You Can't Make That Yourself For Less

You can always tell whether a person is an artsy pants if you are out together, you point at a particularly lovely object (and this could be anything, from a felted flowers garland, to a textured canvas, a wooden sculpture, an embroidered napkin) and the person with you recoils in horror at the pricetag and spitefully tells you that: ‘You can make that yourself for a lot less than that’. Shops, advertising, marketing and 'stuff' do not catch this type of Sherlocks out I am telling you.

The ‘you can make that yourself for a lot less than that’ brigade is usually constituted by tightasses who do not like to part with money as a general rule. These are the sort of people who will gorge themselves to sick point on free sarnies at the church festival but who will quite happily go hungry for 24+ hours if those same sarnies are for sale at 50p each, or even less. They hand out cards instead of posting them and they conveniently forget birthdays. These ain’t people who are patrons to the arts or artists. I recommend avoiding them at all costs.

Most importantly, they are people who have never ever tried their hand at making anything. Whether the item in question is a knitted scarf or a clay spoon does not matter; only the tight and the clueless, the hopeless, the arts-uninitiated ever say ‘you can make that yourself for less’. This is a fact, not an opinion, and I am going to show you why.

A few weeks back I started work on an advent calendar. I am very passionate about advent calendars you see, because it seems to me like the possibilities are so varied that one could spend a whole year making advent calendars while using items as unrelated as fabric and cork, tin and wood, paper and glitter, stone and glass and so on and so forth. In fact, I can think of many more things off the top of my head: melamine and dead leaves, yarn and ribbon, pegs and hooks, paper butterflies and papier marché birds, buttons and pins, tags and stickers... It just thrills me to bits.

One day while walking around Knutsford, I had an epiphany involving a cork pinboard, some Christmas fabric and lots of little numbered bags held up by ribbon hooked on silver pins. I went off and started buying my supplies. I was even a little smug when I left a local stationery shop with the cork pinboard for which I had only shelled out a miserable £ 3 (please note: it was on sale at 50% off).



Three weeks, and many hours of cutting, sewing, gluing and finishing later, and I have a unique advent calendar that I very satisfactorily hung up on Monday evening in preparation for The Big Day, today. But has this calendar cost me less than anything similar I’ve seen in John Lewis, Laura Ashley, House of Fraser, Selfridges, Paperchase or the ubiquitous charity shops? Has it heck:

cork board, half price £ 3
cotton thread £ 1.50
backing fabric £ 5
bag fabric £ 7
gold glitter £ 5
glue £ 4
ribbon £ 5
pins £ 3
chocolates £ 3

not budgeted for because I already had them:

hot pink backing fabric for bags
one other reel of cotton thread
silver thread for embroidery of numbers
green felt for numbers
special glue for back of pins
Heat-and-Bond reel for stitch-less hems and borders
needles, cutting mat and rotary cutter

So the total for my home-made advent calendar is £ 36.50, with my time, naturally, unaccounted for, as I regard the process as a free add-on to the pleasure of the making. Yet, I saw beautiful advent calendars made of felt and with tons of embellishments yesterday for only £ 10. The wooden ones at £ 25 and £ 30 are cheaper than mine.

If I were to continue this joyful pastime at the sewing machine and were to make, say, a small stocking, I would spent another £ 10 worth of fabrics, probably felt, and extra for a couple of embellishments, perhaps a hole-punch that could create a motif around the folded-over edge and a thick ribbon that would run lengthwise and across the top for hanging. How about a lovely two-coloured longline cardigan with belt? Or a small quilt to throw on the sofa? How much do you think the crochet blanket I am making will have cost in the end? £ 30? Yeah right.

The other day I was leafing through the Brora winter catalogue, ogling a beautiful cashmere blanket that only costs £ 350. Yes, I am saying only for a purpose there. If I were to knit myself the same in, let’s say, Debbie Bliss’s pure cashmere at £ 10 a hank, and with one hank measuring a very modest 41m, I would need hundreds to hit blanket-size, even in the very simple stockinette stitch. My ‘you could make that yourself for less’ cashmere blanket would cost me more than a Hermès one.

So, no, there is not much out there which you can make yourself for less. In fact, while I concede that there may be something, quite frankly, I cannot think of anything. And next time you hear that stupid litany... just roll your eyes and buy whatever it is you want to buy.

Squeakety Squeak

There is a designer on Ravelry who is head and shoulders above the rest of them. Her name is Ysolda and she is a creator of things girlie and cute and those who know me (or those who think they do on the basis of this diary alone), know that I am crazy about girlie and cute. Besides the beautiful knitwear and cute toys that Ysolda has already graced the web with (and her own likeness; she is indeed a dream-looking girl, straight out of an old movie, if I may say), her latest pattern is one for a mouse that is so adorable I couldn’t resist it, even though it is a knitting-in-the-round affair and I still fear the rounds very much. But I am sure it will be worth it because this little darling is tops.

Stormy Weather

It has been pouring with rain, so much so that I’ve got about two inches of water clogging up my garden, see this:



Here is where I used to grow those incredible purple anemones only a few weeks back and now there is nothing but slush and tufts of drowned grass. I do not really mind because now that the temperature has dropped to autumn proper, I have whipped out my favourite clothes, the tweedy jackets, the long riding coat and yes, even the waxed garments that I usually only wear for horsey, and these warm things make me really happy. There is nothing quite like a Barbour jacket to fend off rain and wind and while I must concede that they may not look like standard city wear, I can assure you that they are extremely well-suited to Manchester and its surrounding area.

I hobbled in the garden late this afternoon since I seem to have been struck down with sciatica. I feel awful even by typing that word. It makes me feel old, ancient, uncool as if I just confessed to having Alzheimer. In truth, I’ve had severe back issues for years. I am plagued with three prolapsed discs that have been indescribably painful and as of late my nerves have felt pinched and sore, so much so that I have been unable to walk straight without a great effort.

Well, at least I don’t have to go to an office and can safely hop around the house in the morning without raising eyebrows, if not my dogs’ and they really do not mind if I am not unwell, provided I am not so unwell as to have to forfeit filling their breakfast bowls.

Sore and narky, tonight I returned to some well-deserved knitting in the shape of a lime twist scarf. I recently found myself in Topshop (a bit shocking I must confess... now that I am thirty, browsing the racks full of flimsy whispers of blouses and ruffled mini-miniskirts makes me feel totally mutton trying to dress as lamb) where a particularly thick scarf hung right down to the floor from a ceiling hook.

Knitted in a very thick acrylic yarn and rather scratchy, the definition of the stitches inspired me to pull out my size 15 needles, the Cascade Magnum I bought in New York sure that it would, eventually, come in handy and I got down to work. I cast on 15 stitches and I am currently working following no particular pattern, simply alternating knit rows to purl rows as the fancy takes me. As is always the case with thick yarns and huge needles, the project is growing extremely quickly and since I’ve read in the news that more dreadfully stormy weather is expected in the next few days, this should keep me suitably warm (and rather fashionable). Oh and tomorrow I should set to write a piece about lace knitting for Italian broadsheet Il Corriere Della Sera. How cool am I, despite the tweed and the Barbour, really?!

Smile, You're On

I can never get a decent pic of my dog Victoria, who seems to be repulsed by the idea of posing for a camera. I should not be surprised; she is a girl through and through. I expect that one of these days she will wolf at me that she is getting fat and that she would prefer not to be photographed thank you please.

William on the other hand finds the camera compelling. I have countless pictures where I had to fight him off the lens in order to photograph the original object of my interest and most of the time, a paw, an ear, a nose, a nail still managed to sneak into the frame. And you can see why there was no way I could take a picture of my latest knitting venture, a cashmere lace scarf that is going really well, without a fight. So I did not fight him after all because I think that his blissful smile made for a suitable live backdrop.

I-Cords Really Are For Idiots

Mum is sunburnt and Rick has been sick since we arrived which makes for a wonderful scenario of knitting progress, especially when it’s only +9C outside. Yes, I know that only a couple of days ago I posted pics of high summer but I also did say that I am stationed closer to Milan than the Riviera and the result is early morning fog and a string of curses for not having equipped myself with something a touch more substantial than three silk dresses, open wedges and a silk jacket.

I finished dad’s i-cord scarf and I can confirm that it really is a project for idiots, for even I managed to finish it in next to no time and to obtain a reasonable enough result that, with the right camera, could grace a mag.





My knitting friends always lament the finishing off process because, they say, it’s not knitting itself. I, on the other hand, love it. I love darning in ends and stitching the pieces together and with these five i-cords I had plenty of both to do. It took me three hours, but I am pleased with the result, and so is dad, who is going to enjoy this scarf soon enough.

I first had the baste together the green weft cords and then I had to weave in the blue warp cord. Then I stitched every point where warp meets weft with a combination of elastic cord and scrap yarn. I felt that the scrap yarn gave me a more secure stitch but the elastic cord was immensely more flexible. You may want to try using both in different places like I did, in order to ensure both flexibility to the finished scarf and stitches safe enough not to break off in a blink. The pattern is from the fantastic Knitting New Scarves by Lynne Barr.

Milan fashion week is on and we are currently holed up; I don’t really mind in the grand scheme of things, especially because now I feel a cold coming myself, which is really unsurprising, but I wish things had been slightly different, especially for Rick who was really looking forward to this break. I suppose this is a reason good enough to ensure that his birthday next month is a bit more special...

Ahead Of The Curve

I de-stacked my books this morning and flicked through them, bottom lip folded over and downward, trying to make my continuously shifting mind up on what to tackle next. Since dad's i-cord scarf will be complete very soon, and since I spent gazillion of pounds in sacks of Rowan Kidsilk Haze, it seems prudent not to buy anything further, until at least some of that fluffy stash has turned into something I can wear. But there's a problem, this one:



This is what I really would like to make out of it, Gossamer from Kidsilk Dream. The problem is a compound of problems: my recently acquired knitting skills, my impatience, my inability to stay focused to the end, lace and Kidsilk Haze itself.

This is an extremely polarising yarn, with some people swearing by it as little canaries pop out of their ears and start chirping around their heads like it's spring, and others corrugating their foreheads into Hell Boy-like scowls as they swear they will never ever knit with it again and who wants a Yeti jumper anyway? I have done little with Kidsilk Haze, most notably a little swatch of a scarf, the Hazy Fern Scarf I showed you already, but because I grew passionate (and angry) about lace very quickly, I keep thinking of Victorian Lace Today, miles and miles of Kidsilk Haze and quite possibly a metal needle stabbed through my head. I just know it is going to happen and I am too fearful to go through self-imposed tantrums to try it.

Yet, only yesterday, I was telling some knitting friends that I think it is vital that we operate ahead of the curve. Gasp, I almost surprised myself when I heard 'we must operate ahead of the curve, if only a little'. It sounded a little Joker-like, as he tells The Batman: 'I am not a monster, I am just ahead of the curve'. As I thought the principle through (my principle, but also his, for it can go in my PhD chapter), and with the clarity that only a cup of tea can instill in me, I found myself nodding in agreement, much as I hated the whole knitting lace process when I had to stop and start every three rows.

I am crazy about Fair Isle, but I don't want to jump into Fair Isle by doing some sample swatches, no madam, I want to do this:



It's like I know no middle measures, it's either an 800-mile lace shawl or no lace at all; either a 55 colour mix Fair Isle or no Fair Isle at all. However, something must be said for this leap of faith, for this enthusiasm sheltered by the crest of ignorance: if I never go for it, I'll always oooh and aaaah at the King of Fair Isle and will never attempt it myself. I am not interested in garter stitch scarves or doilies; even my forays into crochet are marred by a £ 150 expense for a blanket. What's wrong with a crocheted hairband to start with? I don't know, I just have to feel ahead of my curve until I finish the project and I can fist-pump my way above it and onto the next. And for all the stress it causes, I can highly recommend it as a recipe for Great Personal Growth Through Tantrums.

I-Cording It Back To Knitting

With all that has happened as of late, I had all but forgotten my knitting, until this morning, when a quick foray to my local yarn store saw me walking out £ 35 poorer but creatively enriched. That's what I tell myself anyway. So this is what is going on with my latest balls, an i-cord scarf I am knitting for my dad:



It is going super-quick and is super-easy, and that's really no surprise since i-cord stands for idiot cord. I am getting so into it that I have already had visions of multiple, tiny i-cords embellishing my felted projects. Not that there are felted projects but there is the promise of a felted project. A cashmere sweater left me for the Land of the Shrink only a few days ago and I thought it wise to put it aside instead of casting it away in a fit of rage.

On the subject of felting, I can suggest a very interesting book by Nicky Epstein, Knitting Never Felt Better. I know, I know, something's wrong there. It would sound immensely better as Knitting Never Felted Better but, given that the author is trying to be punny after all (no pun intended from me though), we should really cut her some slack. Well, I have decided to cut her some slack. I never thought of felting as a way to embellish one's knitting, I always thought of it as a rescue remedy for washing gone very awry. In this book, the author shows how one should keep felting in mind as a way to produce something totally unique and all by tying some marbles or nuts to the project prior to felting.

I ask you, how cool is that? Why did I not think of it myself? It's not that I am unaware of what makes fibre felt; I may not have felted anything on purpose so far but, surely, I could have figured out that some stretch in some places would yield bobbles or discs and the like? It really is as they say: sometimes we rack our brains trying to be original and oh-so-clever when keeping it simple works the proverbial wonders. Get the book, marvel at the designs and then start scarring your wardrobe (although simple wool, as opposed to cashmere, will do just fine. It'll work out cheaper, that's for sure).

Stashing

When the going gets tough, the tough go mellow. At least this is one of my experiences. Even though I've now heard slightly reassuring news regarding William and his operation, I still feel like I am sitting on pins. Not only am I sitting on them; I can feel them through my head, a bit like this. But it is important to think positive when negative events befall us and so today seemed like a good day to have a rummage through the stash, just to see where we are at. And this is where:



Those of you who are familiar with this daily drivel will recognise this from here. Yet, what you see above is not the same picture I posted in May. This stash has grown since then. It was originally only ten skeins of Debbie Bliss Cashmerino DK, while it is now thirty. Because I've been so busy with that flipping lace scarf I had to re-do what felt like a zillion thrillion times, the crochet blanket has lingered in the rattan trunk all wound up in colourful balls. In fact, it's rather nice to call it the crochet blanket since it's really nothing more than balls and balls of wool right now. I may as well call it the Kaffe Fassett Fair Isle cardigan or the Batman rainbow wooly cape and nobody would be any wiser.

However, I am not one of those people that just 'stashes'. My stash is all carefully sorted, with the above going towards a fabulous crochet ripple blanket, the green variegated Misti Alpaca towards a scarf, the variegated pink merino towards a crochet scarf and so on and so forth. Many say that stash is like shit, it just happens. I suppose that's true, except we cannot prevent shit from happening, but we can prevent stash. I am currently operating under the misguided pre-conception that my stash isn't really a stash at all but is all a giant trunk of balls-in-progress projects, even though they haven't made it to the needles or hooks yet. I know what you're thinking but I swear this is no intellectual masturbation of mine; because every single skein of everything is already allocated to its own designated project, I can go out into the open and buy more patterns and more balls because I only have six scarves, one blanket, one capelet and one shrug on the go. It makes perfect sense here.

Which brings me to my next point, Rowan Magazine 44. Because I am a girly girl, 44 speaks to everything that defines me as a person. It speaks to the side of me that is nostalgic about an era I really cannot be nostalgic about because I never experienced it; it speaks to the part of me that would like to be able to wear empire-line dresses and jumpers without looking six months pregnant; it speaks to the part of me that is longing to be able to try some of Kaffe's truly hair-raising Fair Isle-cum-intarsia-and-vice-versa knitted beauties. It also speaks to the repressed writer within me that loathes sloppy writing. As I cracked it open today, I almost had to reach for the oxygen mask. Who on earth has edited this stuff? I could make ten examples from page six alone, but I will limit myself to only one because it's so bad it becomes good (and in this respect, it reminds me of Dirty Dancing):

"Sasha Kagan, has now had six wonderful knitting books published".

People, honestly, I thought that 'writers' that stick a comma after a subject and before a verb were a plague of the distant past, when people had to set characters by hand, one-by-bloody-one before a book went into print. In the day of writers, agents, sub-editors, proof-readers and editors, nobody spotted that offensive comma right there? I am sorry but this sort of sloppiness is one I do not tolerate. The whole mag is full of such crap.

Still from the same page (sorry, I know I said I'll only show you one but...), I would like to show you an example that demonstrates that the road to writing hell is paved with adjectives and adverbs:

"Intriguingly many of Rowan's designers joined over 20 years ago and remain strikingly loyal".

If we close both eyes on the lack of suitable punctuation and just look at the two adverbs here, intriguingly and strikingly, anyone with good sense and good hearing can tell that, just because you can stick -gly to every adjective doesn't mean you should. Intriguingly? Does this 'writer' ever re-reads her own writing out loud, just to ensure it sounds as good in real life as it does in her head? Who writes this stuff? Who edits it? I'll tell you who: Elizabeth Fayling-Cork and Kate Buller. Buller says in her 'Editor's Letter':

"Here at Rowan all the team are feeling very nostalgic [...]"

Jeepers creepers woman! Get yourself a grammar book, they don't bite! The above should read:

"Here at Rowan, the team is feeling very nostalgic [...]"

This is because, no matter how much illiterate people try it, the verb that accompanies a neutral noun referring to multiple individuals is the third person singular, not the third person plural. This is the difference between the grammatical number and the natural one. I could go on but I just cannot be asked.

The mag redeems itself in what are, in my very humble and un-educated knitting opinion, lovely pieces which I would not hesitate knitting and wearing (well, ok, maybe not the empire-line things). As I clamp the lid shut on the current balls-in-progress stash, I feel a surge of inspiration in the shape of adorable little cardigans, pretty vintage berets, long lady gloves and fabulous Kaffe Fassett, tapestry-like creations. You have to love the man, I know I do. I am rolling down a hill of wooly fabulousness, crashing all the way down into the impossible-to-by-pass Stash Valley. I think it may be true after all that stash cannot be helped. It really is like shit, just ask William (or indeed Rowan).

Knitting Give-Away

The day has come to officially celebrate my first, fully-fledged knitting success, the silk lace scarf. I have been so excited and so very happy about it that I thought the give-away should suitably reflect the good time I've had knitting it (or trying to when I got particularly angry) and the support that I received on- and offline. And so here is the give-away, a handful of gorgeousness in the shape of a set of Addi Lace Needles 100cm - 3.5 mm and five hand-made in South Africa cupcake buttons which are completely and utterly to die for (or to knit something for).



To enter: leave your name and location in the comments in this thread. If you post a link to this give-away from your own blog, add that to your comment. It means that I will add your name to the competition hat three times as opposed to one. I will publish the result on here on August 1st, so make sure to check back. The winner will need to email me the address so that the prize can be safely despatched. Closing date July 31st UK time and I am sorry gals, but if you know me in person, you cannot enter the give-away. Let's give some far flung friend a chance, shall we? Not to blow my own Generosity Trumpet but the value of this give-away is in the region of $ 30, so get entering!

*This draw is now closed, thanks for entering.*

And Finally... She Makes It

It's a given of creative life that the better the people in your circles, the better they make you at your craft, if only by osmotic process. My knitting group meets in a place that stimulates one's senses and creativity with a lot of sickly sweet cuteness, such as this:



This:



Or indeed this:



I am not ashamed to say that I find myself completely at ease with the cute and the girlie and the pretty. I am, after all, one of those people that breaks out into a cold sweat at images of minimalist leather sofas that look like a hybrid cross between the psychoanalytic couch and the lethal injection gurney.

I tend to view people that shop for furniture at Habitat with the same eye-narrowing suspicion as the ones who proclaim they do not like chocolate. I just know I can't trust people who relax on a Lego brick-like sofa, drink wheatgrass juice through a bamboo straw and 'touch base over sushi'. Luckily, I have managed to carefully unpick such nits off my hair as time went by, and these days I only hang around people who inspire me to raise my crafting game, if only off the floor where it usually lies. And so, thanks to inspiration and support and patch-up jobs, I have finally finished the lace scarf that I talked about some time ago.



Isn't it absolutely lovely? I am completely thrilled it is off my needles; after all, it did take me twenty-three froggings (after which I lost count) and six repair jobs (two by a very skilled and patient friend and four by myself) to get it to this stage of perfect hand-made normality. A bit of blocking is next, after which I will carefully wrap it and ship it to ma' who will be just as impressed that I managed to see the project to the end. Time for a celebratory cup of tea and a related blog give-away. Watch this space for more details coming soon.

Frogging, Frogging... Frogged!

I am obviously going through a decidedly green period. I keep eating courgettes and spinach and most of what I am knitting is green, including the scarf I spoke of recently (frogged, I want to re-start it with a lace pattern) and this other project that was on my needles only yesterday.



I keep flitting from needles to needles, from yarn to yarn, from pattern to pattern. I figured that a waterfall scarf would be a bit of a waste of baby alpaca and would not showcase the variegated yarn particularly well. And now I am off to start again, this time following a drop-stitch pattern. I will have to stick to this one, else my knitting friends will start wondering whether I am ever going to finish anything (hey, surely the washcloths count, right?). I may well end up unable to buy any more yarn until I make it back to the shop with something, anything, which I made with the hundreds of miles of wool I already bought.

Problem is... there is always a ball that promises to be the crystal ball of all yarn balls, the one that will change my knitting life if only I purchased it and took it home. Since the last time I promised myself (and my friends) that I would not buy any more yarn until I have used it all, dammit, I have acquired another eleven balls. Yes, I like that, acquire. I don't buy yarn, I acquire it. It follows me around and manages to fall into my bag so that when I get home and open it I find it there, staring up at me, all mo-hairs quivering under my over-excited breath. It's like acquiring nephews or nieces you see, with the great advantage that if you don't like what you are doing with it, you can rip it to pieces and start again. I cannot say to be so lucky family-wise, even though the 'ripping to pieces' does come to mind sometimes.

In-The-Pink Washcloths

It has finally happened, I have a finished object.



I bought a skein of Rowan Handknit Cotton several weeks ago with the washcloths from 101 Designer One-Skein Wonders in mind. At that time, my cast-on was still the tightest one in England and I persisted on trying to read the pattern as I was knitting. The result were multiple froggings and the yarn quickly turning into a corkscrewed pink mess. No more so now. At an average of two hours per washcloth (yes well, I am a slow knitter), I have some leftover for the stash and, finally, something finished to post on Ravelry.

Hazy Fern Scarf with Brownies

So it begins. Again. I caved in today and after much procrastinating, something I am a champion at, I bought a ball of Rowan Kidsilk Haze and set off on some knitting practice. As suggested by a friend that really knows her stuff, unlike me, I began a plain garter stitch scarf made mildly interesting by occasionally switching to larger needles. It is going reasonably well considering it has not turned into the bird's nest I feared as I worked through my sweat-inducing first row. Sure enough there appear to be accidental yarn-overs (also known as holes, depending on whether your glass is half-full or half-empty obviously), but this is nothing that a strategically placed brooch cannot fix.



The grand scheme of kidsilk things will take me down the hairy slope of jumper-knitting. I already have a pattern I am dying to try (from Fitted Knits, more on this when the time is right...), but I must admit that I really love one from A Kidsilk Dream by Rowan. Interestingly, and perhaps weirdly, this jumper is called Brownie.



And what better time to share the recipe for my fabulous brownies than today? I baked a lot for the knitting group yesterday and the results were the same as they always are. You'd be hard-pressed to find someone who doesn't like brownies. One last word of warning: to think that there is so much butter and sugar and chocolate and eggs in them will not put you off eating them.

400g dark chocolate (the best you cannot afford, I cannot stress this enough)
400g unsalted butter
230g flour with 1 tsp salt added
1 tbsp vanilla extract
6 eggs
500g sugar

Warm the oven at 180C as you line a baking tin with baking parchment. You will need a big one because this recipe is for many brownies! I use something that measures approximately 30 cm X 23 cm X 3 cm.

Put the butter and chocolate to melt in a double boiler, stirring occasionally. Now crack your eggs into the sugar and whip them up until they have at least doubled in volume, by which stage the chocolate will have nicely melt with the butter.

Pour the melted chocolate into the egg mixture and continue to whip while you also add the vanilla extract.



Once all incorporated, slowly add the flour as you continue whipping. A minute or so later, you should have a fabulous mass ready to pour into the waiting tin.

Bake for a good 40 minutes and, I beg you, do not open the oven's door before at least 35 minutes have expired. Experience has taught me that many baking disasters could have been averted if only there were a little more patience in the world and a lock system on oven doors. This will need to cook for closer to 45 minutes and do not be alarmed if you see the top going too dark for your liking. When the time is up, pull the tin out and let it rest for a good couple of hours. Then ease the brownie out of the tin with the paper, cut it in pieces and store it in a tin container ready for your next knitting group or horsey joint, whatever comes first and stuff your faces with glee.

Kipping in Knutsford

I spent my first World Knit in Public Day in Knutsford with my usual group of knitters.



The task was to knit or crochet little hats for newborns, as suggested by Save The Children.



I didn't even finish mine (will I ever get to a finished object I wonder...?), but that's because my hands are no way near as expert or as fast as these:



And while I am at it, I will take this opportunity to throw in a completely gratuitous picture of Knutsford. Just because it looked so perfect today and because, let's face it, I really love it.

Cast On, Off and Away

Oh utter joy. Just about all my friends know that I knit and crochet. What they do not know is how truly unskilled I am at both of these. Or I should say they did not know how truly unskilled at both of these I was. Last night I graduated to my first decent piece of lace after twenty-two attempts and now I feel up there in the Olympus of all exquisite things, up there in the Olympus of Lace Knitting. Not many people know that lace can be tatted, knitted or crocheted. I love it all, especially so when it is done with a slightly hairy fibre that gives the item a hazy aura. I have seen fabulous pictures of lace items in One Skein Wonders and I now feel ready, willing and able to attempt something more complex once this scarf is done. I am knitting this for Ma'. I am using Addi Turbos in 4 mm, the pattern is from Debbie Bliss Pure Silk Collection but I am using Louisa Harding Mulberry silk (in rose) because I find it is a better silk than Debbie's. It is not as slippery and doesn't split as easily.

As I was working at it earlier today, scenes from Cast Away re-played in my mind. Chuck trying to make fire, Chuck pulling his tooth out, Chuck leaving the island trying to save himself, Chuck returning to the life he once knew, except life does not recognise him. And I thought about a deserted island and about what I would do, or whether I would even survive. People often say they would like to escape the everyday rut by migrating to a deserted island. Much as I detest most of my necessary routines, I would never want to spend time on a deserted island (unless I had a plane and a dashing pilot with me), not even if I could cast on and off at will in order to pass time. What would I knit anyway? For I start it would take me months to strip bark off trees and then I would need to knot it together and then I would need to make wooden knitting needles. You know what, that's too much trouble for anyone, alone or otherwise. It's funny that I say so, because when I think of the good times in my life, I was actually alone in all of them. I like to be alone very much. Being alone does not mean being lonely, I just happen to be a very independent person who likes her company very much, without being une misanthrope. In fact, I'll tell you more, if my friends knew half of what I have written on here they would be flabbergasted to the ninth. Every time I speak to Dean, he is surprised to acquire some new bit of information. The other day he told me that I lead three parallel lives and maybe he is right. He would love to read the My Dimension Jump post if only I revealed my blog's address to him. I challenged him to find out by himself which, really, is as easy as being a cast away for four years and then finding his way back to civilisation by drifting off for 500 miles on a raft he himself put together. But who knows, he may make it. This is for you Dean; tomorrow I'll bring you the scarf you heard so much about, so that you can see that it was worth all of the effort and all of the swearing.

The Socks Have It

They all say that there is something addictive about knitting socks. Personally, I find that there is something addictive about knitting and crocheting and needles, about markers, hooks and yarns in general. As I reported below, I am far from an accomplished knitter. Or crocheter. But wherever I am at in this knitting journey, I owe it to one place that has been instrumental in my wish to get into knitting seriously, not just as a mere passer-by observing others having fun, but as a hands-on knitter. Fibre and Clay is the place responsible for this fever, one that has progressively escalated since the first time I had a look through its windows and had a peek at a world that was only a couple of hooks and needles away. It was July 2006. Even though I attended the knit gatherings on and off in that autumn, it was not until this year that I got knee-deep into knitting. I am now a Ravelrer, I have visited knit stores all the way to New York, and in fact I returned from it with an amazing stash.

Today saw my first formal knitting workshop and it was about knitting socks. Yes, they are fiddly, yes, you may be asking yourself why on earth knitting socks when you could be doing something else. I don’t ask myself that; usually, I ask myself why on earth am I filling in this spreadsheet with info that means nothing to me, instead of being at home knitting socks? But then maybe that’s just me, someone trapped in an alien world made up of batch runs, migration of data, interfaces, code drops and test environments, when my heart and my mind are consistently elsewhere. It was hard to concentrate this morning because the first air of spring wafted in through the open window after a looooong winter and because I pondered on how wonderful it would be to be doing this all the time, to have the luxury of getting up in the morning without the tyrannical schedule of a grey, soulless office inhabited by people who could not be more different from me if they tried, to go to this lovely place and knit in the company of women who are very interesting and very talented as well.

Helen run the workshop and I cannot wait to take more of her classes. I now do not feel so hopelessly finger-less when holding the tiny needles and once I’m finished here, I will go back to my lovely Regia hot pink yarn and start following a pattern. I will also try to knit in the round with circular needles and see whether that is any easier than holding three, four or even five double-pointed ones. Practice makes perfect... not that I expected perfect socks tonight but I do expect lots of practice.



The lovely Fibre and Clay.



Helen at the workshop.



My sock yarn.

For more about Helen and her work click here.

The Knitting Virgin

I am a knitting virgin. I have had dirty thoughts about the craft for years and years but never followed them through, not even when I got my needles wet in the puddles of a local knitting group, almost two years ago. However, especially before my latest trips to America, I geared myself up for taking on the needle challenge. Now that I have returned, I am faced with a virgin stash that I am not quite sure how to rapture, tearing the skeins apart to put them back together before my not-so-expert manipulation can bring something new to the world. Nearly all of the above I acquired here, in the worldwideweb-famous Purl. everybody who knits and/or crochets and surfs the net knows of Purl.



Everyone loves Purl, its look and feel, the people who staff it and the ones who patronise it. I can safely assert that, were it not for the lovely lady with long, long hair I would have returned home empty-handed as there is little more intimidating to the knitting virgin than rows and rows and rows of tidy skeins one cannot quite figure out what to do with. I visited twice on separate days and still managed to walk by on a few more occasions, as wonton eyes peered through the glass, wondering what it would be like to live just around the corner, passing the shop daily and meeting up with people who so clearly make Purl one of their regular pit-stops. Yet Purl is not the only yarn shop worth visiting if you're heading for New York because, shock, horror, there is actually a much bigger one that offers many times over the selection that Purl can squeeze on its cooky display. Annie and Co is up Madison Avenue, with needlepoint upstairs and yarns downstairs.



The shop is much different from Purl, differences which can be quite simply summarised with Upper East Side vs Soho. That is all there is to know and it is no mean difference if one eavesdrops on the conversations as they take place over needles and yarns. As I was squeezing skeins of alpacas with a watering mouth, the mention of cookies just behind me released me from my wool-induced trance. 'Oh no thank you', one of the knitting ladies said to the other, 'I have not had a cookie since... uh... Christmas! Oh no wait... I had one. Yes, I had one cookie since Christmas'. Ok this was February and, really, there isn't that much time in the grand scheme of things between December and February and Lent hit us mega-early this year but still... not one cookie since Christmas? Annie and Co is an adorable, very well-stocked yarn shop, with staff that is amiable and knowledgeable, but you will find that its knitting mornings are only really likely to appeal to you if you are the kind of woman that can say NO to cookies for months on end.

Purl is at 137 Sullivan Street.
Annie and Co is at 1325 Madison Avenue at 93rd.