Domesticali

The colour of rain

Love of colour always seems to me to go along with a zest for life. The sort of bold fearlessness that is guaranteed to raise the spirits - a call to joy. But colour requires energy, and sometimes there is more appeal in the soft focus of neutrals, which speak to me of  treading quietly. Of taking the time to observe, to look inward and reflect. They are undemanding, soothing, comforting.

Exactly the properties I feel should be present in a shawl. Not that I had made one before, or owned one, even. Perhaps embarking on an uncharacteristic project, led to an unusual choice of colour for me.

Pattern: The Shetland Trader, Simmer Dim 

Yarn: Juno Alice Sock in Pewter

Ravelled here

A wonderfully tranquil knitting experience. Quiet, on the sofa, with a cup of tea, listening to the rain falling outside.

 

Retail inspiration

Do you consider yourself a good shopper? Were you one of those teenagers whose idea of a perfect Saturday was one spent mooching with your friends round your favourite haunts, trying things on and preening in the fitting rooms? Truly, that could not have been further from my personal reality. I am not a good or patient clothes shopper. It's something I have tried to get better at, but really it is still a mission to be conquered rather than a pleasure in it's own right.

But retailing of other things? Well, I love it. Principally the way that a really good shop can make you feel like you could move in and never ever leave. The sense of excitement when you know there is a visit on the cards and the urge to buy something there, so that you can capture a tiny bit of the essence of the place to take home with you.

Last week, Monica and I went on a field trip to a new yarn shop. It is called The Fibreworks and is in Chipping Norton. Claire and Leslie, the lovely owners opened their shop in October and had emailed to tempt us over for a look. Well, you don't need to ask twice. All yarn shops are, in my book, a good thing. Pretty colours, balls and skeins for squishing, new things to discover. In short, temptation.

And on this front, The Fibreworks delivers in spades. They stock a really well curated choice of yarns - familiar staples like Debbie Bliss, great affordable options like Lang yarns (not too familiar to me, but I was impressed by what I saw) and the wonderfully niche things like locally grown alpaca!

But it takes more than good stock to achieve the retail X factor. It helps to have charming owners. Claire was in the middle of teaching a beginners sock knitting workshop in the studio upstairs, but she still made time for a chat and let us ooh and aah over their plans for the Spring window display (there were knitted mouse y-fronts involved - it warranted close inspection!)

And Leslie was just lovely and incredibly knowledgeable about their stock - helping me to identify a likely substitute yarn candidate from a secret box of pre-release samples. Quite honestly, I could happily have just plonked myself down on the window seat and nattered to her. Which is, I'm sure, what many of the customers feel.

Because there is an atmosphere of coming home inside the shop. Which I may have totally failed to capture by neglecting to remember my decent camera on the day we visited. So excuse the 'happy snap' nature of the photos.

Everywhere you kook, there are the little personal touches that make you smile.

And leave you feeling inspired.

In short, it's one of those places - the kind which you tell friends who might be passing that way to  stop at. Because you know that the magic will work on them too and you'd hate for them to miss it. 

And it is places like this that reassure me that even in these day of infinite choice, internet shopping and the ease of bargain hunting online, that great independent shops will continue to exist and thrive. And yes, you know a little something came home with me.

What's your favourite place to buy yarn? Will you make a special trip to visit? Why do you love it? 

 

Just in time

Off my needles yesterday evening. A Wurm hat.

I am hoping it gave me a small degree of anonymity in the school car park this morning as I accomplished a particulary spectacular wipe out in the compacted snow.

My boys were their normal sympathetic selves: Hahhahahah, Mummy, I can't believe you FELL OVER! I'm going to go in and tell EVERYBODY!

Just the ones who hadn't already seen. The shame.

Reverse engineering

It started, as so many impulses seem to begin of late, with a picture on pinterest. A woolly cuff, which caught my eye. But horror of horrors, there was no real link on the original pin. 

Source: farm6.static.flickr.com via Ali on Pinterest

Don't you hate it when that happens? I was determined to track the image down. For hours I trawled Flickr with every keyword combination of woolly bracelet cuff cable knit I could think of, but no joy. TinEye brought up no matches. I tried Ravelry and Etsy. Nothing. But I couldn't get it out of my head. I tried knitting a giant cable, but it didn't look right. And then, from deep within the recesses of my subconscious bubbled up the idea of a turks head knot.

And a great deal of knitted icord later, my own version appeared.

Woolly bracelet bliss.

Though I am still determined to track down the creator of the original, so if anyone knows, please do enlighten me.

 

 

Busy with the needles

It's undeniably colder this week, and the boys are beginning to baulk at having to wear their uniform shorts to school. Thankfully, half term marks the point beyond which long trousers are acceptable attire, so their knees should be warmer shortly.

Chilly knees are not really an issue for me, but I loathe having cold hands, so as soon as Autumn hits in earnest, there is always a pair of gloves or two about my person. And since I lerned to knit, these have often been Toasty mitts. They are the perfect simple pattern - incredibly straightforward and forgiving of almost any yarn substitution I have thrown at them.

But I had a hankering to extend my mitten knitting repertoire, and Fetching mitts have been in my knitting queue for a considerable time. When I rummaged through the stash, there were two balls of Cashmerino Chunky. And so I cast on, and got to grips with my very first cables.

I'm pretty pleased with them (though I might modify the thumb if I knit them again). Small projects are perfect for trying a new technique - because I'm all about knitting instant gratification. And these proved cables are as easy as everyone told me they were. A couple of evenings and a quick visit to the new 'needles and natter' group at Rosie's Tea Room, which I've been enjoying and they were off the needles and wrapped up ready to post off to a friend. And I'm thinking another pair to keep is definitely on the cards. Unless there's another great pattern you know of that I really should try.

Loose ends

Amazing how knowing you have less than two weeks left of the children being in school focuses the mind.

So there has been progress on the UFO pile. Starting with some loose ends. These have been waiting for me since about Christmas, all because I couldn't put my hands on my yarn needle with the really big eye. Thankfully, it turned up this week.

So it was possible to sew in the ends of the seriously chunky yarn, made from recycled tshirts. I've been squirrelling away the worn out ones (with no side seams) for some time. To make yarn, you just cut a strip, spiralling your way round the body of the shirt, and pull on it which makes the sides curl in. Google will provide a tutorial if you need one, I'm sure.

I had plans for a bathmat, knowing the tshirt yarn would be super absorbant. What I didn't know is that one tshirt would yield only about 4 inches of knit bathmat. I had nowhere near enough yardage. Plus it is incredibly stiff stuff to knit with and hard on the hands. So serious design modifications were called for.

The finished bathmat has tshirt yarn either end, with the middle being Rowan Cotton Tape in two colours held double. Kristina gave me this yarn years ago - it became a table runner and a wrap which never worked out and was frogged for my bathmat. Which did work out. Even if it took me about 7 months to get around to weaving the ends in.

Not perfectly blocked, as you can see. But when it's raison d'être is to be stood on with wet little feet, there really didn't seem too much point in being pedantic about it.

Finished is good enough.

Half Term and some hand knitting

We are having a gloriously lazy week this week - 8.30am and half the household is still in bed (the short half). Believe me, especially from the child who always wanted to begin his day at 5.30am, this is most welcome. Though it does mean that he wants to share the sofa with me long into the evening...

Things are never really static in family life, are they? I am trying to make the transition between 'everyone in bed at 7.30, because evenings are grown up time' to 'please remember to put the lights out when you go to bed, because I'm turning in now'. We're not quite there yet, but I can see it on the horizon. It takes a little re-adjustment in my mindset. 

Especially when it comes to knitting. My grown up evenings are always when I used to knit - on the sofa, after supper knowing that the kids were tucked up in bed, or at least in the other room having quiet reading time. Knowing I would not be called to help with something in the middle of a row or have someone pop in and casually change all the numbers on my stitch counter, whilst sitting on my ball of wool. The joys of family life.

So it is slightly miraculous that I have managed to finish the Polly Pullover. Although it has to be said, it is about a simple a sweater pattern as it is humanly possible to knit. And in fab super bulky Spud and Chloe Outer wool, it grows fast.

Last night's sofa sharing involved an episode of Gok's Fashion Fix. Slightly odd viewing for a 10 year old boy, I thought. It turns out he really likes the little pugs who go everywhere with one of the stylists. But he's clearly absorbing much more, which led to the following exchange in the bathroom as I was photographing my sweater.

Me: 'Do you like it?'

Him: 'Yes, it's got very good waist shaping - makes you into an hourglass.'

Me: speechless

Foxy knitting

This weekend offered up a finished project - hooray! I have been enjoying my knitting of late. Mostly because I began this project a good while back, but abandoned it with only a small portion left to finish off, so when I picked it up again, it came together ridiculously swiftly.

It seems I love either end of the knitting process. The selecting of yarn and pattern keeps me happy and occupied for weeks. And the bit when it is all coming together and I can try on my garment. Not that the middle isn't enjoyable, but I find myself fretting. About following the instructions properly, not making a mistake that I cannot correct, the question of whether it is going to fit or not. All these thoughts intrude on the meditative stitching bit - there, I am a nervous knitter - I confess.

But I wanted to do this gorgeous yarn justice. It is Blue Sky Alpacas Melange "a confection of exquisite colour" to quote the label. I'm not sure if the photos capture it exactly, but it is a truly foxy orange and I love it for that and it's gorgeous alpaca softness.

The pattern I chose was this one:

A top down raglan, which means no seaming whatsoever and it is knitted with the yarn held double which seems to make it grow extra fast. I modified the pattern a bit, making the neckline narrower and leaving off the ribbed sleeves as I liked the way the rolled stockinette edge looked. I also lengthened the body as the ribbed section as written began halfway down my boob line. Not a fetching look. Though, to be honest, I may have lengthened it a little too much.

But it's all part of learning. A little bit of experience I will take with me to the next project. I've seen a very fetching Spud & Chloe pattern the Polly Pullover. What do you think?

 

Splash of Colour

A small scale project sometimes helps to get the juices flowing and I find this especially true when it comes to knitting. It allows my hands to rediscover the rhythm and my days to accommodate the quiet sitting time that knitting requires.

So a gentle start to the knitting year using this pattern and some Crystal Palace Mini Mochi in a colourway bright enough to banish any hint of winter blahs. Johnny is helpfully posed so as to hide the mismatched bit where my single skein failed to yield any matching colour for the remaining thumb. And I am sure you will be good enough to ignore the laddering in the purl rounds where try as I might to adjust my tension, the transfer from one DPN to the next shows.

Because it seemed important just to begin (and finish) something and to get going. I don't think I have any grand plans for this year - just to use the time given to me well and to enjoy the ride.

The confidence trick

This morning, Mark handed in the spaceship he'd made over half term for his school competition. His art teacher received it very sweetly, enthusing about the little Lego pilot and showed him where she planned to hang it. As we left the room, he whispered to me "I think I've won".

Ah, the confidence of youth, and especially of that son of mine. His well of self-belief runs extremely deep.

If only it were possible to steal away a drop of his and sprinkle it about. It might get me over my case of extreme procrastination. I have something I need to be getting on with, but I'm finding myself paralysed by the fear that it will not be good enough and fail to live up to expectations.

It is easy to be confident when it doesn't count. When there is no competition, no judge of one's efforts. But when the responses matter, then the self doubt creeps in.

And it's such a waste of precious time - but at least the need to procrastinate has led to knitting. A little cowl inspired by Kristina's. Only one skein, on and off the needles in a jiffy.

Straightforward, uncomplicated, no second guessing required. And most importantly, done and dusted. If only everything in life could be so simple.

Step back in amazement

Now don't say you haven't been warned. The shock may be a little too much for some. But I have made something.

Yes, made. Y'know, this supposedly being a craft blog and all.

And I may have totally stolen the idea from Monica, but the execution is all mine.

Details are all over on Ravelry.

And in making it, I was reminded of the days when I began blogging. When I would see something on the amazing blog of some creative genius and rush off to follow their directions and learn something new myself. And a wave of nostalgia came over me.

I can still make a little time to blog, but there has not been enough to do lots of craft as well. I think it's an understandable response to not being at home as much and having a more demanding schedule for our whole family.  But I do miss the hours with my sewing machine, knitting needles, paper cutter or whatever.

And then I read these words from Meg.

I’ve also let go of the idea that creativity means making “stuff.” It’s something that I’ve thought a lot about lately, the product-oriented drive to make more and more stuff, even if it is handmade. This awareness helps keep my expectations reasonable. I’m trying to broaden my definition of creativity to include things like baking bread, arranging a shelf, choosing an outfit, or coming up with hand motions for a song that I sing with my son. Ephemeral creativity, I call it. It’s more of an attitude toward life focused on bringing beauty and thoughtfulness into everyday actions than making “things.”

And I think it is a point she makes well. I may not be churning out projects, but it does not mean that I am not a creative person or that this can't still be a craft blog of sorts. Just of a slightly different nature.

Snuggly buggly

The porridge poncho - it's done! All blocked, seamed, woven in and ready to go.

I am smitten with the baby cables. And the warm cosy fuzz of it. The colour? Well, I am still not sold. It washes me out, if truth be told (hence the headless photos).

But I've finished something! Hooray.

 

Poncho ponderings

I've been knitting away the evenings on a very cosy project - the Union Square Shawl from Weekend Knitting. And this time, I am striving to enjoy the process, not just anticipate the completion. But while I knit, thoughts niggle at me.

1. I am a child of the 70's. Should I even contemplate wearing a poncho?
2. The wool, though soft, sheds like anything. Is this a serious no-no in a garment designed to be flung on over other things?
3. Beige isn't really me. If Kristina knit it, I would think it was understated, classic and beautiful (just like her). But for me? It brings to mind porridge. I'm just not a beige girl.
4. Surely the fact that the yarn was super-duper cheap in the John Lewis sale should make up for its shortcomings in the colour department?
5. Poncho poncho poncho - it's one of those words which if repeated over and over again starts to look as if it is a word you just invented.
6. I am in love with the baby cable pattern. Not least because it gives the illusion that I know how to do cables, when in fact, I have no idea whatsoever!
7. I only have 3 balls left to knit. So near and yet so far.

The small spaces in between

Do you ever get the feeling that the really important stuff happens in the periphery of the day? The child, who gives you the biggest insight into their inner life in the couple of sentences exchanged as you kiss them goodnight. The planning of a whole week's worth of domestic arrangements in a dialogue carried out between the shower cubicle and the bathroom sink as the day gets underway.

We are cramming an awful lot into life at the moment. But the most enjoyable bits are often at the edges - rather like the sticky margins of a perfectly baked crumble.

Or the Toasty gloves which fit neatly into the 'waiting in the car park' knitting slot.

Here's to the tasy morsels at the edge of life.

Small things

Small things are pleasing me today. My newly arrived vintage french thread.

From Milly and Dottie's Emporium. A shop to make one smile if ever there was one.
Some little matchbook jotters with paint chip covers and security envelope pages. Guess who got a new guillotine and needed to test drive it?

A small bit of knitting. Very small, and possibly a touch pointless. But I had to have a go at it.

And some rather more useful sock knitting, now completed (alt least one of the pair is)

Now if only I could find my A to Z - I'm off to London in the morning and I'm hopeless without it.

Lace

The ultimate mystery for me - lace knitting. I have tried before and failed - kidsilk haze, I curse your beguiling beauty and impossible levels of fuzzyness. You really put me off trying again. But I found a new yarn.

And it might have taken more than a few weeks and with a long hiatus while I waited for my mother-in-law to arrive and correct a mistake I had made. But it's done. My Juliet. I put a lifeline in every six rows of that lace - that's how nervous it made me. And I mumbled through many an evening on the sofa counting stitches. But oh how I love it.

So all the time invested reading about other people's versions and modifications on Ravelry really was worth it. And I am glad that I listened to Monica (for a change!) and knitted the bottom section in a size small, so it wasn't too flarey. The yarn is Rowan cocoon in Seascape and it is the most perfectly soft squooshy, fuzzy choice.

My favourite knitted item ever. Yes, for now, at least.

Sunshine beckoning scarf

The ability to influence the weather - I think I have it. I make a sunhat, it pours.  Buy a strappy top? Freezing. So in a fit of reverse psychology, I've knitted myself a winter scarf to go with my red coat (the one that Lucy made me buy). We're bound to be basking in glorious summer sunshine soon.

Details over at Ravelry.

A little completed knitting project - little, being the operative word. A Pebble vest (pattern from The Thrifty Knitter) for a soon to be newborn. I'm sure my boys were never this tiny.  It took only a single ball of yarn.

And even for me, the slowest knitter in the universe, it was a quick job. In fact, the biggest headache came in finding a model to photograph it on. The bear feels this is not a flattering look for his puku. But he's the best we had.

I am hoping the uber-stylish mother of the intended recipient, will find the vest chic and understated, in a retro, wholesome, White Company sort of way. The wool is a cashmere, merino and silk blend, so at least I know it feels sublime. It's the first time I have ever made a knitted item as a gift for someone outside my immediate family and I am feeling a little nervous and self-conscious about handing it over.

Perhaps I should have waited and just baked something instead. The biscotti, from Dragonfly's recipe would have been guaranteed to hit the spot.  But, on the other hand, it might be best to eat them all myself. Even if my puku is starting to resemble the bear's.

I always knew this was going to be a good week. Not that I could have predicted the sudden advent of the most glorious spring sunshine. Although perhaps I did have a premonition. There must be some explanation for feeling the urge to make laundry haiku sets for Karen and Monica.

What's laundry haiku? Clothespegs, with words printed on them, so you can be poetic while you do your chores. Like these. All sewn into in some re-purposed Toast catalogue pages. Well, you can't see bloggy friends without a little something can you? Especially when said friends are about to give you a priceless present.

Yes, Monica had agreed to bestow the gift of crochet on Karen and I.  Unfortunately, I wouldn't say I was naturally gifted in the crochet department. She's a great teacher (not to mention an awesome crocheter - have you seen this?), but I swear my fingers just don't work the same way as other people's. And my terminal inability to count to three  consistantly seems to be  a minor handicap. But I am getting there. Which is a good thing, as I have something I am burning with desire to make. Thankfully it's teeny weeny.

Which I've decided is a good thing as you can't spot any stitch irregularity. Must fly, my hook is calling.

Post-festive slump

Yesterday, the year almost gone and the one to come were surveyed from bed. Johnny's been fighting a lurgy over the whole festive season and my body had given up the ghost too. So, with all social engagements met, he and I holed up in the big bed together for the day.

The perspective from a whole day under your duvet is not one I often achieve. But with hubby home to field Mark and provide a steady stream of Calpol and hot drinks, there arose an unexpected opportunity to think back on the past year.

Uncharacteristically, I had no master plan for 2008, and yet wonderful things seem to have happened of their own accord. Going back to work has been a hugely unexpected pleasure, and a challenge too as I learn to juggle an additional ball. There was a trip to New York - so spontaneous, I almost have to pinch myself to believe it happened. And I seem to have learned to knit (and knit and knit and knit).

So, perhaps my lesson from this year is that maybe it's okay to sit back a little bit and let fate take the reins once in a while. Because it seems that in doing so, wonderful things sometimes happen.

I have emerged today feeling much better and full of enthusiasm for what 2009 will bring. Whether planned or not.

Happy New Year!

Banana bonanza

Are things going bananas at your house yet? I have the feeling that there are only a few of us clinging on in blogland while everyone else scurries about. But for me, it's the ultimate feel-good displacement activity. I feel so calm here in front of my screen, watching pretty words and images float by. In reality, there are a bazillion things I probably should be doing, but hey, do what makes you happy right?

So I met Monica for brunch on Monday (one of my favourite treats), wrapped presents and listened to podcasts on Tuesday, had small son Nativity on Wednesday and school carol service this morning. And I haven't finished cards, or made a shopping list, or planned menus. But I am really really enjoying Advent this year. I highly recommend it.

Not sure why it seems different this time - I am usually a huge 'event' stress-head. Dashing about, barking orders, snapping at the nearest available adult. All that may still arrive come the 25th. But I hope not, because this way is so much more pleasant. Perhaps it's my Advent book.

Or maybe the knitting is keeping me calm - I managed a  scarf for hubby. Pattern is here. It was a welcome interlude in the knitting of the cardigan which goes on forever.  He doesn't know it's for him, but all through the knitting process he kept saying how much he liked it.

And I'm sure it will look much better on him than on the chair.

Silly me

I am still plodding my way through the knitting of the slowest cardigan on the planet. The back and right front are done. I'm halfway up the left front, but I have been thwarted by an innocent little phrase. Reverse all shaping. Aaaargh. I can reverse my car without incident, I have been known in my youth to place the odd reverse charge phone call to my mother, I even use reverse psychology on my children, but this reverse shaping business has me going.

Bear with me while I attempt to explain.

My cardigan has a seed stitch border with acres of stocking stitch. Proudly, I managed to get the seed stitch on the leading edges of each side without incident or swearing. Result. But my Waterloo seems to be the armhole shaping. I need to cast off some stitches to make the armhole (although quite frankly, at this stage a half cardigan, half cape seems an attractive proposition).

On the right hand piece, I cast off some stitches at the beginning of row 100 - nice curve, no problem. So in my reverse shaping world, I just had to cast off some stitches at the END of row 100 on the other side. How wrong can one be. Because I am left with a gap and a single lone stitch at the end of the row and my working yarn in the wrong place.

Even if you are not a knitter, it is clear that this is not a good thing. Is there some trick I don't know (it will no doubt have a bizarre name if there is) or do I just do the casting off at the beginning of row 101? This seems a workable solution, but then my armpits won't be even.

You have to help me. I'll even give you a slice of my birthday cake as a reward.

Toasty

Well, bits of me are anyway. Bits that don't depend on the Central Heating which sprang a mysterious leak this weekend, leading to a damp patch on the living room ceiling. It has been repaired, but when the guy's parting words are "Well, that could have fixed it", I'm wondering if we're in for a round two.

Having said that, finishing a pair of Toasty mitts could well guarantee a heatwave.

I love the pattern for it's elegant simplicity (and speed, which when you knit as slowly as I do, is no small matter). And I love the blog it came from - A friend to knit with, for its beautiful photos and the way it inspires me to believe I may yet, one day, call myself a real knitter.

Shift in perspective

The Halloween socks are finished! Aided somewhat by a housebound day on Friday with a sick Mark. Knitting socks proved to be a very companionable way to pass the time as he snuggled on the sofa, bowl at the ready.

And news arrived in my inbox from another knitting project - Whitstable's Beach Hut Cosy.  I knit a section for this, way back in the summer, and was delighted to hear that the organizers have put together a Blurb book, chronicling the project.  I'm feeling the need for one (not only because I am in it, honest) as I'd really like to check out the quality of Blurb for myself, having heard so many good things about them.

And speaking of good things, you truly are good eggs. Thank you for your kindly words on my last post. For some reason, it helps immensely to know I'm not the only one. That, and orange socks. It is impossible to feel miserable when you are wearing a pair.

Hustle and bustle

A toasty fire, a suitably hued autumnal sock on the needles and the prospect of a blank square in the diary for tomorrow. Bliss.

Sunday feeling

There's something different about the atmosphere in the house on a Sunday with no engagements.

 A quietness.

And on a wet day, a willingness to hunker down and enjoy the domestic.

A little bit of Grand Prix watching and new sock wearing (well, one new sock anyway). I think I'll go and cast on the other one. Click clack, enjoy the rest of your weekend.

Mona

Want to see a 4 year old trying to look enigmatic?

I'm not so sure - he looks vaguely in pain to me. But who am I to say.

Went on a post pay-day yarn buying spree today for my ready-for-winter project. A Sarah Dallas Blanket Cardigan. Not that I'm wishing the summer away or anything. Through frankly, with hayfever this bad, Autumn will be most welcome. At leat when my yarn arrives I can hide from the pollen indoors and knit.

Happy weekend. 

Whitstable or Knitstable?

This weekend, the planetary alignment of a snot-ridden child and a mother only recently out of hospital found me in Whitstable with only the junior element of my brood. But things were not entirely as normal. There had been an invasion.

Knitted graffiti - all over the place.
And while Johnny played on the beach

 I did a little knitting of my own.

You can't tell what it is? Why, it's a beach hut cosy of course. I kid you not. A group project, that I am very much looking forward to seeing completed.

Muuuuummmeeeee!

Dis cupcake doesn't taste very good.

Just for fun, from One Skein.

Fuzzy fun

Project ingredients:
One book (on loan from Monica)
Circular needle
Pencils, sharpened at both ends to substitute for DPNs (strangely effective)
Fuzzy wuzzy wool, which makes me think of a favourite childhood poem of mine...

Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bear

Fuzzy Wuzzy had no hair

Fuzzy Wuzzy wasn't very fuzzy, was he?

I made a little felted bowl, which just makes me happy.

But it has already been colonized.

So it's a good thing I've made two more. Even if felting them in my machine makes the utility room smell of rank sheep. But that seems a small price to pay. I have visions of a whole rainbow family.

 

Woe betide anyone who fills them with potatoes for chitting though.