The things we do for ravelry

Forgive the lack of appropriate attire, but its the start of the school holidays and I'm buggered if I'm going to get dressed today.

I'm currently climbing the windowsills to take some well-lit pictures of my new finished knit: Edwardian Boating Socks by Emma Haigh. The clambering was worth it. :)

Sewing 4 kidz

In Design Technology we're making 'money containers' (that's a non gender-specific purse, to you and me). Who knew that children these days don't know how to sew? Just 3 out of 20 kids could thread a needle, nevermind attempt a running stitch. When I was their age I was glued to my embroidery and tapestry sets...

Still, the lessons were a lot of fun, even if my thumb and I were unimpressed at being turned into a needle-threading machine. I couldn't bear to miss out on all the fun so I whipped up a purse at home to show the kids what they could potentially do.

"Aw man, Miss is a professional."

Yes. My purse is well sik. Not bad for a half hour job.

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)

when commuters ATTACK

Soundtrack: Gorky's Zygotic Mynci - Barafundle


On the train this morning Giles - the Leach-Allott term for the Blackberry-wielding commuter genus - was not only shouting down his Blackberry, but also had his other mobile phone glued to his spare ear. He'd hang up the Blackberry, start on the mobile, and then scroll his Blackberry for the next number to call immediately after.

After 5stops the commuters started to attack.

While Giles was on the phone a lady opposite demanded that he keep it down. Smirks were exchanged around the carriage. Once Giles finished his call (other mobile fired up ready to go) a fraccas began:
'There are mobile free carriages you can use, you know'
'Everyone uses their mobile in there. Some of us want peace in the morning and you don't have to be so loud'
'I wasn't that loud'
At this point everyone else in the carriage, and I'm not exaggerating when I say everyone, started telling him what a prat he was and how he should keep it down. Now placed in my Top 10 Commuter Moments, post-kerfuffle Giles kept sheepishly holding his mobile/Blackberry to his ear, and then chickening out of using it.

Commuters can be so rude. I've mentioned before how amazed everyone seems to be at my DPN-crazy commuter knitting. The other day a lady got on the train, sat several seats in front of me, turned her whole body towards me and just sat there staring. After this incident I had vowed to put down my knitting and stare back, but when a lady pointed me out to a friend yesterday I just couldn't bring myself to be so rude back, and I just sat there blushing, sweating and making my needles sticky.

Still, the staring has been worthwhile as I have finished my first sock! I was so exhilerated by the process that I've already cast on for the next one (no Second Sock Syndrome for me!) and I've got a million different sock yarns on watch on ebay. This could be the end of me!

the first big weekend as a 27-year-old

Soundtrack: The Chiffons - One Fine Day


So that was quite a long weekend containing some fun but mainly illness. On my birthday Thom and I fled to Brighton for the day (the prevalent mist may or may not have exasperated my cold). The day was filled with sock knitting in the car, the Best. Lunch. Ever. at the Hop Poles, spending my record shopping budget down the Lanes and then crying when finding the most amazing psyche/acid folk record shop down the North Lanes but having no money left.

Whilst on North Lanes I walked past a shop and did a double-take - I had found a HABERDASHERY. I walked in. I gasped in horror. All the yarns were pastels or illuminous - not that I could even get near to the shelves with the boxes and bags on the floor. I was terrified and turned to go, whereupon the knitting shopkeeper (complete with beard) accosted me, looked me up and down, and with undertones of 'YOU're not loCAL' exclaimed 'Can I hELp you?'
'Err, I was just looking around, to see... err, sock yarn... err...'
'NO one knits SOCKS anymore!' [laughs maniacally]

Thom and I ran off in the vague direction of the sea. We found the Brighton coastline after an hour of running and looking over our shoulder (we didn't want to be special stuff). Despite Brighton Pier being shut, there was one place of refuge open for hot chocolate. It was a fun day, and well worth driving through torrential rain for.

On Thursday we drove into London to do some band recording. With 4hrs of driving and a 7hour session, I was armed with my sock knitting. Except - OH NO - I had lost the row counter. I was on row ? of knitting the foot of my sock. Where did I last have my knitting? Ah, in the front passenger seat.
'Dan, is my row counter in the glove compartment?'
'What does it look like?'
'A small blue cylinder with 2 numbers on'
'Nah, can't find it'.

And that was that. We drove around 900miles that weekend, and I was out of the house until Sunday. I was bitter all weekend, knowing I could probably have finished the bloody pair of socks by then, and smarting at the lost knitting time. Naturally, I found the row counter in the glove compartment on Monday night. Don't ever ask a man to look for lost knitting components.

The rest of the weekend was spent in Rochdale and Hertfordshire being very poorly. My dad took Thom and I out for a bracing walk along the Whitworth Moors on Friday morning; I was armed with earache and bogroll, but it was a lovely morning with some beautiful scenery. The walk obviously set me up nicely for the houseparty I went to on Saturday night - with a burning temperature I claimed my space on the floor in the corner of the room and went to bed at 9.30 whilst everyone else sang karaoke around me.

as Stevie Wonder once said...

Happy birthday to me ya. Oh yes, 21 years young for the 7th time. What a wonderful age to be.

Thom woke me up with the Stevie Wonder soundtrack rather inexplicably at 6.30. I have a bloody day off - I don't even get up that early to go to work - and I didn't open my pressies til about 8, so I don't know what that's all about! I think he was more excited than me.

4 cards arrived in the post today showing a wonderful sense of timing, including a little bit o' something from my secret pal, not to mention the adorable e-card pictured. Bless you!

Anyway, no time to chat. My camera and sock knitting are packed - I'm off to Brighton for the day!

x

G+T and me

Soundtrack: Led Zeppelin - House of the Holy


I feel like I'm wearing eau de Gordon's today. I went out last night, and I only had five G+Ts, yet today I feel like there's a kind of aura about me... Is five a lot? I don't think five is a lot. It was not too much that I had a restless nights' sleep dreaming about downing cartons of juice, but it was enough for me to feel like swallowing tooth-brushing remnants this morning to quench my thirst. I didn't, but it took a lot of willlpower not to.

I'm really into my gin at the moment. I'm not much of a drinker, and the amount of times I've drunk on my own I can count on one hand. But I got home last Friday frazzled after a busy week at work, and all I wanted was a G+T (I was tempted by the Victory Gin, but the best won out). My job interview on Wednesday went particularly badly (unsurprisingly I didn't get the job), and all I wanted when I got home was a G+T.

I think I'm making up for lost time. G+T was the first drink I ever got stupidly drunk on, and after a bad experience I was put off it for years. I have to be careful about making it my drink of choice, as too much of it makes me maudlin. But in moderation, and bearing in mind my content state of mind and need to be relaxed with my workload, then it seems like the right drink for me.

Enough alcoholic ramblings...

My wonderful SP7 sent another present right on cue. She has a great sense of timing, and it was there when I got home on Wednesday (along with the promise of gin and pizza). When I'm near my camera I'll take photographic evidence. :)

it's about time

Soundtrack: Sunshine Pop radio via Last.fm

I've been quiet on the knitting front as I've been beavering away with not much to report. But finally! I've finished the clapotis. Here it is pre-blocking on my bed right now.

Hopefully you can see how pretty the colourway is, and maybe appreciate how long it took me because it's so huge. And thankfully I'll be wearing it like a scarf, so you can't see the mistake. But bugger, I've mentioned the mistake now. I might as well show you what's been making me cry.

Dammit.

I was knitting away in France and noticed at one point that I had one extra stitch. I couldn't figure out where it started, but didn't think it mattered because as long as I do about a bit of strategic 'knit 2 together', everything will be fine. But I was wrong.

DAMN YOU.

I've taken months on you, you swine. I've spent a fortune on you, you swine. I loved you. I will be tidying you up and sewing in a squillion ends because of the stupid number of balls you made me buy (6, grumble grumble). And now you do this to me. Swine.

Ah well, the way I'll wear it no one will notice. And I was spurred on by two extremely emphatic compliments about the piece, and the colours. It'll be fine.

Swine.

In other knitting news, I'm still here knitting the SP7 secret knitalong. This last bit is taking me a bit of time because I haven't printed off the instructions, so knitting it depends on when Thom's not using the laptop. But here it is as it stands right now.

I'm not sure what it's going to be yet, and I can't get a very good picture of it for you to guess either, but it could make a nice front to the possible cushion I might knit with the yarn I got for Christmas.

It's amazing how much knitting I've managed to do this week. Interesting, if you consider that I have a job interview that I'm meant to be preparing for. Not that knitting is a tool for procrastination, of course. Oh no.

I have a job interview on Wednesday which ticks off one of my new year's resolutions (shoddy considering the only other resolved resolution is washing my jumpers. Oops). It's a scary interview that will take half a day and needs me to write a scary presentation. And it's an important interview because although it's not a progressive career move in terms of my grade, it is in terms of prospects, and a huge learning curve as I'll be doing something I only do a little bit of in my job. And as much as I enjoy my current job (when I'm busy), I have been doing it for nearly 6years and there's absolutely nowhere for me to go, and no room for promotion. Wish me luck!