Domesticali

The sum of our everyday

Not sure where I read it, but somehow that phrase has stuck in my mind - we are the sum of our everyday. And if that isn't a siren call to doing the small things that bring joy and doing them as often as possible, then I don't know what is. 

Today's small joys and triumphs? A finished pair of woollen mitts (the peerless zip mits) - a patten which pulls of the ultimate trick of being straightforwardly pleasurable to knit and aesthetically pleasing.

And coffee - the antidote to a very late, but good night spent with friends. And so 2017 begins. Page 1 of 365

Best laid plans

Impulse buying yarn was something I made a concrete decision early on in my knitting journey to avoid. And usually I am happy with that decision. In fact, musing over the perfect yarn and pattern combination and planning a new project is one of my very favourite parts of the process. I then buy what I need for the project I have chosen - in theory, no waste, no enormous stash, no unsuitable and frustrating substitution issues. Sounds so simple and minimalist.

But I also believe strongly in supporting independent retailers and buying local. Especially when local is also lovely. So when Sue and I went on a little pilgrimage to Chipping Norton and to The Fibreworks, which is a lovely place, it seemed rude not to buy anything. Especially as I am still in the middle of the cardigan that will not grow and am bored to tears with it and in great need of a little knitting light relief.

And a ball of Debbie Bliss Milano called to me in all its speckly wrapped wool goodness. And I wanted it. Even though I had no idea what I wanted to knit with it.

You can imagine the internal dialogue. But, I rationalized, it is still winter, and chilly. And one can never have too many pairs of mitts. And look - these would match so many things, with all their coloured speckles. But I knew, even without checking, that the yarn was too fine for any of my 'go to' mitt patterns. Never mind - I picked up some tealy blue Lang merino 120 - voila! Held together they would be just the right weight. Dilemma settled, purchases nestled in bag.

Got home, cast on. But it didn't take too long to realise that I was not on to a winner. The fabric emerging from my needles was far too stiff and without the required level of stretchiness (is that even a word?) for a mitt. Doom. But I loved the two yarns together. And now I had four balls and no plan.

Although as I contemplated my error, a tiny thought came to me. Just an inkling at first, and then a fully fledged plan and so a bag was born instead.

And I am so so pleased with it. The stiffness that was unbecoming in a mitt suddenly transformed itself into structure that was perfect for a bag. And although I fudged the instructions from a pattern entirely unsuited to the materials I had at hand, it has turned out just fine and dandy.

Perhaps being constrained by the limitations of one's stash is the path to knitting creativity, rather than my beginner style knitting by numbers and associated terror of deviating too far from the prescribed path. Sometimes good things come to those who let loose.

Just in time

The weather forecast is predicting chilliness and so a final push at the weekend got my new mitts off the needles and firmly onto my paws.

The pattern is Zip Mits, and I must confess, this is not my first attempt at them. The fault was not with the pattern first time around (it is straightforward and pleasing in every way), but rather with my yarn selection. Against my better judgement, I was seduced into trying them with a thick and thin yarn. Epic fail. The resulting single specimen was a sad case, with mangy bald patches and the pretty stitch definition on the thumb got totally swallowed up.

This time round, I went for tried and tested - Quince & Co Osprey in colourway Honey 123. It is a pleasingly 'off' shade, which somehow seems to cope with my red coat, and my turquoise one and yet still magages to be interesting enough to perk up the black, puffy, rugby watching one.

As you see, I have my coat wardrobe at the forefront of my mind - this is more to do with having done the bi-annnual clean out of the cupboard under the stairs this weekend, than any particularly orderly fashion sense.

Perhaps it's adaptability is linked to the fact that it seems to be one of those shades which defies pinning down in a  photograph - is it green, yellow, ochre?

Who cares - they are warm and snuggly with properly defined stitches. Now I just need to find something else to do with a single skein if thick and thin charcoal grey wool...

Finished Folded

My Ravelry favourites list is pretty full - I use it as a kind of shortlist for things I've seen and liked and may one day want to knit. Usually, a new project starts from there. When I began knitting, I made a conscious decision not to aquire a yarn stash. I learned from my sewing experiences, that you never have exactly what you need and if you do, it is unlikely to be in the correct amounts. So with knitting, I tend to select a pattern and then research my yarn options until I hit on a pattern/yarn combo pleasing enough to head to the shops.

But sometimes, I am in a yarn shop and see something that I lust after. If it is sock yarn, I go ahead and buy enough for a pair. I know what yardage I need, so there is no risk. Which is kind of how I justified a puchase of the first skein of Araucania Botany Lace. There it was, in my local knitting shop, in all its modestly priced, beautifully hued glory. So impulse purchased enough for a shawl. But when I came home and hit Ravelry, I discovered a prime vehicle for it, nestled in my favourites. And because I had bought it locally, I could nip back the next day for the extra yardage required. Folded by Veera Välimäki.

This photo makes it look as if one sleeve is two inches longer than the other. You'll have to trust me that it isn't. Must have put it on the dressform wonky.

There are acres of stockinette on 4mm needles in this pattern - a good thing I enjoy plain knitting as much as I do. 

Not that this project didn't provide many learning points:

• Raglan shaping in the round
• Short rows for the neckline
• Knitted pleats

All new to me. Some head scratching moments and intense watching of You Tube tutorials - how did anyone learn to knit before the internet?

I am insanely pleased by the glorious drape of this yarn and also with the subtle interest provided by the pleats (even if they do look a bit holey at the top when examined closely. But I trust that nobody is going to be that eagle eyed around my bustline.

When it first came off the needles, the hem was rolling a bit, so I took my steam iron to it which sorted the curling in seconds. In fact, it was so successful, I went for it with the neck too. Big mistake, quite literally huge. The neck grew so much, I could have put the whole thing on by stepping into it. Disaster. So I hurriedly popped it into the washing machine on a wool cycle and mercifully it emerged back to normal. I dried it super carefully, flat on a towel to avoid any stretching while wet.

Given how much I could have made it grow by blocking, I wished I had gone down a size in the pattern. I am always so scared of turning out a too small garment, that I tend to err on the generous side. Not always the most flattering look. But it is wearable and the perfect weight for this inbetween season we seem rooted in - too cold for a tshirt, but too warm for a full sweater.

The cat seems very interested in it. He is partial to a spot of wool chewing at the best of times. But this particular knit seems to draw him like a magnet. Perhaps it's the power of orange attraction.

Multiples

If one of something is good, then in my mind two is likely to be better and a glorious abundance, even more so. There's magic to be found in repetition. Was it Malcoim Gladwell who proposed that you could become expert in your field, by doing something for 10,000 hours? 

The idea of this, was the thinking behind my exhibition for Oxfordshire Artweeks. Socks were the motivation behind me wanting to learn to knit properly, back in 2007. And perhaps it is because I feel a sense of gratitude towards them, that I have continued to intersperse all my other knitting projects with pairs of socks. 

The rainbow washing line represents the time invested in mastering a new skill and the joy to be found in the simplest of things repeated over and over. There are roughly 34,000 stitches in a hand knit sock. Most of them pleasureable (with the possible exception the ones you drop while knitting as a passenger in a car going round the M25 in the gloom of the winter dusk). Many of those socks grew out of journeys, being the ultimate in portable projects, and in my mind, they stand for the miles travelled in my journey from novice to knitter.

I'm exhibiting here with the rest of my Needles and Natter group, if there's anyone local reading. And I promise to straighten those socks before I hang the real display!

Mind the Gap

The Underground is synonymous with excitement, in my book. If I'm jammed on the tube, it is because I am heading somewhere awesome. There are people to watch and a sense of purpose about the whole enterprise. Yes, dirty, smelly, hot, overcrowded and expensive - all these are valid criticisms, but I do still enjoy the thrill of travelling on the tube hugely.

When I caught sight of this, I ordered some.

Intrigued? Very colourful isn't it? But not just any colours. It gives a hint as you begin to wind the skein.

Casting on for the first sock was exciting. I discovered and trialled the super stretchy sock cast on, which is a teeny bit fiddly, but is also a triumph - I will use it again.

Knit, knit, knit - you know how it goes when you are using teeny needles. But slowly the sock emerges. And I found the perfect backdrop for photographing the first finished one - Nancy's teatowel.

Because those wild coloured stripes? They correspond to the colours of the lines on the London Underground map.

And now they are finished and making my feet feel extrordinarily happy.

They might also be classed as art - my Needles and Nater group are taking part in Oxfordshire artweeks this year - my contribution? A washing line of handknit socks. Beauty and function. Bit like the underground map, now I come to think of it.

The colour of Lichen

Small, muted, unassuming, but with beauty in the detail.

The making of a shawl is a more contemplative passtime than any other form of knitting. There are no concerns of gauge or fit. Just the beauty of the yarn and the steady unfurling of the pattern as the rhythm of the stitches takes over.

My second Simmer Dim - the first was the colour of rain, this one grew afterwards. I hope it brings a gentle smile to its new owner.

Reluctant model

Gina knitted a baby hat recently, which I knew it would be the perfect little gift for a friend who is about to pop! It was on and off the needles in a day. Even if I had to substitute a chunkier weight yarn for the green bits. I sort of like the lumpy leaf look though.

My model, Reggie, is less convinced.

I didn't want him to get too puffed up with all the comments the other day about how lovely he was. Truth be told, he's a bit of a git. Likes nothing better that to swipe at me from between the banisters when I am going downstairs with an armful of laundry and am defenceless. Call this my revenge. 

Onward

The best antidote for January blues seems to me to be looking squarely forward. I find myself contemplating the prospect of Spring and knitting socks in an optimistic daffodil shade.

Well begun is half done - Aristotle? Mary Poppins? Someone wise said it anyway.

There have been difficult letters to write this week. One has been swirling round my head all holiday long, but the thoughts needed catching and putting on paper - when it was done I had no idea why I'd procrastinated. It was so liberating to have pinned it down.

So when life threw up the need for a second, vastly different kind of letter, I sat straight down and wrote it. Even though the words would hardly come and I am not sure what comfort it could possibly bring. I suppose I wrote it to make myself feel a little better. Sometimes there is nothing for it but to keep putting one foot in front of the other and see where the journey takes you.

Letting go

Finished some little knitted Kanoko Pants for the newborn son of a friend.

Her story is not mine to tell, but I have watched it unfold for some while now and from time to time I have contemplated how she can do it. How she can be strong enough to let go of the things she cannot change. To make her peace with them. 

Letting go is not one of my strong points. I waste much energy feeling angry and frustrated at situations I can do nothing to alter. So I keep my hands busy and hope that tomorrow, or the next day, I will wake up and find my anger has gone. Sometimes I think if I had less free time, there would be less space for brooding and I would be able to just let things go and move on. It's such a waste.

Little people

It was Anna's pin which led me to the Korknisse pattern on Ravelry.

But it was the lure of diversionary activity, which had me knit up my version of a little cork person there and then. Because my own little person has flown the nest and headed off to France for a few days.

I used to think I was a relaxed kind of Mother, the type who is chilled about letting her offspring sally forth on the odd adventure. Turns out that is true only when it is the elder one, and I still have a chick at home to cluck over.

The French trip has stolen my baby, and I don't like it one little bit. 

Though I am sure he will be having a whale of a time. And I do promise to refrain from telling him that he must never leave my side ever again.

 

A little neck candy

Some light relief in the middle of a lace knitting project involving ripping out and hard sums.

Ravelled here. This is the second of these I have made. One of these days I'm going to make a third and actually keep it for myself!

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.