Yarn Folding

It is currently some ridiculously early o'clock in the morning but the baby has most decidedly declared this to be morning so I'm awake.  I know the little one can now respond to sound and light but as I've tried not talking out loud and covering the bump with a dark quilt all to no avail, I'm caving in somewhat graciously with the assistance of the laptop.  If this post trails off like this fdkjsjfkds;fjdkslfds.......  then you know that covering the bump up like a parrot is a delayed reaction, the baby decided it was night again and we fell asleep.

When my sister and I were in our early teens we made a pact of sorts that in giving each other Christmas presents we would always try to choose a gift that included something new and crafty to do; we lived in a fairly remote part of Devon, and if it was a stormy day and you'd already polished off your library books and finished your new Christmas books it could be a life-saver - seriously I once bought every variety of cross-stitch magazine one winter just for the cover kits because everywhere except for the newsagents was shut.

Over the years we both tried the real origami, with varying degrees of success - Zee is so much better at it than me, mine always look like the crumpled up contents of a school bin than a crane or a butterfly or whatever.  The only thing I really mastered was a paper boat - and Dad taught me how to do that so I'm not convinced of its genuine Japanese credentials.

But in this last week I'm wondering whether in fact I just started with the wrong base materials. According to the powers that be Wikipedia, the word origami comes from ori meaning "folding", and kami meaning "paper".  If the real origami is all about sculpting something beautiful out of paper without cutting it or using any sort of glue then I've got a new word:

Orikeito

Entirely made up by me combining ori for folding and keito which should mean yarn (more Google I'm afraid given that my chief words of Japanese are Noro and Kureyon),  And I hereby declare Orikeito to be the new word for any knitted item that is comprised entirely of knitting; not a seam, not a kitchener stitch in sight.

Most shawls would be Orikeito by definition but I'm treating them a bit in the same way as my paper boats and that leaves me with just one real example:



which is of course the sheer whizztrickery that is Judy's Grandmother's Baby Jacket from Greetings from Knit Cafe.


I really can't rate this pattern highly enough in terms of fun for the knitter that leaves you with a completed jacket with only 6 ends to weave in and not a seam in sight. Hopefully J, whose August baby may get to wear it if we have our traditional English summer, will like it as much as I do.
And because there's nothing that an August baby needs more than matching double-thickness woolen baby shoes ...!


These aren't Orikeito by my own definition (far too many seams) but I almost feel that they should be because they're another classic example of a clever construction - squares that turn into shoes!



The yarn is Sublime Baby Cashmere Merino Silk DK in SeeSaw - I seem to be knitting gender neutral in turquoise this year.  I know it's gender neutral because I asked H whether it was looking a little too girly (correctly answered 'no') and the conductor on the train to work, assuming that it was for Baby Bear, said 'I see you're not having a girl with that colour'.

The other thing I can now tell you about this yarn other than its softness and general yumminess is that if you were perhaps to pop a completed baby jacket in a little bowl of lukewarm water and lavender Eucalan to soak before blocking and you then perhaps forgot about it (not that any of us would of course), and you didn't remember until the next morning (with an unladylike expression that you very much hope that your unborn child was asleep for), neither the yarn nor the baby jacket will some to any harm.

And finally, for Caroline, who enquired about the daisies:

Five for a Friday

To answer some questions, many of which you never knew you had!

1. I haven't reinforced the steek stitches on the baby blanket for two, possibly three, very important reasons.  Firstly, the yarn is beautifully sticky and is highly unlikely to go anywhere.  When I made the Kauni cardigan none of the steeks unravelled anywhere near the machine reinforcement and some of them (the ones around the armholes) remain unfinished all this time later without any unravelling.  The structure of knitted fabric is such that much as it likes unravelling from the top down, it struggles to disentangle itself going sideways - try tearing a sheet of paper in two directions at 90 degrees to one another - it will tear much more easily and more neatly one way than the other.

The other two very important reasons are that I'm not sure that the baby blanket tube would fit on my sewing machine, particularly given that there was a live needle in the top of it and (and this is the really important one) - inherent laziness on my part.

My current plan is to pick up and knit little facings to cover the steeks so all little loose ends will be neatly tucked away - away from picky little fingers that might find the idea of a fringe just too much to bear!

2. I have more than one patch of daisies in my lawn - but they do grow in patches because the garden is shaded by an enormous tree and they grow around the outline of the tree. Sort of.

3.If you happen to be stung by a bee on the ball of your foot between your middle toes on a Tuesday it is very painful.  The pain is not related to the day of the week but if you happen to be so hugely pregnant that easy access to your feet is but a distant memory and it therefore takes you a while to get to take the barb out (because these things only happen when you're own your own), that apparently can make it hurt more.

4. Vinegar really does work to take the pain away.  Despite the internets suggesting that it's no more effective than running the afflicted limb under a cold tap.  My sample of just me says 'vinegar all the way'.  It also says 'remember to buy more vinegar when you do the grocery shopping'

5. The swelling from the bee sting will puff up not only the bottom of your foot but also the top of your foot and your toes and three days later you will still feel as if you are walking around with a lump of plasticine stuck between your toes.  The fact that it is now a smidgen cooler outside has rendered me slightly less grumpy about the whole affair.  In the meantime I am self-medicating with a touch of knitting.

When I grow up I want to be...

It's Ascot season and as a select number of partners disappeared out of the office today to take clients to Ladies' Day, those of us that were left engaged in a little bit of 'giddy', and checked out all of the photos of the hats and a horse named StrawberryDaquiri.

There's one lady who crops up in all of the photos and seems to be as much an Ascot fixture as the Queen herself; a certain Mrs Edward Claridge about whom I know nothing save for the fact that I love her hats.

I'm just a smidgen too much of a good girl to shamelessly hoick photos off the Internet but by the powers of linky-dink may I please direct you to

Day 1 - a stunning towering confection of lilac silk hollyhocks and what look to be peonies

and then
Day 2 - a nest of pink frothy butterfly bows.

She's so completely all out there and looks like she's having a wonderful time with it.  So here's my plan: when I grow up I'm going to learn how to make extravagant hats just like these that suit me and persuade H to dress up to the nines and take me to Ladies' Day where I will sport my creation with serene confidence and have a wonderful day.

You'll know I've done it the year they report an overly high number of gentlemen seeking first aid for eye injuries after encountering my hat!

PS - in news from the International Food Market I can now also recommend the Hog Roast, the Tartiflette (potatoes and bacon in a cream and cheese sauce) and the Cherry Strudel.  I have the steak batch in my sights for tomorrow!

Edge Hill

On Sunday 23 October 1642, the English Civil War kicked off in style with the first major battle, the Battle of Edge Hill, not too far away from our now quiet corner of Warwickshire. As battles go no-one really knows who won this one, there were lots of skirmishes and both Parliamentarians and Royalists claimed victory.

The local old wives tale is that a month after the battle, local farmers and townsfolk heard noises coming from Edgehill and saw and heard what they thought was another battle being fought on the hill. However, as they edged closer to investigate, both armies completely vanished. If you believe what you read, officials were sent to the site to interview witnesses and they also saw the ghostly visions, including colleagues and friends who had died.

It is said that sightings of two phantom armies fighting it our with each other are more visible and occur more often toward Halloween; the clinking of armour, volleys of musket fire and the galloping of hooves can still be heard at Edgehill.

Myth and legend? Or ..... the truth? We went to Edgehill last weekend and look what we found:

Parliamentarians approaching the Royalist camp through the trees.

The first volleys were fired (that flash is the gunpowder firing)

Roused from their unearthly slumber, the Royalists came out to defend their camp and their King:


But the Parliamentarians were not to be defeated, and left forth another salvo.


And steadily started to advance in formation

Towards the intrepid defenders

Who lined up all hands ready for the fight

The battle waged on, with casualties on both sides in the fierce hand to hand fighting



Until finally, as it seemed that all might be lost, and the Roundheads neared the camp boundary..

They were successfully put to flight by the ladies of the camp wielding a jug of water and the cooking spoon


Girl power, 17th century style.

So was it all a dream, was it really the ghostly re-incarnation of long dead foot soldiers, or were the Sealed Knot doing a civil war re-enactment at Upton House - who knows?

Sleepy Weekend

It must be the onset of autumn - I swear I'm starting to hibernate. I feel as if I've just spent the weekend curled up in all of my quilts inside my house with brief forays for sustenance but really it's been quite productive.



One thing is certain; winter is definitely on the way and I'm starting to look for a windy day, not a warm day to dry the clothes. I'm also happily lapsing into my favourite autumn colour schemes:

Copper and the palest green ornamental cabbage

And brilliant yellow sunflowers for a splash of colour - if a little weather worn.



On a whim, and because I had a spare orange that needed eating, I made a batch of orange fairy cakes - complete with autumnal icing.



At least, I thought I was looking outside for the colours - blue sky, bright green grass, singed yellow leaves - and then I looked down and realised that my subconscious is matching icing colours to my apron.

yes, it appears that I made Cath Kidston co-ordinating cakes - they tasted pretty good though.

I've spent much of the weekend quilting up my mint choc chip quilt but it isn't quite finished so it's staying hidden for the moment. I've been playing around with a few ideas and finishing off a birthday present so I have those to share instead.




These are currently buttons - it's an idea I saw in a cross stitch magazine; sewing tiny pictures and then fitting them to those blank plastic buttons that people use to make matching fabric buttons. The magazine suggested sewing them onto a tote bag which would work well but I'm thinking of taking the button shanks off and either attaching mini magnets to have them on the fridge, or drawing pins for the pin board. The cupcake is for me, and the space rocket is for H so I think they ought to go on the fridge if I can find the right size magnets.

The birthday present is for a little boy who will be 2 on Wednesday. His cousin's birthday present was a little elephant so for a bit of variety we have a little blue bear.


The pattern is another Ysolda Teague knitted toy pattern, also part of a Christmas present from my sister-in-law who has excellent taste when presented with a yarn shop; this is the Otto pattern.


I made the smaller polar bear, from Rowan Wool Cotton on 3mm needles and I used about one and a third 50g balls. The colour is 941, Clear, and it reminds me of the colour of ice on a frosty morning - very appropriate for a polar bear.

The pattern is easy to knit, and very similar to the Elijah pattern, although the legs are different, being fully part of the body, rather than picked up and knit from the body, which makes it easier for our little blue bear to stand.


The little jacket he is wearing is identical to the jackets that I made for Bella and Arthur and blogged about here, this time with a little colourwork in some leftover wool cotton.

I usually name these little friends while I create them, even knowing that their names will probably change along the way; Beatrix became Bella when she went to live with Peggy (which suits them both) and I love that they get two names. This little bear however, has stayed strangely silent; he has a presence that requires formality and Latin (it's the Roman nose), and so for now he is Ursus Maritimus.

He is as we speak, travelling on board the good ship Special Delivery, to arrive in time for the day itself to somewhat warmer climes, but within a salty sniff of the ocean. Hopefully Carey will like him - I wait to hear what his new name is with interest.

And the winner is ...

I finished printing my photos, I got my cakes dusted with icing sugar, sliced when they should be sliced, and delivered to the tent in one piece, and remembered to bring all of my entries for the handiwork classes. And the judging began.



There is something inescapably English about a village horticultural society show and something 'village' about it as well; I think that people who grew up in a village community with a village day or a Hort & Sport every year somehow imbibe the mindset that makes competitive baking with your friends and neighbours a perfectly natural thing to do. It always reminds me of my favourite quote from the film Calendar Girls, on their village day:

"If more people did WI there'd be less need for hallucinogenic drugs!"

H, who grew up in what is classed as a village but might as well be suburb of a big city, finds the whole thing baffling. me, well let's just say that the competitive urge has been unleashed.

Going into the tent after the judging was almost as bad as waiting for my A-level results; even though I knew that there were only three entries in the cross stitch class so the very worst I could do was a third.


It's a little bit like results day in some respects, everyone rushes round to see how they're exhibits did and then has to go back later to have a proper look at some of the entries.

The photography was nearest the door and despite my oh so careful choosing, none of my pictures were placed. Each class had 15-20 entries, and the standards were high so the judges had a hard time choosing.

Next up, the baking. You can see the table on the far left hand side of the photo above, groaning under the weight of cakes, shortbread, sausage rolls and jams and jellies.

H was right about the ladies of the village being out in force for the honour of the WI cup. My honey fruit cake (to strict recipe) didn't place, but as it had to be presented uncut and I'd never made it before I was just glad to see that it had cooked well and it taste's pretty good. The lemon drizzle and the shortbread were also not placed but the 4 slices of ginger cake:


Ta da! a third on the first trip out of the gates for baking.

I knew that my forte was always going to be the handicrafts - smaller fields for one thing - but it was a surprise to find that everything placed apart from my 'wild card'
- the handspun in the 3D category which lost out to a metal work duck, a glass plate and something else that I can't remember.

This was the needlecrafts table:


My Holidazed socks came first and my Mystery Stole Swan Lake stole came third. The socks got; "An exquisite piece of work. Well done"; and the shawl got: "A delightful piece of work. Take care that your tension is accurate throughout"

I suspect that the judge knew her knitting!

Second place went to the white horseshoe in the background which was covered with blue and white lace.

My cross stitch placed second ("A peaceful scene- well worked and framed"), and to my very great surprise, the bead bracelet that I made at the beginning of July with H's sister placed third in the handmade jewellery category ("Gorgeous colours. Delightful set of jewellery")

All of which adds up to:

8 points and the very great sum of £1.50 prize money! On my hurried maths I think that I came second overall in the handicrafts category. Next year, I've got my sights on the handicrafts shield!

To get anywhere near I will have to take on a lady of considerable talents who swept the board in the handmade cards and won the cross stitch class. She also made my favourite flower arrangement of the day - with the theme 'On the Ocean Wave'



Isn't that just ingenious and delightful to look at - I love the sails.

It has been a brilliant day and far more fun than you ever thought possibly with fruitcake.

Now I'm off to practice my card making, painting and creating things out of recycled materials for next year.

On a whim

We went to London - as you do! We were casting about for a fun expedition for the weekend and when we discovered that the National had a new exhibition - Corot to Monet - and a free one to boot we were decided.

Trafalgar Square was even busier than usual. One of these days I will get to see just the square and the lions and the column but the last few times there's been a show or an exhibition to watch. Saturday was the World Free Running Championships on a stage in the square so as we sat on the steps and ate our picnic (all hail the arrival of a Paul at Marylebone) and watched Diversity practice their routine for the evening as all around us the free runners practiced handstands and flips and that trick where they run up the wall and flip over. Free running is just another name for parkour and the spins and tumbles those guys can pull off are quite jawdropping.

We also got to play with the latest 'art installation' - the Fourth Plinth. I love the concept of putting the British public on a plinth, 24/7 and happily we arrived in the middle of one of the most entertaining 'statues', Jes with Plinth Bingo (you can watch it here)

He had helpers in the crowd handing out bingo cards and pens and whenever anyone got a house, he used this ingenious method of handing out the prizes.

It's a fishing pole, with a little box on the end - Blue Peter eat your heart out.

Each of the plinthers spends an hour 'up top' and then the cherry picker comes to change them over. The next plinther was a lady supporting Help for Heroes and we caught a glimpse later of a chap with a tent, camping stool, small table and bottle of wine who had settled in for a great view of the Free Running.

The exhibition at the National was everything I hoped it would be - usually in an exhibition I'll find a handful of paintings that really strike a chord and then I'll spend the rest of my time sitting and soaking them in. My taste in art is for the landscapes (preferably with a bit of water in them) and the impressionists so it was no surprise that I loved almost everything in Corot to Monet and I just wished we could have spent longer. It didn't hurt that they had included my most favourite Turner (the Evening Star) which can never be as good in print as it is in person, and a wonderful new discovery, Eugene Boudin, whose beach scenes from Trouville are a great delight to me and will continue to be, as the prints are going up on the wall as soon as I can find the right sort of frame!

Needless to say, I came home with the exhibition book and it is a lovely thing to look through for colour and inspiration. It struck me as we wandered around the familiar galleries on Saturday afternoon that H and I never go to London now without popping into the National, even if we've planned a trip to another gallery as well, and this from a boy who looked remarkable reluctant about it the first time we went - I reminded him as he stood drinking in the new Monet (more waterlilies, I loved it, H wasn't so sold) and he had the grace to look a little sheepish!

Trips to London are also incomplete without a trip to H's personal variation on a yarn shop - Cass Art in Islington so we nipped out of the centre and hiked back laden with parcels (Note to spouse: yarn takes up a lot less room than canvases, and it's lighter!) All weary feet were forgotten when we made it to St Paul's, just in time for evensong.



I used to sing choral evensong once a week and so many of the settings are wonderfully familiar but there's a world of difference between the intimacy of a little college chapel and the choral resonance of the acoustics of that cathedral. The music sent shivers down my spine; you can practically feel it, spiralling out of the choir stalls and hovering under the dome, rippling out to the congregation until the very last drop has diffused. Solace in its purest form.


And on a perfect summer's evening, we finished the day with a stroll along the South Bank in the sunshine.

We saw the mimes,the headless,
the temporary outdoor lido, the pavement artists, and then as we came towards the Hungerford foot bridge we saw this:

The trees have spots

And I have absolutely no idea why - I think it's hilarious though.

Time then to stare up into the spokes of the wheel and watch it move oh so slowly,


to see the Houses of Parliament disappear into the gathering gloom, with the setting sun burnishing Big Ben,

and to head for home.

The end of an era

I don't often post about matters legal, much prefering to stop writing serious things at the end of the working day but today I need to make an exception.

The House of Lords has been the highest appellate court in England and Wales since around 1400 (when the House of Commons got bored of hearing cases and kicked them upstairs), although it didn't take on a regular judicial function until the last couple of centuries or so. Safe to say, it's been around for a while and is generally regarded with equal measures of fondness and exasperation by the legal fraternity depending on whether the latest judgment goes for or against the point you're trying to make.

Today that ended.

Today was the last day of the Trinity term (meaning that the judges are now on their summer holidays) and when they return on 1 October the Supreme Court Act 2005 will have come into force and the judicial functions of the House of Lords will have been passed to the new 'Supreme Court'. The Law Lords will be 'Justices of the Supreme Court' and the whole shebang will have been moved across the road to a new building in Parliament Square.

It is truly the end of hundreds of years of judicial tradition and you know lawyers don't like change. However, the passing has not marked unnoticed by the court staff of the House of Lords. Every day the House of Lords' Judicial Office record an answerphone message which gives details of the cases being heard in the Lords and the judgments which are to be handed down.

Today, if you telephoned 0207 219 3111 you would hear that message relayed over the smoky tones of Frank Sinatra singing "My way".

As the message ends, Frank leaves off and the amassed staff of the court office sing bravely together:

"the record shows, we took the blows, and did it our way."

The House of Lords - Hail and Farewell!

[PS News travels fast - I suspect that telephone number may have been called by more lawyers this afternoon than at any point in the previous 600 years.]

Buttons and Jam

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a knitter, or any crafter really, will find craft supplies in the unlikeliest of places, whatever the event or opportunity.

It really should surprise no one therefore to learn that I went to see a grand house and magnificent gardens, and rather than buying a picture postcard as a memento ...


I found buttons! Ceramic buttons to be precise. The big spotty one is about the size of a tuppence and is irresistible in its spottyness - I suspect I'll use it on a cushion or a one button cardigan some day. The hearts are the palest cream with blue and green dots (to match the fairy cakes!) and would be perfect as the buttons on a little baby jacket, for someone not afraid to handwash!

H is as much a fan of whimsy as I am so it seemed only right that he had his own parcel to unwrap at the end of the day. We passed through Bicester Village on the way home and swung in for an end-of-the-day stroll (the only circumstances in which Bicester Village is palatable - usually it's heaving at the weekend) and went to visit the Le Creuset discount shop.


Please tell me how I ever managed to exist without a strawberry strawberry-jam pot before, because compared to this, the humble jam jar pales into obscurity.


It appears I may have a bit of a thing for strawberry patterns - who would have thought!