Confessing

There comes a moment in conversations when I 'confess' to my big secret.

In the last few days I have found myself revealing to two separate people that I knit.


Conversation 1:

Man 1: 'You knit?....' [man physically recoils in his seat, and scrunches up his face]...'Do you have cats?'

Me: 'No... why?'

Man 1: 'Well, it goes with the image, doesn't it?'
[if it's possible for anyone to recoil right out of the room, at this point he would have done.]


Conversation 2:

Man 2: 'That ball of wool... do you knit, or is it a plaything for a mischievous cat?'

Me: 'It's mine... I like knitting.'

Man 2: 'Really? ... Mm. I can imagine you reclining on a chaise longue, with wool running through your toes...'


Now that's more like it.

All the fun of the Fair

A couple of weekends ago, unfortunately on a rather grey day, one of my favourite annual events took place: Barnes Fair. The village green is filled with hundreds of stalls and displays from local craftspeople, charities, schools, artists, businesses and restaurants. It's possible to find anything from fairy cakes made by the Brownies to beautifully glazed pottery, hand-crafted sweaters, bric-a-brac galore and pots of herbs.

The trick is to cast aside lengthy deliberations and guilt at treating oneself: the things seen there tend not to be seen again so are worth grabbing immediately. I once found an early Heal's oak table and four matching chairs just as I was about to move into a new home with no furniture. However, I am still kicking myself for not buying a 1950 three-tiered red cake stand with white polka dots I saw one year. I know, I know, it's a strange thing to hanker after but afternoon tea with treats on a cake stand... one of the best things ever.




There are certain traditions to be upheld, such as watching the procession of decorated school children pass by on floats and assorted animals (always a diversion in the middle of a city) and eating Thai noodles. This year I was particularly taken with the intricately carved vegetables next to the Thai noodle stall. I suddenly wanted to take a class in how to transform a turnip into translucent white lace. There may be a class, the woman told me, but not quite yet. I will be first in the queue. It looks like a very peaceful way to pass a few hours.



Thai vegetable carving. The lacey turnip is top centre, between the carrots and in front of the melons.

The sounds of the fair are always augmented by peculiarly actorly tannoy announcements which usually contain a gem or two. My favourite this year:

"For all those of you who are concerned about Ben, the shire horse that collapsed during the procession, don't worry - it seems there was a horse whisperer in the crowd. He whispered to Ben who was able to get up and is now fine."

Intriguing. Exactly how many random horse whisperers are there in London?

Coming soon... American Adventure

So, I went to America, to knit, to talk, to wander, to squidge wool, and to watch a whale. The full account is germinating, while pesky work deadlines pile up.

In the meantime, a glimpse of Squam Lake, and the view from my cabin.

Public Transport

Cheering. Or slightly spooky. Or both.

Saturday Sunshine

Sometimes it's rather wonderful to do very little. Sitting in a shaft of sunshine with a new ball of wool is one of those moments that seem insignificant but which are in fact rather rare.

The wool is Skein Queen's Entice 2-ply laceweight, in Crimson Passion. It came from Emma, who is always an inspiration.

Casting on in Chelsea

I decided recently that it was time to admit that my stubbornness in trying to learn new techniques was not working for cast-on strategies, and off I went for my first knitting class ever.


What a great afternoon I had. Alice of Socktopus was unfailingly patient with my apparent inability to tell my right from my left, or my working yarn from the yarn tail, and soon had me producing loop cast on, long tail, variations to both, Channel Island, crochet provision, tubular (both 2 strand [German] and provisional cast on method), and star cast on (my favourite). Hoping Alice doesn't mind, I've copied here the exact names from the Socktopus site as I'm still playing with my edges and studying my notes, which have slightly less orthodox instructions, including the intriguing annotation 'pick up Australian cousins here'.


My finished edges resemble wobbly worms; Alice's smooth green edge variations are the real thing. I aspire to such neatness.

Adding to the pleasure of the afternoon was of course a fair amount of yarn squidging, especially in the ongoing quest for a particular acidic shade of green. Alice had several suggestions, and also showed me her new Kilcarra Donegal Tweed shade cards. I cannot get the beautiful pinks, greys, blues and greens out of my head. While waiting for the Donegal Tweed shades to hit London, instead I succumbed to some colours from Wales.


Flimstone Bay by Cariad Yarns in Enchanted (above) and Electra (below).
Mmm.

Indigo Ideas?

I have nearly finished something else, but very sadly I think I'm going to have to undo it and start again. I love the wool and the stitch but the pattern just doesn't sit right on me. This is not exactly surprising as yet again I was trying to adapt an existing pattern and this time it hasn't worked.

I'm putting the pictures here to show how lovely the yarn is. Unfortunately no amount of playing around with different brooches is going to save this item on me.

Any ideas as to what else might suit it? It is DK weight Skein Queen Desire in Indigo Dream, and I have 1350 metres/1700 yards. All suggestions very welcome.