Déjà Tricoté

Sorry for the gap in postings. Christmas has rather caught up with me. (Thanks to everyone for your comments, which kept me amused - and a special hello to nimblynaff in South Africa!) On the odd occasion lately that I felt like dictating, Richard wasn't here to type. And every time he was available to type, my brain took on the consistency of damp cotton wool, without even the possibility of cress seeds growing in it to give it a bit of life and vigour. (Do kids still do that at school, grow cress seeds on damp cotton wool? I remember doing that quite vividly. And growing broad beans against the side of a jar. Mind you, I remember dissecting a rat and a bull's eye as well, so it shows you how long ago I went to school...)

Anyway, I had a bit of a disaster last week. At least, I said it was a disaster - Richard insisted that, as it was fixable, it was more of a hiccup. "A disaster," he said, "would be your yarn catching fire because you were knitting so fast." Phew, no chance of that, then.

It all happened because I thought that I could remember the pattern. I was supposed to do part of the row in garter stitch, and part of the row in a pattern stitch; it was roughly 80 sts in pattern and 60 sts in garter stitch, but in my cotton wool state this translated on my needles into 60 sts in pattern and 80 sts in garter stitch. And then, to compound the error, I increased one stitch on every row instead of on every other row.

I only noticed something was wrong when I came to cast off, held up the entire thing to look at it, and realised it was a shapeless mess. I nearly wept when I realised that it would all have to be unpicked.

Eight.

Bloody.

Inches.

I am not a one for making New Year's Resolutions, but I think my resolution for this year may be summed up thusly: Never Assume You Can Remember The Pattern, Even When You Have Written It Yourself...

(I did unpick it, and reknit it, and it worked fine the second time. Thank goodness knitting is forgiving!)

Tigger says, "Relax..."

Who Ya Gonna Call?

I've received an advance copy of the February issue of Simply Knitting (lovely stitch markers as the free gift!). I'm delighted to see how well my crocheted Stashbuster Serape has been staged and photographed. I was really in two minds, when I sent it off, about whether it should be shorter and wider. It looks most luxurious on the model, however, and I'm glad I left it as it was. It's designed as a project for which you choose your own yarns from stash (obviously). Just in case anyone wants to know what yarns I used for mine, here they are:

• Elle Monet (278 – Pisarro)
• Texere Recycled Yarn (discontinued)
• Red Heart Plush (9536 Lt Purple)
• Wendy Precious Moments (197) (discontinued)
• Rowan Calmer (484 Lucky)
• Debbie Bliss Cashmerino Aran (502 Pea Green)
• King Cole Merino Blend DK (69 Olive)
• Cygnet Wool-Rich 4-ply (0268 Olive)

I also supplied an alternative knitted pattern for this, which is something I'm considering doing in future in my more simply constructed items. If a garment is made out of basic shapes, then it should be just as easy to make those shapes by knitting or by crochet. Of course the crochet will take more yarn (about a third as much again seems to be the accepted wisdom), so the crochet versions will drape a little differently; but I like to give people the choice...

Still on the subject of using what you have, instead of buying new, I have to share with you a few lines from a book which my sister found for me on her bookshelves. It's from 1943, and is called New Life For Old Clothes by Gertrude Mason. I imagine it would have been a remarkably popular book during the War – with clothes and yarn both being rationed. This comes at the end of a description of how to create a bath robe from a bathing wrap and an out-of-date swimsuit:

Remove the skirt from the swim suit and cut the lower part of the sleeves from it. Cut the facings for the lapels from the body part of the suit, using the front of the pattern as a guide. The trunks should provide sufficient material for belt and pocket, and a small back collar if required.

I know that bathing costumes used to be more decorous, but it sounds like this one was positively Victorian :)

The other book she brought for me is rather battered. It has lost its cover and the first and last few pages, so I have no idea what it's called or when exactly it was published. Judging by the copious photographs, it looks as if it comes from the 50s. It also contains advice on unravelling sweaters to use the wool for something else. I particularly enjoyed the child's pixie hood, made from a cut-up felted sweater!

I used to love pixie hoods. I looked like a gnome in them, but I still loved them...

"You did want it unravelling, didn't you?"

Comfort and joy

First, a newsflash: Santa's toyshop has been shut down, following inspection by Elfin Safety. Boom boom! I thengyow....

I know it's a little late for this year, but may I pass on my top Christmas tip? Don't send cards. Not that I don't like getting cards - I do - but since I've been ill, it's been an even bigger problem to get them all written and distributed than it was when I was well. So, a few years back, I announced that I would no longer be sending them. Instead, I donate the amount I would have spent to the Salvation Army, and it pays for them to supply a hamper and some presents to a family who wouldn't otherwise get them. Plus, of course, it saves resources!

Anyway - Happy Christmas to all my readers, and I hope Santa brings you all the things you asked for. Personally, I know it's unlikely that I will get David Tennant, but a girl can dream...

Tigger says: 'Don't drink and drive, just drink and nap...'

Zap! Kaplow! Blammo!

Thanks to everyone who left a comment last time. Getting comments is a bit like getting applause when you're on stage - it reassures you that there really are people out there, and you're not just whistling in the dark. (Good to see another Floyd fan, Steelbreeze!)

I want to give a little plug to a new craft zine, Proud to be Crafty. It's edited and produced by Alexandra Byrne, who blogs as LittleLixie. The current edition is the second; the first was limited to 50 copies and sold out in gratifyingly quick time. The new issue costs £1.50 and is available at http://www.proudtobecrafty.blogspot.com/.

It is an endearing mixture of fun and interesting articles, including a fascinating piece on the online publishing service lulu.com. It also comes with an attractive length of Taos yarn to play with :)

I'm considering working with Richard to produce some video podcasts for the Knitting & Crochet Guild, as I can't go out to groups to run workshops and pass on my hints, tips, and expertise. Would anyone like to suggest a topic or area of knitting or crochet that particularly needs to be covered? Obviously I want to do topics that people are going to find useful, as well as entertaining, so I don't want to go off into areas in which nobody is interested.

I had hoped that I would get a bit of peace and quiet to concentrate on my knitting from last Friday onwards. Friday was the launch date for the new Nintendo games console, the Wii, and Richard has been telling me far more than I ever really needed - or wanted - to know about the damn thing for months. He'd preordered one at a shop in Durham, so he was able to go down there at 11:30pm on Thursday for their midnight launch. Of course, once he brought it back, he had to set it up to make sure it was working.

I think he got to sleep at about 4 o'clock...

Now, to be fair, I must admit that it is jolly good fun, although rather strenuous for those of us with puny muscles because its big selling point is its motion sensitive controller, which allows you to swing it to hit the tennis ball, roll the bowling ball, and box your virtual opponent. The one thing it can't do, however, is make Richard shut up about it. Instead of telling me how amazing it was going to be, he's now telling me how amazing it is.

Still, it could be worse, he could have painted his bedroom black and been listening to death metal...

Tigger says, "Nobody ever asks me if I want to play on the Wii..."

Happy Second Blogiversary!

Yes, gentle reader, it is two years to the day since the Doodles blog burst on to the stage. Well, it was more a tiptoe on in the back row of the chorus, but you know what I mean.

I missed last year's Blogiversary, because I was convinced, at the back of my mind, that I had started it quite a way into 2005 and by the time I realised, I'd already missed it...

So, you have my permission to eat twice as much cake, get twice as drunk, and sleep with twice as many ugly people as you would normally do when celebrating. Balloons, streamers, party hats, jelly and ice cream, pass the parcel, and being sick into your goody bag are all recommended.

I know that I have readers all over the place. I think it would make a great celebration if every reader (yes, this means you) left a comment, no matter how small. I'd love to hear from you all!

Tigger says, "Ooh! Did someone mention cake?"

The rumours of my demise have been greatly exaggerated...

I suppose the main reason is that I have Been Out. Three times in about two months, actually, and all to Durham Gala Theatre. In a vain attempt to Get A Life, I foolishly booked tickets for three different shows in October and November and, although I enjoyed all of them greatly, it has left me absolutely flat. Still, if you get the chance to see Marcus Brigstocke, Jeremy Hardy, or The Play What I Wrote then do go and see them because they are all - in their own ways - extremely funny.

I have done one important thing in between periods of recovery, and that was send off my swatches. In the end I sent three to Rowan, three to Interweave Knits, and two to Vogue Knitting. I've already had an acknowledgement card from Interweave Knits to say that the parcel got there safely, so Watch This Space.

We've also solved The Mystery of the Smelly Cat: every so often, Tigger has come in smelling pleasantly - but distinctly - of non-cat smells, like the incense I mentioned in the last post. Apparently he has taken to visiting a neighbour of ours, who has just lost her little dog. My immediate reaction was to go along and apologise to her, but the Warden for our block assures me that she's very happy to see Tigger when he visits, and that he's helping her get over the loss of Lady. Obviously it is from spending time in her house that he picked up the scents over which we then puzzled...

"I won't be long. It's baking day today, so I'll be back in a minute - smelling of cinnamon..."

A sobering thought

Before I get to the main thing I want to blog about this week, can I just say: thank goodness Bonfire Night is over! As the Beamish Boy said last year, "Some people go to firework displays; some people organise firework displays; and some people have firework displays thrust upon them..." The village has not had an official display this year, but we have had all the local youth trying to outdo each other with the number, size, and loudness of their bangers. The past two nights have been like living in a war zone :(

(Note for non-UK readers: on 5th November every year, we commemorate a plot to blow up Parliament. Some people let off fireworks because they are pleased that the plot was foiled; others do so in gratitude for the plot being hatched at all...)

Anyway, I was given a large bag of crochet thread this week by a friend who had received it from a recently bereaved family. She passed it on to me because she knew that I am a member of the Knitting & Crochet Guild and hoped that I would be able to find a good home for it. Before I gave it away, I naturally had a good rummage through. It was really quite sad; the threads were all tangled together, and had obviously just been dumped into the bag from a drawer or work box.

As I sifted through, I found a small piece of tatted edging. As I pulled it out, I found another one tangled with the end of it; then another, and another. By the time I reached the bottom of the bag, I had unearthed several pieces of quite elaborate edgings, some small individual motifs, three complete – or nearly complete – doilies, and three tatting shuttles:

Then something stuck in my finger. I thought it was a needle until I pulled it out and realised it was a tatting hook – the tiny hook used to draw thread through a picot on a tatted motif to attach one piece to another. We've put a penny coin in the photo to give you an idea of scale:

There's a mixture of crocheted and tatted stuff, but it all has three things in common: it all needs a gentle, but thorough, wash; it needs bits finishing off and threads sewing in; and it was somebody's pride and joy, which was never intended to be dumped unceremoniously into a bag and given to a complete stranger.

The last one made me think. What's going to happen to all of my stash when - although not for a good many years yet, I hope - I cast off my last row and head for the Big Stitch 'n' Bitch in the Sky? It's not something that any of us likes to think about, but even a small stash can be a great gift to another knitter or crocheter.

I have a friend who inherited a stash from the relative of a friend. It has taken her two years to knit her way through it, and everything she has made from it has benefited a charity. When she has knitted up the last ball, she intends to type up the list of items she has made and present it to the family. I'm perfectly sure that they will be amazed at what that small stash has achieved.

On an even gloomier note: is your stash insured? Even a moderately sized stash of yarn, needles, and books could be worth a considerable amount of money, if it all needed to be replaced after a fire, flood, or unexpected plague of moths. I'm not too sure that you can insure your stuff against plague of moths, but it's a niche market that I'm sure insurers should be looking into :)

So, in short, get your stash into your Will and onto your contents insurance; you don't want it ending up jumbled together in a bag in a stranger's home.

I'll do my best to restore and complete all these lovely pieces, and I'll post photos to show you what they look like when I've finished.

On a lighter note, Tigger presented me with a bit of a puzzle today. He came in smelling unmistakably of incense. The only solution I can think of was that he had gone to the Catholic church across the road, misread the sign as "Cat-holic" and joined the congregation for mass. After all, he can be a very devout cat:

It's In The Genes

Those of you who read My Family and Other Knitters - pt 1 will know that I come from a very creative bunch. Since my sister has been studying the family tree, we have discovered another little sprig of needlecrafting ability.

As all of my maternal grandfather's family were seafarers, I always imagined that their wives and sisters spent their time faithfully knitting ganseys. My maternal grandmother's family, however, tended towards brickmaking, and it was with great please that I discovered my great-great-great-aunt Rosanna, born in 1838, who appears on the 1851 Census as a lacemaker. She would only have been 13, and was already earning money, which seems strange to us these days, but was the norm back then. However, she is the only one in the family, so I would love to know where she learnt her skills and what kind of lace she made. She lived near Salisbury in Wiltshire, so she was nowhere near the great lacemaking areas like Honiton or Notingham.

The present is also quite interesting this week. Poor little Tigger has had a trip to the V-E-T because he has a cold. He's determined to punish us for this; both Richard for taking him, and me for letting him. It has to be said, that he is punishing me far more!

I've been in contact with Deborah at Simply Knitting, and I am please to say that my plus size patterns are now underway. The next thing I am having published is in issue 23, not a plus size pattern in the strictest sense although scarves do tent to be one-size-fits-all. Also, Simply Knitting now has a blog, which is well worth a read.

Lastly, I am very proud to announce that I have finished all the sketches for my samples. Not all to my satisfaction, but the best that my limited artistic ability can produce. Watch this space...

Tigger says, "Try getting me in that carrying box again, and it will be the worse for you..."

I Aten't Dead

Sorry for my non-appearance last Sunday. It's been a bit of a time, what with my tooth, and going out gallivanting, and the Beamish Boy upgrading my computer and introducing it to Linux. It wasn't love at first sight...

However, now that the BIOS has been upgraded, everything seems to be working fine, and I am no longer under the oppressive thumb of Bill Gates :)

I've spent part of the past week wrestling with my mother's Christmas present. She requested a big lacy knitted circle, with slits left in it for her arms to go through, so that it would just cover her shoulders nicely if she had to go into hospital. Not that she's planning to, you understand, but she likes to be prepared. I faffed about with a number of different knitting and crochet patterns, none of which really fitted the bill. In the end, I dug out one of my favourite crochet doily patterns, and worked it in 4-ply yarn with a 4mm hook. This gave me a good base on which to build, probably by adding a few plain rounds at the end and working the slits into them.

It was at this point that I phoned my mother and told her what a pretty bed jacket she was going to get.

"Oh, I didn't want anything as complicated as that," she said. "I was thinking of just a length of knitting joined up at the ends to make cuffs. I didn't want you to go to any bother."

I told her firmly that she was having a fancy bed jacket and liking it, and then went straight back to my crochet and started working out how to add cuffs...

In the end what I did was simply to work in half-rounds, gradually decreasing as I went, to turn the circular doily into an oval shape. When it was wide enough, I put the edges together and started working round, and round, and round to make sleeves. Of course I would have done this a lot more quickly had I remembered that the doily was composed of 16 motifs. The first time I started on the half-rounds, I counted up and came to 15, so I worked the whole of the first side and sleeve from a beginning of 7-and-a-half motifs. It was only when I'd nearly finished the second side, worked over 8-and-a-half motifs, and held up that sleeve against the first one, that I noticed the discrepancy in width. Luckily crochet is much easier to unpick and work up again than knitting...

Well, it's finished now, and I can get back to my plus size patterns.

And I promise that this week, I really will do the sketches to go with the swatches I made weeks ago, and get them sent off...

Tigger doesn't care what I do, as long as I don't move :)

Extracting Information

My teeth and I have had rather a week of it, which is why I am blogging a day late - the Beamish Boy wasn't here yesterday and, in my codeine-befuddled state, I couldn't remember how to switch on the laptop...

Whether it was the stress of going out, or the result of gritting my broken teeth as I concentrated on navigating, I don't know. All I know is that I developed something nasty under my teeth, which has taken a week of antibiotics to kill off, and a large amount of codeine to subdue.

Anyway, once I get the All Clear, I can force myself to visit a dentist. Yes, I have found one - not only an NHS dentist who is still taking patients, but a wheelchair-accessible one too.

They weren't easy to find, even with the help of one of those Patient Helplines that we're always being told to ring. I explained that I needed a wheelchair-accessible NHS dentist whose books were still open.

  "Oh, yes!" the lady said, brightly. "We would recommend Tiggywinkle's Tooth Emporium¹ on Steep Street."
  "Is that the one halfway up a steep cobbled hill, with no car park?"
  "That's the one!" she replied, cheerfully.
  "OK," I said carefully, "but it's not really wheelchair-accessible, then, is it?"
  "Ah," she said, ruffling a few papers. "Then what about Dingly Dell Divine Dentists?"
  "Three stories up, and no lift," I reminded her.
This had her stumped. "We-ell..." She ruffled a little more. "The Pixie Palace for Pearly Teeth?"
  "It's a converted terrace house," I pointed out. "There's not exactly a lot of room inside; remember, I need it to be wheelchair-accessible."
She sighed a deep sigh. "Well, I can think of one place," she said, "but it's outside of the town."
  "Is it an NHS practice?"
  "Yes."
  "Is it still taking new patients?"
  "Yes."
  "And is it wheelchair-accessible?"
  "It's a hospital," she muttered. "Own car park, all on one level, automatic doors. But I don't know whether it will suit you..."
  "Why on earth wouldn't it suit me?"
  "Because you said Durham City, and this one's three miles outside..."

I am delighted to report that I didn’t call her a Rude Name, but thanked her politely, took the hospital's phone number, and hung up...

So, another little adventure looms. I don't know how soon they'll be able to fit me in, but I'm hoping it will be in the next couple of weeks. Yes, gentle reader, my life is indeed full of Excitement and Adventure and Really Wild Things :)

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1. Names have been changed to protect the innocent Durham dentists who practice in listed buildings and therefore can't install lifts...

PS. Tigger says I should do what he does, and sharpen my teeth on Chloe...