Change of scenery

Time flies without me hardly noticing, and we´re almost half-way through the summer now. Even my dad has started his holiday, since the buses in the city centre are on strike (good time for mum to force him to build a new deck outside the front door), so the customary voyage south will commence tomorrow morning (the earlier the better unfortunately for me who have problems with sleep). With dad driving (or me when I was still fit enough) its a rough 12 hour day door to door, but since he has opted for the MC, its mum who´s at the wheel, and although she´s been down to Denmark on average twice per year for 56 years, she still navigates as though we were on a gravelroad to rural Mongolia.

So for once we´re spending the night in Helsingborg, partly because gran always has wanted to go to the summer show at Fredriksdalsteatern, and since its mums birthday in july, dad decided to get some tickets. Not that I think there is much of a point to give presents when it has to motivate a row 3 times per day. Since dad still thinks it kosher to leave presents a surprise and mum can´t handle not planning every hour of the forseable future, she asks over and over exactly what we do and when (although she keeps saying she wants it to be a surprise), until dad gets annoyed and hence the row.
I´m so sick of sitting listening to my parents, this whole holiday is going to be one long argument (it always is). Dad not wanting to do work on the house and then saying that he don´t want to be in Denmark anyway cuz he doesn´t understand the language (but he does want to go to all sorts of countries where they don´t speak swedish either). Mum wanting to work and never stop to do anything else. They are so wrong together, and I hate having to spend more time with them than a normal 20 something mingle with their folks (about 2 weeks per year).
But I´m gonna stick by my hammock, my ample stash of podcasts and as many literate hide-aways as possible.

And ofcourse I´m not going anywhere without a clear path of stich and purl enterprises now after having been contaminated by the knitting bug. I´ve always felt a surprise to how few cardigans I`ve owned every time I open the wardrobe, even though its pretty much all I wear, so there we have first base right there. Total yield will be narrated upon return.

Last crack with the needles was an attempt to introduce myself to the art of lace knitting. And although I doubt I have a great adeptness for this counting and skipping sort of thing, I can understand the vocation some people develop for it.