Sock Hysteria Is Mounting!

NOTE: Since it's not like me to write twice in the same night, this is to alert you to the fact that there is another new posting above this one - a review of that Irish weaving book, filed earlier. OK?

Now back to the ranting...

I knew I shouldn't have agreed. I should have turned right round and told Angeluna where to put her suggestion that I should sign up to Sock Madness. But insanity won the day and now there is only a week to go to Lift Off. On Saturday March 10, the 128 contestants will be emailed a completely strange and hitherto unknown pattern which they will then have to knit up as quickly as possible. We're all in different groups, depending on whether we are novices (less than 6 pairs to date) or Big Experienced Sockies. Half get knocked out in the first round, and then it's bare knuckles and dpns at dawn or something. Am I mad or what? Are we ALL mad or what?

I'm in a group called Wendy's Toe-Up Sock Division and I tell you if that pattern turns out to be toe-up, then this lady will be turning her own toes up and her membership in! I have never tried that method - well, I did, but after seventeen goes at the devilish invention known as Figure of 8 Cast On, I gave up and went back to the tried and tested cuff-down. Nobody but nobody could work that thing out and stay sane.

Jeri (who is in Stephanie's Travelling Sock Division) very kindly suggested that I should do a bit of practising with toe-up over the next few days just in case, and very helpfully gave me a few websites to try. The first one was Figure of 8 (I just typed that Figure of * and no wonder!) so got zapped instantly. The second one said, 'Some people swear by Figure of 8 but it can be a bit difficult to get the hang of, so here's an easier method.' She then proceeded to describe Figure of 8 minutely all over again. Exactly the same as before. Only more maddening because I thought I was going to get out of this frustration. The third used a provisional cast on which is at least doable, so I'll go with that one. Maybe.

You'd think rehearsing in advance was daft, but not so. There is a lady in my group (the Novices, naturally, I've only completed two and three-quarter pairs of socks to date, so I'm no expert) who is training seriously for the event. Yes, training. When she signed up, she could manage to finish a pair in a fortnight. Now she's down to a weekend. Yikes, and I'm in against that sort of track commitment?

Enough already. Let's turn to happier matters. This fine Saturday morning was the ideal time to head for the Little Mission in the West, aka Spin a Yarn in Kenmare, armed with a huge stack of Bibles, catechisms and hymn books, courtesy of Sr. Denise at Mission Outreach Services in Our Lady of Perpetual Gauge.

And they were waiting for me! Yes, Jo and Jean had logged on, read the posting, and were eagerly awaiting the Bibles. They had even printed out my posting 'Yo, There's A New Yarn Shop in the West', which was all the more touching for being unexpected (and by the way, Steph, they were thrilled silly that you had actually read about them and had commented in the posting!)

Jo sat down immediately and got stuck into Interweave Knits.






Meanwhile, Jean had latched on to Sock Madness. 'Can we all get in on this?' I explained that unfortunately it was limited to 128 participants worldwide and she was disappointed because she wanted a bit of an incentive to start knitting socks.

'Well why not use that day to start your own sockfest?'


'Yes, why don't we?'

Jo was delighted at the idea, and they immediately hauled out dpns and the most gorgeous yarn they could find to show willing.

They're going to encourage anyone who comes into the shop next Saturday to seize needles and yarn and start socks too. Now I think this is a VERY GOOD THING all round, don't you? You don't have to be one of the lunatics tied into Sock Madness, but if you want to knit a new pair, or have always wanted to try, or just have too much sock stash for comfort (is that possible?), why don't you make next Saturday the day to start as well and tell us all about it? The world would be a better place if everyone wore handmade socks. This is a fact. Make your own Sockfest.

And so inspired am I by this praiseworthy attitude at the Little Mission in the West that I am going to donate a few skeins of sock yarn to the Sock Madness marathon myself. I have some very nice wool/cotton blends which are lighter and cooler than pure wool and therefore more suitable for anyone not living in Canada (are you still freezing up there, Steph, Rachel H, Charity?). I can only find a picture of one of them, a lovely pale sage green:




but the other two are equally gorgeous. I've called them all after herbs that you find in the maquis - the scented scrub that covers the hills in Provence in summer and leaves a lingering scent on your clothes as you push through it. This one, predictably enough, is Provencal Sage.

We had a great sit around and chat at Spin a Yarn, and I got a few rows done on my Blackberry Pie socks (got to get them finished before next week, that's for sure). Jean even went out and got coffee, so it was very cosy. And yes, before you ask, they are signing up for Sunday School too (aka Knitter's Review Forum). The revelation that you could download free hymns (or sock patterns) made them even happier. What a wonderful new world the Net has brought.


A couple of customers came in; and while the lady trawled the yarn shelves, her husband became fascinated with the Colinette colours.




He was a painter, he explained, and had never seen such a blend of varying colours and thicknesses in a yarn. 'We have all Kaffe Fassett's books at home,' he said enthusiastically.

On the way back I took a picture of one of my favourite places, the Black Valley, for you.









This is a very remote place indeed, and you can only see it from the high road above. Can you glimpse the tiny track which runs through it, down there at the bottom? It's the old way to Killarney, in fact, leading to the Upper Lake, from which you would have taken a boat down to the town in olden times. People still do - they come through the Gap of Dunloe by pony and cart - that's the Gap there behind - and then take the boat back to Ross Castle. Definitely going to do that this summer myself. Why should visitors have all the fun?



And to cap it all, a rainbow on the road round by the Lakes.






Can you just see the rainbow? DH would know how to make it stand out more, but I don't want to disturb him - he's busy processing today's photographic jobs.


And finally - the Celtic Vest. I was so excited Thursday and Friday. At last, at last I was getting there. Closer and closer to the neckline. One more damned twisted cable after another. I got so sick of those cables. Never-ending, constantly demanding, always there at neckline and armhole both. But I was almost there. Now binding off for the shoulder. Now just a few more rows of those cursed cables to go round the back of the neck.


I was already composing the speech with which I would greet the roars of applause, the plaudits of the crowd. I was mentally thanking all of you who got me through it, my family, the dogs (although perhaps not Muffy the Yarnslayer). I looked sentimentally at the picture on the pattern and thought it was a pity I couldn't get Celtic buttons like some of you had, but the leather ones on the original would be fine.


Hang on a minute.


Buttons?


BUTTONS?


Like in - BUTTONHOLES?


Oh dear heaven no, please no, no, no. Do NOT tell me I've forgotten buttonholes. I am NOT, repeat NOT going to frog back. Not now. I WON'T.


I was hyperventilating as I bent over the pattern, searching for that catty little side note, that 'at the same time' Catch 22 where they laughingly and offhandedly drop in a tiny hint that you should have thought of THAT earlier, ha ha!


But I didn't find it. No mention of buttonholes.


Only then did I see that at the very end of the page, the point at which I had been aiming for several months, was some tiny lettering.

continued on page 113.

Oh great!


I leafed through the pages with trembling fingers. But maybe it wasn't so bad after all. Looked as though I hadn't missed anything important. After all, what else could there possibly be?


Bwah-hah-hah-hah-hah!


'Pick up evenly all round the front and neckline seven thousand eight hundred and 'leventy-two stitches and work eight rows, making buttonholes as you go.' Or words to that effect.


Bwah-hah-hah-hah-hah!


If there is one thing that is IMPOSSIBLE, it is picking up evenly all round ANYTHING. They KNOW that. YOU know that. We ALL know that. It. Just. Isn't. Possible.


The number of WIPs I have abandoned at this stage of an almost-completed mission I don't care to think about. There is a perfectly beautiful Anny Blatt from last summer that was so close, so close...


I CANNOT do this. Inevitably one side has more stitches than the other, one part is puckered, another too loose. I cannot DO this. Pin, mark, glue, curse, measure, re-pin, re-mark, re-curse. It NEVER works out. Quite simply, I can't do it. All the rest of it looks perfect, but this I can't do.


Can I?


Someone come to my aid. Tell me how it can be achieved. Please.


But a word of warning. The first one - the FIRST one - to say, 'Oh but it's easy - you just....' GETS IT. OKAY?

I most emphatically do not want to hear anyone say, 'it's easy, you just...' It isn't easy and I just won't. I want constructive advice with practical guidance.

I know about pins. I know about picking up one for each stitch. That's fine except when you're working round necks and curved bits. You try it Miss Clever Clogs!


Please.


It really is so close this time...


There's time for you to advise, because tomorrow morning the plan is to take a flight to Bradford in Yorkshire for the Open Day at Texere Mill, there to find strange and unusual one-offs in coned yarn to smuggle back to West Cork.


That's the plan; but unfortunately the weather forecast suggests that the only sensible course of action would be to retire to the airing cupboard with a large bar of chocolate and a wicked novel. Screaming gales, drenching downpours, structural damage warnings. Like - really a good day to go flying, yes?


I'll go to the airport. If nothing else, they have good (if expensive) coffee in Departures. The worst scenario would be being delayed so much that there would be no time to do anything other than turn round and come back again. A semi-acceptable scenario would be to get up to the airport, find out that there were no flights, and come back with at least half a day's knitting available.


In the meantime, I rely on you to come up with the goods as you have so often done before, and clear this last barrier between your correspondent and Celtic Vest Completion. You are generous, you are helpful, you are wise.


HELP ME! A moi la legion!

A Beautiful Weaving Book

I promised to tell you about this stunning book published by Cork University Press and this post, therefore, will be all about that. There are other things to talk of, naturally - not least Sock Madness which is almost upon us, but also a trip to the Little Mission in the Far West, aka Spin a Yarn in Kenmare, and the latest spinechilling segment of the Celtic Vest saga. But I'll post again later on this evening with regard to those.

Weaving Tapestry in Rural Ireland: Taipeis Gael, Donegal, is written by Meghan Nuttall Sayres, with photographs by Laurence Boland. It's a good big coffee-table book with lots of illustrations, both colour and (to my mind even more effective) black and white.

Its main purpose is to chart the setting up of a tapestry weaving industry in Donegal in an area hard hit by the decline of the tweed industry, and it does that very effectively, showing old images of weaving there in better times,

as well as more recently.

There are pictures of quite stunning tapestries which depict legends like the Children of Lir:

and landscapes or buildings. I really liked one where they showed the original inspiration, a Martello tower built at the time of the Napoleonic wars:

and its rendering in tapestry:

I love the way the weaver has enriched the original by putting in a blazing beacon, a watcher, and even a ship at sea - friend or enemy?

The real richness in this book for me, though, lies in the interviews, not only with today's weavers who talk of the ways they work and of the things which inspire their creations, but with so many of the older people of Donegal, those who had at their fingertips the old knowledge and skills which so many of the younger generation lack. The late James Shiels, a master spinning-wheelwright -

or a lady who, though she tends knitting machines, is never to be found without needles in her hands -

There are whole chapters on the raw material - wool, the getting of it, the preparation of it, the sheep themselves - and, best of all, a detailed and well researched section on the natural dyes which have been used in Ireland since records began and probably long before that. Bogbean, madder, weld, lichens, kelp, even iron ore and bog earth are all listed and referenced. There are fascinating glimpses into ancient documents and the Brehon Laws which protected dye plants and had punishments for the wilful damage of these. The story of St. Ciaran is quoted - the one where he is told to keep away from the house while his mother is dyeing the yarn, as men must not be around at dyeing time, and in revenge curses the wool so that it dyes unevenly. Some saint! I wouldn't have canonised him - but I suspect this is one of those cases where the Church with its growing power was trying to outlaw or demonise the ancient power of women's work.

I'd love this book for the dyeing references alone, but as a record of old crafts in Ireland it is beautiful too. There is even a picture of the ancient whorls from drop spindles in the National Museum:

I'll give its full reference here, in case any of you have a birthday coming up.

Weaving Tapestry in Rural Ireland: Taipeis Gael, Donegal. By Meghan Nuttall Sayres. Published by Cork University Press, Dec. 2006. ISBN - 10: 0-9535353-3-9. Hardback, €29.00, £25.00.

Nice to see books of this quality still being published, isn't it?

The Struggle With The Inner Self

I was laughing the other day over Dez's description of how she behaves when her laptop goes loopy. Mostly because I too tend to disintegrate when high-tech stuff starts to act haywire, and shriek for Richard to come and sort it out. That time I lost the hit counter on my weblog page I was a babbling, flailing fisted wreck. Go and check out what Dez does - it'll make you chuckle too, if only because you recognise yourself!

Unfortunately, not only the juvenile but the downright bloody-minded, badly-behaved child lurks in the best of us as was discovered chez Celtic Memory last night when with heavy sigh the unending tale of the Celtic Vest was yet again being taken up. Heavens above, this thing is longer than the Forsythe Saga. Will it ever be completed?

This is where the second front is up to - nearly to the armhole but not quite. After that you might think it's plain sailing but it most certainly isn't. Decreasing followed by complex motif at the armhole side, combined with a 'decrease third, fifth, ninth, eleventh, fifteenth, oh and whenever it looks like a good idea AT THE SAME TIME not forgetting what you were doing earlier, and did you check those lifted increases, no, thought you didn't...' It was bad enough on the first front, the prospect of the second does not inspire. What? Work them both at the same time? Look, it's bad enough as it is. Why double the stress (and the likelihood of one error after another?)

But to return to the badly-behaved brat. On the way to pick up the CV, it seemed like a good idea to check the Internet for anything interesting. After all, we owe it to ourselves to keep up to date. There had been an email from Elann, so their website seemed a reasonable option. What new patterns are around? (Don't they do great patterns? Remember that lace cropped cardi? Oh no, on second thoughts, don't. The scar is still vivid.)

I saw this.

Even as my own eyes widened, my Inner Child (IC) burst into noisy shrieks.

IC: Want it. WANT IT! WANNIT NOW, NOW, NOW!

Calm Collected Outer Persona (CCOP): Don't be silly. You can't have it and that's that.

IC: But I could MAKE it. I could, I COULD. Lookit those crochet cuffs! I CAN CROCHET TOO!

CCOP: Stop that this instant. You know very well there is a Celtic Vest to finish. (dropping to honeyed tones). Just think how happy we will be when that's all done and lovely. Won't that be nice?

IC: NO! DON'T WANT SILLY CELTIC VEST! (sob) WANT THAT PINWHEEL SHRUG THING. WANT IT NO-O-O-W!

CCOP (dropping honeyed tone for gritted teeth hiss): Will you stop that this instant? What will people think? Be your age.

IC (in hysterics by this time, lying face down on the floor hammering heels and shrieking). DON'T WANNA BE MY AGE. WANT PINWHEEL SHRUG. HATE YOU! YOU'RE NOT MY REAL PERSONA. YOU'RE A WICKED CRUEL STEP-PERSONA AND I HATE YOU!

I'm afraid there was no option. I shut my Inner Child into a dark cupboard (no, not the one with the Noro yarn) and left her to simmer while I went wearily back to the Celtic Vest. Who'd have inner children?

I let her out later. She had a lower lip so stuck out you could have put a vase of daffodils on it, and she sulked all night, but we heard no more of the Elann pinwheel shrug.

(Not for the moment anyway. OK, OK, Steph, I do realise it has crochet on the cuffs. That doesn't necessarily make me a bad person. You have to broaden your outlook. You're being knittist., that's what you are and how mean is that? Have you ever asked your IC if she'd like to crochet? No. Thought not.)

I have a whole row of dancing skeins on the washing line at the moment. I have listed some utterly beautiful linen/cotton yarns on eBay, so that people can start thinking about their summer wardrobe (or indeed cool soothing socks), together with that dangerously seductive denim cotton slub which I am trying to resist, and a real discovery - a cotton sort-of-boucle thicker yarn which looks like it has been pre-knitted (or pre-crocheted) into the most elegant lace effect. This is what it's like:

I would love to make a lacy summer top in this one. It would look beautiful.

Anyway, don't you get a real kick out of giving coned yarns sourced from factories and the back of dusty shelves and remainder bins and places like that a gentle wash to see how they come out? You get the loveliest surprises sometimes, like that rescue Shetland I brought home all dusty and dirty and oily from the Shed in the Woods, which comes up rosy and smiling and happy when it's washed. And I wanted to see how these aristocratic linen/cottons emerged. Of course they took to the water like - well, like ducks to water I suppose - and are even now drying happily (in between the showers, that is. DH asked a while ago if he should bring them in as it was raining. Heck, no, they're linen aren't they? They should be used to rain.)

I must tell you in the next posting about a really beautiful book which I received for review from Cork University Press.

It's called Weaving Tapestry in Rural Ireland and it is stunning, both pictorially and editorially. It deserves a whole posting to itself. You'll yearn for it!

In the meantime, BIBLE SUPPLIES HAVE ARRIVED FOR THE MISSIONS! Yes, wonderful Sister Denise of the Mission Outreach Services at Our Lady of Perpetual Gauge has sent a whole stack of the Interweave Edition, together with hymn books from the Spinning Sisterhood and a whole lot of catechisms from Vogue and other Sunday School groups. Isn't she marvellous? I can't wait to see their wide eyes and grasping hands down in Kenmare when I go there this weekend. (Or they'll think we're all absolutely mad, there's always that risk, but I'd stake the lure of IK against disbelief any day.) Joy to you all!

What Did We Do Before Blogging?

What started me off on this tack was discovering an old Knitter's magazine among my groaning shelves of craft books. Now and again you hit lucky and find a few of these in thrift stores in the States; this was one I must have bought on Sanibel Island years ago and somehow forgot about. Another one I got there was a great issue with some early Lavold designs in it, to which I refer constantly.





But one thing about this issue from Spring 1995, twelve years ago, struck me as I leafed through it again. Not a single web address. Not a single email. Hundreds of lovely colourful advertisements, dozens of articles, features, suggestions, query letters - but nowhere that wonderful link which enables us to check instantly, send an answer, order some yarn, see the colour better, download a pattern, make a new friend, sign up for a camp or a class, discover a whole new way of trying a pattern or stitch.

In that spring of 1995 I had returned to academia, actually to the hallowed halls of Oxford. A fairly demanding job I'd been doing (getting independence back for an exceptionally small English county which had lost it and been absorbed into a neighbour twenty years earlier) had been successfully completed (cheers outside the House of Lords at midnight). I'd been thanked and paid off. And I decided to have a really really self-indulgent treat and sign up for a Masters in Local History at Oxford. (Yes, it does take quite a lot of the readies to sign up for anything at Oxford, not to mention rather respectable previous references. But it was worth it. Oh boy was it worth it. Wandering down Broad Street dressed in charity shop rejects, with your arms full of books knowing their authors were probably living a few streets away, it was heaven.)

The point however is that at Oxford they were just about getting into the Internet in a big way. The world's best young brains were working things out and then being headhunted to Silicon Valley or New York. But before they left they gave us lectures on how to use this new medium in our studies.

It was all very very new to me and I didn't understand the half of it back then (having a brilliant scientific mind doesn't always mean you can convey your ideas to a class of mature students, as I've discovered), but one thing excited me a lot. 'You'll be able to visit libraries without having to travel,' they said. And downloaded (very slowly, this was 1995) a picture of an incredibly rare medieval text in the Vatican library to prove it. Now this, I thought, is a good idea. Of course I then discovered that you couldn't actually open the books and see spiders scuttling away into the darkness, and was disappointed, but I was hooked all the same.

Now if you've come to the Net fully-fledged so to speak, and have always known you could look up lists or or products in different countries at the click of a mouse, then you mightn't realise just what a leap that was. Heavens above, when I wanted a special text in my earlier student days (always assuming I was able to find out that such a text existed), I had to order it through Inter Library Loan which could take up to a year and usually did. Now - but you know what it's like now. The world is your oyster, but an awful lot easier to open that the said bivalve.


And what goes for academic study goes tenfold for knitting, doesn't it! Sitting here this morning with the sun shining (briefly) outside and the daffodils blowing in West Cork, I can check colourways at Fleece Artist, yarn outlets in San Diego, the weather up in Lapland (Lene, hope you are feeling better, I've had that bug too and it is taking forever to go), top-down sweater patterns at Mary Maxim (well I could if her page wasn't down right now), besides getting advice on toe-up socks and downloading a new shawl design. Later on I'll be listing the spring cotton and linen yarns on eBay and seeing who wants them. With pictures. And I'm telling you all this on my weblog. The friends I've made across the world in the past seven or eight months. Who have all shown me their own pictures and the things they've made.

A whole new world. And it would be a bit hard to go back now, wouldn't it? Can you imagine trying to manage without being able to order, check, see, confirm, get ideas, chat, show? Those of us in Europe probably wouldn't even know about Knitter's, much less IK. I know I've said it before, but we are in the midst of a new technological revolution which will change the world - is changing it - even more than the invention of the steam engine and the Spinning Jenny. And it has made so much difference to the knitting world, hasn't it? I know it has made seismic changes in mine and made so much more creativity possible.

I don't know how long it was after that Spring 1995 issue that Knitter's began to move into the Internet world. It would be fun to check. If you have all yours in date order, you might look it up.

The Celtic Vest moves slowly onward. For some reason the fronts are giving me much more trouble than the back. It has something to do with the patterning in orderly rows and the increasing/decreasing at irregular intervals. I've had to frog back several times (although the gripping Ireland/England rugby match yesterday, played for the first time ever in historic Croke Park, might have had a lot to do with some of those errors) and am sick to death of it by now.






Here it is so far: the back, one front, and about a quarter of the second front. (Hey, Dez, Angeluna, tried your hints of photographing red against charcoal grey, and it worked!)

But just to show that an image only tells half the tale, here is the full picture uncropped:




Muffy was fascinated by the vest and says she wants to make one just like it. In green maybe. Don't know myself if she'll be up to the Lavold motifs, but it would be a mistake to prevent her trying, wouldn't it? You never know what a dog can do when she's really keen.

It gets tiring working on the same project on and on, doesn't it? I know several of you feel exactly the same. If it weren't for Angeluna hounding me on relentlessly - which reminds me -

Oh Ange-l-u-u-n-a, would you be a sweetheart and just nip out and see if it's stopped raining? Thanks pet. I'd go myself, but I'm at a tricky stage on the computer...

Now, QUICK! Gather round the rest of you before she gets back. She won't be long. Look at this.


This is a swatch for the Berroco Tierra in my hand-dyed cashmere/silk. Isn't it gorgeous?

Actually it's half of the front cast on already. I reasoned that since each pattern repeat is 18 sts and you work one pattern before casting on the next 18, I might as well keep going on the swatch and make use of it. It is delectable. You do have to use a cable needle for the twist, though, as it's 5 sts over 5, which is a bit too many to just slip off the needles and twist free. Hate using cable needles. They take up so much time.

Whoops, she's back. Eyes front.

Had a nasty shock the other day - a yarn customer emailed to say that the stuff I'd sent was underweight and under yardage. Horrified and of course sent off more right away, but HOW did that happen? I always wind on a few more grams every time I make up a skein, to make sure they get full weight and then some. Rushed out and bought another scales, digital this time, to double check against my trusty mechanical one, and have done some hard thinking on the yardage question. Now this is another issue I've raised here before, and you've given me some useful hints, but can anyone tell me how to measure the yardage in a skein exactly? I suppose I could leave the yardage off entirely, but I think it's very useful to know it, as otherwise you can't assess how much you need for a particular pattern. I looked out my lovely niddy noddy that I bought on Quadra Island last autumn, and found that one wrap all around measures 2m exactly. I'll try counting as I skein (as long as the dogs don't distract me and I lose count half way through a huge skein of laceweight). Other suggestions very much welcomed. I feel like a guilty criminal, misleading innocent customers!

In fact I'm worried about even listing any on eBay tonight. But I have some lovely cotton/linen blends that are so right for spring that I really want people to have them. Dilemma.


So worried was I about the yarn shortfall that I took Sophie down to Killarney woods yesterday afternoon to relax the brain (mine, not hers - she doesn't have that problem).




It's still pretty brown there, as you can see, but the mossy trees were beautiful



and every rock had its rich coverlet of moss and ivy and tiny plants.



Nature is always a beautiful healer. Came back determined to do better. Now I shall skein up some of those gorgeous linen/cottons and just to show I'm determined, I'll take that seductive denim cotton slub and skein that up for eBay too. That way I can't start a new project in it!

Get Thee Behind Me Cashmere/Silk Tierra!

Gosh, have you seen that stunning multidirectional scarf on Julia's blog? It is absolutely beautiful. Still musing on it, I was browsing back through Denise's posts and found another one, just as stunning. TWO of my friends have made these! And for all I know, the rest of you too! I have to try that technique really really soon. But could I get the colours? Should I rush out right now and buy some more, just in case?


(Who am I kidding? You don't rush out and buy yarn in West Cork. You dream about it. Fantasise about it. Maybe make a major trek to a far distant store for something that vaguely resembles it. But the real Mecca, the Nirvana, the Paradise of shelves and shelves of different colourways in the same fibre, the same weight - forget it. Maybe the next trip Stateside.)


All is merry as a marriage bell chez Celtic Memory, though, because YO!!, the spring Interweave Knits has arrived! Please please tell me I've got it around the same time as the rest of you. I had resigned myself to getting the spring issue in the summer and the fall issue around Christmas, but this does look as though IK at least has got its act together in relation to its hangers-on in misty outposts across the Atlantic. When did yours arrive?

Actually there doesn't seem to be anything in it that I really really started hyperventilating over, but that isn't the point. It's having it at the same time as the rest of you, so that I can know what you're talking about, that's what matters. I did see one rather cute thing - on Page 9, if you have it handy, this issue's Knitted Artifact is a Miser's Purse from the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston. It's delightfully knitted in Italian silk, but what struck me about it was how like a sock it is. A long thin tube, with one small opening in the middle, closed at both ends, and with two rings to slide up and down to control the filthy lucre.


I COULD MAKE ONE OF THESE!


I'm not sure it would be entirely practical for containing a day's mad money - for one thing, we eschewed the hugely practical paper one dollar/Euro/pound whatever you want to call it, long ago in favour of a heavy coin. You in the New World have very sensibly held on to yours and long may you continue so to do. Our pockets on the other hand are laden down with heavy metal. A silk purse couldn't cope too well with that. But it would make a stunning statement as a belt-hung evening bag.


Oh look, I'm sorry, don't go out to Joann's at this hour of the night to find a copy of IK. Wait - I'll Google around and see if I can find an illustration for those of you who don't have it to hand. (Am I being knittist here? Am I unthinkingly discriminating against the IK-less?) WAIT, will you?


Ah, got lucky. Here are two shown on the Morning Glory Antiques page?






Aren't they absolutely sweet? The one in IK is a little more sober, but the idea is still the same. You could start as a toe-up sock, work along, make the necessary gap in the centre for extracting dosh, then work to the other end and finish with toe-shaping and grafting. I must try it out in some bright silky yarns. When there is time. (When is there ever time?)

And a nice package arrived in the post from my friends at Yarn Paradise in Turkey. I am of the firm opinion (in which I am joined by Angie) that YP and others like them are in fact the makers of many of the yarns labelled and passed off by major brand names in the market. I know at least four or five they make which I can see on the shelves in our few Irish yarn shops which claim to be the products of (better not name names, but fill in one of the top six for yourself). ANYWAY, I had ordered something delectably enticing a week or so ago, and it has arrived.








It's a bit difficult to see, isn't it with all the reflections on that cute little plastic tote. But you can see the alpaca picture, can't you, and the name Inca?

That's the clue. This is a glorious blend of 70% alpaca and 30% cashmere, about what I would call double knitting and you would call - whatever the next one up from fingering is - a bit thicker. Here's a close-up of the contents.





This feels so gorgeous you wouldn't believe. I took one ball out of its tight little corset, the better to fondle it, and it burst out with a sigh of relief and relaxed into its warm wide fuller shape with delight. 10 30g balls, about 60m to each ball, which gives me 600 metres of indulgence. What will it make? Haven't the slightest idea. But having it here is pretty nice. We're talking alpaca and cashmere here! What a combination of luxury!


Huh? Oh, I paid £12.99 stg. for the 10 balls in their little totebag, plus another £5 for postage from Turkey. Look up their site. A lot of novelty yarns, but then you find something like this and that's got to be worth it. Wonder if I should have another tote-ful just in case...?


Having yielded to Angeluna's diktat and signed up to Sock Madness, what did I then find in my email box but another message from the said A, this time highlighting the amazing CookieA's sock designs. Does she think I live on triple time? That I somehow have more space in my day than the rest of the world? But look at them all the same. What do you think of Thelonious? And the cabled ones! How can you live without knitting those? And then Angeluna wants to know if the Celtic Vest is finished!! How she has the face...


I have been working on that CV all day. I've been ordered to finish it, I want to finish it, but it is taking a bit of time. Working up the left front, and have just got to that stage where a Lavold motif has to be worked at the armhole side while at the same time a complex series of decreases are carried out inside the cable edging at the other. It's like trying to move one hand in staccato jerks while gracefully waving the other in fairylike gestures. The two series of instructions are pulling me in opposite directions.


I had promised myself that if I finished this left front tonight I could do a teeny tiny swatch for the violet Tierra step-fronted sweater. I want to start on that Tierra so BADLY. It's calling to me.









I even yielded to the urge and wound up two of the newly-dried hand-dyed skeins into one huge ball, so as to be nice and ready. I like using my little nostepinne. It feels good in the hand. (Although I have got nice and handy at winding a centre-pull ball on my thumb by now.)


But then I was going through the stash, hauling out cones for next week's yarn sale on eBay, and came across a particularly dishy slub cotton in a nice denim blue shade. It grabbed my wrist and hissed, 'Crop Aran sweater, divine for summer over white shirt. Go. Now. You know you want to!' (My yarns are always this talkative. I think it has something to do with being stored in the basement.) Here is the chatty fellow:





It would look nice in a casual crop Aran, wouldn't it? But no, no, NO!



(Don't you love that moment in The Devil Wears Prada when Emily glances at her cellphone, sees that Miranda is on her way an hour early and gasps No, No, NO! Got it on DVD now, and have already watched it twice. Love that movie.)


It's bad enough to be so tempted by the violet Tierra, but if the denim is going to get in on the act I'm not sure how long my willpower is going to hold out. Think positive, think Celtic Vest, get back to those damn decreases...

The Mission Bells Are Merrily Ringing!

Well, what it is to go forth and do good works and find that others are coming right behind you offering their strength and commitment too! Hail to this week's Gold Star Missionary of St. Knitola, Sister Denise who has, out of the fullness and generosity of her heart, offered several copies of the Bible (the Interweave edition, the only possible one in the mission fields) and is even now packing them up to send off to this western outpost. Now is that self-sacrifice or what? Just wait till they hear about this down in Kenmare!


I didn't yet of course know about Sister Denise's sacrifice when I trundled down to Kenmare on Saturday. It was a freezing cold but bright morning, and I stopped at the top of the hill overlooking the Lakes of Killarney to show you what they are like on a February day before the green has returned.





Most visitors don't see them like this, so you're kind of privileged (I know, you'd prefer to see the rich luxuriant green and the sparkling blue water and to tell the truth so would I, but this is Ireland in February when, as I have often observed, only its mother could love it). On to Kenmare and to Spin a Yarn (aka the Western Mission) where I found Joan curled up on the Noro-throw-clad sofa busily knitting a tiny jacket for a baby friend. I unpacked my carrier bag of goodies, and carefully laid down on the table:

1. Interweave Knits, fall issue

2. Vogue Knitting International, fall issue

3. Elsebeth Lavold's Viking Knitting

4. Our own Steph's Meditations For Women Who Knit Too Much.

While she was still wondering what I was up to, I firmly said that I was going down to Jam for a coffee and would be back in half an hour. Whereupon I left. (Oh, yes, I did indicate fairly strongly that these were a sight-only loan, not a gift.)


Jam was as lovely as ever and I gave Deb's love to it while tucking into a slice of Victoria sponge (well, I didn't take all the cream, just a scrap. Honestly, in that place, despite the fact that the cake is packed full of jam and cream, they still go ahead and plonk an industrial-sized helping of cream on the side as well, haven't they ever heard of cholesterol? I ask you! But it's the same everywhere in Ireland, you could be dying and they'd still offer you cream with it.) Then I strolled slowly back.


She didn't even hear me opening the door.

When I did manage to get her attention, her eyes were still glazed. She'd loved the Vogue, was enthralled by Interweave, amazed at the Lavold, but the Yarn Harlot, ah the Yarn Harlot had just conquered her 'leventy-millionth slave.

It was kind of nice to see someone who a half hour earlier had never even heard of Steph now so obsessed that she could barely give me a quarter of her attention. 'Where did you get this? Where can I get it?' We've all been through it, but we started further along the road, so to speak. She came to it completely unknowing, which makes it even better.


And yes, she did take details for subscribing to IK and Vogue. Lavold she looked at again with a dazed expression. When you've only known Aran patterns, Lavold can take you like that. At first. Then you get steely eyed and go out hunting for her books everywhere.

Readers, and fellow missionaries, there is now one little mission down there in Kenmare where they are at last aware of a far bigger, wider world, of joyous possibilities and happiness beyond belief. They are on the Road at last, the Road to Enlightenment, Fulfilment, and The Great Stash Nirvana, not to mention the Pattern Paradise.


And then when I got home I found Denise's incredible offer of past issues of IK to pass on. This on top of her incredibly detailed and easy-to-understand instructions for harnessing and controlling Blogger to do my will and not its own. Denise you're a girl in a million. Love ya.


I took a tiny break from the Celtic Vest and retackled the Travelling Cables Cardi, just so I could at least post on the KAL and let them know I hadn't fallen by the wayside.




This was it before I started expanding and sending the cables travelling in earnest.



and this was it a few hours later.

Look at it. It might not be very apparent in this picture but the latest cables are definitely looser, wider than the earlier ones. Yep, I'd put in another two rows between crossings. Why the heck do I always consider myself above counting and checking? I'm so confident in my cabling that I gallop along, trusting to my eye and believing absolutely in my own infallibility.


I did try to persuade myself that it didn't matter, wouldn't show. But it did, and it would. Roars of rage, followed by a nice bout of tantrum frogging. The fingers twitched to hurl the whole thing out the window, but I managed to restrain them. I'll go back to it in a few days.


Serve you right, says Angeluna, for stepping aside from the path of righteousness as personified by the Celtic Vest. All right, I learned my lesson. Started on the left front immediately. Was a bit worried about the short rows with their wrap and turn, but of course as so often happens, once I really got down to it (yes, yes, and read the instructions carefully) there was nothing to it.






Going along fine. Promise not to start anything else (much) until it's done.


Well dyeing doesn't count, does it? I've been hankering after that lovely Tierra design on the Berocco site for ages, and finally got down to dyeing some of my private stash of silk/cashmere to the requisite shade of violet. I used roughly double the amount of yarn weight to the recommended amount of dye, because I didn't want it too deep.





Hasn't it turned out beautifully? I can't wait for it to dry so I can wind it up and get started!


No, no, sorry, I didn't mean it. Back to the Celtic Vest.

Aren't You Great? Take A Bow The Lot Of You!

Honestly, I don't think I'd have got through last night's disasters and fiascos without you rowing in like that. You really are the best. To every single one who sent support, advice, encouragement and affection, big loves and hugs. If I haven't emailed you personally yet, I will. I'm still recovering.

I have to say that although Blogger has created huge amounts of hitherto unsuspected stress, it has also given us - me anyway, and surely you too - the most incredible surge in friendship, sympathy, interlinking and understanding. How else, in heaven's name, could we have someone in the deep snows of Northern Canada sending guidance on html usage on a webpage to someone she's never met, in damp West Cork? How else could we have pages of technical guidance from Texas, essential email addresses from Oregon, affection from Iowa, love from Louisiana, witticisms from Washington, all flashing through the airwaves in moments? Get up right now each and every one of you and take a big bow. Rest assured I'll be there for you too, in your moment of need.

Speaking of which, have you read Lene's latest posting? Lene, what you wove was so beautiful that I would rest happy for the remainder of my life if I'd made it; but you have such incredibly high standards that you weren't happy with it. Take a rest for a day or two, sweetheart, and then come back to us refreshed and happy. We all have days when we hate fibre art with every - well - fibre really - of our being. But give us a break and a bar or two of chocolate and we're fine again. Leave us, you cannot. We need you and your beautiful work - and words - too much.

When you have more projects on hand than you can even remember, and at least three that you are working on at the same time, and a friend (a friend?) emails you with news of a great new knitalong that you have to join, naturally you do the only thing possible. You say graciously, so nice of you to offer, but I have too much to do. Sorry darling, maybe next time.

Which is why I am now signed up to Sock Madness - at least I hope I am, I haven't heard back from them yet, maybe they were shocked to hear from Ireland, you think? - but anyway I've grabbed their button and hey, I've actually managed to put it on my sidebar! Hope so anyway - can't tell until I publish this. Now I must hunt around for the Red Sweater and the TCC buttons and get those back on too.

No, it wasn't easy getting the new Blogger sorted out, and they of course were of very little help - thanks Wanda for giving me their email address (have you noticed it's not available through Help, they keep redirecting you in ever-decreasing circles), but all they said was 'have you tried Help?' With your guidance, however, I managed to sort the really worrying problem of the hit counter, and then worked slowly from there.

Now I'd like to know, and since you gang seem to know more than most, I'm asking you rather than Blogger - is there a quick way to put in links like those to Lene and Wanda above? What I'm doing now is going quickly back to a Notepad document on my desktop in which I keep the html codes for everybody and everything, and then copying and pasting it in here under the Edit Html function before returning to Compose mode. Is there a quicker way to put in links? Mine seems to go all round the houses. Advice and comments welcomed.

But back to Sock Madness. I must be insane (probably a good thing for this particular project). Angeluna, you have a lot to answer for. Your real name, I suspect, is probably Ayesha or She Who Must Be Obeyed.

Having dutifully emailed Sock Madness and ordered the rest of you to fall in as well (good on you, Pacalaga, Cindy, Jean...) I went down and hauled out my sock yarn stash. I should tell you that my stash is nothing compared to Angeluna's - come on Angeluna, get into weblogging will you, and show the rest of the world that incredible sock yarn stash of yours - but I laid out my favourites to see which I would choose.




What do we have here? Opal at the left, bought on Quadra Island last autumn - that was a fun trip. A glorious Fleece Artist medley. A delightful emerald variegated Cherry Tree Hill, with two Glitzes next to that - a dark midnighty one (hang on I'll go and look. It's actually Green Mountain Madness) and the Birches variation. Then that great orange hand-dyed from Yarn Yard, followed by a Socks That Rock - gifted by Angeluna - and finally another STR, in Nodding Violet, my contribution to the Blue Moon Fibre Arts vs Nastybank fiasco.



I am thinking at this stage that I will go for the emerald CTH. It's coming up to St. Patrick's Day after all, and a good bright pair of green socks would be a lot of fun.



Now listen, tomorrow I am going to go out into the wilds on my missionary work again. We Little Sisters Of the Knit Habit can't rest on our laurels or indeed on our handcrafted throws. We must always be spreading the message, bringing joy to the unenlightened millions in the dark world outside. And I am planning to head down to that bright little mission in Kenmare (Spin A Yarn) to see how they're doing and shed a few words of encouragement.



And I must bring a stack of Bibles. You must always bring the Word with you, and, though it pains me to tell you, and you may not believe it, they have no Bibles down there. Oh they have a few pathetic, paltry imitations, printed in the UK (no, I am most definitely not trying to slag you off, UK, we after all don't have any knitting magazines of our own, and our bookshop shelves are devoid of any craft text, let alone knitting books) but of the great and glorious Knitter's, Interweave, Vogue International, they know nothing. I might even bring my copy of the Gospel According to Lavold, but -



And here I am in a torment of self-doubt, self-questioning. Little Sisters of the Knit Habit, your Irish missionary sister wants to confess to the gathering. Listen and give me of your wisdom.



I am not at all sure that I can steel myself to give up any of my precious texts. They are so important in my own life - I gain refreshment and happiness from reading a little of this one or that at different places, at different times, as I go about my daily work. I know you do too. Can I bear to part with any one of them? How would I feel if I could not dip into Lavold for guidance, or see what Interweave advises in a testing situation? If I could not feel that surge of joy that comes from witnessing the achievements of Sister Gaughan or Blessed Zimmermann?



Maybe I could take them along and just let the new mission see them. Then perhaps they would be spurred to seek these texts for themselves. Is that not, after all, the true path to enlightenment? Not merely to accept from others, but to search for the truth oneself?



Let them get their own copies!



I will report when I return from the tiny mission in the West tomorrow.

I'm Mad, You're Mad, Let's All Go For Sock Madness!

I must be out of my mind, but when I got an email from Angeluna about Sock Madness I leapt right in. Hurry up, I think you'll still be in time if you rush. As far as I can see you can sign up for either Novice or Expert and then knit within your group. They give you seven new patterns just for signing up. And we don't have to start right away, I think.

Just think of all that sock yarn you've got languishing in the closet. Isn't it time it came out? Isn't it time we had some fun? Come on, I've said 'I will'. Who's coming with me?

(And Stephanie Pearl McPhee is donating a signed copy of one of her books as one of the prizes too. Yo, Steph!)

This is the site.

SockMadness

or, if I got that link wrong, http://sockmadness.wordpress.com/

Get over there right now and email me to tell me I'm not the only lunatic in Blogland.

OK, we're halfway back...

Thank you a million times for all those helpful messages. I have now managed to get back to the old template, BUT, as you see, all the sidebar stuff is at the bottom of the page. Any attempt on my part to bring it back up where it should be at the side results in New Blogger wading in with all kinds of customizations and horrors.

I'll sleep on it. You are all loves.

Oh Blogger, What Have You Done?

I knew it was going to be bad. That was why I kept on holding off as long as possible. But in the end Blogger didn't give me any choice. Then they said, 'Don't worry, we'll save all your old settings anyway...'

Now I find they got rid of most of my links (if you're not listed on my sidebar right now, it's because they've cast you into exterior darkness and I'm trying to get you all back on again but it's slow work). They've dumped all my lovely buttons like Red Sweater and Travelling Cables and Irish Hiking Scarf.

BUT WORST OF ALL, THEY'VE TAKEN MY HIT COUNTER! I was inordinately, perhaps unjustifiably, proud of that hit counter and the way it was totting up. I'd got to over 32,000 this morning when I made my first post on New Blogger, and now it's gone, gone, and I can't find it anywhere. Of course there is nowhere to check your old blogsite - Blogger may well have saved the settings but they're not telling me where they put them. And yes, I know I can download a new hit counter - but that will start again at 1, won't it?

I really am so fed up I want to hit something very hard. I feel like crying, really I do.

Can anyone help? I've emailed Blogger but will probably get a computer-generated reply in about a fortnight. Believe me, I need my friends right now. Major disasters I can cope with, a sharp personal disappointment like this, no.

Spring's Gone Back Indoors, So Let's Knit

You should just see the morning we have here in West Cork. Wild shrieking winds buffeting the house, rain slashing diagonally across the garden. The dogs had to be tricked into going out (me saying, 'Oh look, that's definitely a BURGLAR down by the gates, do you see? Run, run, quickly and defend our lands!' It worked for about five minutes). It's as dark as the inside of a hat, and I feel like retiring to the airing cupboard with a large bar of organic dark chocolate and a Brother Cadfael novel. The winds howled all night, and I thought of the wild headlands, and gorse bushes bending against the storm, and little animals tucked far down in their moss-lined burrows (well they might line them with moss, why wouldn't they?)


Yesterday was one of those marathons. It's my own fault, I never seem to be able to get work done until I hear that thrilling sound of deadlines approaching at speed. Between dawn and dusk I managed:

One full length feature on the Chinese New Year, coming up this weekend (with Irish interest of course, editor demanded that, interview with lad from Fu Jian Province married to Cork girl, that sort of thing).

One full length feature on the cottage industries of Muckross House, Killarney (tee hee!) for Ireland of the Welcomes, May/June issue. This was scheduled for July/August but they decided to make the earlier one a focus on West Cork and Kerry and asked me to get it in sooner. Richard had to burrow around in his files pretty frantically too, as he couldn't remember where he'd filed John Cahill that lovely weaving man. How could anyone lose a man with access to such divine yarns? I have his cellphone number, the gate access number and the ages of his three children inscribed on my heart. (Heck, I should have checked when their birthdays were. When HIS birthday was. Too late for a Valentine? Maybe a bit unsubtle.) No, it's not all about John and his shed in the woods - the bookbinding/conservation workshop and the lovely little pottery are in there too. This earlier publication will do them some good for the summer months, I hope.

One advertising feature on a new prestigious housing development outside Mitchelstown.

One advertising feature on a Wedding Fair coming up at an Elizabethan country manor near Ballymaloe, East Cork.

One Theatrenights column, a regular weekly round up of what's on and coming along.

One Busy Today column, another weekly regular. This, however, entailed driving down to Ballymakeera with Richard to locate and photograph a delightful young man who is making bread like it used to be (you know, when you were carrying it home and couldn't resist breaking off a bit of the crust to nibble?) It's so good that people are travelling from all over the county to get a loaf. Then back to write it up and email it in. Isn't the Net wonderful? (R was bribed for that outing with the promise of a freshly ground coffee and scone at An Cruiscin Lan in Ballymakeera, but they'd just had a power failure - disaster! Went on to another place further away where they only had heavy brown scones that cracked the plate when you dropped on (it was accidental, I swear, why would I want to draw attention to its weight and hardness?) and a huge bowl of raw onion on the table next to the jam which was a trifle offputting. No names, no pack drill, but you know who you are. We have serpents even in the Garden of Eden. While we were there, we also called in to see Paudie Cronin who does wonders in wrought iron, to see if he would be willing to make an oval flue pipe for the tiny gypsy stove. He's going to call round one evening to measure angles and chimney gaps and frightening things like that.

All this meant that by teatime the duvet and the pillow looked awfully tempting. However, the fire was made up, and the knitting hauled out. And yay, here's the good news -

THE BACK OF THE CELTIC VEST IS FINISHED AT LAST!

I am aware that this image is a little lurid. You are not, however, aware that it took DH several attempts, a great deal of varied and expensive equipment, and more than a few muttered swear words even to get it to this standard. I think it's the red that does it - it seems to be the most impossible colour to capture. But you can see the motifs and that I got there in the end. Whew!

Of course Angeluna, Devil in Prada that she is, having pressured me to get on with the Celtic Vest (and she has a way of making you jump up and do something without even considering whether you want to or not), then immediately sent me a couple of images from somebody's completed Travelling Cables Cardi . 'Aren't these beautiful?', she asked innocently. Yes, they are. Are you being helpful to my Celtic Vest project? No you're not.

So I went hunting for the TCC, ran it to earth behind the big armchair up in the sitting room (luckily Muffy hadn't found it first), and started the painful task of trying to discover where I'd got to. It was so long since I'd started out enthusiastically (way back before Christmas, I think) that I had no idea what was going where and which cable went which way. Managed to get a few rows done, so you know I'm on the task.

No, not much done since last time, but at least I've got the markers in and started the travelling. For some reason it's giving me a lot of trouble - maybe I'm out of practice on this pattern. I keep forgetting my Make One or my P2Tog until I'm way further on in the row, and then have to frog back, muttering darkly. Maybe it will get easier when I get back into the swing of it.

No, I haven't forgotten the Celtic Vest. I observed the safety routine by immediately casting on for the left front, the second I bound off the last stitch on the back. But it hasn't gone any further since then. I need a break.

The Blackberry Pie socks are coming on just fine, though. Isn't it great when you get beyond the heel and can start whacking down the foot?

The top sock here is on the instep shaping and the bottom one is ready to move down towards the toe. Somebody (was it Wanda?) suggested decreasing a few more stitches down from the original at this point, if you have a narrower foot, and I've done that. Thanks for the tip.

On the last pair of socks (the beautiful but uncomfortable Glitz) I also did some individual toe shaping, since I don't have an evenly shaped end to my foot - more of a sharp angle. I was able to work that into the toe decreases so I now have a left and a right sock, just like shoes. This is one of the things that is holding me back from trying toe-up socks - I don't know if I'd be able to recreate that backwards and in high heels, as Ginger Rogers would say. (Actually she was pointing out, wasn't she, that she was an even better hoofer than Fred Astaire and she had a definite point.)

And since my Celtic Memory stash yarns seem to be selling merrily on eBay, I had a little indulgence and ordered some of my own personal absolute luxury, Colonial Rosewood Circulars. Now I like Lantern Moons very much, I have great respect for those old dowagers, Holz & Stein, and I use bamboos all the time, but there is nothing in the world like Colonial Rosewoods. Think Chanel rather than chain store, organic 85% chocolate rather than Vegeolate and you're close. These are simply the most wonderful needles in the world and once you've tried them, you won't want anything else.

Which is one way of breaking it to those of you who don't already know that these are expensive. Seriously expensive. So expensive that I'm not even going to tell you, in case you have a seizure.

Oh ok, I'll wait while you go scurry and look them up. I usually get mine from my dear friend Christine at Warm Threads , but she's out of them at the moment - they do tend to disappear as soon as they come in. But I managed to find some at SpinBlessing where Susan deserves one of my special GOLD STAR awards for not charging the earth to post them. She's sending them to Ireland for US$8 which is good and trustworthy and - oh what's a decent female rendition of 'gentlemanly'? - of her. I simply cannot wait to hold those gorgeous things - the palms of my hands are already quivering in anticipation. Go look see. Indulge, why don't you? Get some for Easter, your birthday, Tibb's Eve, whatever. If not now, WHEN?

Dear heaven the wind is still howling. But you're having it worse. I know it's freezing in the UK, and North America, gosh, you're in the middle of a storm warning, or so it looks from my TV screen. Anne and all those of you headed to Portland, Maine, for the SPA knit-in, take care on the way and have a lovely time. Wish I could be with you. Deb of The Irish Ewe, are you going? Oh why am I over here when you're all there and I should so obviously be there too?

I think I feel a strong coffee and scone coming on.

Why Must Things Change?

Try as I may, I am slowly being forced into upgrading to the 'newest latest' version of Blogger. I don't want to, I don't need to. I'm quite happy having figured out the current version. But tonight I got a warning that I can only use this format once more. After that I have to go with the diktat. It's exasperating and I can't see the need for it. We get built-in obsolescence in so many parts of our lives - fashion especially, but cars too, food fads, paint colours, furniture, decor - if it's this year's must-have that means it will be next year's forget-it. Even yarns have to be re-issued in new colourways, new textures, new blends, every year, so if you want just one more ball of something you bought longer ago than last week, you aren't likely to have much luck.

And now two of my KALs are inaccessible to me because they've both moved to 'new' Blogger and I'm not allowed in there. Honestly, if Blogger cost anything I'd be thinking of changing. As it is, I feel I don't have the right to complain, since it's free. But I wish they'd leave me be. Surely there must be others who had to struggle to get competent on weblogging and are only now feeling fairly secure? How do you feel about having to change to something new yet again?

If you don't hear from me EVER AGAIN, you'll know I'm lost and wandering desperately in the mines of Moria, alias New Blogger, and you'll also know to whom you should send hate mail.

Anyway, to the issues of the day. Vicki in California wanted to know what Celtic braid pattern I'd used for my alpaca headband. It's in the Harmony Guide to Aran stitches, Vicki, and if you've any trouble hunting that down, email me and I'll see if I can help. You can contact me via Knitter's Review Forum where I'm Celtic Memory. That is one great site to belong on - you pick up so much useful information. Must go over there later this evening and see what's new.

Did you all stock up on beautiful wooden hairpin looms and crochet hooks and circulars from Ed Jenkins when Stitch Diva had that special offer running? It's finished now, but you can still get orders in to Ed at Jenkins Woodworking as far as I know. Ed is of course the other half of Wanda at Fiberjoy and they do wonderful things by their creek in Oregon - wood turning and spinning and weaving and dyeing and all sorts. I love my Ladakhi drop spindle that Ed made, and I have a most beautiful wooden crochet hook of his right in front of me on my desk as I type. I'm going to get one of their hairpin looms next - haven't made hairpin crochet in a few years but it gives such delicate results I want to try it again. Oh and broomstick crochet - that's great fun. And Tunisian crochet too. So many things to do, so little time!

Tan was saying that Prague reminded her of Don Giovanni. Oh I wish you'd been with me, Tan - at least two of the marionette theatres were staging Don G, and if we'd had time I'd have been in there enjoying it thoroughly. But yes, we did manage to get to Guldenstrasse or Golden Lane, Angeluna. Isn't it the most incredible little place? This is a winding steep lane behind the cathedral and castle up at the top of the town, where the alchemists strove day and night to discover the secret of transmuting base metal into precious gold. I can just imagine the king striding down every now and again and saying, 'Come on, come on, I'm beginning to think your hearts aren't in this. I'm really going to be rather irritated if I don't have a big bag of the readies to pay the army tomorrow...' Here are a couple of pictures of Golden Lane for you.



You wouldn't think it, but we had to wait ages to take this shot, until all the groups of chattering schoolchildren had rushed into the tiny shops to spend their pocket money and the street was briefly clear.



I loved this one. It's like a doll's house, isn't it?

And you are right, Angeluna, all of Prague is like an opera set. You keep expecting Dr. Coppelius to come hobbling out of one of the ancient buildings, or Don Giovanni beckon to a young girl from his upstairs window. I wouldn't have been surprised if an entire opera chorus had burst into song on Charles Bridge when I was passing.

I got this lovely surprise in the post.



It's a stunning CD of harp music and song from my friend Rita Naumann. I christened one of her stunning hand-dyed yarn skeins, and in return she sent me this beautiful gift! I love the harp and this is going to afford me hours of pleasure. I shall take it in the car when I go out tomorrow. Thank you Rita. May your hands create ever more beauty.

I've just listed a whole lot of yarns on eBay. Most of them stash treasures like the cashmere/silk and some mohairs, but I had one new Celtic Memory creation I wanted to list which gave me a lot of trouble. It's called Celtic Forest and it's a lovely blend of soft mousse merinos, a fine kid mohair and a strand of green and silver glitter.



Does that look like a soft and glittery yarn to you? Nope, me neither. And that's Picture No. 112 or thereabouts. I just can't get the colours, much less the texture, to show up properly. And the glitter might as well not be there at all.

I even designed a new shawl in this yarn, so excited was I about creating it. (That was why I took time off from the Celtic Vest and the socks last night - I wanted to make this while it was still in my mind. Got fed up with how long it was taking, and cut it short into a small shoulder shawl rather than the long dramatic sweep it should by rights be, but it looks nice anyway.



Well... in real life it does, but not in the picture. You really wouldn't know there were threads of mystic silver flashing throughout this shawl. I can't list it on eBay. People would think I was colour blind or altogether blind. The cute little points on the sides show up OK, but not the overall soft and magical effect.

Huh? Oh it's my own design - I call it Butterfly Wing because the little scalloped points look like the wings of a peacock butterfly. No, it's really really easy - you wouldn't believe how easy. But I do wish I could get those colours and glittery bits to show up.

(Yes, DH had a go too, bouncing flashes all over the place, but to no good effect. We'll try again tomorrow morning, in the unlikely event of some sunshine.)

And so the new designer yarn hasn't made it onto eBay yet. You're the only ones to see it, and I wouldn't blame you at all if you thought I was losing my touch. Believe me, it is utterly beautiful. I just can't show its beauty to anyone - and how frustrating is that?

Wanda had a lovely picture on a recent posting - a tree which she said looked like a sea lion. It reminded me of some mossy beasties we found the other day when walking through a forestry plantation on Mullaghanish mountain close to home.



Isn't that amazingly like an owl perched on the wire?




This one takes a little more effort, but I think it's like a small Muffy dog standing up with her paws against a treetrunk and looking at the camera. It even has her bouffant tail.

Gosh a shocking omission from the last posting. The Kenmare shop has Noro too. Yes, Silk Garden and all the other glorious kinds. They even have throws on their sofas in the shop knitted in Noro. How cool is that? Shall I organise trips to Kenmare? Shall we hold an International SnB there this summer? With a class A cafe and a class A* yarn store in the same tiny town, what's keeping you?