Am I an Oat?

Yesterday was a bit of a rag-bag of events, but a good mix for all that; a bit like my Josephine jumper.  First, poetry.  The mornings are for poetry, the afternoons for prose – it just seems to work that way – and so yesterday I practised my Artbeat Opening Ode (nothing will induce me to give you a taste) and worked on a couple of upcoming poems.  Then, as I often do, I foundered, hovering between Facebook and short stories like a woman hovering between life and death and unable to commit to either.  I have a couple of stories which are almost ready to go and a couple which are just starting; plenty of work, you might think – but I just couldn’t settle.  I switched back and forth between them, pausing only to check my Facebook status every few minutes.  Then I hit on oats.

During one of my frequent tea-breaks I had turned on Woman’s Hour and heard an item about making oat milk at home.  We seem to get through an awful lot of soya milk, specially when Thingy is on a cereal kick, so the idea of making oat milk at 20p a litre seemed quite appealing.  The first stage was to soak the oats.  No, the first stage is to look in the cupboard and realise you have no oats and send Thingy out to buy some.  Then you soak your oats.  After that you blend them and strain them – and voila! oat milk.

I’m still at the soaking stage so I’ll let you know how it turns out.

After that I resorted to knitting whilst editing a story and for some reason that seemed to trigger more creativity.  There’s a group called ‘Knit and Think’ and whilst it might sound cosy and trivial, there does seem to be some connection between knitting and thinking; and in my case, between knitting and producing prose.  Hence I finished the first draft of a story called ‘Josephine’s Jumper’ (yes it really does all hang together) and started another called ‘Thursday’.

After that I headed off to what proved a very useful workshop on taking a show to the Edinburgh Fringe.  I came away with the thought that a) this sounds like fun and something I’d like to do and b) it’s impossibly expensive.  Conservative estimates start at £1000 – and that’s without eating anything!

Still, Christine and I came up with an idea for a show which I said should be called ‘Juice-box Jury’.  This was because half the workshop was punctuated by her attempts to wrestle her way in to a small juice box and liberate the drinking straw from its container.  We were both in hysterics.

After that it was a quick whip home to gather knitting and head out to the Knitting and Crochet Group at Fingerprints cafe.  They were a pleasant and friendly bunch who helped me with my cabling difficulties and much admired my Josephine Jumper.

Here it is again, just in case you missed it:


Oh, and can anyone tell me who said the words in today’s title, and to whom?

Kirk out