Sunshine on Leith

Certain times of the year are always more fun than others. I'm entering a really, really busy and really, really fun part of the working year for me - which may mean I won't be able to blog as much as I usually do. Having said that, it might also result in more blogging because I have many things buzzing about my head. Hmm. On a related note, a big thank you to supreme Swedish knitting e-zine and website, Stickamere, which is doing a KAL for my free fingerless gloves pattern, The Vicar's Fields. I'm looking forward to seeing what you all do with my pattern!

Today I went to Edinburgh. It was an exceptionally beautiful day (Scotland is always exceedingly pretty in April. April and October) and I was lucky to lunch in a place with a most extraordinary view over Leith and the Firth of Forth. It all made for a good day away from Glasgow and I felt rejuvenated by good company, fine conversation, and post-work Danish pastries with Katherine.

I also slipped in a post-work browse of the McAree Brothers' knitting shop close to The National Portrait Gallery. I had never been to McAree before but I actually left feeling very, very impressed by the shop. It does not have a big buzz about it - possibly because it does not stock fancy handdyed yarns or cool designers or does that elusive Ravelry vibe, but it does exactly what I want a LYS to do: it does depth. It has baskets upon baskets of seemingly random yarns, it is stocked to the rafters with workhorse yarns, and it has put an enormous amount of time and effort into its displays. It's not the sort of place which only does five balls of something when you really want three sweaters' worth. Even better, it has a wealth of long discontinued yarns hidden away in its Aladdin cave, so if you are the type of knitter who is always two balls short you just need to call the lovely McAree staff. And I have not even mentioned the great assortment of books or the knitting notions or the charming staff..

.. I actually left empty-handed (mostly because I'm drowning in yarn already) but anyone visiting Edinburgh should pop into this little LYS that can because it so clearly does care.You might not get unicorn yarn handdyed by elves in McAree, but you won't lack for everyday yarn and sometimes everyday yarn is exactly what the doctor ordered.

Finally, I overheard this on Edinburgh's High Street (walking towards my Danish pastries): "In Melbourne you really do get four seasons in one day." Certain readers will know why that comment put a smile on my face..

.. and here's a song about sunshine on Leith (youtube link). I think I have gone native, dear readers, because this song is as Scottish as it gets and I love it in a terribly, terribly sentimental way.

Word Tree

Choppy seas recently. I'm not going into the details, but choppy seas. And so I'm making a Word Tree. A Word Tree is a very basic idea. You cut out small leaves from brightly coloured paper, you write down positive words about yourself (or get others to name your positive traits if you cannot think of any), and you tie those leaves to a branch you put in a vase on your coffee table/window sill.

I know the younger version of me would have called that idea all sorts of names, but these days I am a bit gentler, less derisive and less prone to name-calling. Although don't ask me to Feel the Fear or say icky positive affirmations into the mirror. I have standards.

A few assorted links:

• I absolutely love these photos from a quilt exhibition. How inspirational.
• I have discovered the entire In Our Time radio archive which has actually made the choppy seas much less choppy. Bonus joy: Lawrence Rainey appeared in the IOT podcast on TS Eliot. I shrieked with ill-contained glee. Fangirl. Related: The Scottish Network of Modernist Studies meets just down the road. Maybe one day..
• When craft & print culture collide: hand-sewn Penguin book jackets.
• The curtain at the Oslo Opera House is really quite special.
• I'll be in Edinburgh for work this week and I'll be heading here for post-work snacks. I cannot wait.

It's Complicated

In August last year I began knitting Patsy (or "Lumley" as I call it) by Kim Hargreaves. It's now April and I am still not sure what I am going to do.

It's complicated.

I chose the pattern because I knew it would flatter my body type: a deep-V neckline and an emphasis on shoulders and waist are textbook examples of what someone with an hourglass figure should wear. I also liked the vintage feel to the design and knew if I lengthened the sleeves a smidgen, I'd live in this cardigan.

I hedged my bets and substituted the suggested Felted Tweed with Baby Alpaca DK (so if anything went wrong, I could knit up another design from Kim's book). The Baby Alpaca turned out to be a very, very good idea. It knits up beautifully but I had no idea just how magical it would become post-blocking. I'm getting ahead of myself here, but keep this in mind: the yarn substitution plays no part in why I am writing this post.

I began knitting the cardigan having swatched like a good girl. The back knitted up in no time. I was pretty happy. I began the front. Things fell apart (the center could not hold; mere anarchy was loosened upon the world - hello Yeats). I wrote up a spread-sheet to keep track of the pattern. The fronts looked pretty and also pretty small. I had also reached mid-November at this stage and my mojo was gone. Forcing myself onwards, I finished the sleeves in early January and did a quick crocheting-together of the body so I could see what it all looked like and maybe regenerate some of my mojo.

Mere anarchy was indeed loosened upon the world. Textbook examples for the hourglass body had combined into possibly the least flattering garment in the world. The fronts did not swooped gracefully down my bust: they flapped around the outer realms of my general bust area. The back looked absolutely brilliant and the shoulder area looked great. But those fronts..

.. so I put Lumley back into my knitting basket. I pulled it out again last week, undid the crocheted seams and blocked the easter bunny out of the pieces. As previously stated, the Baby Alpaca just turned into the most amazing fabric. Wow. Seriously, WOW. So I adjusted my hopes and fears for Lumley. I sewed it all up like a proper knitter. And finished sewing in the last sleeve at my knitting group.

The response could not have been clearer. "Uhm," said Paula, "I can see why you were .. ambivalent." Meanwhile Lilith tried to channel a Middle Eastern diplomat: ".. maybe if you wore it open..?"

I still haven't sewn in the collar nor have I woven in ends.

Pro:

• The shoulder and upper-arm areas fit like a glove. Without doubt the best fitting garment I have ever made as far as those areas are concerned.
• I love the fabric (you weren't in doubt, were you?). It is soft, drapey, beautiful, silky, smooth.. wow.
• The colour is great as is the vintage feel. Lumley fits right into my wardrobe.
• And I have perfect buttons waiting to be sewn on.

Con:

• Nobody above an A-cup should wear this garment (or B-cup if you are super-willowy). I am very much not an A-cup nor am I willowy.
• The lower part of the sleeves look very odd (presumably because I lengthened the sleeves). In fact, they look like chicken cutlets swaying in the wind.

It's complicated. It really is.

I am so tempted to just stitch that collar in place, weave in the ends, sew on the buttons and call it a day. Maybe sew & cut the offending chicken cutlets from the sleeves if I'm feeling particularly grumpy. I have spent so much time and gone to such lengths with Lumley that I just want the cardigan finished. FINISHED AND OUT OF MY KNITTING BASKET.

But it'd be a waste of good yarn, wouldn't it? Oh, I could think of other projects in which it would be so delightful and useful..

Oh, Lumley. "That is not it at all, That is not what I meant, at all."

Home Is Where The Baked Beans Tins Are Stacked

"It's a really nice day outside, you know," said my partner when he called. I know and I'm heading outside with my working-from-home bits in just a second, but first I wanted to share a video I came across the other day. Felice Cohen lives in a 90 sq-foot/8 sq-metre apartment in Manhattan, New York. This is her choice and I respect her for the decision. However, it brought me back to the eight years I spent living in a 16 square-metre/170 square-foot pad in Copenhagen.

I moved into my place when I was 19 and just started university. The first few years I loved my haven: I shared a huge kitchen with other students and we had a great time getting used to living away from home. Then the building was refurbished; my little pad suddenly had a kitchenette where I once had storage; and student life got mixed up with people who lived there because they had split up with their partner or because the authorities thought it a good place for "vulnerable adults" to mix with "normal people". Things got very claustrophobic. These were the times when I bought an obscene amount of interior design magazines just to fly away on escapist dreams.

Copenhagen is a very expensive city - including real estate - so moving elsewhere was not an option for many years. One of my friends coined the phrase "3D Tetris" which was terribly apt. Finding room for your tin of baked beans became a competitive sport at times. I look at that video of Felice Cohen and I can see several ways she could use her space better. And I'm not a naturally organised person. The space has a high ceiling and I'd utilise that height a lot more.

Eventually I got my own flat with a separate kitchen (it felt like such a triumph), but it was a real Copenhagen apartment with no bathroom (the shower was in the bedroom I rented out), a tiny toilet (you'd bang your knees on the door when you sat down), and no laundry facilities.

At the time I thought I was happy there but it was a place where time fell into the cracks between the floor-boards and I was actually terribly unhappy there. I lived there for two or three years. I miss the view from the kitchen but that is all.

What home means is such a difficult thing to pinpoint but I know what it is like not having one (I lived in my suitcase for a year. I cannot recommend this). Home means privacy. I shut the front door and shut out the world. Home means space. I can stretch out my arms and not touch walls. Home means peace. I can relax and be quiet. And home means my partner. This is exceptionally sappy, of course, but it is very difficult to imagine a home without him curled up with a book.

Now I'm off to grab my iPod (loaded with Danish-languaged postcasts on culture, society and language), my work and I'm heading out into my Glasgow version of Ms Cohen's Central Park. Enjoy your day.

FO: Coloured In

Sometimes I tell myself: "I'm way closer to Four-Oh than I am to Two-Oh. I should start dressing my age. Maybe tone things down a bit. Invest in sensible, long-term wardrobe staples. Get a couple of timeless pieces in neutral colours." Clearly I don't listen to myself.

Pictured alongside my favourite coat: the very gawjuss Kaffe Goes Bollywood wrap. You can find the specifics at the Ravelry page, of course, so it suffices to say that I am pretty damn happy with it. It is too long, though, as you might be able to tell and so I'm primarily wearing it as a scarf (wrapped around several times) so next time I make one, I'll cast on fewer stitches and do 130-150 rows total.

Headline of the day comes courtesy of a Danish local newspaper: Knitting Ladies' Vandalising Rampage Through Broager (equivalent to the UK's Flitwick or Crewes: tiny and outskirtsy). If you are really keen, you can try Google Translate on the article but, in short, even rural Denmark has discovered yarn-bombing.. Bless.

On the Kitchen Table & Beyond

How much, do I love Sirri 1ply? It's uneven, slightly overspun and reeks to high heaven of sheep. It's absolutely fantastic. Oh, I LOVE it. I pulled out my hibernating Aestlight shawl last night. I started it over the Christmas holidays last year and it was promptly put into hibernation on Boxing Day. I now remember why: I find all the garterstitch deadly dull. I now have to decide whether to pull out all that garterstitch or find some inner backbone to get those last twenty rows done before I pick up stit... aghr, I think I'll just call it a day.

The Kidsilk Haze in Jelly was just sitting randomly on our kitchen table. I really like those two colours and textures together. Hmmm..

Also on the kitchen table: my needle book made by Chookiebirdie, aka Lorna Reid. This little book has kept me company for a few years now.

I have visited Lorna's studio many times (she is just a few doors down from my very good friend, Ms Old Maiden Aunt) and eventually decided that I would love her to make me a small needle book. I did not give Lorna many guidelines - just that I loved moss green. Lorna promptly delivered this lovely needle book: moss green and aqua and orange and an owl. Everything is so beautifully finished.

I spot something in the background too. I wonder what that could be? I'll hopefully get you a proper shot of that "mystery object" later this week if the notoriously fickle April weather complies. For now, let's just say I cast off last night and I'm ever so slightly oh my word.

A few links for you:

• The Art of Fashion. Exactly what it says on the tin. I could happily read an entire book on this topic.
• Most Underappreciated Films of the Last Decade: a nice run-down which provides inspiration for our DVD nights.
• Hugh Grant(!) - yes, that Hugh Grant(!!) - steps right into the fray with an excellent article about British politics, British media, Rupert Murdoch, whistle-blowing, and phone-tapping. A must-read if you have the slightest inkling what I'm on about. Hugh, I loved you in Maurice (especially with your moustache-of-repression) and forgive you for everything you've done since.
• This little girl knows her Star Wars (YouTube link) I especially like her bow and the Storm-Trooper's fist-pump. Made me grin like an idiot.
• And speaking of videos and me grinning like an idiot, let me recommend When Harry Met Sally 2. Does the very thought strike fear into your heart? You should be first in line to watch this.
• The Dumbing Down Of Quilting. Also, take time to read the comments. The arrogance displayed by some of the people (including the blogger) is astounding. My jaw hit the floor, so it did*

(* does anyone know if the "so it did" emphatic subclause in a declarative sentence is particularly Glaswegian?)