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?

City of Spires And Domes - And Yarn!

Gosh Prague is gorgeous! It's the most enchanting place of tiny twisting cobbled streets, spires reaching skywards, a huddle of red roofs slipping down from the hill where the imposing St. Vitus Cathedral and the castle lord it over the town.



The Vltava sweeps majestically through the city, crossed by so many beautiful bridges. Charles Bridge is incredible and at this time of year it's misty and cold and not so jam packed as in high summer. Being pedestrianised, you can take your time and stop to wonder at the different vistas unfolding on both banks. I think my favourite time of all on Charles Bridge is dusk when the town is lighting up and people are silhouetted against the darkening sky.



We stayed in Mala Strane, the older part of town below the castle,in the medieval Golden Wheel, which has to be the best example of restoration and updating I have ever seen. Yes you had ultra-luxurious bathrooms, a lift, underfloor heating - but also the solidly thick stone walls, narrow staircases, original window mullions - full marks for whoever designed that bit of modernisation. We even had an original painted ceiling in our room, which the Glitz socks (they came along for the fun of the trip) enjoyed very much.



Incidentally, I like the way that Glitz yarn has concentrated there into a bright little lake of violet. I think it adds huge charm to the socks. I prefer that they don't stay in boringly organised stripes all the time. I must admit, though, within the secrecy of this weblog, that Glitz yarn, while unquestionably divine in the inventiveness of its colourways, is not (whisper it) actually the most comfortable of fibres to wear on one's feet. After going down to breakfast and back in these, I changed them for black woolly kneesocks. Pity. Look beautiful, feel not so good. Maybe it's the strand of glitter yarn in them. They're definitely not the socks for pounding over cobbles all day.

And there are plenty of cobbles in Prague. Mind you, when you get exhausted, there are many many compensations and temptations beckoning...



Not to mention the gloriously cosy little restaurants spilling their light out on to the pavement as dusk gives way to night. Rabbit roasted with rosemary, pork fillet with cheese and cranberries - oh yes, Angeluna, dumplings too, aplenty! - this Bohemian food is ribsticking and thoroughly satisfying in freezing winter weather. It didn't quite snow when we were there, but it had and it will. I'd love to see the city feathered in icy whiteness.

The shops are a constant temptation. I so wanted this marionette...



...but it certainly wasn't inexpensive and anyway I'd bought a glorious witch marionette a year or so ago when we were down in southern Bohemia (well I think it sounds nicer and more romantic than Czech Republic! And it's so Prisoner of Zenda too.)

All right, all right, to the serious part of the trip. I checked out two small yarn shops that All Tangled Up had mentioned on her weblog, but I agree with her: they really weren't up to anything - just a few balls on the side amongst far more in the way of ladies' underwear and woolly hats and things. But we did find Mar Len and that was rather good.



Most of the middle of the floor was taken up with bolts of fabric, but around the edges were shelves of yarn balls, plus lots of cones standing on the floor. I have to say these aren't particularly cheap - mostly about what I'd have to pay in the UK or Ireland for a cone when I am lucky enough to find it - but they were definitely different.

What I noticed here - and please contribute anyone else who's been to the Czech Republic - was that many of the types on offer in ball form were actually combinations of several different finer ones. A fine tape, a strand of glitter, two or three fingering weight wools in different shades, all wound into one thick strand with a knot at the end to stop it going all over the place. It made some superb colour blends with very happy effects, but once I'd sussed that, I started hunting through the cones again (many of which were out of sight, out of mind, pushed against the wall underneath the shelves, behind bags of ball yarns) to see if I could find the component parts. Had some good luck.



And here they are (or at least those from my first raid on Mar Len - what do you think, of course I went back the next day before we flew out, once I'd had a night to lie awake and think about those cones), sitting on the window of our room. You can see the steep street outside, and a little brightly-lit shop.



On the left is a cone of very fine glitter in silver and green, with a silver tape next to it. In front are two balls of a fine red tape. On the right are four balls of the blend type I was telling you about. You can see from the strand in front that there are at least four separate threads in there and in fact I think there are some very fine ones too - about six in all. Why did I buy four? Well, I thought I'd make a vest in them while studying their construction.

The best thing is that I got some very good ideas for new designer yarns while I was at Mar Len. But it did get me wondering - just who exactly is spinning fibre these days? I know that several yarn houses simply import fancy types from somewhere like Turkey and put their own labels on; and indeed we have one Irish company particularly culpable in this respect. Is Mar Len not a spinning factory as I had been led to believe, but somewhere that blends yarns from elsewhere into new combinations? That's OK I suppose as long as we know. I did notice that most if not all of the cones came originally from Italy, whether their contents did or not. And surely they spin yarn in Italy? They certainly do in France, at that wonderful place down in Orange - I can't remember the name. Oh yes I do - Pierre Loye et Cie - they make (genuflect) Anny Blatt and Bouton d'Or. You can see the transit from sheep to yarn through dye to cone there. Anybody got any contacts at Italian factories? I'm looking up flights...

And I got DH to take a couple of special images just and only for you.



This spinning one was on a gate at St. Vitus Cathedral. I imagine it's modern work but what a delight to see craftsmen still making things like this.



And this was a tiny clay doll in a glass case in a museum of toys. See the ball of wool at her feet and the miniscule needles?

Oh Prague was lovely and we had a marvellous time. A two hour delay at the airport on the way back, and a frighteningly bumpy ride (no sympathy, I imagine, from those of you in the UK suffering blocked roads and closed airports due to the snow at the moment - keep warm girls) didn't diminish its utter charm. I'm going back soon. In the meantime, I'm going to try a few new designer blends of yarn. Heaven knows I have enough to work with!

Update On The Celtic Vest

I really have been working on this because Angeluna ordered me to. Jan, I'm so sorry I haven't given you an update on the Travelling Cables but it's because I wanted to get the back of the Celtic Vest out of the way at least. I promise that once the back of the CV is cast off, I'll get back to where I left the TCC and get the back of that done too. Here's the Celtic Vest back almost done.



You can't see much of the detail because I took this one myself (and yes, those pics from Kerry yesterday were mine too - you can tell because they're not as clear, as focused, as composed as when the professional aka DH takes them) but at least you can see that I'm nearly there.

I would have been there and working on the Travelling Cables by now, except for two things: firstly the imminent short trip to Prague tomorrow; and secondly, that beautiful skein of Misti Alpaca Chunky sent to me by the divine Rachel H in Toronto. How are these linked, you enquire? Well, apparently it's snowing in Prague and very very cold right now, so winter woollies are in order. And I got the sudden idea this afternoon (yes, even while working busily away on the Celtic Vest - don't you find that you get the most tempting ideas about new exciting projects when you're dutifully slaving away at one of the many current ones?) to make myself a Celtic headband in the alpaca, the better to keep my ears warm in old Bohemia while hunting out yarn shops. Found my favourite braided pattern and dashed away at it forthwith on the absolutely totally favourite needles, the Colonial Rosewoods.



This was it a couple of hours ago. Yes, DH took this one. He managed to get the detail to show up beautifully by dint of using two angled flashes, one of them bounced off the ceiling (don't ask, I don't understand these things, I just stand there holding the slave flash and being grateful). The headband is now finished and snuggled round my head. I might just wear it to bed it's so beautifully cosy.

I must have more Misti Alpaca Chunky. Do you know, I don't even know what colours it comes in other than black (yes, honestly, that is black up there, look you couldn't have both the pattern and the correct colour, wouldn't you rather see the design? I would). I can't live without Misti Alpaca Chunky. Any of you living close to a community of Misti Alpaca Chunkies, kidnap some for me, give them their return fare to West Cork, and you can have ANYTHING from my stash. Or maybe I'll just go over to Toronto and hang out with Rachel H and the gang at one of their SnB nights. That would be fun. And I know they have Misti Alpaca Chunky (got the name yet?) at Lettuce Knit there.

The colourway of that Colinette I bought yesterday in Kenmare, by the way, was Jay. I found when I got home that I'd bought a skein of Colinette's Jitterbug sock yarn in exactly the same colourway when I was in Loop on my last London visit. Guess I like the colours. Maybe I should mix them?

Which reminds me (the London trip, that is, not the colourway). Any of you fellow-webloggers in the UK, in case you didn't know, that marvellous old mill in Bradford, Texere Yarns, is holding an open weekend at the beginning of March. I'm going over on Sunday March 4 just for the day (it's the only day I can get there and back in one). Any of you going down (or up) to Bradford? This is the most amazing place, enormous, echoing, crammed with memories of Yorkshire's great woollen days, and chock full of treasures hidden away in the dark at the back of shelves behind ordinary yarns, or at the very bottom of huge deep cardboard boxes. Last time I went there I crammed both my rucksack and DH's with cone upon cone of rare and unusual yarns. This time I'm going alone, and the airlines are reducing the weight of hand luggage every time I look, so I'll have to be careful (that, and wear a coat with big deep pockets).

In the meantime, I'm off to Prague tomorrow afternoon until Wednesday night. I have some good pointers to yarn shops; and otherwise will concentrate on the hot chocolate, the rib-sticking food, and watching the snow fall on the Vltava from Charles Bridge. Oh and the Bohemian beer. Promise I'll bring back lots and lots of pictures for you. Be good until then.

Yo! There's A New LYS In The Far West!

Oh what a wonderful day it's been. It was a clear cold morning and the air was fresh and beckoning, so I decided it was a perfect Saturday for a bit of missionary work. I take my duties very seriously, and whenever the time is available (and sometimes when it isn't) I am to be found out and about in the far reaches of Cork and Kerry, instructing the native population seriously yet kindly on the importance of turning their faces to the light and experiencing the great joy that comes from accepting yarn into their lives.

It can be uphill work here in Ireland. These people have been hurt before. The older ones among them may well have spent cruelly hard childhoods working away on Aran sweaters destined for big posh shops, or fashioning pair after pair of XXL socks in hairy harsh wool for the menfolk of their families. When they got older and slightly better off, they vowed never to touch knitting needles again, and often didn't teach their children either.

My allotted task is to open their eyes to the joy that cometh in the morning (and the afternoon and the evening) to those who willingly embrace the delights of a newer, softer knitting world. A world where colour and texture and buttery softness are not strangers.

Put more succinctly, this means marching into big tourist shop after big tourist shop, surveying the racks and piles and heaps and mountains and pyramids of knitted garments and saying in a loud clear voice, 'Don't you have any yarn?' This is usually met with puzzled stares. I then substitute 'wool' for 'yarn' and faces clear. Not for long, though. 'No, no, there's no call for that sort of thing these days.' I enquire how it then is that they manage to get hold of the finished garments. Somebody somewhere must be obtaining the forbidden fibre surely? They don't know, sure don't the sweaters come in all finished, and they're a great bargain if you want one.

No, I don't want one. I don't even want yarn (well I always want yarn but I have to admit when it comes to Aran weight bainin, I don't actually need any at the moment). I just want an opening into which I can put my practised spiel. About have they any idea how big knitting is in the rest of the world these days? Do they realise how many Americans and Australians and Canadians and English will be pouring into Ireland from Easter onwards, all searching for real Irish yarn? About how good it would be for business if they actually thought about stocking some? And while they're at it, some patterns and needles as well, so visitors can get started right away? Sometimes you get a nod and a 'you have a point all right,' but mostly it's back to the blank stare.

So I was in zealous form as I drove into the little Kerry coastal town of Kenmare this morning. I had another reason for being there: Deb from The Irish Ewe in Maine loves Kenmare deeply and I wanted to say hallo to it for her (and incidentally call into Jam on the main street for one of their delectable scones with jam and cream). Pangs of hunger assuaged, I sallied forth renewed to do battle.



See that nice sign down the street? 'Twould fool you, wouldn't it? You'd think, 'Ooh, goody, yarn,' and head straight for it. I know these people at the Kerry Wool Market of old, and made my way there with firm step, rehearsing my arguments in my head as I went. Oh the missionary zeal is wonderful when it's in full flow. In the door I went, gathering my breath as I went for the opening gambit.



Oh.

Well I'll be...

A whole basket of skeins, straight from my old friends at the Kerry Woollen Mill (no, no relation to the shop: when you deal in wool and live in Kerry the naming options are limited). 200g skeins at €7.95 which isn't bad.

'So how long have you had this in, then?'

'Oh a month or two. We thought it might be nice for the visitors. They're starting to ask for it a lot, actually.'

Well, who cares why they finally took the decision, the thing is they have yarn. Genuine Irish yarn, spun in Kerry. And in colours too. It took the wind out of my sails a bit, I'll admit, but I nevertheless pushed home a few minor homilies on the importance of building on your base by stocking patterns and needles as well. I took a look around the shop, to see if there were any new ideas I could pick up.



Nope, that was the only stock of yarn, that one basket (those are rolled up mohair scarves there in the background, not cones, keep calm). Still it was definitely a start.

I wish you could have been there this morning with me, pottering along the quiet street of Kenmare and enjoying a knitting gossip in the bright cold sunshine. The air was like champagne. I was wandering back to the car when suddenly -



This sign, pointing into a side alley, stopped me dead in my tracks.

It couldn't be!

Now those of you who have seventeen yarn shops within a five minute stroll may not understand the magnitude of this serendipitous (look it up, girl, look it up) discovery. This is Ireland, for heaven's sake. Not only Ireland but Kerry. Not only Kerry but the tiny town of Kenmare! I had already found bainin in a knitwear store, where hitherto no bainin had been - was I now to find even more unexpected riches? I didn't wait to think further, but positively dived down that alley.



Look at that. Isn't it adorable? It reminds me for all the world of Loop in Islington, except here there was nothing but the echo of gentle footfalls in the street beyond instead of the roar of London traffic. I pushed open the door and went in.

Come on, you can come too. Isn't this exciting? A whole new LYS!



Omigod, do you see what I see? Smack right there in the middle of the shop?

COLINETTE!!!

I was on my knees, babbling, hauling, stroking, hallucinating for five minutes before I thought to introduce myself in civil fashion to the charming lady behind the counter. It turns out that Jo and Jean are both accountants as well as passionate knitters, and since they couldn't find the yarns they yearned for, took the amazingly sensible step of opening their own shop in the town. And Jo is originally from Welshpool in Wales, and has known Colinette since its beginnings, so that's why they have this rarest of delights right here in Kenmare.

Oh I did have a nice couple of hours. I talked to that lovely elderly lady in the picture above - her name is Bridie O'Shea, and she told me that she learned to knit as a toddler using - wait for it - six inch nails! No, truly.



'My sister promised me that the next time she came home to the farm she'd bring me needles and some wool but I wasn't going to wait. I just got a couple of those big nails and a bit of wool from my mother's bag and I taught myself!'

Since then, she says, she's never stopped knitting, and has found it a way of coping with sadness and bereavement as well as providing warm family clothing. 'It's a great skill to have, and I wish all the young ones would learn it.'

Of course I bought several skeins of Colinette Point 5 - that's the thick and thin homespun one - and headed off feeling like it had been a very very good morning indeed. I took another route back, via Moll's Gap and Killarney, because it was such a stunning day.



There was a mist on the hills and the countryside is still rather brown after the winter, but in no time at all it will be greening up again. It will be beautiful when you come back in May, Deb!



And here's the road just going into the pass at Moll's Gap. Not too much traffic as you can see.

When I got home, and thought of photographing the Colinette for you, I found that the first spring primroses were opening their little pale yellow faces to the afternoon sun. What a perfect end to the day.

May I Introduce A New Knitting Technique?

Well that got you interested anyway. Perhaps I should be more specific. It's not so much a new knitting technique as - oh well, here's when you might need it.

I was working away on the new love of my life, the classic simple cabled polo sweater in that gorgeous silk/cashmere yarn. Worked out the right sizing at last, after so many froggings I lost count. Worked up a good couple of inches and was all ready to take a proud picture so I could show it to you on my weblog.

Then I saw it. I blinked. Just a trick of the light. Look again. No, maybe it's just a thread that's got pulled out of shape a little. Tug it and it'll be OK.

No it isn't.

I couldn't have.

Did I?

I mean - how difficult is a pattern of k 4, p 1, cable 4, pi, k 4, p1, cable 4... etc. etc. etc. all along the row? You could do it in your sleep.

Which might have been what I was doing. It was late at night after all.

Let's show you the picture. I know my limits: I got DH to take this one up close with a macro lens.



You might have to put on your reading glasses and look closely - but can you see, about two rows above the twist of the cable - a PURL stitch where no purl should be? And not just once, but twice. On both cable panels. (In fact it's on a third one too, but in the interests of close detail you can't see that one.)

Somewhere along the happy-go-lucky knitting line I must have got a k3, p1 into my head instead of k4. Half of a row was wrong. And it wasn't the most recent row, but at least ten rows back.

So what would you have done?

I know, I know the Three Great Options. Like everyone else, I discovered them myself over the years. I went for Option Two, which involves a good reading light (preferably with a daylight bulb), a fine crochet hook, and a great deal of patience.

It's an irritating enough job, frogging just one stitch back down row after row, but it's made even more maddening when it's a fibre that tends to catch charmingly on every neighbouring stitch, necessitating much tugging and cursing under the breath. When you multiply that by several stitches, it gets a mite stressful. Break for half a packet of chocolate biscuits. Return to the fray (and fraying yarns, fraying nerves too). Get another one out, down, back up, on the needle again. On to the next one. How many stitches did I get wrong for heaven's sake? Oh great, now several more perfectly good stitches in line have decided to leap off the needle in sympathy (or in response to my furious tug at yet another tangled-up stitch). Back to the chocolate biscuits. No, you can't have one, Muffy. And for pity's sake stop eyeing that silk/cashmere.

I began to get that dangerous pulsing sensation in my fingers. You know the feeling - when your hands seem to be taking on a life of their own and starting to work up to a break out. It's a very dangerous stage. If you don't catch it in time, your hands, all by themselves, will actually grab the knitting and pull it in two directions at once. They will then wrench the needle (all right, or needles, don't be so pedantic) out of the knitted fabric and hurl them across the room. Finally, after a refreshing session of swearing and marmalising (sorry, I can't find an English translation for 'strachadh' which means to shred into flitters, only more so), those hands cast the wretched fragments on the ground, so that the feet (preferably encased in bovver boots) can take over and grind the memory into perdition.

This (and now, thanking you for your patience, we have come to the new technique at last) is known as

Tantrum Frogging

Now such a concept may be a little nouveau, a little outre (oh yes, the French always have a word for it) for those of you who are in the habit of taking a gentle little trip to the frogging pond on a sunny weekend, complete with picnic basket, folding stool, and Sonnets from the Portuguese. And I'll admit it's not nice. Not to put too fine a point on it, it's pretty violent. But it's life. It's real knitting life and it's out there. Waiting for us. And I came v-e-r-y, v-e-r-y close to the edge.

I wanted you to know. I wanted you to be on the watch for me, so that if I feel the dangerous urge again, you will be there to hold me back, to ring TF Anonymous and get them to take me away somewhere there are no yarns, no needles.

And don't try it yourself at home. It's not safe. You know it doesn't make sense. Is it worth getting hooked on a habit just for the sake of a few moments wild jubilation? You know it isn't.

After that experience I went back to the Celtic Vest and worked away assiduously. Past the armhole shaping now and almost ready to work the second Lavold motif, one to each armhole. I'll have pictures next time. Heavens above, this was my entry for the Red Sweater KAL. That particular knitalong is probably archived and history for everyone else by now. I know one person in particular who got involved because I'd suggested she should. She's now finished the project she started well after me! And to make matters worse, she was working on the Travelling Cables Cardi. Remember the Travelling Cables? How I raised heaven and earth to get hold of the pattern, and then couldn't wait to get started? Jan says she wants to see what progress I've made. Er.... Oh [brainwave], sorry Jan, I actually haven't had your comment yet. No, really, I haven't seen it. I expect it will come down - oh, next week sometime. And as soon as I see it, I'll certainly show you where I'm at. (Think she suspects? That should buy me a little time.)

I decided to try some space dyeing the other evening. The kind where you end up with enough in one colour to make a stripe or at least a couple of rows before moving on to the next shade. This involves making a very long skein indeed.



I've dipped two quarters of this, one in blue and the other in violet, and they're drying at the moment. Then I'll do the other two quarters. Green and navy? Yellow and teal? What do you think? Gosh, dyeing is great fun. Must remember not to mix up the pots on the stove though...

We're planning a short trip to Prague next week. It's one of the few places to which you can get directly from Cork, which in these days of airport chaos is definitely a plus. Just a Monday to Wednesday hop, enough to have a hot chocolate and a beer and stand on Charles Bridge and look down at the Vltava.

But heaven bless blogging! What, oh what did we do before we had the Net and weblogs? I now know exactly where to find yarn shops in Prague - thanks to the adorable All Tangled
Up who did all the hard work a year or so ago and recorded it for the rest of us. Thanks, pet! I'm excited about the fact that one of these shops is actually an outlet for MarLen, the Czech yarn manufacturer, and stocks both skeins and CONES! I am uncontrollable when it comes to cones of yarn. They seem so much more real than the tidy neat balls you get in standard shops, and they're almost always far better value.

But every rainbow has a rain cloud somewhere. As I was happily polishing up my passport this afternoon, my LYS rang to tell me delightedly that - WHO would be in Cork next Tuesday? Debbie Bliss, that's who! Yep, she's touring local yarn outlets in Ireland with her sales team all next week and Tuesday is the day she's in Cork. When I will be in Prague.

Ah well, maybe I'll get something rare and unusual in old Bohemia to compensate for missing out on that visit. And after all, we can get Debbie Bliss yarns anytime, can't we? It would have been nice to meet her, though (and maybe, just maybe, find out where she really gets her yarns made up - then I could go there next trip and look for the remaindered bins in the back of their factory!)

Got my skein of Socks That Rock in the post this morning - didn't take long to get here.



This is Nodding Violet and it's as lovely as it sounds. Can't wait to try it out.

(This sock yarn obsession has got to stop. I like making socks, sure, but I am beginning to suspect that the real addiction lies in acquiring as much of the yarn as possible, never mind the knitting up. I just can't see a new colourway without wanting it. But I can walk away. I can give it up any time I choose. I just haven't chosen to do so yet, that's all.)

POSTSCRIPT! FORGOT TO SAY -

I had every intention in that last posting of calling out to Anne (not superb pattern designer Anne of Knitspot but Anonymous Anne who commented, telling me she had just the same gypsy stove in her home). Anonymous Anne, contact me, do, and let me see a picture of your stove! You see I'm not sure I have all the bits for mine, and if not, I want to get Paudie to make me the missing pieces. You can get me at kerjoATgofreeDOTindigoDOTie.

Angeluna is of the opinion that I should get moving on the Celtic Vest and finish it off first. Then, she says, I can wear it while finishing the others, and have everyone admire it to boot! Good thinking, Angeluna, and I'll haul it out right away.

Did you see those marvellous Jaywalker socks on Ms Knitingale's blog? Love the pattern, and she was kind enough to send me the link to www.magknits.com where I could download it for myself. I am constantly amazed at the generosity of these people who make their patterns available for anyone else to try out. I should send every one of them a skein of something nice. (But then perhaps I should ensure that all those to whom I already promised a skein of something nice have in fact got it before I add any more to the list! )

Wasn't it fun to hear from Deb at The Irish Ewe in Maine? And I can't believe she has offered to bring over a suitcase of yarns for me so that I don't have to pay the shipping costs. Deb, you don't know what you've let yourself in for! I've already had a drooling session on her web shop (the yarns she has, you have to see them!) and simply love the idea of Needles With Experience. Where do you get them, Deb?

Rho was telling me that she couldn't stand the 'new' Blogger, and I must say I agree with her. The whole idea of Blogger was wonderful and it's made all the difference in the world to our lives, but why update it in this way? You spend absolutely ages adjusting your computer and information as they dictate, only to find that nothing works any more. Blogger, dear Blogger, don't withdraw your service - we couldn't live without it now - but do consider the wise old maxim, 'if it ain't broke, don't fix it.' We don't need a New Improved Model every few days. We like the old one!

I had decided a little while ago to have an indulgent half hour in the upstairs sitting room, which gets all the sunshine all day and is consequently the warmest in the house. (It's really designed on the same principle as the medieval solar where the ladies took their leisure and worked at their embroidery or played the lute.) I got a coffee and a chocolate brownie and left them on the window sill while I rushed back to write this postscript.

I heard the thumping but thought Sophie was just leaping up for her customary nap on the armchair. Then I remembered the chocolate brownie...

No, I do not have a picture. There really wasn't time. When I got there, a smudge of chocolate was all that remained on the plate and Sophie was sitting in the middle of the floor with a nervous grin on her face. Yes, her breath did smell of chocolate. And yes, I'll probably be up all night with her. It was a very rich, iced chocolate brownie.

Just remembered that I have to type up someone's project before tonight. And then I really really will get back to the knitting. I'm looking for the Celtic Vest, Angeluna, I'm looking for it!

Frog Is Definitely a Four-Letter Word!

You get those projects, you definitely do. Starmore (cross fingers and shudder) was the last, and perhaps I'd relaxed a bit, forgotten about the suffering and the pain as one is inclined to do in post-traumatic stress disorder recovery. I didn't have an inkling, when I announced happily to all and sundry that I was going to try the Michael Kors Aran sweater featured on the cover of the fall issue of Vogue, that this would turn out to be one of THOSE.

I swatched in my beautiful natural silk/cashmere. I swatched again. I went down a whole size in needle (heck it was narrow enough at 4.5mm I would have thought, I could barely see the 3.5mm). Eventually I managed to get a swatch which measured slightly less than that suggested in the pattern.

I'd done a bit of homework you see. Oh I've learned a few tricks the hard way. I ran around the Net, surfing little knitting waves here and there, and found a few other people who'd tried the Michael Kors. Big, they all admitted. Very big. Not just roomy but huge. Yeah, well, it does give the measurement for the XS as 44" chest, which is kinda large. Which is why I was trying to make a swatch measuring less than the given size. Which I did.

So I cast on an awful lot of stitches and worked away diligently on a particularly tasking type of twisted rib - not only k tbl but p tbl as well, and if you've ever tried to purl through the back of the loop, you'll know it isn't something you can do with one eye on a television documentary and the other on a small Pekingese tearing something suspiciously familiar to pieces in the corner of the room. But I persevered. Until half way through the requisite number of rows I began to suspect that there was more here than called for. Where the heck is the measuring tape? Why is it that you can own a dozen or more tapes and still never be able to find one? Where do they all go? Have they a secret rumpus room where they hold measuring tape parties?

But I ran one to earth (looking slightly guilty on the stairs, where he had no business to be) and checked. Yep, worst fears realised. This was way wa-a-ay too big. B-r and b-l - no, no, stop that. Tsk tsk, how tiresome. And so we come to Frog Number One.



Here are all those painfully-worked little stitches yanked off the inexpressibly tiny needle (yes, it was down to 2.5mm for the rib, let's hope this doesn't go any lower) and slowly, slowly being frogged back and rewound on to the cone. I hate doing this to such a classically beautiful yarn as silk/cashmere. It doesn't do it any good. And no matter how careful I am, I can never get the last few inches of the cast-on row unripped, so it inevitably ends up in Muffy's collection bowl, where I keep all the odds and ends of yarn to make into an attack ball for her.

Recalculate, reswatch, cast on again. Tackle that b-y impossible p tbl again. Work away again.

Oh hell. It can't be. Surely not. Call on DH to hold down one end of the wiry little circular while I take a quick measure. Rowlocks and bollards! Now it's too narrow!



Here is the second frogging session about to start. In the meantime, to allow cooling-off time (the woodburning stove was burning merrily and I did cast a longing eye towards its flames once or twice while clutching the offending ribbing, I will admit), I grabbed the 3.5mm and did yet another small swatch.

Yes, I realise that ribbing on a finer needle will measure less than the main body of the work on the larger, but this ribbing was seriously behind in the inches stakes. It wouldn't have reached across my body, no way. More rewinding, more grimy inches in Muffy's collecting bowl.

I am now on to Phase Three and keeping my fingers crossed. I don't even want to put up a picture of the work in progress, in case it's bad luck. I'll keep you posted.

Oh, and in the meantime, I went off the Michael Kors design. Too many stitches, too big, too much adaptation required of a pattern that wasn't that great anyway. What I really wanted was a simple, classic, cabled polo, reasonably figure-hugging, so I decided to design my own. If you want it done properly.... A simple pattern of k4, p 1, cable 4, p 1, k 4, etc. It should look very nice. If I ever get past the ribbing, that is.

Enough of these stressful matters. Let's turn to nicer things. We've been having very cold weather here, with even a tiny sprinkling of snow on the Kerry mountains.



We've had some wonderful sunrises too, with the whole sky glowing molten gold in the last few minutes before dawn.



And then, when the sun actually peeks above the horizon, the sky pales and brightens over the lake.



Although it's been perishingly cold here today (by Irish standards), and the ice didn't even melt on the pond, so I had to put out dishes of water for the birds, nevertheless when you looked out from the upstairs sitting room window you would swear it was spring already.



Can you see a tiny house in the middle of the far distance, alone in a huge field? It really is a tiny deserted cottage with nothing whatsoever around it. Predictably we call it the little house on the prairie and I say hi to it whenever I look out. We walked up there one day last summer to look at it - a fair distance across hedges and streams and bogland too it was. The cows keep it company when they're grazing around there. Sometimes I think of it when I'm in bed at night and send it good wishes.

But back to the knitting (retourner a nos tricots?) Talking away as I was about that Michael Kors sweater which now isn't a Michael Kors sweater, I conveniently managed to forget that there are already waiting patiently in various places around the house:

Item. The Travelling Cables cardi, in a thicker silk/cashmere, about the pattern for which I raised such mayhem until the blessed Angeluna located it for me and posted it on. The back well begun.

Item. The Celtic Vest, in a poppy-red lambswool, again pointed out to me by Angeluna as an ideal project (she was right), and eventually run to earth in a back issue of Interweave Knits. A third of the way up the back.

Item. The Blackberry Pie socks, in a wonderful natural-dye yarn from my dear friend Ms Knitingale. Both half-way down the leg.

Item. The Norah Gaughan asymmetrical charcoal alpaca crop jacket, about which I enthused so wildly all over the place. Most of the back done.

Item. Oh I'm getting depressed. I haven't seen those others in months anyway and out of sight out of mind. As long as I don't start anything else I'm all right. Just keep working away.

(Would it not be better, a tiny voice asks, to at least work on those which are already further along than this entirely new cabled polo sweater? Yes, it probably would. I will consider your suggestion later on this evening. Much later on this evening.)

Gosh, has anyone else seen that gorgeous asymmetrical sweater from Berroco, illustrated in their advert in the winter issue of Vogue?




I went hunting for it, and it's a free pattern called Tierra which you can download from their website! Don't you just love that angled edge? Now if I just had the right shade of lavender/purple in a smooth yarn to show off the cables...

Oh shut up! I was only looking!

A Wild And Stormy Night

It really is pretty wild here tonight. Thanks for your kind thoughts, Barb in Texas, but we're fine. So far anyway! Luckily our house is a little down from the top of the hill - something I used to deplore because it meant we didn't have such a good view of the lakes when the trees were in leaf in summer, but right now I'm rather glad we're not up there in the teeth of this stormy weather. It howls for a day or two, then quietens down, and then returns again refreshed with renewed force. Never known anything like it. Right now the gales are shrieking round the house and the trees are lashing their branches frantically. It's definitely a night for the fireside and a new project on the needles.

No, no, NO! Scrub that last phrase. Not another project, ABSOLUTELY not. Finish what's on the go, get to the bottom of the WIP basket, and THEN, only THEN (well not then either, the ironing mountain has grown to the height of the Himalayas en masse by now) can one even afford to think about new projects.

The temptation doesn't go away, though, does it? Having devoured both Interweave Knits and Vogue Knitting in one sitting (so much for rationing myself and making them last) I have at least three I want to start right away. And there are still those beautiful projects from previous issues - do you know, despite purchasing all that exquisite Seasilk and Silk from Fleece Artist, I still haven't started the Swallowtail Shawl, and not only do I want to make that stunning Michael Kors Aran sweater in the fall issue of Vogue Knitting, I even have the right silk/cashmere to do it justice. Plus Peg drew my attention some time ago to a glorious cabled crop cardi on Knitty.com which would be a really useful addition to my wardrobe in these darker months if I made it in a nice bright singing red.

But progress has been made. Yes, smiling modestly, I can at last announce that not just one but TWO WIPs have made it past the finishing line and are now FOs. First that chunky charcoal crop cardi, copied from an unbelievably expensive French item barely glimpsed in a snobbish boutique.



Made this one entirely by guesswork and it hasn't turned out too bad. Nice and warm too, despite its exiguous length. The sleeves are wide and can be turned up to the elbow to change the look.

Then the shepherd's vest finally got completed and I had just enough of the original yarn to finish the front so no need to frog part of the back, thank heaven.



DH is out in the stormy night, photographing debs or politicians or something, so I couldn't model it for you, but take my word it has inset pockets on the front and alternating squares of stocking stitch and moss stitch. It's pretty simple in design, just rectangles, and the top corners turn back naturally to form lapels. It's nice to shrug on over a sweater on cold mornings for extra warmth when taking the dogs out to see what damage the winds did overnight.

So there is a certain amount of satisfaction chez Celtic Memory that two at least of the growing heap of WIPs have moved on into usefulness and public life. Now the Celtic Vest and the Travelling Cables really need to wake up from their extended winter holiday and get back into action.

However, in the meantime, an exciting package arrived from Texere Yarns. I had ordered some alpaca and some cashmere/silk/angora fibres and they galloped over from Yorkshire post haste, in the teeth of an opposing gale, bless them.



I was a bit nervous about spinning with the alpaca for the first time so consulted the expert in the shape of Anne who advised trying small samples first. I decided to take the safe route and used a little drop spindle for preliminary trials. You can see it in the picture above. So far I'm make rather lumpy, uneven yarn, but I'll persevere and it may smoothen out. Think of being able to supply your own knitting needs with alpaca yarn!

Had a most happy and serendipitous experience today. Heading home from giving my Saturday lecture to journalism students (today's subject: we are totally and utterly controlled by one form or another of pervasive media and should never make the mistake of thinking that we think for ourselves because we can't any more, or aren't allowed to) and popped in to a local antique shop to wish them a Happy New Year. There in the corner was the most adorable, cuddly, desirable little sweetheart you could ever imagine.



This is a genuine tiny gypsy stove, the kind that was fitted into a horse-drawn caravan and was used for cooking, boiling water, warmth, everything. I've wanted one of these all my life! (No, of course I didn't tell the shop owner that. I bargained and produced real cash - always a good way to bring the price down.) Then he helped me to lift it into my little jeep (it's a heavy little thing!) and I brought it delightedly home. It's sitting here in the fireplace of the sitting room and I've lit a candle on top of it right now to make it feel wanted and welcome.



Look, you can lift up the decorative top and there are two little hot plates underneath! And two tiny doors open at the front to feed in fuel or to make toast! Now all I have to do is take it down to Paudie Cronin in Ballymakeera and get him to make me a flue pipe for it (it's got a very odd oval-shaped outlet at the back, but Paudie is well able to create anything in iron - he makes the most wonderfully decorative gates). I don't know whether to call this new member of the family Sam Wild (after a Victorian travelling showman I researched once, who had a stove like this in his caravan), or Baba Yaga after the Russian witch of fairy tales who lived in a stove in the deep forest - a stove that danced on thin chicken legs. That image always delighted me as a child (still does, now I come to think of it).

I've been commenting on other people's weblogs on the following issue, but now I want to put in my own tuppenceworth about the Blue Moon and Socks That Rock vs NastyStupidBank fiasco. I know you'll all have heard about it by now, and I'm just as certain that it must be making you as incandescent with rage as it does me. What a typically stupid, narrow-minded, MALE mindset (sorry all the men I know well and love - you're excepted). Imagine being so smugly sure that you know all the really important things in life that you decide knitting and loving yarn simply aren't possible on a large scale, and that in no way could thousands of women enjoy such a hobby as making beautiful socks.

(If by any chance you've been out of the world for the past couple of weeks, you can get an excellent summary of the fiasco on Yarn Harlot's weblog.)

I've done what I can so far. I've sent messages of support to Blue Moon and I've ordered a skein of their sock yarn (Nodding Violet, as I recall). But that's not enough for my temper. I want that bank to KNOW what it's done. I mean I want its directors to really REALISE the extent of their huge and excruciatingly embarrassing blooper. I want the WHOLE WORLD to laugh at them, point their fingers, and then take their accounts elsewhere. What incredible arrogance and ignorance. Oh just wait until I find out their identity. They'll be sorry they were ever born to be bankers (did I spell that right?)

Gosh, I'm all worked up again as I think of it. I think I'll go and do a teeny weeny swatch for the Michael Kors cabled sweater to calm me down.