A moment of sunlight

The weather’s been crazy today, with the odd little snow flurry here and there. Then late in the afternoon, the sky turned all kinds of colours and, for a few minutes, the front garden was filled with light. I just had enough time to run out and take the photos of the snowdrops I’d been wanting to capture before the sun disappeared for the night behind the houses at the end of the road.

Knitaholic

Look! I made a hat! I started it early yesterday evening and finished it before I had my (late) lunch today. This knitting malarkey is definitely my latest addiction (I’m so bloomin’ binary). The dark circles under my eyes are testament to the addiction, as I stayed up late last night knitting … just a couple of rows … I’ll just get to the change in colour … I’ll just get into this section … I’ll just go to halfway … I’ll just knit a bit more.

Mum and Dad were awake when I finally went upstairs and so I took my work in to show them. I don’t know if Mum was prouder of the fact that I was now following a pattern, or of the fact that I’d made a small change to it. I’ve also added two stitch styles to my repertoire now: moss and stocking. Moss – knit 1, purl 1 – is a little tiresome, although a nice outcome and stocking – knit 1 row, purl 1 row – is nice to do as there’s enough purling to get into the rhythm of it. Plus, it ends up looking like proper grownup knitting.

The original pattern that Debbie gave me was for a hat with five different colours, but I just went for lilac and a blue-multi in alternating stripes. The eagle-eyed among you may notice that the lilac is the same as I was using for my Noah scarf. That’s cos I got fed up with how slowly that scarf was going and undid all my work. The needles were too small for my liking, so the scarf wasn’t very soft for a start. I’ve got the green-that-won’t-photograph-right which I shall use for a slightly fancy scarf at some point (ie, not just plain knit).

I did a lot of plain knitting on my Caterpillar scarf yesterday, so it measures about 10″ long now. It doesn’t need much in the way of concentration as it’s only knitting, nothing fancy, but I do have to watch and make sure not to split the yarn as I push the needle through.

However, before I do any more the Caterpillar, or indeed start another scarf or hat, I must finish my blanket. Stretching the french knitting around the bannister rail added a good half metre to its length, but it’s still not enough to border the blanket 3 times. So I shall go round twice, then cut and bind it. Oh, and before you say anything, stretching the french knitting further and sewing it down as I go doesn’t work, it just relaxes again and makes the blanket curl up at the edges. I’d wondered if it would, but it still took me 2 metres of sewing to be sure … and then 2 metres of unpicking.

Feeding the habit

After a concerted effort today, Heimat is now finished. It is the most delightful scarf ever made by anyone. It’s sooo soft I wish I could share it with you, Internet. As it is, I shall just have to be content with letting Suzy molest it next time she’s here, before I pack it up for the Mongolians. I wrapped the scarf around my neck to model it for Mum and Dad, but didn’t leave it on too long, in case I became attached to it. Like puppies. If I leave them around my neck too long, I end up wanting to keep them.

This morning I went to Barsley’s to pick out some new wool and came away with two beautiful colours: a gorgeous emerald green that I simply can’t do justice to under artificial lighting, and a bobbly orangey-red mix. I also – get this – bought myself some safety pins and a row counter. I don’t think the row counter will get much use just yet, but, hey, it’s nice to have!

The wool baskets were quite busy, with lots of people cooing over the various yarns. Ok, maybe I was the only one actually cooing. Oh, but there are just so many colours and it’s all so soft and some of those balls of wool are such big whoppers that I was tempted to buy one just for the comedy value.

Work continues on Noah, but he’s a bit of a cuss and progress is slow. I’m trying to get at least an inch added to it each day and Mum has offered to help with it. She should feel free to add a foot to it each day. Not that she doesn’t have her own knitting. She’s making a fancy jumper for the Mongolians, using a stitch I love – something about knitting into the bottom of the stitch. I don’t know quite, but it looks luvverly.

Now to continue trying to cast on with this bobbly wool. It’s a bit weird, but I mustn’t judge it until I’ve got going. This scarf is going to be the Caterpillar – because it feels like I’m trying to knit with furry caterpillars, which admittedly I’ve never done, so I’m not entirely sure what my frame of reference is.

Words are useful

A few years ago, I lay in bed one night reading the latest copy of Cosmopolitan. The last article I read before turning out the light was about cars and what to do if you had a flat tyre, or were in an accident for example. I read that if you were in a collision that caused the airbags to fire, you would likely see smoke and there would be an acrid smell, but not to worry, this was from the airbags. I didn’t know what acrid meant, but got the gist that it wasn’t pleasant.

The very next day, someone in a Land Rover decided that our side of the road was far preferable to his own and veered across the road, ploughing into our car as Dad and I drove home from the shops. We weren’t hurt, but the air bags fired and suddenly I discovered what acrid meant.

Yesterday evening, I was reading my book when I came across a word I hadn’t heard or used before, but it was perfectly clear exactly what it meant.

And as I sat on the loo in the wee small hours of this morning, I suddenly had cause to use the word. “Mmm,” I thought to myself, “malodorous.”

Things you should know

1. John has posted some great photos to Flickr. He had a fancy new lens to play with, but then his photography job was cancelled, so he went to play in the station instead. I feel he should be punished for being able to come up with much better photo titles than I can. Bastard.

2. Looking at all the bescarfed people in his photos only makes me want to make even more Dulaan scarves.

3. I’m already making two at the same time. They both have exceedingly clever names, for I, their maker, am exceedingly clever.

This red and white stripey affair on the left is my Heimat scarf. Heimat being German for homeland, and rot-weiss-rot being the colours of the Austrian flag.

This purple delight Noah scarf. Why? I’m glad you asked. Having now mastered purl, this is a ribbed scarf: 2 knit, 2 purl. Oh come on, surely I don’t need to spell it out any further?

4. According to www.myheritage.com I look like a young Angela Lansbury. Great.

5. The removal of my stent is now set for 8th March. I received a leaflet explaining the procedure. It contains such delightful phrases as:

… the urethra needs to be prepared with anaesthetic jelly, this being squeezed ~~violently~~ gently into it from a tube or syringe.

.. men may be asked to stop the jelly escaping after it goes in by ~~putting their dick in a vice~~ gently squeezing the tip of the penis for a minute or so.

Can’t wait!

Blanket update

All the patches have now been knitted and sewn together. The blanket is about a metre square and “all” I have left to do is edge it with the length of french knitting I made ages ago and then maybe back it with something furry. Like a badger.

I spent a while pinning the colourful cord of french knitting around the perimeter of the blanket, only to find that it only went round it 2.75 times. It’s now been unpinned and is currently wound tightly around the bannister rail brackets in an effort to stretch it out another metre!

Self Portrait Tuesday: All of me

I wasn’t so keen on this month’s challenge for Self Portrait Tuesday. It’s called “All of Me” and much of the challenge is based on doing exactly what I resolved to do less this year: picking at myself and pointing out the not-so-pretty bits.

I started to think about the various parts of myself that I could look at without thoroughly lambasting them and began to wonder: why does my hair only ever fall out of its clip in a romantic, floppy, delightful way when it’s in need of a wash? And why, for that matter, do I always scratch my head more when my hair needs a wash, serving only to make matters worse?

I’m for ever scratching my head and I find it oddly soothing. I had a terrible time a couple of years ago when I was stressed about an upcoming meeting … for which I wanted nice clean hair and so couldn’t let myself have a scratch. Oh, the scratching that went on afterwards. I nearly got a splinter.

It took me a little while to get this photo right (oh my camera, she does love to focus on what’s behind me) and the shot I’ve used has caught a previous attempt on the screen of my iMac. It wasn’t intentional, but it does rather symbolically underline the fact that I do this all the damn time.