Random Ramblings of a Swank

When I was going to sleep last night I had all these uttermost important issues swirling around in my head, and as usual I saw no reason to write them down since that would mean not only writing down a few words for memory aid, but also writing a smaller essay about each and every issue, then sleep on it and doing the final touches the next day... If I remember the issues in the morning it means they were important enough to be remembered AND thus written down... Um, a truth with indeed modification...

I have these faint recollections of feminism, snobbishness and...well, something important at least. So very important I can't seem to really remember them after a good night's sleep. But I'm pretty certain that says more about how my mind wanders and my memory capacity than the importance of the issues. And one way or another they'll return demanding attention again - most probably when I'm about to go to sleep...

What I do remember is that the possible snob part of the swirling thoughts had something to do with the horrific Michaelmas fair we attended (only as visitors, which I'm just all too grateful for...) last weekend and the fact that I in general - there are always exceptions, few of them, but still... - can't stand markets, fairs, opinionated vendors and the milling crowds of visitors at those venues. Not to mention the higgle-haggle that's a common part of it. Hate it! And who still at their right mind, ie with pretty much sharp tools in the shed, would think otherwise...??

Though I didn't say I'm exactly coherent and predictable when it comes to fairs and markets, I'm well aware of the fact that I often do jump at the opportunity to visit handicraft fairs for example. Since there might possibly be lots of really interesting, well made, handmade with love and thought, crafts and things for sale - and not just the usual massproduced crap... Ah countless are the times I've been disappointed - but I still nurture both the hope and notion that next time a fair shows up in my vicinity, it'll be different, oh so different...

Back to the Michaelmas fair at hand, apparently a *grand folk festival, Sweden's largest one day outdoor fair, 30th jubilee, la-di-da...* IMO - oh do I have to even mention I gladly skip the humble part here... - the whole thing was just a huge, muddy, oh so utterly plebeian, massproduced plastic fantastic junk for sale, crowded happening. The few vendors that actually had some lovely handmade, wellmade things on offer in their market stalls was sort of disregarded amongst all that rubbish everywhere.

I feel completely out of place at such venues, I can really feel how I turn my nose up, quite bodily, clutch hard at the handbag du jour - most definitely not remotely anything like the ones for sale in a market stall nearby... - tripping along, trying to protect the clothes from getting stained and me from getting nudged by plebs. One might call it a definite fight for factual survival. Yes, I'm glad everytime I live to tell after such outings.

If this possibly makes me a swanky snob, then I proudly am! And it's not that I'm afraid to get a bit down and dirty, now and then. I mean, I do clean out the kitty litter on a very regular basis, I do wash the filthy dog, not to mention pick up his dirty droppings in public - which is borderline too nasty for me still... - a bit of dust and muck in the corners don't scare me - better that than pure hell... -, neither do cathairs - although keep away from my best clothes, please! - and hey, with the right clothes I'll go out for long walks in any weather.

I don't expect anyone else doing my dirty work, well at least not very often. I'm aware of me being the more intellectual, theoretical kind of woman as opposed to a more practical handycraftswoman - so from time to time I do need a helping hand in that area. But don't we all?

Although above all these signs of me not being a complete and utter snob in every fibre of my being, I am messy. In private, at home, there's a clutter. Oh yes the chaotic clutter of a slight genius, a very homely clutter, but I suppose a feng shui follower would be simply appalled. But who cares, since this is the way I work, and it works for me. So, swank you, swank you very much.