I begin by confessing that TLG and I were appalling at Danishness this month. On the morning after Twelfth Night, I was surprised to see Christmas trees outside our house (see photo). Look carefully and you will see that one of these Christmas trees is not like the others. One of these trees is still upright and, if you look really closely, you will see that it still has Christmas lights on it. Yes, the one on OUR balcony. All the other Christmas trees are stripped bare, neatly laid out and ready for recycling. Here is a clear indication that it is Not Christmas Anymore. The Danes have moved on and we (the foreigners) are Not Keeping Up. There was a notice, which I read, but unlike our neighbours, we failed to take action. We will do better next year.

The big achievement of the month was the aspirational expertise of our ATOMS lecturers. We hit the ground running on Monday 4 January with Luise Ørsted Brandt’s overview of the work she has done with the archaeological remains of sheep — bones, skin and wool — and how the role of sheep for meat, milk and wool can be investigated in different ways. We visited the Danish Technical University on Monday 25 January to learn about tomography from Carsten Grundlach and optical scanning from Anders Dahl. Participants are coming from London and Paris as well as other parts of Denmark and from Sweden. The programme is hitting the spot with conservators and software imagineers as well as archaeologists and historians.

Advance planning has been my main administrative task this month. I have set up field work appointments in Manchester and Leiden (March), at the Museum of London (April) and the V&A (May). These will be visits to old friends as I have examined all these caps before. I do have a list of characteristics and measurements to check as the importance of some information has emerged since as I’ve seen more examples.

Appointments in Warminster and Leicester (March) and Toronto (July) will acquaint me with new caps. Alexandra Kim kindly told me about the Warminster cap when KEME was announced last October. I’ve known about the Leicester caps since Alison Milton told me about them some years back. Ages ago, Rachel Frost sent me an article written by Joan Thirsk in 1990 which had an old picture of the Ontario cap (see photo). I am always really grateful when people tell me about c16th caps. Lots of contacts assume I know about them all but I don’t. This very week, Pat Poppy shared a link to a cap I did not know about. So keep ’em coming. I’m up to 103 potential c16th knitted caps now.

My penultimate A word is assistance. I have made arrangements for a collaborator to accompany me on each of my visits to the caps. I need someone to help with photography but I’m also keen to facilitate access to the original materials for people who do not usually have the chance to see them and whose insights will help me interpret what I’m seeing. Feel free to contact me if you are a KEME collaborator who lives near or can travel to one of my appointments. This is my appeal for aid.

My final A word is not a good one. One of the wonders of Copenhagen is that the ocean freezes. On Sunday 17 January, after a snowstorm, it was gloriously sunny and TLG, The Terrible Terriers (see photo above) and I set off for a run along the beach (see photo below). It was quite beautiful to see the snow on top of the ice on top of the sea and the amazing crystal patterns that form around stones in the water. So entranced was I by these views that I failed to notice a glassy patch of ice and I slipped on it twisting my ankle very badly. My accident occasioned a visit to the Akutklinik. The good news is going to A&E in Copenhagen is a pleasant and agreeable experience even when suffering and feeling anxious. TLG and I had no idea how the system worked. If we’d called ahead we could have arranged an appointment and reduced our waiting time for which the staff apologised. I walked (well, hobbled) straight up to a reception nurse who was all smiles. I waited less than 30 minutes for my first chat with a doctor, less than 20 minutes for an x-ray and less than 10 minutes for a diagnosis and a big bandage. Even more amazing is that our local A&E is about half a mile away. Denmark = Pay taxes = Get services = Love it. Even the Christmas tree recycling is efficient and free (if you do what the notice tells you) …

Jan 2016 — We are not Great Danes was originally published in Strickersvej Blog on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

December saw the start of a lecture programme I facilitated with Luise Ørsted Brandt (see photo). My MSC fellowship requires me to undergo “knowledge transfer” which means I need to demonstrate I have learnt new things and broadened my horizons intellectually. Part of my project proposal was to acquire an understanding of pioneering scientific techniques which reveal new insights into archaeological and historical artefacts, specifically organic materials. I see myself becoming a forensic forager in the fluff of history — or forming CSI Copenhagen (Clothing Studies Investigation), as I like to think of it. Luise is definitely on the team.

We sat together at boot camp in September. Luise recently completed her doctorate which concentrated on what we can learn about sheep as a textile resource from the materials available in museum collections. Since wool is central to my study of knitted caps, I asked her to tell me more about her research. Luise used DNA and protein analysis on yarn and bones and is well acquainted with other cutting edge methods for investigating wool, such as strontium isotope identification and electron microscopy. I asked Luise if she could explain these techniques and recommend appropriate literature for me. She said Copenhagen boasts an enviable cohort of experts in these fields. In the course of a swift conversation, we had invented a lecture series.

We launched ATOMS — analytical tools for organic material studies — on Monday 7 December with a presentation on DNA analysis by Luise. The free lecture series was only announced at the end of October and we were thrilled when 15 people attended the first session. More participants quickly signed up for the programme, which we hope to turn into an online course next year. I invested a substantial part of my research grant to facilitate this project and was very glad to receive a contribution from the CTR too. We are recording all the lectures and developing resources to create an eLearning opportunity in the future. The second lecture was about identifying fibres using microscopy by Anne Lisbeth Schmidt who is a conservator specialising in skin clothing at the National Museum. We then went to the Core Facility for Integrated Microscopy for a tour with Klaus Qvortrup. These resources promise great things for textile studies.

Ninya and I went on a Tudor Tailor weekend visit to the University of Innsbruck in December. Our lovely host, Beatrix Nutz, showed us pieces of woven textile garments found in mines, which are now very challenging jigsaw puzzles. She also kindly provided samples from two fragmented knitted caps (see photo) which I will use to initiate my scientific investigation of the raw materials used in the c16th capping industry. These Austrian caps are remarkably similar to others in collections elsewhere in Europe. It will be very revealing to compare results across the spectrum of samples.

Photographs showing the results of test knitting by the KEME team which started in October arrived in earnest this month. I need to make sure that I have recorded everybody’s willingness to have their work shown and identified online before I can start using these images. I must also decide how to record and protect the information the participants have provided according to my data management plan (a requirement of my open access agreement with the Horizon 2020 grant programme). This first project has shown that individual knitter’s insights into reconstructions are useful evidence. Huge thanks to the enthusiastic knitters who took part. More and more volunteers have been joining the project and I’ve been struggling to integrate all the different media we are using in a workable way. Over the Christmas break, I will gather all the contact details and plan how to manage the knitting power I’ve harnessed.

I had the feeling of being a minor celebrity this month as I appeared on the cover of a glossy brochure and was featured as a full-page image inside (see photo). It promotes seminars intended to help people apply for European grants so I don’t think it will end up in a dentist’s waiting room next to Grazia and Good Housekeeping. Still, it was nice to be asked.

TLG and I experienced Christmas Copenhagen-style when my sister and her husband came to stay. We went to the Tivoli Gardens, which are delightful. We visited the pirate ship and I did my Smee impression (see photo). We drank gløgg and ate æbleskiver. These are the secret ingredients which make Danish people happy despite the cold and the dark. It seemed to work its magic at my Danish exam the following week. I passed Module 1. Hurrah! Og Glædelig Jul …

Dec 2015 — ATOMS, Austria and Æbleskiver was originally published in Strickersvej Blog on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

This month felt more settled because I wasn’t travelling away from Copenhagen much but this was somewhat undermined by the turmoil of beginning an intensive Danish course. Previous experience of the language was limited to five minutes (on a good day) of Duolingo practice. This is a clever online way of learning vocabulary and a little grammar with the incentive of earning “lingots” which can be traded for accessories for a cartoon owl. I’m not sure why that is an incentive but that and the fanfare which congratulates each mini-accomplishment is fun (if you don’t get out much, which I don’t).

TLG was much more disciplined about getting his five a day Duolingo diet than me. I was pleased to have committed to memory “Skildpadden læser avisen” (see photo) because this is one day going to be very useful to me. Chocolate skildpadde are Denmark’s answer to the Cadbury’s crème egg but better because they have rum in them. Yum.

Four mornings a week I went to proper Danish school — Studieskolen in Borgergade — to be tormented by the madness that is Danish pronunciation. I thought I had experienced the worst of words than do not sound as they look when I lived in Norfolk. There, “place names have long since slipped the anchorage of their spelling” as a National Trust colleague once put it. Danish has drifted so far from its written form as to be shipwrecked.

This is all the more challenging when my other language competences are in Welsh (much forgotten) and German (passable) — both dependably phonetic and full of solid consonants you can hang on to with certainty. Four mornings a week awash in the alphabet is exhausting. But I am still swimming, clinging to the occasional navigation buoys of a, e, i, o, u, y, æ, å, ø.

I spent the first week of the month at Mayen in Germany where I participated in the European Textile Forum (ETF). A very enthusiastic and energetic group of expert craftspeople with a highly academic approach to their work share ideas and techniques for a whole week at a laboratory for experimental archaeology. This year’s theme was non-woven textiles. In preparation for this event, I invited my KEME collaborators to test knit one of two published knitting patterns based on original c16th caps. Several of the participants at the ETF kindly knitted caps for us to compare too. I presented the results of some of my collaborators’ contributions (see photo) and came to the decision that our investigations need to concentrate on the choice of yarn and the treatments the caps were subjected to after knitting to achieve the velvet-like surface which was so desirable in the c16th. I am still keen to test published patterns for caps so my projects for the KEME team now need to focus on these two aims.

Ruth Gilbert (see photo) and Harma Piening gave thought-provoking papers which inspired me to create an online diagnostic tool to help identify knitting/knotting/netting/nåhlbinding in museum collections. I hope they will collaborate with me. Harma very kindly tackled the cap knitting instructions which are available in Dutch/German so hers was the only version of that cap available to study (see photo).

I also went to London twice this month — once to give a paper at the annual Knitting History Forum conference on Saturday 14 November and again to be interviewed by a Canadian TV crew from Blue Ant Media on Monday 30 November, who are making a documentary called The secret history of knitting. My project plan for KEME was received with enthusiasm at KHF but I am not sure I covered myself in glory during the TV episode because the interviewer wasn’t really clear about my expertise (such as it is). The documentary will be one of those “let’s not take anything seriously” type programmes so I’ll probably come over as ill-informed and a bit mad (an accurate assessment, some would say).

One of the highlights of the KHF day was Zoe Fletcher’s introduction to her PhD project which aims to make British wool a more accessible resource for fashion designers. Zoe has distilled the scientific data about the characteristics of different yarns into easy reference charts with cute cartoon sheep and lovely graphics. I would like to use her material to help organise my test knitting programme for which I have more than 50 volunteer knitters ready and waiting. Zoe’s work could provide an easily accessible way for us to map and test different yarns’ suitability for reconstructions of knitted caps in the c16th.

The Norwich Study Centre has two knitted caps in its collection stored in what is known as the Bolingbroke Box (see photo). I spent most of a day with them on the Monday after the KHF with welcoming and helpful Lisa Little and Gwyn Fitzmaurice. Lisa had discovered a very exciting document from 1901 which confirms where the caps came from in London and how they arrived in Norwich. This helps shed light on the provenance of similar items in other UK museums which were dispersed in the early c20th. Gwyn is an artist and kindly offered to draft drawings of the caps to show their shapes more clearly than is possible in photographs.

When I was back in Copenhagen, I started trying out my newly acquired Danish vocabulary on my colleagues. One thought my pronunciation was akin to Chinese and another said I spoke it with a German accent. Mostly, my daily greetings were met with blank stares and then howls of laughter. It may be a while before my cartoon owl is suitably clothed for public presentation.

Nov 2015 — Dansk er dejlige og dårlig was originally published in Strickersvej Blog on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

The Marie Skłodowska Curie Fellowship application requires very clearly stated targets with a painfully detailed work plan (in a GANTT chart — very 1980s). The MUS meeting identified more targets and deadlines — in particular, how I go about finding more funding to further my research after my fellowship ends in July 2017. This is not something I have much experience of because I have mostly worked as an entrepreneur in the heritage industry. I’ve raised plenty of funding in a commercial context but I’ve only had two post-doctoral research grants. Both contributed to the Costume Research Image Library, which I worked on at the Textile Conservation Centre, when it was part of the University of Southampton.

My grand plan is to find a commercial sponsor to co-fund a knitting history research centre at the CTR, with scholars looking at all periods, considering technological developments, and modern design. I also need to see if I qualify for any of the conventional European academic grants and, if so, learn more about them. The MUS also brought me the unofficial title of CTR Communications Director — partly because of my enthusiasm for publicity, sponsorship schemes and outreach projects.

Rather fittingly, my other administrative task was to formally announce my research project. I completed my online profile on the CTR’s university website, set up a Facebook page called Strickersvej and a group on Ravelry. I also posted it on The Tudor Tailor’s website and Facebook page. I was very gratified by the speed and enthusiasm with which people joined my volunteer team. I now need to decide how best to manage my plans for collaborative test knitting and communicate with everyone in an appropriate way (the Horizon 2020 programme requires a data management plan with privacy protocols and ethical etiquette). Now I know I have a substantial team I can start to employ their talents. But before I could do that, I had to travel the known world …

I went on a course in Leiden in the Netherlands, which is a lovely place. The best bit of the course was seeing original textiles — badly in need of conservation — up close (see photo).

In Regina, Canada, I ran workshops on c16th dress with my Tudor Tailor colleague, Ninya Mikhaila. I met enthusiastic recruits to my collaborative knitting team and people who work with the scientific techniques I am hoping to apply to some of the c16th material, including Tracy Walker (Canadian Light Source) and Kataryna Tkach (Alberta Innovates). I now need to propose appropriate collaborations with them and their colleagues.

At Memorial University, Newfoundland (MUN), I undertook my first official field work. I examined three knitted items I expected to see: the knitted cap from Red Bay I saw previously in October 2014 (which Parks Canada curator Cindy Gibbons had brought to the campus at St John’s especially for me), and what are catalogued as two caps but are probably a cap and its lining from the same excavation (see photo). I also saw a fragment of knitting that might be part of a sleeve. This item is ribbed and darned (see photo). As far as I know, this is the earliest example of each technique in a knitted item — but is it actually from the 1570s?

Ninya and I have done a lot of detective work on the textile finds from Red Bay trying to work out which garment remains come from which burial site. We were hugely helped during our visit by Maria Lear (archaeological curator), Donna Teasdale (conservator) and Lori White, who wrote her masters thesis on the burials. There is one part of Saddle Island where much later items were mixed with 1570s material. More careful digging into the documents may reveal whether item 31258c is from the c16th or c19th.

I also met Dr Catherine Losier, archaeologist and knitting enthusiast. She invited me to give a paper on my research project to which 20+ people came at very short notice. We recruited a team of willing volunteers to help us with our work in the archaeological store. They took photos, did acetate tracings, digitized documents and dressed up as Basque mariners for the occasion — well, it was Hallowe’en (see photo).

Meanwhile, the support team — TLG and The Terrible Terriers — held the fort back home. And to remind me of Denmark, students at MUN were given a presentation by Canadian vikings (see photo) who wore what looked like knitted caps! But I didn’t get a chance inspect them closely — maybe they were nåhlbinding. I couldn’t visit L’Anse Aux Meadows, which is known for its reconstructions of Norse clothing, as it is an unsuitable destination in October. My other disappointment was that having started my month with a MUS (pronounced moose), I was rather hoping to see a real moose (pronounced moose) but apparently they don’t mooch about much at the mall in urban Canada. This is nearest I got to one.

Oct 2015 — MUS, MUN and moose was originally published in Strickersvej Blog on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Back at the CTR, we learnt tried and tested techniques for publicising our research work and new ways of doing so. Vincent Hendricks, the Bubble Man, introduced us to The Conversation, which offers a daily digest of on-going research findings. We also heard about the CTR’s achievements in its 10-year existence and plans future success — to which we were all invited to contribute. It was all very inspirational. The challenge is to communicate what the CTR has done and what we are all doing now to help secure its future.

We new fellows each gave a paper on our research aims (see photo). I shared some of the most intriguing examples of knitted caps from the c16th. This is the cap (inventory number MoL 5013) with which I opened my presentation. Information about it is online at the Museum of London’s website. I finished with a piece of contextual evidence, a tin-glazed tile (inventory number MoL A25388), dated 1536–1565, showing a man wearing what is probably a knitted cap. I’m sorry I can’t include the photo here because of challenging copyright restrictions.

Hilary Davidson (then curator of fashion & decorative art) and I spent a lot of time working with the Museum of London’s c16th caps from 2008 to 2013 and were able to put some technical data online. New photography provided high-quality images but conventional digital pictures don’t show the level of detail knitters require to count stitches and inspect the yarn. Finding ways of representing three-dimensional textiles in 2-D images online is something of a challenge I am going to face.

My office-mate at the CTR, Susanne Lervad, invited me to join her on a visit to the Nationalmuseet’s site at Brede, where I met Anne-Lisbeth Schmidt, and to the Museum of Copenhagen, where we saw material recently excavated in Copenhagen’s Metro extension programme with Vivi Lena Andersen (see photo). Ann-Lisbeth has built a database of the skin clothing in the National Museum’s collection and I am hoping to collaborate with her and the technical team behind the online interface to help me design and build mine. Susanne is working on textile terminology relating to leather, fur and skin garments. I have heard that fur was sometimes incorporated into woollen hats so this is a topic I need to investigate too. Susanne is planning visits to modern-day fur specialists as part of her project, which is way outside my ethical comfort zone. This is another challenge I need to meet.

Vivi is currently writing up her doctorate. Between us, we represent the top and bottom of the early modern wardrobe — I’m researching hats and she is researching shoes. A knitted hat dated to the 1600s found at the City Hall Square excavation (see photo) has been on display at the museum but sadly no longer. The Museum of Copenhagen is being boxed up and moved to a c19th building in Stormgade, which is scheduled to open in “a couple of years”. I hope their new home proves less challenging to achieve than mine (full story to follow).

So, September presented me with several challenges: chief among them is how to make my work interesting to online followers without being able to publish photographs which show the knitted material I am studying. I will also have to negotiate reproduction agreements for images to go into my online database so that people who want to examine the construction of the caps can see the important details.

I wonder what the Vikings identified as their challenges when they set off on ventures across the oceans? Communication — sagas told their tales without pictures. Navigation — they read the world around them in three dimensions with no need for 2-D maps. Clothing — no qualms about animal products there. New homes — oh yes, that reminds me, TLG and I made three trips to IKEA this month.

Sep 2015 — Setting the sails was originally published in Strickersvej Blog on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

I had done some useful things in advance such as attending the In the Loop conference in Glasgow, where I met valued collaborators such as Lesley O’Connell Edwards, Ruth Gilbert and Sandy Black. I made some new contacts and met people I know from other bits of my life who I didn’t expect to be there (hello Sue Mogridge!)

But life as a Marie Skłodowska Curie Fellow (MSCF) began in earnest with bureaucratic necessities — passwords, keys, ID cards, log-in details etc etc. I felt as though I had grown a whole new identity as a Danish person in a day but without the benefit of speaking the language. I did, however, have three fellow fellows with whom I braved the bureaucracy: Maria Papadopoulou, Kalliope (Poppi) Sarri and Corinne Thepaut-Cabasset and a lovely new colleague with whom I share an office — Susanne Lervad (see photo), textile terminologist and creative force for textilnet.dk.

My research project is called Knitting in early modern Europe: materials, manufacture and meaning (KEME). I have two main strands to my research; scientific investigation of extant knitted caps from the c16th and collaboration with craftspeople who have experience of working with modern materials. I plan to draw on the archaeological evidence of the caps themselves and undertake experimental archaeology with knitters who volunteer to test existing instructions for reconstructions (see photo) and develop new ideas based on original caps (see photo). I will also explore contemporary evidence in the form of pictorial representations of caps and documentary data from wills, inventories and accounts.

The original idea for this investigation came from my colleague Ninya Mikhaila and my interest in producing instructions for knitted caps for a forthcoming book — working title The Typical Tudor. I began looking at extant examples at the Museum of London in 2008 and thought it would be a swift survey. I’ve now identified more than 100 items of relevance — from complete caps to fragments and cheekpieces, and I have more questions than answers about them. What struck me then and still does today is the lack of scientific analysis of any these c16th items. Granted, there are a few which have enjoyed the benefit of relatively recent conservation and therefore some systematic and published attention but most are not even reliably dated since the original excavations were not well recorded.

I’m no expert in knitting or scientific analysis but I’m always ready to learn -and that is the point of being a Marie Skłodowska Curie Fellow. The grant programme’s motto (for want of a better word) is “Broadening horizons”. So, this is me broadening mine.

I cycled home after my first day, musing on the likely incredulity of c16th knitters on the usefulness of their endeavours to researchers in 2015. Checking the map for a shortcut to my new home, I realised that The Trusty Steed was taking me along a road called Strickersvej — which, with my near-non-existent Danish but passable German, I realised means Knitters Way. “I must be on the right road,” I thought.

*The schoolboy’s coif cap instructions are from The Tudor Child (2012). More information is available here.

*The cap photograph is by kind permission of Beatrix Nutz and courtesy of the Institute for Archaeology, University of Innsbruck. It was found in a gold mine in Carinthia, Austria.

Aug 2015 — Riding the right road was originally published in Strickersvej Blog on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

“Please log on at the Participant Portal, go to My Area > My Project(s) and click the Manage Project (MP) button to access an important request for providing additional data necessary to prepare your grant agreement.”

I wondered what this meant. I had spent most of 2014 preparing a grant application under the Horizon 2020 Research and Innovation Framework Programme in the “Excellent Science” section, which includes the Marie Skłodowska-Curie actions. These aim to “encourage transnational, intersectoral and interdisciplinary mobility. The MSCA enable research-focused organisations (universities, research centres, and companies) to host talented foreign researchers and to create strategic partnerships with leading institutions worldwide”.

I was invited to apply after I gave a paper at NESAT XXII in Hallstatt, Austria in May 2014 (see photo) with Hilary Davidson (former curator of fashion & decorative art at the Museum of London). It was about c16th knitted caps which we’d been working with on and off for the previous five years. Ninya Mikhaila and I were planning to include knitting instructions in future publications as The Tudor Tailor. My MSCA application proposed further and much more scientific study of these caps and broadened the scope beyond UK collections.

About 20 minutes later, I received another email which said:

HURRAAAAHHHHH!!!!!

CHAMPAGNE!!!

This message was from Professor Marie-Louise Nosch, director of the Centre for Textile Research (CTR), at the University of Copenhagen, and henceforth to be known as The Fairy Godmother (TFG). I’d asked her for details about post-doctoral opportunities at CTR immediately after the Hallstatt conference and her swift reply said there was a masterclass on applying for MSCAs happening that week. Her email said “Come!! We have a spare seat!” The Lovely German (TLG) to whom I am married said he could take the dogs to my sister’s after dropping me at Gatwick the next morning before 5am. So I went — even though it was half-term and I had a pile of essays on entrepreneurship to mark for Farnborough Business School, where I was currently lecturing.

I stayed in a hotel around the corner from the central police station which features in The Bridge, the first series of which I had just watched (see photo). That was a bit weird. Something that seemed so foreign was now next door to me. This became something of a theme …

I participated in a series of workshops and field trips including a behind-the-scenes tour at the National Museum’s store in Brede (see photo). I met a current MSCA fellow, Dr Paula Hohti, who seemed to have achieved amazing things during her time at the CTR. I also met Maj Ringgaard, who is a goddess in the knitting history firmament and she agreed to be my mentor. All in all, I had a fantastic time and most of it was spent with people — from fellow applicants to seasoned specialists — who told me my proposal for scientific study of knitted caps was excellent. Key among these was EU funding expert Lotte Japers of Yellow Research who was very enthusiastic about my eligibility for an MSCA as a “career restart” academic and agreed to mentor me as I tackled the 23-page application template with which I was now uncomfortably acquainted.

So buoyed up by these encouragements, I went home and prepared to apply for a grant which could change my life. A near-full time lecturing job at a dysfunctional college, half a day a week as a volunteer at an understaffed Citizens Advice Bureau, a very cold and challenging full-time day skipper course in March, a sailing holiday in Sweden in June, my 50th birthday in July, and a hysterectomy in late August failed to prevent me from submitting my MSCA application 10 days early on 1 September. Phew! I wasn’t convinced it was worth the effort but TLG was already checking out places to live in Copenhagen. I told him not to jinx it.

But — as usual — he was right (see photo). As I drove home from Emsworth in the rain with two muddy terriers for company, I sang along to Danny Kaye, conveniently downloaded to my phone — because Copenhagen, it seems, is wonderful!

Feb 2015 — Prologue was originally published in Strickersvej Blog on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.