Atlantic Thread

  I'm writing this in London Fields, or as the Republicans call it, Fields. Sorry, I couldn't resist. Members of my family are often accused of diffusing tensions/avoiding issues by using humour. We're usually guilty!  I'm not feeling tense, but a little contrite at having left this entry so long. Life's been very chaotic in a hither thither of commitments and movements, but I'm just hoping I haven't missed anyone or anything out, because it's 5 weeks since I returned. There may (ok, will) be edits. I'm staying here looking after the most adorable enormous puppy called Lulu. She loves going to Fields and playing with her friends- it's a joy to watch. Today she is coming with me to meet lots of my family- we are gathering as it was my brother's anniversary on Thursday. A year. You know how it is. Dominic didn't travel all that much, but he loved Northern Ireland. This did spur me on to continue Atlantic Thread. That was the obvious next st...

Derry didn't feel like anywhere else. It felt  Derry and I bloody loved it. And that's how I knew I was properly on the Thread. I had the space in my head for the new. I couldn't remember what country I was in though. Invisible borders. As inspirational as Steak and Guiness Pie. I had walked around the city walls three times...I don't know if that's a superstition, it just felt like the right thing to do- reassured me like making the same rhythms with each hand does, but I also got amazing views as a bonus.  I popped into the Donegal Shop. And met the wonderful Eileen. Revenge time- she took a pjcture of me in her shop. She thought my sausage hot dog shirt was hilarious and had to send it to her niece immediately. Lovely knitwear there. The next morning, the lovelt Martin (oops Michael?) at the bnb I stayed in was so excited I'd met Eileen. She used to look after him a bit as a kid. He turned out well. He only wears black. He works between a gallery and an arts ...

  On the express bus northward. I could have stayed in Donegal a lot longer. It's been magical, and I felt at ease. If Ballina reminded me of Denmark, and Sligo Australia, Donegal felt like...Wales. it was soft- if you fell over you'd be cushioned.  There was a real magic there. Wales for me is full of kind women who've seen beyond the sometimes odd way I present, and go straight into real talk. Maybe it isn't like that in general...but that's who I've met there. And so it was in Donegal. I went straight on the bus to Kilcar, to do a real proper pilgtimage. The wonderful Maureen had agreed to give me a tour of the factory at Donegal Yarns- the second of the three large woollen mills still left on the island. The sounds! The machinery! The colours! The way everyone looked up and beamed when they saw it was Maureen going past. That was really special to see, and to feel. I met Nora, the woman behind the fantastic colours they use here. I've used their yarn in ...

  The Craft and Sewing Basket was a delight, I went there straight off the bus, and met the lovely Mary and Gabriela. They do classes, repairs, and groups and it felt really happy there, the infectious kind. And welcoming. Of course you would come here for yarn and fabrics over the glitziest of websites. Talked with the twinkle eyed Mary about the world of wool- thrown away some places and then imported from others. It's not rational, let alone sustainable. I got some delicious green marl spun in Donegal yarns, for Wild Atlantic yarns. I had a strange time in Sligo. It's very pretty. The Polish shop is the best I've seen outside of Poland. I found some sweets I had forgotten how good they taste. It was my day between two nights at the same place, and I changed my accommodation to in the town, cos I found the suburb a bit eerie. This was the day I couldn't really be fully on the Atlantic Thread. It was Sunday, and no shops to visit...I had work work I needed to do and li...

  I'm on the 458 bus between Ballina and Sligo, immersed in the next level Green all around me. The skies have been moody, and every so often, the view opens out onto the ocean and the cliffs. It's really complementing the Wu Tang coming through my headphones (NYC connection? New York, after all, is part of Ireland in a way, and vice versa). I find their music often complements crochet, and I have just started on the first scarf of this journey- cerulean alpaca which I got yesterday from the first shop of this visit, in Ballyvary. I'm starting to see patches of that very same colour appear in the sky. It's nearly 8 years ago that I embarked on the first yarn pilgrimage, from the Connemara through west and south Ireland, Brittany, Cantabria, Asturias, Galicia, Portugal and Morocco...connecting 42 independent yarn sellers who all face the Atlantic winds- and the challenges of facing this neoliberal system (the Empire), which will never really understand the nature of a pl...

Good morning all, I hope this finds you well. It's wild and windy outdoors- great weather to be by the ocean perhaps, for all its rejuvenating qualities of blowing the cobwebs away, but also the weather that exposes the dangerous power of the ocean too, picturing people literally battening down their hatches...but I'm in London, so it's a more prosaic case of putting on a coat and a scarf. And if you are in London too, please come along and see my exhibition 'Atlantic Thread and Other Stories' The opening will be on Tuesday 9th April, 5.30-9, at the lovely Apple Tree pub in Clerkenwell. This is when I'll unveil the blanket, to show with the map, photographs, and some other pieces of textile art. I will also bring along my Twelve Steps sculpture for the opening, and all the rest will be up for 2 months, during which I'll do two or three crochet workshops. I chose this place because it's been fairly recently taken over, with a view to make a true communi...