A letter to Dad

Dear Dad,

How are you? I hope you're well, I just wanted to say - I love you, and I miss you, I wished I lived closer and could see you more often. You disappeared off the screen so fast, I hardly saw you. I was ONLY wearing a scarf, and I was only wearing it because I have been out shopping, I told you I'd fallen asleep because I was trying to learn to read Arabic, and that was why I hadn't taken it off, but your words hurt me - "Good God!! What are you wearing?! Be English, STAY English!!"

 "Dad, I AM English! I'm as English as anyone else, MORE English than a lot of English people!!"  - "OK, Enough said!" says you, and then you were gone, saved by the visitor at your door - my step sister, the one who you spend all your time with nowadays, the one who shares your life with my step mother, the one who lives down the road, has a job in the posh school, and MOST importantly - is ENGLISH! Yes, SHE'S an English rose - blonde hair, blue eyes, whereas I'm dark eyed, dark haired, and olive skinned, put me in a scarf (yes Dad, I said it!) put me in a scarf and suddenly, I'm Arabic, Turkish - FOREIGN!

Dad, you broke my heart today, I feel so sad, so deflated, it wasn't just your words - it was your actions too, you couldn't - WOULDN'T look at me, you looked everywhere EXCEPT at the screen, am I THAT shameful? I tried to explain that I believed in God, the SAME one as you, the difference is I don't believe in the trinity, can YOU explain it to me? You never have before, I was just supposed to accept something I didn't understand, but I CAN'T, I have to understand everything if I want to accept it - sometimes I WISHED I could just accept things, but I can't, my mind is such that I have to keep questioning, why, why, why?

"JUST BE ENGLISH!!!"  your voice echoes around my head,  Dad - just what IS English today? Oh, that's easy, it's not wearing a scarf! That's all it is isn't it, if I took my scarf off would I  suddenly, miraculously resume my "Englishness"! No, it's not that simple. For nearly 7 years I've been Muslim, for nearly 7 years I've hidden the "shame" of being something different. Well, I'm NOT different, I'm JUST Muslim, I JUST believe in one God. Dad, didn't you bring me up to BELIEVE in God? Wasn't I sent to Sunday school to learn all about the Bible and it's preachings? Wasn't I brought up to be a "good, upright RELIGIOUS" person? Well, I AM that person, the one you wanted me to be, I may not be perfect, but I AM that person, but it's not how you wanted - because good, upright, religious people OBVIOUSLY don't wear a scarf in your mind, why should I lose my identity just because I've donned a scarf?

Dad, I love you with total entirety, you'll never know how much I love you, we may not see each other often, but you're on my mind ALL the time, not a day passes when I haven't wondered how you are, what you're doing, whether you feel well or not. I know I'm not a good daughter to you, not the one you wanted, but I'm an adult, capable of making her own decisions, I've had children of my own, I hope InshAllah, that I have brought them up to be good, upright people of good moral status, I'm going to try to NOT pin my hopes and dreams on to them, I want them to live their own lives, and make their own achievements in life, I have probably made LOADS of mistakes in bringing them up, but they're strong individuals, who know their own minds (not like their dipsy mother) and I'm PROUD of them, and I'd be proud of them whatever, because I know they have a strong moral compass.

Dad, just what is English? It's a beautiful and proud nation of people, we're white, polite and kind, thoughtful, stand offish, and a bit aloof.  Actually, being English isn't such a big thing, we have a reputation for being drunk and disorderly, for being larger louts, football hooligans, aggressive loudmouths, pompus, full of our own self importance.

Being English is an element of all of these things, we're PEOPLE, all different, with different ideas, we're not white, we're everything, that's what living on an island does to you, people come and conquer your country and put THEIR stamp on your culture, that's why I'm olive skinned and my mother was a blue eyed blonde, she looked more Norwegian - I looked more Italian! Britain is a multi cultural country, a BEAUTIFUL country where people embrace (in the main) people's differences. Just because I've put on a scarf and  want to learn to read a book in a different language - surely that's something to be noted and worthy of recognition, I'm in my 50's and I'm STILL learning, STILL taking a journey along the road I feel I need to take.

Dad, where were you when my marriage was breaking up? When my world collapsed around me, when I felt so alone that I had no-one to talk to? When I went through the BLACKEST moments of my life? During that period I did some terrible things, things I don't want to remember, things that will probably send me to hell for an eternity, to be honest, I can't even REMEMBER most of it, I've blanked it out, I didn't want to continue, I didn't want the pain of the disastrous situation I had found myself in to continue, I drank to stupidity at night, I wanted to forget, I hated everything about my life (except my beautiful boys, they were the only thing to keep me sane during that period alhamduillah) During that time, I hated myself, I hated me with a vengeance, I didn't want to BE me! I wanted to be someone else, I didn't care who, but I wanted to stop the world and get off, I did EVERYTHING in my power to be as unlike me as I could be. No-one knew, YOU didn't know, I didn't want you to be ashamed of me. I struggled and fought to get myself back on track, hating myself and feeling I'd let everyone down - every step of the way, then one day, something happened - I found Islam, by chance, it happened, not immediately, but it DID happen, slowly I became more "sane" more sociable, I stopped drinking, I stopped trying to be something I was not, slowly I came back.

And here I am, nearly 7 years into my reversion into the religion that helped me find my feet, proud of who I am, happy to be strong enough to show people what I am, learning new things, teaching myself something new, learning to read in a foreign language, meeting new and interesting people - LOVELY people, people from all over the world, some religious, some not, some are even Muslim - lots of whom wear scarfs, LOTS of whom are English. You can't see any of this, you can't see my journey, from the darkest depths of my despair and depression to the person I am now, all you can see is my scarf, and THAT has broken my heart. :'(

I will love you forever and for always Dad, but if you are ashamed to see me like this, I will never try to embarrass  you, because I love you more than you'll ever realise. 

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A Revert's Tale

Actually, this is not the right time to be writing this, as I have to be out of the door in 45 mins, and I'm not even dressed yet, but this subject has been playing on my mind for quite some time, as several people have asked me in recent weeks how and why I became Muslim. 

It's a well known fact that I didn't revert because I fell in love with a Muslim man, married and - well, history. My story is marginally different, one, I hope, you will find interesting and enjoy. 

Several years ago, I used to communicate with my family via Skype, my father was in Devon, my brothers in Germany, so it was the easiest way to keep in touch. I'd made several online friends and so was well used to socializing via the internet. One evening a young man sent a friend request, which (with me being me) I accepted - my theory is that I am quite sociable, and will happily accept anyone so long as they're decent people, there was always the option to delete and block if necessary. 

His first words were (more or less) "Hi, I'm (his name)  and I'm Muslim" My first thought was "oooeck! a Muslim, could be trouble here" - I didn't think I was particularly Islamophobic, but he was actually the very first muslim I'd ever spoken to and I had been aware that Muslims were very (let's say) sensitive about things and maybe a little "out of hand"  (I was thinking 9/11 and Satanic Verses incidents) I quickly began to think of ways to end this conversation and disappear into the relative safety of cyber space. 

My life changed with his next sentance  "BET you think I'm a terrorist!!:p " - he WAS joking, but I was COMPLETELY flustered my side of the computer - I was thinking ......"OH MY GOD!!!!! he's a mind reader!!!!"  (I seem to remember actually checking I hadn't got my cam on!) I frantically typed " NO! no, not at all hahaha, " (cringing inside!) I thought, how could I possibly end this conversation, he simply said " how can I be, if my greeting is "Salam" which means "Peace" " It kinda made sense. In order to prove I'd not been thinking what he'd said I'd been thinking (which I kinda had) I felt obligated to continue our conversation after that. 

Time passed, days, weeks, months -  we had great conversations about all sorts of things and eventually, the penny dropped (I'm a bit slow on the uptake at the best of times) I suddenly thought - how come a young lad (he was not much older than my eldest son) was talking to a middle aged woman on equal terms - (sweeping generalization coming here - for which I apologise) in my experience, most young lads of his age (early 20's) were out drinking, partying and showing interest in women, and here he was talking to me about his life, his dreams, his schooling and family etc, perfectly eloquently in a language other than his native one. 

I suddenly saw a massive paradox in my view of how Muslim's were, with the way this young lad was behaving, so I decided to find out WHY there was such a difference. I bought a book called "Teach yourself Islam" (can't remember the author) it was a student book - after all, I didn't want converting, or tricking into becoming Muslim, I just wanted to know the basic facts - up until that point, I hadn't a clue what Islam was about. 

I started at the back (all the juicy bits about adultory, stoning, jihad, terrorism were in the final chapters) although it made for uncomfortable reading in some cases, it DID make sense and I could understand the reasoning behind things, so I turned to the (less inspiring) front of the book and was SHOCKED! The first thing I saw was the name Jesus, followed by Moses, Abraham, Adam etc, I was totally stunned, literally, up until that point I'd not realized the similarities between the two religions.  I was hooked, I read the book in it's entirety in a weekend. 

It took a lot of reading and talking, discussing Islam, asking questions etc. I met lovely people, born Muslims and revert Muslims from all over the world in my little computer. I wasn't really aware I was moving along the road to reversion, but I gradually wanted to become more involved. I was impressed when I spoke to people who were fasting, I didn't understand the implications - but the patience people showed at my stupidity, naivety, and blatent ignorance was impressive (I can say that now that I look back in time) 

A name was chosen for me - Rania (that made sense, I didn't have to change my signature - pft, I didn't show so much sense when I actually reverted, but that's ME all over!) :p Life continued, I don't know how long it took, but I DO know, I ended up really struggling with myself, I KNEW deep down that I was Muslim, that I HAD to be Muslim, that I had no option BUT to take my Shadaha, but my belief in Jesus being the son of god was too entrenched in my brain and thoughts, I COULDN'T drop that belief no matter how hard I tried, no matter how much I believed in what I was reading about Islam.

I read about the Prophet Mohammad (SAWS) about his life, his struggles, I was blown away reading about the seven heavens, how did a man who lived in the desert, who couldn't read, know that the sea is as black as ink the deeper you go down into the sea? How did he know about waves? undercurrents? the gulf of Alaska where the salt and fresh water oceans meet but don't mix?  how did he know the earth was round when the rest of the world believed it was flat? The star systems, the galaxy, I was so totally amazed at what I was reading BUT I COULD NOT GET JESUS AS THE SON OF GOD OUT OF MY MIND. It drove me to near madness, I couldn't sleep, I remember I cried a LOT - I'm sure ANYONE will tell you making such a change in your life is NOT easy! 

Then one day - Sunday 26th November 2006, I woke up, my husband had gone out, my eldest son was on his paper round, my youngest son was still sleeping, I remember getting up - my head was buzzing, and felt SOOOOOOO heavy, my face hot and sore from crying, I really felt dreadful. I sat there on the side of the bed, with my head ringing with a thousand voices - I literally felt like I was in a room full of people, all shouting, I could hear the voices, but I couldn't hear the words, it was truly terrible. 

I went into the bathroom and stepped into the shower - I remember saying a prayer, in tears - begging -  "PLEASE DEAR GOD PLEASE, help me, I can't do this on my own, PLEASE help me!" , I can remember the feeling of my tears burning my face, the "noise" in my head was incredible, I truly felt my head was going to explode, I turned on the shower............

and then it happened, I ABSOLUTELY, truly and honestly tell you, this is my TOTAL recollection - the INSTANT that water touched the top of my head, was the INSTANT my mind went silent, I just stood there allowing the water flow over me, and then I heard just one voice - just one, the words came to me................BEFORE Jesus, who was there? 

THAT gave me the answer I was looking for, because, without Jesus - there IS no Trinity, there is no father, son and holy ghost! With that, I got out of the shower, dried, dressed, and said my Shadaha without a moment's hesitation. 

It hasn't been an easy road for me, I struggle on a daily basis to keep going, and mostly I've fallen or tripped somewhere along the road at least once in the week, if not once in a day, but I keep going, I keep trying, I have no-one to push me forwards except me, I'm responsible for my actions, good and bad, I just have to keep praying that I'm forgiven my bad mistakes and I achieve more good actions, InshAllah one day that will be the case. 

For two weeks I struggled to teach myself to pray in secret - I didn't have a scarf, so I wore a table cloth, a dish cloth was my prayer mat, I prayed in the wrong direction. I used to leap up and snatch the table cloth off my head and throw it away from me when I heard my husband walking towards the room - the conversations we had were very stilted and difficult.  I remember one particularly embarrassing moment, when we had the plumber come round to fit a new shower - I popped into the shower to ask if there was nything he wanted , he said no, so I raced off into my lounge, drew the curtains, stragegically placed the armchairs to allow me to help me stand up after kneeling to pray...........I tried, but I was in so much pain kneeling, that I couldn't concentrate on anything, so I leavered myself up - JUST as the plumber knocked on the door and walked in - goodness knows what he thought of me, stood there squashed between two armchairs, tears streaming down my face, curtains pulled shut and wearing a table cloth on my head - I can tell you here and now - that was MAJORLY embarrassing! I don't know who for though -  him or me! 

It was three months before I actually physically met a Muslim sister in Lincoln - I was walking around town looking for a gift for a child I'd been caring for, I found a small arcade I'd not been down before and went to explore it - after all, it might have had the gift I was looking for, I didn't find the gift, but I did see a lady walking around in an Indian headscarf. I darted into the shop she'd vacated a minute prior to my getting there, and I asked the shop keeper if the lady she'd just served was muslim - she said yes, she also said they were friends, and she'd call her back - I was terribly embarrassed and shaking like a leaf, and refused her offer, but she did it any way, and she'd called the lady back before I could run............I cried!! 

I've cried a lot as a Muslim, it's been very much an emotional journey for me. I remember finding out where the mosque is in Lincoln - just a small XBaptist Hall, holds about 60 people on a good day, certainly no-where for sisters to pray. I remember wrapping up in a brown Pashmina scarf, wearing my brown hooded coat, and sitting on the wall, at the corner of the street, watching the muslim families take their children to the mosque and take them home again. I was trying to take comfort from the side lines, I was way too shy to approach anyone at that time, and too nervous to be seen in a scarf, but DESPERATE to "fit in" 

Seven years down the line I have struggled with many MANY issues, I've had good and bad times, good and bad experiences, I've worn the scarf, I've not worn the scarf, I'm back in a scarf, I'm TRYING, like I said, I trip up - A LOT, but I've NEVER lost my belief in Allah, in nearly 7 years, I'm proud of who I've become, I love my family dearly who have supported me, my sons have tried fasting with me, attended the occasional Iftars, I am free to wear hijab, I'm free to attend whatever I want............my only sadness is - I'm ALWAYS alone now, I never have the company of my family at any of these events, I understand it , I know it's difficult for them (especially my husband) but it is very saddening for me - I guess so, for him too. 

I don't know what the future will hold for me, I don't know where I'm going, I'm just taking one step at a time, for all my panicking and racing around like a headless chicken - I DO totally 100% believe what I have done is right for me Alhamdulillah. 

The end of this tale is the person who I spoke to all those years ago is still a friend, he's married now, to a beautiful young lady, I've always said I'd go out to Morocco to meet him - it's my objective in life that I WILL go out and say thank you - Allah hasn't seen fit that I go out yet, maybe I never will, who knows, I trust and believe in Allah's plans for me - I hope and pray they're good inshAllah, but I am TOTALLY in his hands, after all, I haven't been let down yet mashAllah, I'm here, and BOY! have I come a long way !! (Most of it - without even realizing just how far I've come!) 

I hope I haven't bored you with my tale, I didn't mean to waffle on for so long, I have promised to write this several times, I hope you enjoy it and perhaps, maybe, find some inspiration or strength in what I've written, InshAllah, you'll see a little bit of humour as well. 

Take care, and JazzAllah khair for reading <3 

Today I did something new.

It was probably the scariest thing I've done in my 50 years, and believe you me – I've done a lot! I am no shrinking violet; I’m used to pushing myself out of my comfort zone.

 I was travelling regularly between Worcester and Osnabruck in Germany by the time I was 11 years old – almost unaccompanied. 

I am a woman who is used to standing up in front of a crowd and doing presentations – I once spoke for 15 minutes in front of a group of 200 people of whom included members of local Government.

I worked in the NHS as a Childcare coordinator, it was my job to support and monitor the childcare requirements and work life balance of 6000 staff members.

I now run my own business, and travel around the world – alone. My work dictates that I live and work in strangers houses, not something many people can do.

I am used to standing alone, so why is it that I found putting a headscarf on, and walking out of my front door in my local community so incredibly stressful?

I haven’t changed, I’m still the person I was 6.5 years ago when I first reverted to Islam, however, the physical symbol of the hijab becomes a barrier,  an icon of a supposedly oppressive and aggressive religion (at least, that was my view of Islam 7 years ago)

6.5 years ago, I was in a “heady” rush to be a “proper Muslim” – in my eagerness I studied hard to teach myself how to pray, struggling and stumbling my way down the road I’d chosen. I remember the very first time I put a scarf on. I was working in the NHS in Lincolnshire, it was the day the some student doctors had been accused of trying to make a bomb – I walked into work and the first thing the receptionist said upon seeing me in my “glitzy pink” scarf was, “Have you got a bomb in your bag?” I was left shaking, only the day before, we’d been joking over my identity badge and how I’d always lose it in my bag somewhere.

Later that week, I was delivering some documentation to a Doctor in the hospital, walking along the corridors in another “glitzy” bright scarf, a person walked past me and spat out “BOMBER!!”! at me.

After many experiences throughout the world, I ended up taking my scarf off – not because of the horrendous remarks I’d receive (some were hilarious, like the Irish lady behind me  in London suddenly saying in an irate voice from behind me “Oh! These FOREIGNERS! Why don’t they B*** off where they came from??!!” to which I returned a very startled “Excuse me! Are you talking to me?!” in my public school accent – poor lady ran off as fast as her legs could take her) but because, with time, I realized just how fast I’d come down the road, and how I’d missed many major points which left me struggling. At one point, the only “real” bit of Islam in me was the scarf, so I took it off, in order to concentrate on becoming a “better Muslim”, vowing to put it on again when I had the strength of conviction that I was more centered on Islam from the inside.

That day arrived today, and as I walked round the village, I felt sad that I was almost hiding under my hood, yes, it was raining, but it wasn't before I left the house, and I still wore the hood. InshAllah (God willing) tomorrow I will be stronger, and will wear the hijab without hiding.

It was saddening to think that I found the simple act of wrapping a scarf around my head so incredibly stressful, that I was stood shaking at my front door – thinking about all the dreadful things that would, could and have been said. Why are people so scared of the scarf?

I've not changed, I’m still the same person I was this morning, yesterday, last year!  Why am I so scared of people’s reactions when I don’t even know what they will be? Why am I so scared to be seen as different?

For all I know, there may well be people out there – in my village, wanting to know more about Islam, maybe already practicing, but just wanting to find the strength to wear hijab, or to show they are Muslim. How do I know, I won’t be the catalyst to give someone else who’s struggling, the strength to do what they feel is in their heart.

Only Allah knows the reason behind why things happen, I should have faith in Allah’s plans for me, I SHOULD be a lot stronger than I am, but for now, I am thankful that it rained while I walked, and that I had to cover my scarf with my hood.

Today I pushed myself as far out of my comfort zone as I could possibly go, today I proved to myself, I can be stronger than I realized.

Bring on tomorrow inshAllah.

Holidaying with my brother's famil;y

May day came to find me sitting on a train racing to Stuttgart, I was excited because I haven't seen my brother for nigh on 8 years, and have never met his family. That was a few days ago, and it's been such a joy, I have loved every minute, playing games with my four year old niece and Daniella and her triplets, they're all so lovely to me, I'm so happy I was given the chance to catch up with them finally.

The funniest thing about my niece is that she has refused point blank to speak any English to me, she understands everything that was said to her, and she was so lovely in showing me how to play games on the wii, what to do, where to put things, so sweet, but she and I had very surreal conversations in Anglo-German, she spoke German, I responded in English. Funny thing is, I understood what she was saying (in the main) so I could reply to her in English - must have sounded so strange to the outside world, but it was a lark, and I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I shall miss her especially. Although all. the children were lovely, and I would dearly love to show them England. The two older girls kept saying they wanted to speak English like me - which was very sweet :)

Of course, I've been keeping myself occupied whilst I've been here, I went for a walk yesterday and explored Mockmul, an amazingly beautiful medieval town I've been uploading photos ever since, it's quite time consuming, but I hope, the people who get to see them get some kind of enjoyment from them.

Moeckmul is a small but heavily guarded town, with a beautiful (still inhabited) castle. The story goes that there was a young noble lady - Mechita - who owned a mill at a time when the town was under siege from some marauding rebels, when she came across the idea to place the chickens all along the wall, she set the sails going round in her mill, and fooled the rebels  into thinking the town had too much to eat and that it would be hard work trying to siege them out. 

In the center of the town there is a modern (albeit a bit strange looking) statue of Mechita sitting on the edge of a pool with a fountain. While I was there, she was next to the Maypole. The town also houses another strange statue - just outside the church, of a mother dragging a child holding a puppet (presumably ) to church, interesting idea, but again, not a particularly flattering statue. 

Apart from the two modernish statues, the town is very medieval looking, with many half wood buildings (if it were England, I'd say Tudor, but I don't know what the equivilent is in Germany) it's placed on a hill with a fantastic castle on the top - I hope to get a photo of the town from the other hill after seeing the castle in it's glory yesterday. However, the castle is being lived in and therefore still a private residence, so I couldn't actually go around it. The best I could manage was to photograph from around the castle walls. 

I found a fantastic little wool shop - oh! so many different ideas, I love traveling and seeing the different crafts people do, I ended up having a surreal conversation with the owner about knitting with ribbon (which, of course, I HAD to try out!) so I had a very quick lesson in ribbon knitting - in German, so of course, I actually didn't understand a word, however, I have given it a go and have managed to figure out how to make a scarf with ribbon.

Absolutely delighted with the end result, and have given it to one of the triplets :p I'm now having to make another one for the second triplet girl :) and then a third for my page on FB - I like to keep myself busy - you know what they say about idle hands. 

Today started misty and pretty grotty, but now, at mid day - the sun is out and it's absolutely gorgeous - just waiting for my brother to finish whatever it is he's doing on his computer, to take me on a promised sight seeing tour. Can't wait, been charging my phone for the last 4 hours in anticipation. 

The sight seeing tour was lovely - first of all we went to Jagsthausen a castle that has been turned into a hotel, but also had a theatre in it - which held regular performances. Then we went onto a Monastery nearby that was absolutely gorgeous. 

Why are the Germans nicer to each other than the English are ?

I have noticed, whilst I've been working out here in Munich, that the Germans really do appear to be a lot nicer and thoughtful towards each other than the English ever appear to be.

I was travelling on the tram the other day, it was hot and sunny for once, and the sun was streaming in through the window - when I embarked on the tram, it was all but empty, and not being a particular sun worshiper - I chose a seat away from the sun. As the journey continued, more people got on , and eventually, people were sitting on the side where the sun burned to a frazzle, anything sitting  on that side of the tram.
An elderly lady with a walking stick got on and sat next to me, another lady, (not quite so elderly) also embarked, and sat in the dreaded sun drenched seat - after a few minutes, the lady who was sitting next to me, nudged a young lady behind us, who promptly gave up her seat for the lady sitting next to me - the one sat on the hot seat then got up and sat next to me! Now I've never seen anything like that before, I would imagine, if that had happened on the underground in England, someone somewhere, would have either been laughed at, shouted at, or flattened - or, more likely, left to cook on the hot seat.

Now, apart from the country being HUGELY cleaner than England - yes, there are occasional blips where you can see rubbish, and I totally abhor dog owners who refuse to pick up after their dogs, but, intermittent belligerence accepting, in the main, Germany appears to be cleaner.
I was wandering around Munich the other day - no small city I hasten to add, and really, there was NO rubbish, I mean, literally no rubbish - I didn't feel dirty wandering around, there were no nasty urine smells coming from doorways, no glass on the ground, no plastic bags, polystyrene cups from coffee shops, nothing! Zilch!

I don't know if that is the reason for all of the kindness shown, but perhaps respect for one's surroundings goes a long way to helping people feel better about themselves, their surroundings and their fellow citizens. Whatever it was, it was a joy to see, and it's not an isolated incident - I have witnessed several occurrences of kindness and thoughtfulness in the six weeks that I've been here.

I don't know why the English can be so aggressive towards each other, not everyone is, I admit that, and throughout my travels I have been told many MANY times that the English are lovely, warm and welcoming to foreigners - perhaps that's what it is - you have to be foreign to be given love in England.

I've recently started knitting again, it's taken me a while to get back on the bandwagon, but working with the twins one of who is now a STOMPING 10 lbs, has too many clothes, the little girl, however, has next to nothing to wear, she's struggling to make 5 lbs at the moment, bless her TINY little cotton socks!
In a fit of despair, during a discussion with the mother, she said she'd willingly commission me to make a cardigan especially for her tiny daughter.
As I'm working in Germany at the moment, I couldn't use any pattern books, in the main because I can't read German, but also, I'd have to lug any patterns back when I returned to the UK, and I've enough junk in my suitcase as it is! So I promptly went onto the BBC Stoke and Stafford Ray of Hope website and found a pretty little cardigan suitable for a baby up to 5 lbs - PERFECT! I copied the pattern and bought some buff coloured wool (mother wanted natural "earthy" colours with a cashmere twist) I found some cashmere baby silk wool, bought whatever else I needed for my mini project and caught the tram back.

I had to fit the knitting in between the care of the twins, the washing, ironing and keeping on top of everything the mother wanted for the twins, but I must say, I'm very pleased with the result. Given the fact that I've not actually PROPERLY knitted anything since the Thomas the Tank Engine jumper I knitted for my Thomas when he was 18 months old (and he's now pushing 23 years!) I can't exactly call myself a pro. knitter, but I tried and I'm happy, with it - the mother is delighted, and put her daughter in it ALL the time, all day and tried most of the nights - she's in the UK at the moment, and had to leave the little girl behind because she's just too small to fly, so I've taken the chance and actually washed the cardigan.

Now that I've got the knitting bug again, what will I do next I wonder, I'll just have to find something that catches my eye. I'm going home in a couple of weeks for a few days - I'll have to look out my knitting/crochet needles, any wool I can find and stuff it all into my suitcase - there'll be NO stopping me after that. Can't wait <3

And the FRUSTRATION sets in!!

Why is it so hard to find a decent pattern and when you do, you can't actually get your hands on it? This is what's happened to me today. For the last couple of weeks I've seen the MOST delightful wrist warmers, REALLY cute, from the magazine Molly's makes - I LOVE them and am desperate to make them. Problem is.......I'm in Germany, and so's the Magazine. I, of course, can't speak or read a word of German, so  I'm kind of snookered. I've looked everywhere online, and can't even get a back copy. I'm really at a loss. Why can't you just buy one magazine online, or a copy of the pattern. It's not that I want the blooming thing for free, I'm happy to pay, but I refuse to pay 50 odd pounds for a subscription that I won't want, and can't afford! :\
What a to do eh