Peeps and Portia
Listen here: [audio http://traffic.libsyn.com/2bannab/2BAnnaB_Episode_005.m4a]
- All Spun Up – Spinning
- Loops – Knitting
- That’s my story
- American English
- Moment of Drama
(00:48) All Spun Up
On the wheel
Still spinning my sweaters worth of fibre.
I’ve finished 550 grams of Special Golden Potpourri custom dyed by Wildcraft on brown bfl (shop at www.wildcraft.co.uk) Only 50 grams to go and then I can start plying.
After the podcast I finished it all! Here’s a photo of all the singles ready for plying:
My Wildcraft fibre club for March 2013 arrived and it is so beautiful!
100 grams of Superwash BFL in the colourway Cosmos
I’m spinning up as a true three play for a fingering weight yarn.
It’s going to be the main colours in the Thinking of Waves shawl
On the needles
Primroses yarn – 70% BFL 30% Silk Wildcraft fibre club for March 2012
Trip to the States! I am headed home to Denver, Colorado for two weeks just after Easter.
Will try to pick up a US fibre or yarn or both, and will try to record while away.
April 27th and 28th http://www.wonderwoolwales.co.uk
We’ll be camping nearby and attending both days.
Boston Baked Beans
In a cast iron dutch oven fry up some pancetta.
1 can heinz beans (you can also use a can of plain cooked navy beans)
3/4 tsp powdered yellow mustard (Colemans is what I use)
Slosh of worcestershire (wooster) sauce
1-2 tbsp brown sugar
1 cup of bbq sauce
Squidge of ketchup
1 tbsp treacle (molasses)
pinch smoked salt and pepper
(30:40) That’s my story
Be positive, kind and generous and all that will come back to you.
If you have good thoughts, they will shine out of your face like sunbeams, and you will always look lovely. – Roald Dahl
(33:00) American English
(35:17) Moment of Drama
Act 2 Scene i
PORTIABrutus, my lord!BRUTUSPortia, what mean you? wherefore rise you now?It is not for your health thus to commitYour weak condition to the raw cold morning.PORTIANor for yours neither. You’ve ungently, Brutus,Stole from my bed: and yesternight, at supper,You suddenly arose, and walk’d about,Musing and sighing, with your arms across,And when I ask’d you what the matter was,You stared upon me with ungentle looks;I urged you further; then you scratch’d your head,And too impatiently stamp’d with your foot;Yet I insisted, yet you answer’d not,But, with an angry wafture of your hand,Gave sign for me to leave you: so I did;Fearing to strengthen that impatienceWhich seem’d too much enkindled, and withalHoping it was but an effect of humour,Which sometime hath his hour with every man.It will not let you eat, nor talk, nor sleep,And could it work so much upon your shapeAs it hath much prevail’d on your condition,I should not know you, Brutus. Dear my lord,Make me acquainted with your cause of grief.BRUTUSI am not well in health, and that is all.PORTIABrutus is wise, and, were he not in health,He would embrace the means to come by it.BRUTUSWhy, so I do. Good Portia, go to bed.PORTIAIs Brutus sick? and is it physicalTo walk unbraced and suck up the humoursOf the dank morning? What, is Brutus sick,And will he steal out of his wholesome bed,To dare the vile contagion of the nightAnd tempt the rheumy and unpurged airTo add unto his sickness? No, my Brutus;You have some sick offence within your mind,Which, by the right and virtue of my place,I ought to know of: and, upon my knees,I charm you, by my once-commended beauty,By all your vows of love and that great vowWhich did incorporate and make us one,That you unfold to me, yourself, your half,Why you are heavy, and what men to-nightHave had to resort to you: for here have beenSome six or seven, who did hide their facesEven from darkness.BRUTUSKneel not, gentle Portia.PORTIAI should not need, if you were gentle Brutus.Within the bond of marriage, tell me, Brutus,Is it excepted I should know no secretsThat appertain to you? Am I yourselfBut, as it were, in sort or limitation,To keep with you at meals, comfort your bed,And talk to you sometimes? Dwell I but in the suburbsOf your good pleasure? If it be no more,Portia is Brutus’ harlot, not his wife.BRUTUSYou are my true and honourable wife,As dear to me as are the ruddy dropsThat visit my sad heartPORTIAIf this were true, then should I know this secret.I grant I am a woman; but withalA woman that Lord Brutus took to wife:I grant I am a woman; but withalA woman well-reputed, Cato’s daughter.Think you I am no stronger than my sex,Being so father’d and so husbanded?Tell me your counsels, I will not disclose ’em:I have made strong proof of my constancy,Giving myself a voluntary woundHere, in the thigh: can I bear that with patience.And not my husband’s secrets?