What Burberry and two glasses of wine can cause...

Last Saturday my friend and I shook our hands in agreement of when we meet up, we wear our own (hand)made clothes. Just for your knowledge we’re not some undiscovered fashion designers, although I’m positive you’ve figured that out about me without me needing to tell you this. The thing is that we just happened to go to see the showcase of Burberry works (FYI – clothes made out of net curtains and upholstery fabric are in fashion and some lovely knitted jumpers). After that we stopped off to have couple of glasses of wine during which we chatted what kind of handicraft we learnt at school. This made me confess and list all my shortcomings in the field while she has always been so meticulous and is absolutely brilliant in needlework, studying and mastering her skills at the moment in Japanese embroidery.

I on the other hand was never patient enough for a neat embroidery work at school. I did enjoy crocheting though but was never that keen on knitting. I managed to knit a pair of mittens, despite of the fact that both belonged to the same hand. And in an effort to save my grade I ironed the thumb of a mitten, pressing it to the other side. Somehow I got away with it. I also knitted a woollen jumper but the sleeves ended up being too wide for the armholes, so I had to have (unevenly) gathered sleeves (or set-in sleeves, or puffed or whichever is the correct term, I'm confused as they all seem to have different meanings, but look alike!). But as it was nineties, so I guess I was allowed to come up with slightly awkward clothing.

And as I wasn’t good in counting the right number of stiches to match the armhole, it should have been expected what to look out for when learning to sew, because I wasn’t necessarily following the saying ‘measure twice, cut once’. Funnily enough in Estonia we say – ‘measure nine times, cut once’. Maybe that many times put me off measuring... Who knows how much time I dedicated on it but when it was time to sew pieces together, I noticed that the two sides of the shirt front looked a bit different: one fine and well executed, the other one – inside out. I blame the mittens!

Both of my grandmothers were fabulous crafters though and we were always well equipped for the winter, especially by woollen socks (I might still have a pair somewhere). My maternal gran also used to sew me a lot of clothes, and she owned two Singer machines: a treadle sewing machine and the other with a handwheel. The latter was later given to me and I used to do my sewing homework on it as craft lessons were part of the curriculum at school.

So with no surprise while living here in the UK I wished I had an old Singer, exactly like my nan’s, and not obviously the electric one, that would have been way too fast for me. Over couple of years I’ve sewn exactly one cushion cover. Nice and easy straight lines. And accomplishing this, I’ve obviously entered a new level of confidence in my abilities, so naturally the next step up is to design and make my own clothes and wear these in public (does the public toilet count?). The more I think (and write) about it, the more insane I sound, but oh well, we’ve agreed that it’ll have to be a spring/summer collection as one would hopefully need a fewer layers at that season (meaning less clothes to create) and also we would have a bit more time to get accustomed to this unexpected plan of ours.

And additionally on a similar note – when I studied youth work, we had to organise a fashion show and our whole course of about 30 were to present our own-made (recycled?) clothing in front of rest of the students. I remember some of us coming up with totally magnificent ideas while I tried to get away with as little effort as possible (that sounds like it could be a motto in my life...) and I tied different scarves and headscarves around me to cover myself up. I might have run a scarf short but believe me – all the places that needed covered, were so. In conclusion if I’m not going to get my handicraft skills up to speed for the next fashion season, the scarf idea might be my plan B for this recent challenge.

Food, Glorious Food

A few days ago I discovered that Estonia celebrates Estonian Food Month in September and that’s why I thought I could talk about food while having my Colombian coffee and French croissants, although baked in Britain and originated in Austria.

Recently I’ve got used to having ‘leib’, Estonian rye bread for breakfast which I store in the freezer and always bring back from the visits to my home country. I guess the same way as Britons tend to carry baked beans from the UK to abroad, even when just holidaying. When my Mum is about to pay a visit here and asks what would I like her to take for us, there’s only one answer for that – one particular kind of black bread. I’d like her to be really considerate what she packs into her suitcase, and I’m hopeful she’s learnt that by now – bread is the priority. I don’t think I was ever that mad about bread when I lived in Estonia, but I guess it’s true – you don’t know until you miss it.

I know they do sell here different kind of rye breads in the UK, but they are not the same. The same applies to baked beans, doesn’t it? In the summer in Estonia I managed to be terribly disappointed in a can of beans by an unknown brand I’d purchased. Definitely not the same I’ve got accustomed to here. Really disappointing!

As disappointed was I when I was a kid and had a plan of taking secretly a chunk of sweet halvah (fudge like candy made out of sesame paste) wrapped in a foil and kept in the fridge, to share it with my friend who waited for me outside. I sneaked into the kitchen, got the square packet out of the fridge as expected, left the apartment, closing the front door as quietly as possible not to attract any attention, then walked behind our block of flats, my heart pumping inside of excitement, sat underneath the balcony, unwrapped it carefully just to find out that it was a chunk of cheese, not halvah. I’d failed my secret mission, and obviously no sweet treat for me or either for my friend!

But Estonians are fond of treating others, for example when they visit someone (abroad), they take something to the host and quite often it’s some sort of chocolate. Estonians are very proud of their confectionary. I’ve obviously done the same, even after seeing an American series where Estonian chocolate was mentioned – someone got a food poisoning from it. Not to worry, my non-Estonian friends, just be aware!

Self-portrait with the all time favourite,
but unfortunately the very last piece of (that particular) candy.

And additionally on the same note, if you ever happen to go to Estonia, please do try our rye bread, there’s such a variety and choice of it and if you manage to come back without trying any of the curd products I don’t believe you’ve had the right taste of Estonian food at all. So you’ve been warned (the second time already, but I can’t carry on writing about food anymore without having any myself. Coffee and croissants are long gone. So I’m going to get some chocolate out of the cupboard now in a plain sight and broad daylight without having to sneak around and have a secret mission, although the latter sounds rather exciting)!

I will

Last Saturday we went to the wedding. I was a bit reluctant to go as I’d promised to take some photographs for the couple and I guess the idea of such a responsibility made me nervous - what if I mess it up! Also being anxious made me foolishly touch more unknown buttons on the camera and discover new settings that I wasn’t aware of. I figured, if not now, when? So I changed a few settings (not sure which ones), either for better or worse, who knows? After all, I’m not a professional photographer!

The ceremony and party were really lovely! So relaxed and enjoyable. To be fair, it was their second wedding, because they got officially married a few months ago. And luckily the weather turned the bright side before having a celebration on top of the hill, but because of the downpour of rain beforehand, wellies were a necessity. 

It wasn’t a traditional wedding I’d learnt to know in England were you spend a lot of your time sitting at the table on an allocated place with three courses being served and between your meals listen to the speeches by the groom, bride’s father and finally by the best man. The latter is supposed to be naturally funny, he should talk loads of jokes and have plenty of good stories about the groom up in his sleeve.

In Estonia we are trying to have fun too at the wedding, not relying on the best man though, but traditionally we would have someone who’s leading the whole party. We call him pulmaisa (father of the wedding) and (s)he is the entertainer of the party who organises games for everyone. Basically it’s like being at a kid’s birthday party, but those games are meant more for the grown-ups, for example let’s say about ten women, including the bride, are sitting in a row and blind-folded groom has to touch and feel their legs to find his bride.

Also instead of throwing the bouquet of flowers to the single ladies, there’s a singing and dancing game where the bride and groom pass on the daisy chain to the chosen couple who they think should marry next, so not that hopeful for the single girls.

There are many jobs/roles been given by ‘pulmaisa’, like someone at the wedding has to shout several times during the party ‘kibe’ (direct translation - bitter), then everyone joins in and it means that the married couple has to kiss. So there’s a lot of public kissing, including someone’s role as a ‘pulmapitser’ (wedding stamp/seal) who has to kiss (more as a peck on the cheek) for example the winners of the games.

Oh, and let’s not forget that there’s also someone who’s job is to kidnap the bride if possible (obviously no one knows who that person is, apart from the kidnapper himself of course who usually is a man). So groom should better stay close to his bride at all times. As I said - like a children’s party - with strict rules, but lots of fun.

And additionally on the same note - I can’t really remember many weddings I went to when I was a kid apart from once when there was a boy who had a motorbike and he took me for a little ride on it. And now I’m not so sure if it happened at a party, but quite likely considering that our parents weren’t probably aware of that ride as they were busy eating, drinking and playing their grown-up games.

My second nature

“Hi,” shouts an enthusiastic-looking girl over loud music at a party and passes on a friendly smile.

“Hello,” I reply with a hesitant smile, glance at her suspiciously and continue dancing, thinking to myself “Who is she? Do I know her?”

Then suddenly she’s right in front of me (someone is invading my personal space! Where’s the panic button?!), friendlier and with even a bigger smile on her face than before, saying again a big ‘hello!” and adds my name to it. How the hell does she know my name?!

I feel trapped, I can’t think on my (dancing) feet of an escape route, and so I just repeat a “hello” and try to look more relaxed, less suspicious of her, and pretend like I actually do know who this strange girl is.

It seems to work, because she asks how I’ve been. (But as I actually can’t really remember her) I find it hard getting into a chatty mood and reply maybe a bit too laconically: “Fine, and you?”

Oh, no! She’s cracked my pretense and starts querying: “Don’t you recognise me?”

“No!” slips an honest answer through my lips faster than expected but at least it feels like a relief… for as long as… not for very long really as after she’s introduced herself to me, her name doesn’t ring a bell and her explanation how I should have known her don’t provide enough evidence to be certain about her identity, but to avoid showing myself in the light of a person with a memory loss, I go along, play a part of being an old friend and luckily get away with it for the rest of the night.

I know it’s embarrassing but then again, I was in my late teens and had already suffered from a memory loss, so please do forgive me!

Unfortunately it hasn’t been the only time that I’ve had to use similar tactics, or let’s call these - pretense-skills. It happened during the first year when my best friend and I lived in London. We’d met a band that played good enough music and as a bonus all its members were friendly towards us and happy to have a conversation before going onto the stage. For us it was nice to have someone local to talk to as our other friends were yet to be made. 

Also thanks to the inside knowledge (thank you, world wide web!) of the locations and times of the gigs, we could just go and meet up with our new friends without making a fuss of setting up a date (read: not having to worry about being turned down). But after a few gigs we didn’t want to show that we were that keen (or clingy?), showing up at another performances of theirs, which obviously didn’t stop us going! 

So we entered the pub. Phew! There was a little entrance hall with windows where we could look into the pub and check how busy it was (and if the band was already there). We thought we were invisible (or like stood behind a tinted glass where you could stare, pull faces at the people on the other side, but they weren’t able to see you) and we pressed our faces hard onto the window. It was clear - the band stood at the bar. We opened the door, walked casually to the bar, pretending not to have seen them, kept a small distance and then (pretend)unexpectedly spotted them with a fake surprise - oh, look who’s here too! A few moments later when our gaze was turned towards these windows we’d looked through before, we realized how wrong we’d been about our invisibility. But naturally we played it cool and never mentioned it (trying very hard not to picture our faces pressed onto that window).

Me, the cool one, making Matt dizzy (drawn by Amelia)

And additionally on a similar note - playing it cool might soon become my second nature as (sorry for repeating myself to those who already know this) when we had our first date with Matt we talked for hours covering all sorts of topics. So when he asked: “Do you like to dance?” and I heard him saying “Do you like drugs?”, I smoothly moved onto the discussion about drugs. Don’t blame me, he was the one who brought that up!