As easy as abc

I'm watching ABC at the royal albert hall. Restricted view tickets so I brought my seafoam scarf. Yarnovers are a bitch in the dark!

February Lady Sweater

No matter what rubbish life has been throwing at me, this cute little spring cardigan was waiting patiently on the needles.

"Come back," she would feebly cry, "not long left until you can wear me. Then you'll be happy."

And she was right. Last night I cast off and be-buttoned this little beauty and she's already clinging to my shoulders, ready to brazenly reveal herself to the world. If it's not her teasing red flourishes, it's her dangerous hint of primary colours speckling the lace. The minx.

Full details on ravelry.

The joy of NX

Someone's brought uncovered raw meat onto the coach. I can see the fatty bone hanging over the luggage rack.

Snow Day!

"Severe Weather Event..." read the 6.10am text from the Head this morning. "As a result of the severe weather I will be closing the school."

Cue cheers across Southwark and Lewisham.

Today I have been mostly reorganising my yarn stash. "Does this mean you won't buy anymore?", Thom asked naively. I guffawed. Then we went to Stave Hill park to take photos of my newly-knit-just-in-the-nick-of-time striped jumper.

Mr. Snowman

There's an inch of snow out there. In London! Even Canary Wharf is covered.

To do

EXTERMIKNIT!



(Photo from entropyhouse)

A meeting of minds

I'm having a knitting/ you tube Sunday morning and I found this stroke of genius. Ladies and gentlemen: Mike Nesmith and Frank Zappa together at last.

Ex-jumper

Last week I had to frog the body of my jumper. I buggered up the waist decreases and there was loads of puckering at the back. But it's ok, this jumper is going to be perfect. I knit the body again. 10 inches later, it's a perfect fit along the waist and back.

But wait...

What's this?

This, my friends, is what can only be described as a flap of the highest order. Several inches of knitted wasteland determined to make me look like I have wings. It's unflattering, it's ugly, it's there and no amount of pretending it isn't will make it go away.

Let me tell you something.

I DIDN'T CHECK GAUGE.

I have to knit the jumper again. For the third time. I have to change my needles completely. Only now, after 2 weeks and 2 attempts, have I swatched and worked out my gauge. I'm a bloody idiot.

It'll be worth it, right?

So for now, this jumper is no more. It has ceased to be. It's expired and gone to meet its maker. This is a late jumper. It's a stiff. Bereft of life, it rests in peace. It's rung down the curtain and joined the choir invisible. This is an ex-jumper.

Phase 1

So there I was, at the O2, waiting for Stevie Wonder to come on. A legend. And I'm angry. I'm angry because T and I planned to grab a bit o' scran before the show, but so did the rest of London so we couldn't get in anywhere. I ended up paying £6.50 for some chips and a weird veggie burger with black hairs in it. I was pissed off because I bought a prepatory bottle of water - knowing my throat would be dry from singing like buggery - and they wouldn't let me have the bottle top (the justification being they "didn't know what I was going to do with it"). Screams of "I'm a teacher, what do you think I'm going to do with it?!" met with nonchalance.

So we arrived early and waited in our don't-book-if-you-suffer-from-vertigo seats. And the brightness of the animated billboards is blinding. I close my eyes to see neon stripes burned into my eyelid. We're at a gig that people who don't go to gigs go to, we mused. And then we realised our gig before that was REM at Twickenham Stadium. Bugger. We are that person.

My NY resolution this year is to go to more gigs. To not become a stadium person. I've come home (tipsy) and found myself booked into 2 gigs already! Bridget St John at a vegetarian cafe in Camden and The Right Honourable Richard Thompson at the not-so-small-but-nowhere-near-stadium Barbican.

Does it still count if it's folk music?

Overheard

Overhead in a Catford pound shop earlier today:

"Ovaltine's a morning drink. When I was in prison, it'd keep me awake if I drank it at night."

Th'Ealey Dell

While uploading my Christmas photos I loved looking back to when I visited my dad. We took a beautiful walk through Healey Dell, a nature reserve which my dad lives on the cusp of, and we were bowled over by the vivid natural colours and magnificent viaducts. I do love a good viaduct.

This urgent and deafening waterfall, otherwise known as Fairies Chapel, helped to power Th'Owd Mill I'th Thrutch (an early Industrial Revolution wool mill).
The Healey Dell viaduct which used to serve mill workers between Rochdale and Bacup. Alas no longer used due to that Doctor Beeching bugger, but no less impressive.

Rusty trees lining the now-defunct viaduct.

Back to school blues

Urgh. 16.40pm. Darkness has fallen, signalling just a day and a half before I'm back to work. Sad face.

Good job I'm knitting up a rainbow.


I started this boatneck sweater on New Year's Eve and I must be about 60% through already. I cannot resist waiting to see which colour appears next! Here's some more accurate colours:

My very own ray of sunshine!

Baby come back

Well look at that, I'm back in bloggerland.

I ditched the other blog. Without wanting to navel gaze too much, I wasn't using the other blog enough to pay for the service and I'd pigeonholed myself too much with the knitting content (ravelry has a lot to answer for).

T reminded me that this place existed when he told me that he spent a night reading it recently. And you know what, despite the tough times I went through, I actually had a lot to say back in the day. Maybe I'll get my voice back.

So here I am again, new name, new look. Lets see what happens. :)

(And here's the beautiful song that inspired the name change)