ashburnham Place. This was the 6th running of the event and I've done it 4 times now and each time in fancy dress to get into the festive spirit.

Here's the before picture (notice the slippers!). Sorry but I can't get it to flip the right way up for some reason.

Here's the after photo, taken back at home.

I don't know what my time was as I didn't bother with my Garmin - sometimes races are just for fun!

The medal is in the shape of a Christmas tree and I love it. Last year it was a snowflake.

Now for some more skies:

12th December

13th December

14th December

15th December

16th December

17th December

18th December

1 comment:

Anonymous said...: Ι’m not that much of a internet reader tto be honest
Ьut your sites really nice, keep it up! I'll go aheаd and
bookmark your webaitе to cοme back later on. All the Ƅest

My pge - golf glove; February 4, 2014 at 9:19:00 PM PST

Post a Comment

Mum's Story

In 1997 my mother, then aged 81, had a series of minor strokes. Shortly after that we started to notice behavioural changes notably memory loss and confusion over everyday items. We thought it was just old age finally catching up with her. Then she started wandering and had violent mood swings. Although she already lived with us it became obvious that she couldn't be left alone for long and so I left my job to care for her. The next few years saw a gradual decline into the blackness that is 'vascular dementia'. My normally placid mum became violent and aggressive. She had psychotic incidents where she would see imaginary people (children hiding in her wardrobe, Russians sitting on the stairs, women stealing her clothes) and she would shout at them and sometimes throw things too. She was so convincing that we used to go and check that there wasn't anyone there! When my sister died mum did not know who Judy was or that she was her daughter. There came a point when I suddenly realised she no longer knew that I was her daughter and this was a terrible time for me. In the last 2 years that she lived with us, life for us all became almost unbearable as she needed 24 hour care - she couldn't be left alone at all because she would either wander off or hurt herself, she never slept for more than 30 minutes at a time during the night, she became incontinent and incapable of doing anything for herself. Finally my husband and I realised that we could no longer provide her with the care that she needed and she went to live in a special care home where the team did a splendid job caring for her in the last few months of her life. There she lived a zombified existence unaware of who she was, what she was or where she was. It was heartbreaking. She died in March 2005, the day after her 89th birthday.

Thank you for taking the time to read mum's story and I hope you'll dig deep and sponsor me using the link below to help find a way of beating this destructive disease.