Don't Make Promises You Don't Intend To Keep!

Been away for a couple of days, seeing a show in the UK that is coming to Killarney next month. A new and very lively production of Fame, with a cast so young and so energetic that it made me tired just watching them throw themselves all over the stage. Great fun, but it was nice to get back home to West Cork where life is greener and quieter and the industrial revolution never happened.

Some nice treats to tell you about. First of all, an eagerly-awaited package from Jenkins Woodworking of Fiberjoy fame, containing some of Ed's wonderful circular needles in rare and beautiful woods. The packages from Jenkins are always so carefully wrapped to protect their precious contents, but this time the stiffening used to keep the needles straight was not cardboard...







but a bar of dark chocolate truffle! Isn't this just the kind of nice surprise everyone should get in the mail?




I'd ordered two circulars in a fit of self-indulgence, since these are undoubtedly the Rolls Royces of needles and I felt like being queen for a day. One 6.5mm in pink ivory wood, and one of Ed's newest productions, a fine 2.75mm in bloodwood.










And just look at this! I hadn't expected it, but there it was - my name, and CMY for Celtic Memory Yarns! Not only on the larger gauge but, incredibly, on the fine one too!






(I asked Richard, not with much hope, if he could possible arrange a magnifying closeup of the finer needle to show the fairy lettering, and to my surprise he managed it right away. 'How do you think I photograph ants?' he asked exasperatedly. Hadn't thought about it at all actually, but there you are, I should pay more attention to what he's doing when I'm yarn hunting.)




How can you live without some of these needles in your own collection? Mind, I don't guarantee that they will come with your name in teeny tiny lettering. And the chocolate bar was a personal gift. But to own some of Ed's beautiful work and have it in your home is a joy. Get over there and drool right NOW!




Of course I could have kept both of these as works of art, but the temptation to fondle, handle, get them working, was too much. And so, dashing out to the airport frantically late for the trip to Leeds, I grabbed the finer ones and a ball of hand-dyed sock yarn, plus the pattern for Pomatomus.










This is as far as I got, from flying out yesterday (well it was a short flight!) to getting back this afternoon. Cookie A's patterns do demand that you concentrate on every single row (indeed every single stitch) so it isn't one of those you can happily work away on while conducting interviews or having dinner with PR folk, unfortunately. I'm enjoying it very much so far. Doubtless there is rough water ahead, if not Niagara Falls, but the new polished wood circulars from Jenkins are wonderful to use and seem to be enjoying themselves too.


Har har, I hear some of you chuckle in the background. Didn't take her long to get started on a new project, did it? So much for those wonderful resolutions, those goals listed so nobly in her last posting. Well har de har to you too, 'cause it didn't take me too long to discover the flaw in my beautiful reasoning and I suppose you spotted it as well, didn't you?




If you take the two goals:




(a) Use up ridiculously huge stash IMMEDIATELY, before ever buying any more yarn;



and


(b) Don't start ANY new projects until everything already there is finished;


almost immediately it becomes clear that it will be difficult to achieve (a) without smashing (b) beyond hope of repair. After all, how the heck is one supposed to use up stash if one doesn't DO anything with it?


Which is absurd, as they used to say in geometry classes (and what, oh what, was the use of geometry? Maths, yes, that skill has come in useful since, even if only to calculate the number of stitches by which one is out in a particularly difficult pattern, but geometry?)


Where was I?



Oh yes. It is clearly absurd to have the laudable aim of using up stash in the first place if one then puts in place additional (also laudable but in this case regrettably unachievable) aims in the second place, which in effect try to stop you doing just that in the first place.



Clear?


So no, thank you for asking, but there was no twinge of guilt at starting the Pomotamus.


At all.


And while we're at it, I might as well come out in the open and confess that I also started a rather good little crochet vest in that nice cashmere/silk yarn that looks like string and smells like a manure heap when first washed.





And I am not sorry, not sorry at all, ha ha ha! Not for starting the vest (using up stash, using up stash, da da da), and certainly not for indulging my secret passion for crochet. I'm not ashamed of it. I'm proud to be a hooker. And that's another of Ed Jenkins' beautiful products there, a very lovely crochet hook which slides and grips and hooks superbly. A pleasure to work with.


Now another package arrived today (STOP it, this was ordered way back before my conversion on the road to Stashland). This one is all Angeluna's fault (and hey, can you see that link? The best news in AGES! Angeluna has at last come on board with her very own supremely elegant blog! Yo! Go over there right now and visit. She and I are going to guest bitch (sorry, it must be my fingers that are tired from travelling, can't think how that came up on the keyboard), are going to guest chat on each others' blogs from time to time, with a frank and outspoken exchange of views on yarn and knitting matters generally. Seconds out of the ring...


Anyway, it was Angeluna - and don't try to deny it girl - who innocently emailed me with a link to these amazing socks, knowing that as soon as I set eyes on them I would be done for. Which I was. Ordered the kit immediately from Jennifer at vanCalcar Acres, and there was the package in the postbox this morning.





This is the most wonderful design, with Celtic interlacements all over the place and even a special separate motif on the ankle bone, done in i-cord. This will have to be my first pair for the Summer of Socks, most definitely, don't you think?


(Look, it's in the stash NOW, ok? Ordered before the moratorium, and will have to be used anyway. And I don't need an excuse now that I think about it, because it's a kit, and it's sock yarn, so it doesn't COUNT. )


(And thank you Dez for checking the records and confirming that it was indeed the Kashmir Knit Free, Knit More (And More) Convention which formally decided in 2000 or thereabouts that sock yarn did not count as stash. I knew it was in the files somewhere. Indeed, if I remember rightly (and surely I do, the Celtic Memory brain is not yet ossified), that convention was only the final in a long series which debated the burning issue of Sock Yarn As Stash over several decades, wasn't it? Who could forget the Council Of Crete? The Sock Sessions of Baltimore? The Defrogging Of Prague? Angeluna, you're the expert here, along with Dez. It's time these great historic battles were revisited, rediscussed, made better known to younger, more innocent knitters.)



And look what came in the package with the Imbas kit.





Another little bag with a small skein each of two blue yarns, and a note from the Yarn Fairy saying they were for heels and toes as well as stash enhancement (my italics). Isn't that a nice way to do business? Yo Jennifer, I'll be back!

But shock, horror (and alas for the determination and strength of character of Celtic Memory) now the Imbas pattern has a strong rival. Beth mentioned that she was thinking of doing the Brigit design for the Summer of Socks and of course I had to find out about this, didn't I? Thank you Beth for letting me know I could find it on Socktopia. Just go and look at it. Amazing!

I can't believe all these people out there who can design such amazing socks. But I'm very glad they do. I've got amusement for the rest of my life and I haven't even begun hunting for patterns on my own (might be better not to!)

Angeluna, you asked about Tibb's Eve. It's the Irish equivalent of the Twelfth of Never, as in, 'You'll see that fella get married and settle down on Tibb's Eve', or 'You might be waiting until Tibb's Eve for that bus to come along.'

And a couple of you asked about 'composed yarn'. I couldn't think how else to describe the yarns I put together - yes, there are long lengths of different yarns knotted together, but most of the time there are two or three in each length, each one of a different texture or fibre, so that you get all kinds of cadences and lights and unexpected effects. The most fun (as well as the most work) comes in combining different shades of the same colourway and then introducing another colour to complement them, all linking to a specific theme. In Wild Roses of West Cork, for example, up on eBay at the moment, I looked at the hedgerows around here, and saw how the wild roses varied in colour from white through pale pink to deep rich pink, and how their leaves were every shade from grey-green to dark. And then I wanted to put in yarns which looked like gossamer webs with the dew on them, and the twining brambles, and all the other richness of the wild hedgerows. When a skein is knitted up, it should give the effect of seeing such a profusion of lush growth and reflect its colours. The next one I'll do will be Lunasa for the beginning of August, with all the golds and oranges and dazzling colours of harvest and haymaking in the countryside.

Speaking of the countryside, we had a gift of a day last Monday (which was Whit and a holiday here - the English celebrate it a week earlier but Ireland keeps to the traditional date in early June), and I took Sophy Wackles down to Killarney to celebrate the beautiful weather. A week ago the hills on the Kerry border were blanketed in mist, but on this occasion the skies were amazingly clear (it is seldom you get a clear sky in Ireland, there are usually clouds somewhere) and the unicorn who guards the border between Cork and Kerry was reaching proudly into the heavens.




Although the usual tourist places were crowded, the woods at Muckross were empty and we were able to wander in complete peace through the mossy silence.






Sophy enjoyed herself thoroughly, clambering about and reading strange messages in clumps of fern and behind bushes.






In case the dog lovers among you are wondering, I know I have called her Sophie in past postings, but that was me being lazy and going with the more usual spelling. Her correct name is in fact Sophy Wackles, after the young lady who broke Dick Swiveller's heart in Dickens' novel, The Old Curiosity Shop.


And a propos, I think a lot of people, Celtic Memory included, will be waiting eagerly on July 21 for the issue of the very last book in the Harry Potter series, wondering in an agony of suspense who will win through and who will not survive. What has this to do with Dickens you enquire? Well, when The Old Curiosity Shop was being serialised, copies of the weekly numbers were sent across the Atlantic by ship to the New World, there to be seized upon and read with avidity by Mr. Dickens' American fans who loved the tale of the old grandfather, the terrifying dwarf Quilp, the mischevious Dick Swiveller, and the saintly Little Nell. When it came close to the end of the book, crowds were waiting on the quayside for the final instalment, and as the ship came in, there were huge shouts from shore to ship of, 'Did Little Nell die? What happened?' It's an image that remains very vivid to this day - so many people so eager to find out the denouement of a famous book.

Much as I love them, I hope J. K. Rowling doesn't write any more in the series. She said she would only do six, and that makes them a cohesive whole. Authors have often been tempted out of retirement by huge financial promises, but the result is seldom worth it. There really shouldn't have been a Bridget Jones 2, let alone 3. And yet, and yet... when Arthur Conan Doyle was persuaded to bring Sherlock Holmes back from the dead, he created some of his most exciting adventures thereafter. Maybe it depends on the strength of the character involved.

Goal for this week? Not to make any promises I don't intend to keep.

Summer Knitting Goals? TO REDUCE THAT STASH!

I saw an entertaining contest on Skeins Her Way last week, devised by Ali (you may remember that beautiful fitted tank top she designed for Blue Sky Alpacas?)








Ali was generously offering both yarn and pattern for this to some lucky blogger. All you had to do was post a list of your summer knitting goals on your blog and then link it to hers to be entered in the draw. And you got to organise your knitting life into the bargain - always a tempting thought.


Of course Celtic Memory wasn't organised enough to get it sorted by the closing date (May 31) but the idea got me thinking all the same. And I decided to give some attention to what, if any goals I might have for the long sunny days ahead. What new projects, what stunning patterns, what amazing achievements, that sort of thing. Might not be in for the contest, but could at least make a LIST, right?


Only - it hasn't worked out like that. Oh the glass of wine, the chocolate supply, a tottering pile of knitting books and constantly sliding magazines were all got ready for a bit of armchair knit-dreaming, certainly. But all of a sudden I got up again. Sophy Wackles slid crossly to the floor, Tasha darted out of the way, Muffy blinked, checked that the chocolate hadn't fallen into reach, and went back to sleep. Several copies of Interweave Knits fell sideways and knocked over the pile of books. But I was already halfway down the stairs by that time (I only know what happened by interpreting the thumps and bangs).


I went down to the workshop/utility, also known as The Stash Room. Down here are a great many - a GREAT MANY - large clear plastic storage boxes, stacked on the floor. These storage boxes contain coned yarns. On the shelves are smaller clear plastic boxes with balls of yarn. Mostly they're stored according to colour, but a few have 'oh for heaven's sake where can I fit this, let's just shove it in here' mixed collections. I stood there. I looked around. I saw all the crates and boxes full to bursting point. I saw the pop-up laundry containers which I use for sorting yarns for particular creations, all full. I saw the carrier bags from France, from California, even one from a trip to London last year, all with their own special collections of yarn. I remembered (I tried not to, but it insisted on sticking in my mind and returned with force the more I tried to push it out) that a rather large consignment of new yarn, bought wholesale for dyeing purposes, was due any day. And I thought -



CELTIC MEMORY, YOU HAVE TOO MUCH YARN IN YOUR STASH.


I know, you've had this moment too. I've seen postings, read threads in Knitter's Review Forum. Everybody gets these moments of dreadful clarity when they realise that even if they knitted from now until Tibb's Eve, they would not get through one tenth of the stash. Not even one tenth of the good stuff, the stuff you really really love, and could spend the whole evening fondling. (Let's forget about the disasters, the 'what in heaven's name was I thinking when I bought this' type of yarn. We all have plenty of that. Remember novelty eyelash?)


And while I think of it, do you have yarns that are too good to use? Far too beautiful, far too expensive, far too special to be used for anything as mundane as actually knitting up into something? Daft, isn't it? I mean - isn't that what they're for? But still we hoard them, chuckling as we count them, for all the world like a wretched old miser shivering while he checks his gold. One day, one day, I promise, I will use that cashmere, that alpaca, that silk. One day.


And so here is goal No. 1.



NO MORE YARN. NO! NONE! ABSOLUTELY NOT! NOT A SINGLE BALL!


So heartsick is Celtic Memory at the swathes, the heaps, the piles, the stacks, the overflowing overprovision of yarn in this house, that not one more scrap or inch of the stuff will be purchased, stolen, borrowed or traded for the foreseeable future (foreseeable means about one or two months, doesn't it? Doesn't it? And it doesn't include sock yarn, I think that was agreed by an international summit, wasn't it? And stuff you've ordered before The Enlightenment doesn't count either, does it,? Because you can't send it back. Well you can, but you won't get your money back, I shouldn't think.)


And, closely linked to the foregoing, is goal No. 2:


I WILL REDUCE THE STASH. I WILL, I WILL, I WILL.


To this end, I immediately got started on creating a new Celtic Memory composed yarn. After all, that's what I bought most of those really beautiful unique yarns for in the first place. It took most of the day and involved hauling out so many cones and balls that the whole room looked like a bomb site. (It still does, because when the yarn was finally finished and skeined up, I couldn't face tidying up. Not just yet. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe never.)


This one is called Wild Roses of West Cork, and was inspired by the lovely little pink and white sprays of bloom which can be seen on the hedgerows of every lane and boreen around here at the moment, now that June has arrived. It took absolutely ages to find exactly the right combination of different pinks shading from pale to deepest rose, not to mention the myriad greens you get in the foliage, from emerald to almost-grey. Then there were the dew-spangled cobwebs to incorporate as well, to give the proper effect. By the time it was done to my satisfaction, the Celtic Memory temper was getting frayed and the dogs were yowling for high tea
.



DH obligingly took several pictures of it out in the garden, although it was extraordinarily difficult to get one which showed all the colours accurately.







I tried a close up myself later on, but still couldn't get all those lovely greens to show up as beautifully as they do in real life. Oh well. Best I could do. Listed it on eBay, under Celtic Memory Yarns. There! That's one start on the stash anyway. Next week I think I'll do one in midsummer night colours - those blues and purples you get in the dark sky when the night is short and the light never quite disappears. There are stunning evenings like that in Connemara at this time of year.

And here are goals Nos. 3 and 4.



TO FINISH SOME OF THESE PESKY PROJECTS THAT ARE HANGING AROUND.


and

NOT TO START ANY - ANY - NEW PROJECTS UNTIL GOAL 3 HAS BEEN REALISED.



Because not only am I suddenly disgusted, disheartened, disenchanted by the sheer amount of yarn stashed away in that basement, but I am appalled by the fact that there are so many - SO MANY - WIPs. So no more projects until some of these behind-the-sofa horrors are hauled out into the cold light of day and DEALT WITH.


The Norah Gaughan asymmetrical jacket in charcoal alpaca, for example. That was so far back I can't even recall the issue of Interweave Knits (or was it Vogue?) which had the pattern. But I do remember the excitement, the urge to get going on it right away - oh yes, I do remember that. Got half way up the back, I did... Can anyone remind me of the issue in which it appeared? I know that particular publication had lots of lovely knits in charcoal, all displayed by a stunning grey-haired model. Do let me know if you can remember.


And the Anny Blatt. Anyone remember the Anny Blatt? Heavens above, that one was going before I even started blogging! I was inspired by an AB magazine in France last spring and bought tons of yarns to make this multicoloured little crop jacket with cute three-quarter sleeves that had cunning little slits on the cuffs... I shared the ups and downs of that pesky jacket with you, dear readers, and especially the ghastly moment when I realised (not for the first time and almost certainly not for the last) that any pattern which required you to pick up evenly a terrifying number of stitches all around the edge of the jacket could only end in tears.


Which it did. I tore it from the needles and hurled it into a basket. It stayed there. Until today. When I hauled it out and spread it neatly to be photographed.








Does anyone have a handy hint for sewing up a jacket of many colours? The seams I've done will have to come out - they look like a toddler with a crowbar needle bashed them together with rope. Maybe a neutral fine yarn, light grey or something? Advice would be welcomed here!


I still like the colours a lot. It would be quite a useful addition to the wardrobe, since it would spice up any plain top and trousers. But the neck is far too loose, and the bottom edge is very wide and wavy. It needs firm control. Have I the courage to tackle that 'pick up evenly all around...' again? No. No, no, and no.


Maybe an i-cord? Yes, that's a thought. I could make it on that little French knitting spool thingie which worked so well for the Celtic Vest.


Yes, that CV was something at least which was finished. Mind you, it wouldn't have been if Angeluna hadn't steadfastly nagged me, and I was too scared of her to point blank refuse. (I haven't dared to tell her that the buttons were not in the right positions, and I unpicked the i-cord to sort it out, and it's been lying there since. So not quite an unqualified success after all.)


But I do have one nice little success to report. The Aran Sandal Socks are done! Yes, they really are, and I am very proud of them indeed. Lavold's Silky Wool worked up very well. I think I'll make these again, perhaps in a bamboo blend, which would also show off the stitches effectively.







Thank you Tania for helping me with these in moments of extreme difficulty. The pattern does have a few errors in it, and although most of them become clear with a bit of commonsense, that particular problem with the heel wouldn't have been sorted without your generous help. I owe you! And I have to make them again now, because it would be a bit of a waste not to after learning all that stuff! They'd be rather good in knee-length, wouldn't they?


Now there is the Entrelac Stole in Prism to finish, and then courage will be gathered somehow to approach both Anny Blatt and Norah Gaughan. It has to be done. It will be done.


The only difficulty now is how to incorporate the Summer of Socks KAL into this new stern regime which has been established chez Celtic Memory. Got to take part in that. WANT to take part in that. Can't imagine summer without taking part in that. But - no new projects? Impasse!


But wait a minute - if sock yarn doesn't count, then presumably sock projects don't count either, right? YAY!

Socks Still Rule!

Safely back from France and rushing round catching up on everything. A lovely surprise was waiting:

This was my prize from Sock Madness, and isn't it beautiful? Hillary had wrapped it so perfectly in tissue, and tied it with a ribbon that had the most gorgeous stitch markers slipped on as decoration. A whole sock-sized skein of hand-dyed yarn, and a bar of Trader Joe's dark truffle chocolate. Now aren't they nice people over at Sock Madness? And is it any wonder that all of us who took part in that insane event are suffering Post-Sock Madness-Blues?

Or we were. Until we heard about The Summer of Socks which the ever-helpful Brittany highlighted on the SM Flickr site. The closing date was May 26 - the very day I arrived back from France - and I only just managed to make it before the cut-off. I think a lot of you got in too, right? Nicely timed to get us through at least some of the anguished waiting for SM 2008. I think I've got the button up on this page too - isn't it weird that enjoying such a basic craft as knitting could be the way into uber-technology? It was a case of 'needs must when the devil drives' for most of us, I suspect, but we're all certainly far more techie than we were BB (Before Blogging).

But The Summer of Socks. It's a three-month knit or crochet-along which starts on June 21, the summer solstice, and ends on September 21, the autumn equinox. There aren't too many rules on this one, and definitely nothing like the same pressure as SM. You can just work on your socks and post pictures on the SOS Flickr site as and when, or you can get all competitive and enter for Most Socks Made, or Socks Photographed On Vacation. And your socks can be knitted or crocheted to which I say hooray! Let's get rid of this sockism and knittism and crochetism. We're all as good as each other. I fully intend to crochet a perfectly outrageous pair that I spotted on the Net - let's see if I can find the link.... hang on a moment. BOTHER! Thought I'd saved it! This will mean hours of trawling, I just know it. Anybody out there remember a perfectly outrageous and luridly coloured pair of crocheted kneesocks? Mmmm, thought not. And you wouldn't come out and admit you'd been looking even if you HAD seen them, would you? COWARDS!

Anyway, socks most definitely still rule all summer long, so that's one happy thing. Since the event kicks off on the summer solstice, it should really be a very midsummery sort of pattern and colourway for the first pair, shouldn't it? Leaves, flowers, trees, magical Green Men hiding in treetrunks? Any ideas welcomed. Any ideas that necessitate the immediate ordering of seventeen additional skeins of sock yarn welcomed even more.

Not that a few skeins didn't unaccountably smuggle themselves on board coming back from la belle France of course. Well not so much skeins as balls - or pelotes as they call them there and why not? Finally managed to catch Guichard Laines in Landevant open as we drove north to Roscoff to catch the ferry on Friday.

It really doesn't look that prepossessing from the outside. In fact you'd drive right past if it were not for the magic icon painted on the wall. But inside - O.M.G. with stars!

In most French yarn shops, you see, the yarns are kept behind the counter and you peer, point, have one brought over for you to examine and decide upon. Not the way your average knitter wants to operate really. But here - they're piled up in these boxes, row upon row, all round a pretty large warehouse, with several smaller rooms off as well.

Richard thoughtfully took a picture from this angle too, so you can see what I hadn't discovered yet. Then, even more thoughtfully, he went back out to the car and had a siesta while I babbled and ran about and pulled at things, and hyperventilated, and babbled some more, and - but you know the scenario. (We should all get scenarios like this at regular intervals in our lives.)

Here is a close-up (took it myself, can't you see the shaky hands?) of some tubs of bamboo/cotton, next to some linen/cotton blends. In PROFUSION. And the sock yarn section. Oh my heart beats suffocatingly even now, just thinking of it. (It was in a dark corner, though, so I couldn't get a very good picture - perhaps just as well.)

I did come out with a few pelotes. Well perhaps more than a few. Well...

Here are the sock yarns. Bamboo in lime, turquoise and navy. Scheepjes in a particularly nice blend of blues and greens. A BIG ball of Online Linie 3 Supersocke 100 in soft pinky reds and greys - what a divine pair of winter kneesocks that will make.

And because I'm always on the lookout for unusual yarns to blend into wicked combinations, here are some I couldn't resist. The three on the left are all Katia Gatsby Lux, a beautiful fine weight variegated iridescent yarn which I hadn't seen before.

It was sad to leave France, where we took a last wander in the orchard with Charlotte and the energetic Bounty before leaving.

Charlotte was wearing the most chic little wool cardigan and when I asked, revealed it was from a designer friend in Paris. Thought so! She obligingly modelled it, unrolling the long belled sleeves so I could see them better.

Bounty thought it was nice too.

I hope we'll come back to Le Chene Vert. The setting is so peaceful, in its ancient orchards, you're right on the edge of La Grande Briere where the traditional flat-bottomed boats can still be seen moored amid the marshes,

and at sunset the coastal salt pans (you can buy Sel de Guerande right on the roadside from the man who painstakingly collected it) take on a breathtaking beauty.

Here are a couple of final images from the trip:

A bluethroat singing in La Grande Briere -

The walled city of Vannes, looking much as it must have done in medieval times -

A magnificent green woodpecker -

and a green lane leading to chateau gates which were once flung open as the lord's carriage thundered through, but now drowse locked and dusty in the summer sunshine.

Enough! There are Aran socks to finish, Ouessant fleece to card, that entrelac stole in Prism (STOP that, get a GRIP will you!) to complete. And so many more new ideas to try out. A la prochaine!

Of Dolmens and Chateaux - And A Very Special Sheep

Our last night in France. Tomorrow (Friday) we head north to Roscoff and board the ferry which will deposit us safely back in Cork on Saturday morning. Actually that will be today, since now I look at the time, it is after midnight. We were out late, searching for owls and things on the salt marshes.

Had a wonderful time exploring tiny picturesque villages, discovering ancient dolmens, talking to local people, and taking full advantage of every patisserie we happened upon. Pictures of all of these follow.

But FIRST...

When I shared the delight of the Ouessants with you in the last posting, the lovely Renee emailed me to say that although her charges were very pleased with their publicity, there was one who was not so happy. One who felt she had been Left Out.

Please study this picture closely.

Now you may not have noticed, so I will have to help you a little. One of those at the trough is a little different to the others. Can you spot her? Look again.

Yes. Well done!

This, dear readers, is Esmi.

Esmi is a very loving, very lovable, and utterly charming sheep. (Quiet there at the back. Of course she's a sheep! Who said cow? WHO said pig? Disgraceful! Epouvantable!) Naturally she was hurt when her little dark-fleeced friends got all the attention. I explained (via the good offices of Renee who translated) that I had left her out only to give her special attention, allow her to shine, in another posting, when the rest of the gang would be studiously ignored.

What's that? Oh the breed. Well, Renee is the expert here -

Esmi is now reassured her true worth has been recognised. :-) As for breeds I don't think we'll ever know for sure; originally she was a raffle prize! She was sold to me as a Texel cross ; however the farmer next door was convinced she was Avranchine but I don't think so. A lady came out to visit a few weeks back who knows her sheep and felt there was some Berrichon in there which looking at the books is probably right. I just know she is a wonderful gentle sheep who loves nothing more than a head scratch.

There. Now don't you think she's lovely too? Good girl, Esmi. Miss Brittany Fleece 2007!

I thought you might like to see the place we could have stayed if we wanted to.

This is the Chateau de la Bretesche, a hundred yards or so down the road from Le Chene Vert where we are still contentedly ensconced. The gigantic park round the back is currently being used as a golf course, one understands, which attracts the well-heeled. But we didn't want all that bother of toiling up winding stairs every night, so we settled for good old farmhouse style instead.

The Ile de Fedrun is a glorious little isolated island area out in the salt marshes where the cottages are as cute as all hell and probably sell for prices in direct inverse proportion to their size. Thatched, painted, shuttered - wouldn't you kill for one of these?

In fact we were fortunate enough to meet up with a genuine thatcher, hard at work on one of the old cottages. He was using reeds, beautifully tied in angled bundles so that the rain would run off in just the right way.

He told us that most of the reeds he uses don't come from round here but from the Camargue in Provence.

Finding a little place open in the middle of nowhere mid-afternoon, we stopped for some restorative cafe creme, and the owner was delighted to see my Aran Sandal Socks in progress. In fact he sat down and told us all about his grandmother who used to knit socks too.

"But she did not knit them like this - on this one long needle. No, she used four or five little ones, I remember, although I was young. I remember too that if she put the needles on the table, we little ones would run off with them, so she would stick them in her chignon. And then she would not remember where her needles were and would say, 'Find them. I cannot knit my stockings without my needles!'

(Oh and since we're on the subject, no luck on the Landevant yarn treasure store yet. Went all the way up there on Monday only to find that the old French tradition still held sway. Shut frequently shut often, shut as often as you can possibly get away with. 'Ferme le Lundi' was the cheerful note on the door. A surprising number of yarn shops in France shut on a Monday. It isn't at all clear why. It's not as if they opened on a Sunday or anything - or even on a Saturday for that matter. Do Frenchwomen never feel the urge to possess a new yarn at the start of the week? Is there a regulation against it? Would it spoil some vast eternal PLAN? Anyway, it is on the schedule for our trip north tomorrow. Will come back to you on this one. Celtic Memory never gives up.

Some of the most wonderful things you discover in this ancient part of Brittany are the dolmens and menhirs - those awe-inspiring stone reminders of an older time when people knew of worlds and ways that we have long forgotten.

This is the Fuseau de la Madeleine, standing vast and immovable in a grassy meadow. A fuseau, I think, is a weaving shuttle, which is a nice link, isn't it? But the interesting bit is that it is right next to a very serious site of pilgrimage - a Calvaire with a huge parking site, cafes, everything, and all determinedly linked to a more modern religion. Is that entirely coincidence? This isn't the first time I've come across an ancient site with a newer one either plonked on top, or right next door. If you can't beat 'em, the emissaries of Rome must have thought, better try and deflect 'em sideways...

And this spectacular site is the Dolmen de la Barbiere. It's on the top of a little hill, surrounded by trees, and the power of the place hits you in the solar plexus as you enter the central hollow. An amazing echo from the past.

Alors, nous sommes en Bretagne!

And in fact this whole Blogger dashboard is in French so I'm having to brush up my technical jargon to make sure I put the right bit in the right place. But it's still called 'le Blog' which is fun, although I imagine the French language purists are fuming!

Sailed down the River Lee and out into Cork Harbour on Saturday afternoon, past Cobh and its Cathedral.

There is a traditional currach rowing past - you can just see it. These are the lightweight boats that were used on the offshore islands, and they feature in a big Ocean to City Race in June here. It's a surprisingly long way up from the mouth of Cork Harbour to the city quays, I can tell you, and the rowers are exhausted when they get there, necessitating revival with whiskey and hot sausages (herbal tea and virtuous green salads don't cut it with rowers who've done that distance).

I have a nice family connection with Cobh Cathedral: my maternal grandfather had gone over to Boston to get set up in business and make a home for his fiancee (my grandmother, Josephine, after whom I am named) to follow; she, however, having a cold in the head or something when getting ready to board the liner at Cobh, was refused passage. They were paranoid in the early 1900s about illness on board apparently. In a frantic state (well wouldn't you be?) she telegraphed her husband-to-be and he immediately dropped everything and came back on the next possible boat. They were married in Cobh Cathedral which was barely finished at that time - I think they were one of the first couples to wed there. And after all, my grandfather decided they would stay in Ireland and make their living there. Which they did. And which is why I am Irish, although the wanderlust has been inherited.

The Brittany Ferries flagship, the Pont Aven, was as splendid as ever for a ferry, and dinner was the usual sumptuous experience.

Oh help, 'envoyer une image'. Does that mean upload or download? Have to click and see. Whew, it's the right one!

As you can see, we got in fairly early, because of the gales forecast. It filled up pretty quickly after Richard took this picture.

Ajouter encore une image. Choose another image (I think).

Yes. Richard also got a shot of some of the desserts before they were brutally invaded and pillaged by eager diners. You would love this boat (some of you may have tried it already and know what I'm talking about). Dozens of divine French waiters, the sea sliding by in the sunset, and France ahead of you. This has got to be the most relaxing way to get anywhere. Forget airports. This way, the journey is half the fun.

Arrived at 7 am local time and headed straight for Plancoet where Renee was waiting to (a) eagerly receive her best Cork bacon, and (b) proudly show off her little flock of Ouessants. No more delay, I know you're dying to see these little rarities.

They're so friendly and approachable. Most unlike the Soays at Gougane Barra which can't even be corralled. That's what comes of being hand-reared, I imagine. In fact these did most of the approaching -

This is one of the two rams, as friendly a little fellow as you could wish.

Now Renee will have to forgive me, but I have unaccountably forgotten whether this is Gary or Dumpling (I know, I know, she's going to change his name before he's sold on). I think it's Gary. Want a close-up? Of course you do.

And here - here - is my fleece at the still-growing, pre-carding stage.

And again, please forgive me, Renee, blame it on the travel weariness. I just can't remember this lovely lady's name. Titbit? Priscilla? I promise I will check and bring you all the essential details later. Right then, it was a case of rounding-up and bringing in for shearing.

Now I really really love the way Renee shears her Ouessants. None of that flinging them on their backs and slashing off the fleece from a terrified animal in a few minutes. No, she works slowly and calmly from front to back with a dog fur clippers. Yes it's slow, but look at Titbit or whoever it is - does she look stressed? Not a bit of it. She was worrying slightly about her twin lambs, but we checked on them and they were having a high old time in the meadow with their friends.

I have never been at a shearing with less animal stress and that's all due to Renee. I should tell you she runs this marvellous dog and cat facility here in Brittany, where people from all over the world who want to take their pets to the UK but can't bear the thought of the impersonal quarantine kennels, can leave their beloved charges for the requisite time, knowing they are being cared for beautifully and welcome to be visited too. Renee does all the paperwork, the animal passports, the lot, and her business is prospering, because after all who would willingly put a cherished pet into a frightening anonymous quarantine prison for six months? And as regards the shearing, yes, she says, it takes a heck of a long time (and plays havoc with your bent back) but in a 'normal' shearing, the poor animal thinks it's going to be killed, and although it isn't, that's not an experience she thinks it ought to go through. Right on Renee. We're behind you on this one. OK, so it wouldn't be practical for a huge flock of sheep, but it's lovely to see it done here. She might shear another tomorrow, another the next day, and so on.

And here is the fleece, still warm from its previous wearer, being safely tucked away. I'm going to spin this and send a hank of yarn to Renee and her lovely welcoming mother, Sheila, who knits. Now she can make an Ouessant weskit for the winter!

Down in Southern Brittany now - actually I think we're slightly over the border in Loire Atlantique - at Le Chene Vert on the outskirts of the village of Missillac. This place is a find.

It's an old farmhouse set in rambling old gardens festooned with climbing roses, and with huge trees encircling its peace and quietude. We're in a lovely old loft, reached by its own outside staircase, with our own tiny kitchen and bathroom ensuite. Birds are singing, and there are owls calling at night we are assured (no sleep for Richard if there are!) You have to come here. I'm so pleased I found them on the Internet. Heaven bless the Internet!

Struggling with the Aran Sandal Socks (have just sent a frantic message to Tania who is the expert in this field, for help.) There is a very complicated pattern on the sock which continues on to the heel flap, with weird twisty bits on every row, but since the heel is worked back and forth rather than in the round, I have to somehow reverse the instructions. And it is doing my head in. Tania, HELP!

It is raining right now, which is a perfect excuse to go and do a little French shopping. To Landevant and that fell-off-le-back-d'un-lorry yarn shop! I will return!

Fair Sets The Wind For France

Brief posting as we head for the car ferry to France. This has got to be the most relaxing way to travel these days, given the hassle of airports. And with Brittany Ferries, you get the divine experience of on-board dining too. The only ferry I can think of where you feel you really should dress for dinner! Pity there's a gale forecast...

Only a short break, just to brush up on the culture of baguette breakfasts, long and relaxed evenings over the dinner table, country markets, wine, Calvados - and of course yarn. Will definitely be taking in Landevant, in Southern Brittany, where they don't bother with a tidy display, just tumble boxes of oddments and leftovers and remainders and fell-off-the-back-of-a-camion yarns for your delectation.

And I have a rendezvous tomorrow morning at a secret location where Ouessant sheep are bred. These are the rare little gremlins that look more like tiny sooty footballs than sheep, and I am very very eager to make their acquaintance. Their owner has indicated that a fleece might just exchange hands if Irish bacon were in the offing. Two vacuum packs in a cool bag with freezer brick, ready to go!

But what am I bringing? Yes, that was foremost in my mind the last week or two. The Aran Sandal Socks of course (thanks for the warning on the pattern error, Tania, how lovely to hear from you, how ARE you, oh do let's meet up again soon? I couldn't find what the error was - for some reason the page was closed to me on the Net, maybe I didn't have the necessary pass or something, but I've been able to work it out I think - after all the mirror cable has to go in the centre, right? and that only leaves so many stitches either side, so I'll wing it); and the new love of my life, the entrelac stole in Prism (thunk, clunk, as more ill-advised yarners look up the price). That's from Shawls, Stoles and Scarves, or whatever, you know the book, and I can't get the editor right now, as the book is safely packed in the car and DH won't let me pull everything out again. I have a crib sheet for the socks and stole in my cabin bag.

Dez, thanks for the hint on eking out the Prism (no, STOP it, all of you, get a grip, why do you LOOK it up if it upsets you so much?) from my own stash. I had a lot of fun rummaging around with the precious ball in my hand, checking this, eyeing that.

This is what I finally came up with (lucky we're travelling by car and not by plane, isn't it?)

Centre front the work in progress (difficult to spread it out, as it's one of those knit-a-bit-and-then-another-section things). Behind it, the actual ball of Prism. Ranged all around, various eyelashes, glitzes, shinies, ladders and ribbons. Some of them may look a bit out of place, but believe me, there are ALL KINDS in that Prism, and some very unexpected colours which you would think wouldn't DO at all, but when knitted in, create the most amazing effects.

Again thanks for the hint, Dez. I had a lot of fun doing that (you knew I would, didn't you?)

So, one pair of socks, one stole. You think that's enough for seven days in all, including a 17 hour ferry journey each way? You think I need more? The Sea Wool which I was going to use for Mad Undersea Dance? The Pomotamus in that rather fine sugar pink fingering? The Noro dolman sleeve? Oh heck, twenty minutes to off. Better think fast.

I really really will try to post en route, but France isn't that wild about the Internet as yet, so it will have to be a lucky chance. Otherwise, look for me next Saturday evening, once I've collected the dogs and put the Calvados somewhere safe.

A bientot. Soyez bien!

Severe Case Of Start-itis Threatens!

It might well be a nervous reaction to the strictures of Sock Madness. A wild urge to throw caution to the winds, live life to the full, sample the joys of unrestricted pleasure. Whatever. Not only has nothing been finished in the knitting line in the last week or so, several have been started and every day brings several more. It might help if I didn't sweep a dozen books from the knitting shelves each night and bring them up to bed with me to peruse. It might also help if I didn't go prowling round the stash, pulling out yarns, rediscovering treasures, sitting down on a heap of unironed laundry and going off into dreams of yet another incredible creation.

Incredible is right.

I do recognise the symptoms of start-itis. I'm a big girl and I know the risks. I shouldn't play with fire, walk too close to the edge, tempt Fate. But then, would it really be a huge consolation to sit up on my deathbed and think smugly, 'Well I was sensible at least. I have tidied away neatly every single project I ever started.'? No, I didn't think so either.

Forget it. Let's return to that painful topic later. To happier matters. The arrival of Denise in Ireland, with husband Charlie. Isn't it wonderful when you meet up with a fellow blogger, someone with whom you've exchanged so many confidences over the Net? Denise and Charlie are an adorable couple. We had dinner together at the Spaniard in Kinsale, wandered around Killarney, had coffee at that old thatched tearoom.

Yes, that is none other than Muffy the Yarnslayer in the foreground, very properly refusing to acknowledge the camera. She got on fine with Denise, though, even allowing a modicum of cuddling, since Denise is a dog lover herself, and rather missing Toby on this trip.

We were even lucky enough to spot the elusive and very wary native red deer as we drove through the Killarney woods, and Richard was out of the car with a 500mm lens before you could say, 'Look!

These are really very shy creatures and have only to catch a glimpse of you to fade away swiftly into the woodland shadows, so we were lucky indeed.

By now Charlie and Denise are, I hope travelling on the Dingle Peninsula. I wish them grey skies and wild winds. Yes, really, because that scenery looks its best in wild weather. Maybe we'll meet up again before they have to leave Ireland - I hope so. We talked and laughed so much that we actually didn't have any time to discuss knitting or spinning, if you can believe that!

OK, it can't be put off any longer. Let's face the facts and examine this Start-itis bug with a detached professionalism.

Item: One pair of Aran Sandal Socks, from the lively publication Socks, Socks, Socks, edited by Elaine Rowley. I'm using Silky Wool, Elsebeth Lavold. It's OK, Angeluna, the yarn seems to have plenty of bounce and spring in it, the knitting doesn't flop at all.

These are very nice indeed. The pattern isn't difficult as such (no purling 5 together or trying to do a 12 st cable), but you do need to concentrate, since there are several different stitch combinations within the overall round, and while most of them take only 4 or 6 rounds to complete, one has 22 rounds in it, which means, in effect, take one glance at the TV and you're dead. Haven't got very far with them yet - ten rounds on Sock 1 and four on Sock 2 - and have had to resort to typing out the basic instructions on a separate sheet since they're all over the place in the book (i.e. you are told, 'work 5 sts in Patt. A, k1 tbl, work 6 in Patt. b, k1tbl, p1, work 8 in Patt C...' and so on) and you have to keep referring back and forth between the sequence and the actual instructions for each pattern. Add to this the maddening propensity of the said Socks book to slam shut if not weighted down, and the difficulty of seeing the fine print on a flat table at some distance, and you see the need for a crib sheet.

When oh WHEN will someone invent a really workable gizmo for reading a pattern (or a racy novel for that matter) while knitting? Have seen them all and none of them work properly. Especially not the novel-reading ones, since by the time I've fitted the little whatsits in place to hold the book open at one page, I've already finished reading that page, and want to move on.

But I digress. Back to the cold-eyed examination of the facts.

Item. One pair of toe-up socks with mini cables, in Panda Cotton. Highlighted in earlier posting, no further on. Reason? Bored. Saw something more interesting. Sorry, that reason is unacceptable. Well, how about, 'at an interesting stage of progression, having reached a point where more time than is presently available is required to continue.'? Well... ok, but get back to them, all right? Yes miss. Promise.

Item. Dramatic wrap in Noro Silk Garden Lite. This one is entirely YOUR fault, Angeluna. You showed me the pattern, I was instantly smitten.

Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately), Noro Silk Garden Lite is not instantly available pres de Celtic Memory. Or even tres loin de CM, come to that. So it's on the waiting list.

Item. A new Celtic Memory yarn. Angeluna suggested that since NSGL was not available p de CM, one should try designing one's own colour-shaded yarn, using all that stash that is just SITTING AROUND, doing NOTHING. Absolutely valid point. Laughed the idea to scorn, retired to bed, couldn't sleep for thinking about it. Several hours already spent pulling stash all over the place and turning stash room into something closely resembling Calcutta Central Station. The case continues...

Item. Entrelac stole in Prism Cool Stuff (sound of thumps as several people faint). Now I know, I know, we're talking oil sheiks and serious money here, but it so happens I have some Prism Cool Stuff in the house. (And the dogs are guarding the gates so don't even think about it.)

What's more, I have exactly this colourway - Periwinkle. How fortuitous is that?

(Actually the pattern calls for three skeins of Prism Cool Stuff - cue for more fainting fits. Yes, that does mean the combined annual wage of several Bohemian herdsmen or the life savings of one Goan fisherman who struck lucky with the tiger prawns. But I have just two skeins, and they're going to have to do. Unless I happen to meet a Swiss banker within the next week or two. I'll make it shorter or something.)

I really can't wait to get going on this one. Haven't tried entrelac before but wanting this stole with all my heart should help with any problems encountered en route. Starting it the MINUTE I finish this posting.

Item. Dolman jacket in Noro Silk Garden, from that famed Fall 2003 issue of Knitter's. Aired in a previous posting, eagerly enquired after by several readers. Er, well - yes, it's still there, got the back done, started the endless ribbing band... and there it sits. It just - well, it just doesn't look quite as interesting as it did. Do you ever have that experience? What was once to-die-for is now to-yawn-for. Sad. Maybe later.

Item. Ribwarmer from the legendary Elizabeth Zimmermann. Peg, dearest Peg, you and you alone are entirely to blame for this one! You deliberately bought a copy of EZ's classic Knitting Workshop and sent it to me as a generous gift!

Deny it if you can! You knew I would go through it immediately. You knew I would be entranced by the cunning design of that Ribwarmer. You knew I'd want to start it immediately. Oh the blame lies most definitely on Vancouver Island for this one. What do you mean, I should have had more self control? I defy anyone to exercise self control when Elizabeth Zimmermann starts to speak of the delights of one of her designs.

Of the languishing WIPs of other days we will not speak. The past week has been bad enough in terms of Start-itis. What is the cure? Is a cure needed? Is there a branch of Starters Anonymous nearby? Do I care?