The Queen Susan Shawl

I was rummaging around various knitting sites for an unrelated reason, when I came across the story of the Queen Susan Shawl. The Queen Susan Shawl is a collaborative project on the Heirloom Knitting forum on Ravelry. Several knitters had noted an old photo of a lace shawl in the Shetland Museum photo archives and together more than thirty knitters have recreated the pattern based solely upon the photo. The Queen Susan shawl pattern will be released early 2010 - and it will be free.

Meanwhile, the Shetland Museum has been very enthusiastic about the project and even has included the Ravelry group in their Call For Papers for a forthcoming knitting conference in the Shetlands.

I always get slightly misty-eyed whenever I come across stories like that. Am I going to knit the shawl? Probably not right away as the scale of the project is quite daunting, but someday I would like to try my hand at a proper heirloom-quality Shetland shawl.

Right now, though, I've realised that we are off to Denmark NEXT WEEK and David's sweater is still not done.

Being a Reader of Books

Firstly, today is a sunny day. It is so strange to see rays of sunlight spill into this room, so I wanted to make a little note of that. Secondly, the new Winter Knitty is up. If I weren't still working on David's sweater, I would cast on for Mr Darcy for him.

Thirdly, I just finished reading AS Byatt's The Children's Book this morning and I have all these thoughts running through my head.

Yesterday I wrote briefly about whether I connect with favourite authors because they have shaped my ways of thinking or I connect with these authors because they mirror the way I think? The egg or the chicken?

When I go on one of my solitary walks, I often get sentences or lines of poetry running through my head. Sometimes I just "hear" fragments, other times I get an entire stanza. The regular visitors include Dante Gabriel Rossetti's Silent Noon, DH Lawrence's Gloire de Dijon, and John Donne's Holy Sonnet XIV. Most often, though, I hear TS Eliot. It runs the gamut from his most famous works like Prufrock and the Waste Land to lesser known pieces from Inventions of the March Hare. I view the world through words and many of these words came from Eliot. I am vaguely amused by this - after all, I am not the first nor will be the last to define myself using others' words.

And so AS Byatt. I first read one of her books one week into my university years. All these years later, Byatt is one of those very few authors whose entire oeuvre I have read. I connect with her books - they are filled with solitary bookish women surrounded by a far too material world. Last night I watch an interview with her and closed my eyes when she said: "All I ever wanted was to live a life of the mind." In a world defined by emotions, feelings and exteriors, I am drawn towards her books of ideas, thoughts and interiors.

The Children's Book is exquisite. It is a messy book insofar as it describes a messy world and also is also slightly messy structurally. A proper review would be far too long - you can find good reviews and synopses elsewhere - but it suffices to say that I really liked it. I re-read the final fifteen pages twice and I suspect I will revisit the novel just as I have revisited several of Byatt's other novels.

But am I drawn towards Byatt because I am a solitary bookish woman (bound by class) who just wants to live a life of the mind? Or have I become a solitary bookish woman because I spent my formative years reading books by AS Byatt (and EM Forster)?

Thoughts of a dry brain in a chilly season.

Something about Authors Unexpressed

Brief thought after having watch an hour-long interview with AS Byatt on BBC4: Have the authors whose books I really enjoy shaped who I am as a person, or am I drawn to these writers because of the way I am as an individual?

I need to ponder this and might return to this topic sooner rather than later. I'd be interested in hearing your reactions and thoughts.

In the meantime, enjoy this little Youtube clip of Brian Cox giving an acting master class on "Hamlet" to a two-year-old toddler. It's really, really adorable.

I Made This

I could have given you another photo of fog, fog, fog but one is enough, right? So, let's look at luscious handmade stuff instead. First up is my new hat, the Cairnhill Tam. I don't really suit hats, alas, but I love wearing them. They keep me warm and snuggly - especially in foggy weather! I mentioned starting this hat on Tuesday. I finished it Thursday and blocked it Friday. A quick, satisfying knit which had all the right amounts of vaguely interesting techniques, portability and easy enough to knit in company with others.

The wools behaved as I expected: the coarse Gotland wool from the sheep farm was, well, coarse and hairy, but also gave the colourwork a rather delightful halo. The Rico Poems was not impressive and I doubt I will use it for anything more than the odd accessory (if that). It felt very much like Twilley's Freedom Spirit: splitty, loosely spun and pilly. Oh well. I love my new hat and I might just have enough for a pair of matchy, matchy mitts. I'm just not sure I want the Gotland wool anywhere near my wrists.

Onwards, onwards.

I finished my stepdad's Christmas scarf some time ago but kept forgetting to take a decent photo.

The pattern is sheer genius and makes for a great, portable project, although I did eventually get sick of all those short rows. I used one ball of King Cole Mirage which turned out to be an  unexpected good woolblend yarn (to the aghast fibersnobs reading: every yarn has its place and I may just write about that someday soon). I have another three balls in a less sedate colourway stashed. I might just make something for myself (a Clapotis? A fan shawl?), although I have plenty of other yarns I'm anxious to use.

This leaves me with just two projects on the needles: David's sweater which I need to finish very soon and my Estonian flowers shawl which I am in no hurry to finish.

Finally, I baked last night. It was so cold and chilly outside that I caved in and made one of my favourite cakes. It is a spicy pear/ginger cake from Hubble Bubble, a cookbook I received as a present some eight or nine years ago. When I first saw its whimsical "food is magic" approach, I was not too sure about cooking anything from the book, but despite appearances, it has turned into one of my favourite cookbooks.

The spicy pear/ginger cake rarely lets me down and is pleasantly non-greasy. Unfortunately I forgot that our non-stick cake tin is no longer non-stick (don't ask) and the pretty pear pattern went a bit, ahem, pear-shaped. Still tastes good - and David sneaks an extra little slice when he thinks I am not looking.

(In case you are wondering why so many of my recent photos incorporate our Venetian blinds: it is the only place in the flat with decent daytime light)

Speaking of cakes and whatnot, this one leaves me a bit bedazzled. I am sure I don't have the cake decorating skills, but I'd like to try..

Fog of a December Afternoon

Among the smoke and fog of a December afternoon You have the scene arrange itself—as it will seem todo— With "I have saved this afternoon for you"; And four wax candles in the darkened room Four rings of light upon the ceiling overhead, An atmosphere of Juliet's tomb Prepared for all the things to be said, or left unsaid. We have been, let us say, to hear the latest Pole Transmit the Preludes, through his hair and finger-tips. "So intimate, this Chopin, that I think his soul Should be resurrected only among friends Some two or three, who will not touch the bloom That is rubbed and questioned in the concert room." -- And so the conversation slips Among velleities and carefully caught regrets Through attenuated tones of violins Mingled with remote cornets And begins.

(Portrait of A Lady)

Addendum: My friend Iain shot a great photo of the Kelvingrove Art Gallery today.

In Kansas City With My Favourite Tattoo

On Tuesday, northern Norway experienced a strange light show. No, the photo you see on your left is not a Photoshopped image. It is the real deal. But what caused this bizarre phenomenon? Bad Astronomy can tell you (incidentally, if you are not following the Bad Astronomy blog, do so! It is great). All that aside, my first reaction was: "Oh my giddy aunt, northern Norway? Philip Pullman got it right!" This reaction was quickly followed by: "Northern Norway? Wonder if there is a Bad Wolf Bay close by..? Oh no, not Rose again?!" And then I realised that maybe I am a bit of a geek after all..

Speaking of which, we watched Duncan Jones' Moon the other night. I enjoyed it, although it did not move me (but I do not think the film intended to move me and I appreciate that). A man stuck on a lunar mining base with a three-year contract about to run out, a robot to keep him company and an unreliable video link to Earth. Space is not a brilliant, adventurous place. It is lonely, cold and remote and it forces people to address questions about human identity, the frailty of memory, and the relationships between Man and Machine. Maybe this sounds dry, but Moon is a good film. Recommended.

And the other side of my geekiness: literature. This photoblog of literary tattoos has me wishing I wasn't so scared of needles, because, seriously, there are some really amazing tats there. One of my favourite songs of this past decade (and just maybe of all-time) is about a literary tattoo: The Lucksmiths' "Fiction"(youtube link)

Oh, and the new Drops Summer Collection has just been unveiled. Voting decides which ones will be given full translation priority, but I just enjoy looking at the patterns. A few look interesting, but, really I'm not that bowled over. Perhaps it's because it's not even Christmas yet and they are talking about summer designs?!