The great and wonderous adventures of Carie and Mandy

Or 'how we went quilting together and greatly confused everyone by wearing matching hand knit socks'

I've been a lax blogger again of late; long working hours and a renewed if unwilling interest in the gym have been eating into my time and whilst long business trips can be quite productive on the knitting front (there's only so much work you can carry to do on the train), I don't have the facility to blog on the move which is probably a good thing! Trust me, you haven't missed much. I've been knitting with Cocoon and I love it!

However, Saturday was one of those days that goes in the diary in a bright happy colour, usually with smiley faces and a big arrow pointing at it. Way back in the summer, when Christmas was still a snowflake in St Nick's eye, Mandy suggested that we both go on a course to learn to make quilted Christmas tree skirts. As I require no more than the barest whisper of persuasion to do anything crafty I signed up straight away and started to look forward to it.

Saturday morning dawned bright and chilly as I loaded up the sewing machine and set forth on our great adventure.

In short, we had a wonderful time. There were three of us on the course, Mandy and myself and to my very great delight, R, a friend from church so the day was full of easy banter as well as the usual furrowed brows and deep concentration associated with learning anything new. It made the day even more fun; some courses can be wonderful in terms of learning but rather stilted on the conversation front as no-one knows anyone else - this was the best of both and the perfect antidote to a busy week.

And to top it all, my sewing machine decided to co-operate and played nicely all day, a distinct change from its usual inferiority complex induced sulkiness when it hears other machines doing clever electronic things!

I didn't have my camera there on the day so I have Mandy to thank for our "in progress" shot. This is what we had achieved by the end of the day:



Pretty much a tree skirt between the three of us. Mine is the top left, Mandy's the bottom left and R's is the one on the right with the wonderful red tree.


I came home having quilted and appliqued all of the panels, just needing to put them all together and put the binding on, and on Sunday afternoon it looked like this:



You can't see the fabrics in great detail in these pictures; the cream is covered with gold stars, the main green is mistletoe and the trees are showered with more gold stars.

I couldn't find any red with stars that matched the colours so it's gold sprinkles instead. The whole thing shimmers in the sunlight, and a few points of the trees have background stars right at the tip, as if they're dangling off the branches.



It's really very serene for me, I'm so often all about the crazy wonderful brights but I was obviously in a very chilled out mood with the sewing and the good company!

The pattern that we were following had a series of small christmas presents to applique underneath the tree and although I cut out a dozen or so presents and played around with the placement underneath each tree, the colours just didn't look right so I left them off - I suspect there may be a few fabric present tags on Christmas presents this year though - I'm not letting all of that cutting out go to waste!

The final job was the binding - machine sewn with zig zag stitches in gold, rather than the usual slip stitching which given the length involved turned out to be a wonderful treat, and adds a bit of glitz to the edges.

If you'll excuse the flash photography, my tree skirt can be unveiled:

And with the all important label on the back

I've also embroidered the date underneath - I can't decide whether to just have the date I made it, or think about embroidering a year on every year that we use it - only time and my inclination for embroidery in 2010 will tell.

All the fabrics came from Quilter's Den in Warwick and I have no idea who made any of them or what they were called - I just picked the ones I liked.

And last but not least, those matching socks:


Spey Valley socks by Nancy Bush in Misti Alpaca sock yarn in Taos - perfect x 2

Whose feet are whose?

Wishful Thinking

How silently they tumble down
And come to rest upon the ground
To lay a carpet, rich and rare,
Beneath the trees without a care,
Content to sleep, their work well done,
Colors gleaming in the sun.

At other times, they wildly fly
Until they nearly reach the sky.
Twisting, turning through the air
Till all the trees stand stark and bare.
Exhausted, drop to earth below
To wait, like children, for the snow. - Elsie N. Brady, Leaves

The leaves are all fallen, the temperature has dropped. Winter you ask? Pah! I'm ready. Bring it on:



I finished my mittens. A declaration of intent on the top side ...


... and eye-crossing stripyness on the palms!

These are the Snowbird mittens from last Autumn's Vogue Knitting, made out of some leftover sock yarn - both Regia I think.

The pattern suggests 2.25mm needles, and although my hands are smaller than the pattern measurements, I went up to a 2.5 after a bit of trial and error because my tension in fairisle is tighter. The only other amendment I made was to keep going on the thumbs for about another 7 or so rounds each - knit to pattern they only made it to the knuckle.

I'm really please with the end result of the fairisle - when I was knitting it it looked a bit lumpy and uneven but a good soak in eucalan and several days drying on the ironing board did wonders.

I quite like the insides too.

The palm sides are equally stripy, and this I want to call "Mittens in the Blizzard"


You can just about see the trees through the white-out!

The defeat of the postal strike

Once upon a time, in a land far far away from me, but possibly quite close to wherever you are, there was a most magical and marvellous occurrence where socks from all over the land congregated together, and brought their knitters along too.

They called it (cue hushed and awestruck tones)

Sock Summit

And it was good. At least, every blog report that I read about it said that it was amazing and wonderful and the best thing since self-striping sock yarn. And I was sad because I missed it, and possibly even entertained a slightly pouty expression for a moment or two, because all the fun knitterly things seemed to be happening a whole ocean away.

Happily though it seemed as if those who went to Sock Summit had not forgotten those left behind; they wrote blog posts and took a gazillion pictures. And then with characteristic generosity, Marisol hosted a competition.

Question 1 - how many skeins of yarn did she acquire at Sock Summit? I thought very seriously about how many skeins of yarn I would have come home with if left at Sock Summit for the full four days, and halved it to get my answer of 29 - Marisol is much more restrained than me and came back with a respectable 37.

I may have underestimated her yarn buying stamina - but it did make me the winner (yippee, squee like a five-year-old) and on Monday morning the parcel defeated the seemingly never-ending postal strikes and arrived on our doorstep.

By the time I got home, H was at art class and I think I showed incredible restraint in waiting to play lucky dip with him - and here it is:


From back to front; the pattern for Orion's socks, a Blue Moon pattern for the socks on the Sock Summit badge; the show guide, which I read, dream about, and bookmark all the adverts; a Sock Summit pad, more on which later; a Sock Summit badge; and .... yarn!!! Paca- Peds alpaca sock yarn for fair isle, together with the Diamond Checkmate sock pattern. The skein is actually two skeins swirled together, the dark teal and the cool rainbow colours and together they will make a wonderful pair of socks.


This is the inside of the Sock Summit note pad - how clever is that, lines for your notes and squared paper to sketch charts - I wish I'd had it on the train today when I realised that I'd forgotten both the pattern book and the photocopy of the pattern book, and had to try to reconstruct from half a pattern repeat!

I think it's all wonderful and I'm so glad it made it through the strike intact - thank you Marisol, it is a fabulous treat :)

November

"So dull and dark are the November days.
The lazy mist high up the evening curled,
And now the morn quite hides in smoke and haze;
The place we occupy seems all the world."- John Clare, November

The trick or treaters have been and gone, with the final farewell from the cutest little witch (aged about two) who was still waving me bye bye over her Mum's shoulder as she headed down the road. The leftover cakes have been eaten or passed on to colleagues; October is over and we're into the last nine weeks of the year.

Despite it being really rather mild at the moment, the leaves have almost all dropped, and the rain battering into the windows on Sunday morning and soaking us around the umbrella as we hustled to church under a darkening sky send clear indicators that we are getting to the hibernating time of year.

This last weekend was all about the place I occupy; I managed to stretch the food out to avoid a trip to Sainsburys until this evening (mostly with the cunning application of cake it must be said), and apart from cooking up a steamy fug in the kitchen for a while, and attending to the bare minimum of housework (that would be the laundry that got an extra 'rinse' through being out on the line Saturday night), I've been tucked up with quilts and yarn and friends. Friends who deliberately misinterpret the point of trick or treating and arrived with gummy bears no less!

The finished mittens, whilst blocked, are only just dry so they have to wait for another day for FO pictures, but I have been working on something a little bit larger than my feet for once - it's almost a jumper.

This is the almost finished back of Guiseley from the latest Rowan magazine. I'm quite surprise I haven't fallen over from the shock of actually knitting myself something out of the current Rowan. Usually I come back to Rowan patterns at least three years after they were published by which time the colours, if not the yarn itself, are long discontinued.



This isn't the colour from the book, it's a soft blue grey called Scree, but it is Cocoon; my new love. The way I feel about this yarn at the moment, I really wouldn't mind if I only ever knitted Cocoon jumpers from now on - it's soft and smooshy, without even a hint of an itch, and warm and cozy all at the same time. Did I mention hibernation?

Ravelry doesn't have any pictures of the finished pattern yet so I'll have to try to describe for anyone that doesn't have a book to hand - its a tunic-style top, with 'cap' sleeves, made by picking up and knitting a tube of ribbing from each arm hole and the front has a v-neck with a ribbed collar. I've added a couple of inches to the length to make sure that it gets to the top of my thighs - it's all a little bit of guess work so we'll see whether it's a hit or a total disaster.


For now I'm just enjoying the knitting and the pretty stitch definition.

And just to keep those memories fresh until Spring - a parting view of Upton House gardens in its final blaze of glory.

Aaah-woooooooooo!

Happy Halloween!

I've been baking today (because clearly nothing is scarier than cake) in preparation for any of our neighbour's little monsters that might cross our path later, and I seem to be overrun with spiders.


Actually I think we were overrun with slightly more genuine spiders before I started cooking - I've been trying to convince H that my lack of dusting is for atmospheric decor but I loose that excuse tomorrow - time to find the dusters.

These spiders are much more cute and delicious than the other sort.


The base is a chocolate fairy cake, topped with plain white icing and then I've simply repeated last year's moment of inspiration with the Milky Way Magic Stars and a tube of black icing.


You do have to be a little bit careful with the Magic Stars because not all of them have the face in the right orientation to give a head point, and then the 'arms and legs', so I did have the onerous task of sitting down with a dish of Magic Stars and 'disposing' of the ones that don't work - how we creative types suffer for our art!

I love the stars that look surprised so they turn up in abundance.


The fairy cake cases came from Lakeland in Exeter; the nicest sort I saw in the UK.

I did however, have a little help from a friend ....



L went to Las Vegas on holiday a little while back and as she loves cooking as much as I do, she asked whether there was anything that I wanted - I asked for Halloween cup cases, which she brought me in abundance, together with a Haunted House decorating kit.

I made the muffin-sized cupcake (lemon sponge), and covered it with green buttercream, and the kit had the wrought iron fence 'wrapper', and the little houses and moons on toothpicks.

I have a haunted village.



The spiders are for any trick or treaters, the houses are entirely for us!


If you're into any kind of cake decorating, L and I discovered the Squires Kitchen website recently (to add to our obsession with Lakeland and De Cuisine) and they have butterfly cake wrappers. I'm seriously thinking about 30 butterfly cupcakes for my next birthday - maybe H could have matching trains or dinosaurs?

Now then, to important things. I've finished my Snowbird mittens (currently blocking on the ironing board) and this means that, shockingly, my needles are mitten-free. This state of affairs cannot be allowed to continue so I have lined up the next pattern, the Twilight Mittens from Interweave. My quandary is this; for the main colour, I have gorgeous black Regia Wool Silk left over from H's socks, but for the contrast colour should I go for

(a) Dream in Colour Smooshy in Pansy Golightly

Very close to the pattern colours, a nice plump yarn which will help because I need to go up a few needle sizes (who has a 6" hand circumference anyway?), but possibly better paired with navy or charcoal grey; or

(b) Noro Kureyon Sock

Reminiscent of the sunset in the Lake District in September, definitely set off well by the black, but a thick thin yarn, and possibly a little too different in texture to the wool silk.

Which one would you choose?

In the meantime, have a cake.

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?

Obsession

Obsess - verb - to haunt, fill the mind (Collins Dictionary)


Is it part of the make-up of every serious crafter, that ability to focus single-mindedly on one specific that resonates within them, calling out to their inner crafty soul until the need is sated (usually by casting on)? What else could explain casting-on-itis, or those black holes where you pick up the knitting on your newest and best ever project one sunny lunchtime, and suddenly it's dark, voices are mewling for their supper, and you aren't quite sure where the afternoon went, but you do have four inches of a jumper back that was a soft fluffy ball of yarn that morning.

For better or worse, I have this kind of compulsive focus in spades. The last time I spent a day quilting, H went out for a boys night supper and I entirely forgot about supper, and am still not sure whether I had lunch. I also have a mental list of books that I cannot start reading if I (a) need to go to sleep within the next hour or so or (b) have somewhere to go within a timescale that will not encompass the end of the novel. Robert Goddard's In Pale Battalions (a book I love and cannot recommend highly enough) is one that I know I cannot stop reading, even though I've read it time and time again. I daren't start reading it on the train to work, because I know I'd spend all day resisting the temptation to sneak a quick peak under the desk.

It's always been the same, and I bet I'm not the only one; if I see a film I like I have to check whether there's a book and read the book, and don't get me started on books in series - when I was at uni I once ended up with a substantial selection of teen-lit from one particular series just because the first book was given away on the cover of a magazine I bought to read on the train and I needed to find out what happened to all the characters - literary soap opera at its best!

And so it came to pass that I watched the Twilight film. And then downloaded the audio book with my Audible credit at the end of September. And then bought the audio books for New Moon, Eclipse and Breaking Dawn in fairly quick succession. That's 64 and three quarter hours of audio in rapid succession that I finished a week ago (and then started listening to the whole thing all over again).

But that's not all. I found the Twilight fan group on Ravelry, and there was a pair of mittens, a really pretty pair of chunky mittens, named for Bella and 'sight-knit' from a pair worn in the film. And then I remembered two balls of Rowan Cocoon in the stash, and that the gauge was about the same as the pattern, and well ....

I fell down a hole and became a Twilight fan-girl:



And I'm not ashamed to admit it.

These are Bella's Mittens, knit on 5mm DPNs from a ball and a third (ish) of Rowan Cocoon in Frost (which seemed rather appropriate). On most people these would be close to elbow length, on me they come to the middle of my forearm. They are soft and warm and just the thing you would need if you lived in one of the wettest and chilliest places around (which looking out of the window today would seem to be where I live).

I finished these mittens last week and spent ages trying to take a good picture with the timer on my camera - the biggest problem being that the auto focus locks down on the background before I can run round the camera to get in the frame - so these pictures were taken on the auto timer with the camera hung just under my chin.

I was trying to do the traditional fan girl shot (the cover from the Twilight novel) but if I flip the perspective it just looks really weird so this will have to do.

I also seem to be developing a side line obsession in mittens - in the last month or so I've made pair for Dolly, a pair that are now mine, a pair for Mum, the Bella mittens and on Saturday I spent much of the day turning this:


Into this:



(please ignore the fact that it desperately needs blocking!)

Is this the future? Has my sock drawer finally rebelled and started messing with my mind while I'm asleep? Are mittens the new socks? Answers on a postcard!