Reading

I picked this book up in a 3 for 2 deal just before coming away, having heard someone in my book group recommend it.  Due to time being on the short side, I didn't read reviews of it and any publicity associated with it winning the Costa prize went straight over my head.  So, I dived in and found it a rather rocky read - at times I was turning pages quickly, enjoying the vivid descriptions and admiring the fine writing.  At other times, however, I felt adrift in the history and politics of the setting and had to ask Mark for clarification.  There are reviews and critiques all over the web (here, here and here for example), however, so I won't add my thoughts to the heap, with one exception.

I groaned at exactly the same place as everyone else, it seems.

Just for the record (well, CD actually)

I joined Mark at the Operahouse this morning, where Tra was recording again.  I sat, sketchbook in hand and enjoyed the opportunity of making my own record of the event and found it interesting to be a passive observer.  

 

We'd speculated on the life of a professional musician more than once, noting how carefully members of the orchestra warmed up, taking as much care of themselves as their instrument.  I was particularly impressed by the chairs they were using, each infinitely adjustable for back support.  No H&S quibbles here - except, did anyone adjust their chair?  Not whilst I was there! (Let's assume they all did that yesterday and ensured that they used the very same chair today, shall we?)

I left Mark, Tra and the orchestra at lunchtime, originally intending to have another go at seeing the Open Source Embroidery exhibition, but having discovered the website held incorrect information, will leave that till tomorrow.  Instead, I took advantage of the first fine (ish) weather and explored the city a little.  By the river, a man was using a chainsaw to sculpt a pair of tree stumps - one was finished and he was a good way into the second.

But I have to say, I prefer the tree in its natural state.  What do you think?

The other activity taking place all over the city was the planting out of summer bedding.  The growing season is so short here, one would think that it's hardly worth the effort.  Not so.  There are colourful annuals in abundance and those outside the tourist office in the national colours were especially pretty.

 With Tra's part in the recording finished, we have a free day tomorrow and called in to get some advice about "must sees" in the area.  After some close questioning, we came away with several brochures, more maps and a sketchy plan: first to the Umedalen Sculpture Park, then along the Konstvagen to Bjurholm and the Algens Hus.  My plan is to get back to Umea in time to visit that embroidery exhibition!

It's now 10.30pm here and we are still amazed by the effect of the long daylight hours.  Looking out of our window on the 13th floor, we can see (and hear!) a crowd enjoying some live music on a floating restaurant, people walking, jogging and returning from a boat trip downriver.  A couple of chaps wearing high-vis jackets have just corralled a bunch of cross country runners for the start of a race and some of the spectators are pushing buggies with young children.  In a real-world version of one of those Richrd Scarry "Busy World" pictures, there's a train crossing the bridge, a plane taking off from the airport and cars moving through the town.

No wonder nothing happens till lunchtime!

The night time challenge

OK, perhaps these are not the easiest of windows to dress, but it would be good if the midnight sunshine was not quite so apparent!

The strange thing is that, in spite of true daylight at midnight, all the streetlights are switched on.  We note (and admire) the Swedish habit of saving energy by only lighting areas when there is immediate need - museum lights only switch on as one enters a particular area, for example, and turn off automatically the minute the room is empty.  And yet, at the same time as UK councils decide to switch off street lighting to save energy, here the lights shine on regardless.

Or perhaps there is a need to somehow communicate the changing days? 

Monday in Umea

  

The sun seemed to shine more strongly at midnight than it did this morning, but nevertheless, my plan was to walk through this "city of birches" to Gammlia, where the Open Source Embroidery exhibition is currently showing.

  

I walked along birch tree lined streets, in the rain.

I walked through a birch forest, still in the rain.

  

...only to find the exhibition closed on Mondays.

All was not lost, however, for next door in the Vasterbottens Museum was something equally interesting.

This is the centenary exhibition of the local craft co-op and what a great show too...many exquisite exhibits. all beautifully staged.  Items were densely arranged on tables at almost eye-level, or in small groups of similar objects on an otherwise empty wall.

Such a huge variety of media - wire, wood, weave - all so stylish with not a hint of twee or cute.

Such confidence comes from a rich heritage - most exhibits reflected a traditional background in the clean lines, choice of colour, design motif or simple function.  To me, almost every single item said "Sweden" - or at least, Scandinavia.  I loved every piece.

 

Across one end of the gallery was an equally stylish and inviting corner, set aside for hands on stitching, weaving, spinning...perhaps where one of the craftspeople of the future will take their first, tentative stitches.

And there, amidst the yarn, fabric and thread, was another essential component

 

a pile of birch twigs.

Update on Monday, June 15, 2009 at 3:46PM by Gill Thomas

More photos from the exhibition can be found on my Flickr page here

Names

Way back when I first started teaching, I eavesdropped on a conversation between four 13 year olds who were wondering why all the screwdrivers in the toolbox belonged to Stanley. 

The answer is here btw

Today, I'm thinking it cute that the hairdryer in our room is called Edward, especially with the crown.

I thought it was only IKEA who named inanimate objects.