He was born in Tarnopol, and he worked in import and export. His wife was called Neta. He died, aged 57 in the ghetto in Kuoczynce, probably of disease, but he could have been murdered. All because he was a Jew.
And in the meantime, on National Holocaust Memorial Day, I light my candle, and decide to be more proactive about ensuring that it never happens again.
This week has been one of mild crises. Mostly of the Guiding type. Then one of the lost wedding ring type. You have no idea how wrenching that is (nor how depressing it is going round all the pawn shops in an area. In part due to the sheer number of them. I got very despondent after shop #4 and detoured to a secondhand bookshop).
I bought books:
That’s not quite the whole haul. The Hemingway, Mallory and Ashfoed aren’t part of the collection, and there’s a Persephone book about Gardening for Mum for Mothering Sunday which isn’t pictured. But that little lot came to less than £15, which wasn’t bad. I am fathoms deep in Carrington now.
I’ve also achieved some quilting. Small squares have been sewn into strips and then larger squares, which are now strips ready to be pressed and sewn into an even larger square. I do not recommend making a quilt with lots of 2″ squares. Accuracy is painful
And, I have knocked about a minute off my parkrun time from last week. I still have another minute to knock off to get a PB. However, I shall. One of the Rainbow leaders was randomly there. I have a parkrun buddy! This is more likely to get me out of bed to run than anything else. I don’t want to let myself down in front of witnesses.
There’s been more mug taking. If you follow me on Twitter, you’ve seen them all, so just skip to the next blog in your blog roll.
The first is one of my big tea mugs. Full of tea. I was having a cuppa with the Morris dancer (remember him from, oh, 10 years ago?). He wasn’t having a good morning, so we had tea in our respective houses, a couple of hundred miles apart, and he felt somewhat better. I love that he posted on Facebook that he was struggling, and that we were able to help cheer him up a little (I don’t like that he was struggling at all. Howsoever, knowing about it, it was good to be able to send some moral support via 1s and 0s).
Then we have the post parkrun coffee. It was cold and icy this morning. A bit of a challenge to run, although I think I beat my parkrun nemesis. Partly because it was icy and she was a bit cautious.
Monday night involved a very, very, extremely good hot chocolate in Soho. I will be back. The sludge at the bottom was su perb.
And, finally, a chattery box mug that was a present from K. A rather good cuppa on Tuesday. With magazines. I do like a good magazine.
This week has been mostly full of guidemin and leadership crises. People seem to be dropping out rather than volunteering this term. Which is probably good for their sanity but isn’t helping mine.
On the plus time, I have managed to finish knitting the sweater that I wanted to wear to the office Christmas lunch. It merely needs sewing up. And I appear to have two spare balls of kidsilk night leftover. I wonder what they might go for on eBay?
Its contents are generally practically perfect (tea, or coffee, or hot chocolate, or hot squash).
Its owner? Very much less so!
The other mugs I like are large, don’t taper, and hold approximately 2/3 pint of liquid. Closely followed by the ones which taper and hold 2/3 pint; but I’ve sent one cascading into smithereens on the bathroom floor twice (and had to replace it twice as a result, because it’s such a pretty mug), owing to lack of balance. I’ve stopped taking that one into the bathroom – flying mugs in the kitchen tend to bounce better, as the floor is rubber. Flying mugs in the bathroom are less fortunate, as the floor is mosaic.
All the best mugs are made of china.
We’re working our way through the London Walks book. Saturday was all about dead bodies and body snatchers. And detours to see Interesting Stuff such as the oldest phone boxes in London, and the smallest house (by Tyburn Convent).
Have some pictures. In a random order, as I’m being lazy and posting from my phone. And it’s crashed once already.
One of the blogs I loved, with beautiful pictures, and beautiful, simple knits, was doyoumindifiknit.typepad.com. Vanessa was an artist, she illustrated children’s books, she had two beautiful dachshunds, she made awesome papier maché sculptures. Evangeline doing the tea towel dance was my favourite – she looked like a morris dancer. Vanessa knitted the loveliest striped dress (she made several knitted dresses), and so enjoyed playing with colour and telling us all about it. I always looked forward to her posts, and I was so sad when she stopped blogging. Her marriage ended, and, from the pictures of her sculptures, it looked like the colour had gone from her life.
She inspired me to make my own striped dress (Dad took this picture. I’m saying cheese). I wasn’t clever enough to make it from my own pattern, but it is one of my favourites. And very cosy.
I’ll be wearing some bright colours to remember Vanessa. Bright tights. Bright shoes. Bright clothes. Rest in peace, lovely inspiring lady.