Oh To Be In England When The Yarn Is There...

Took a quick dash last week, across to the UK. All this activity with the sock machine and, more recently, nervous essays in the operation of a battered old Brother flatbed machine, meant that MORE CONED YARN was needed. And the one place well known to Celtic Memory as having all kinds of wonderful one-offs and strange finds is Uppingham Yarns, tucked away in Rutland, England's tiniest county. I used to live in Rutland and visited this treasure trove often - in fact it probably provided the baseline for the Celtic Memory stash which now requires an entire basement room of its own and is starting to murmur about really needing an independent yarny house in the grounds with not only a basement but an attic and big windows and - sorry, where was I? Oh yes, Uppingham Yarns.


Rutland, although tiny, is a very old region and thus well placed on the Great North Road, the ancient route from London to Scotland (or Scotland to London if you prefer). Some may refer to it rather prosaically as the A1 but to me it's always the romantic Great North Road. It's quite possible to nip into Stansted airport on the early morning flight from Cork, grab a rental car, and be in Uppingham by eleven in the morning.




Now Uppingham Yarns is not one of your predictable little LYSs. It does have some ball banded yarns, true, but not many. Its huge attraction is in its vast range of coned goodies, stacked high on tall shelving units in numbers of rooms. Aladdin's Cave has nothing on this place!





Heaven bless the Traylen family who opened their business back in 1980 to provide ex-industrial supplies for home knitters, whether hand or machine. That's Nick there, explaining the difference between two gauges of cashmere (be still my beating heart). You might well have met Nick at various Woolfests or Ally Pally knit days, but his stand at those events, delightful though it may be, isn't a patch on the home ground.





This is the Shetland room - all of those lovely shades are the repeatable ones, I think, but round the sides and down at the back, you find smaller cones, discontinued colours, one-offs - you know, the kind that is even more fun to track down than the always-available sort.





Every room has more treasures, aisles to be explored carefully and painstakingly, not a corner left searched. You simply never know what you're going to find.




It's hard not to get carried away in the fancy section, where the most incredible Italian ribbons and glitters and eyelashes are piled in profusion. You get new ideas for designer combinations on every shelf.





This room is devoted to cotton. And silk. And silk tops for spinning. And some hemp. And more. Small wonder that after five minutes in the building I suggested kindly to DH that he might prefer to wander around the picturesque little town and take pictures while I totally lost myself. Being an understanding soul he did - so the images you see here were all taken fairly early on in the visit, and then he left me to get gently hysterical in peace.



Not before we made a couple of nice discoveries though -





I just don't remember these from my last visit, so maybe Nick Traylen has only just put them on display. My mother had just such an old high-standing heavy iron flatbed machine as this. I still have one of the sweaters she made me on it.






And look at this lovely thing! A sock machine with lots of shiny brass, and its own useful iron table with handy inset containers for needles and hooks and things.







But this one I'd never come across before. A circular knitting machine, but a tiny one. It has only about six needle slots. It has to be a cord maker, right? Fascinating. Love it!





Had a most enjoyable couple of hours, going around each room, going back again, starting in the opposite direction, taking turns around shelves from unexpected angles, scouring dark corners - you know how much fun it can be. And got some pretty nice loot to play with over the next while (thank heaven DH had a spacious rucksack with him as well). Always nice to revisit Uppingham Yarns and come away with treasure.

In the meantime of course, DH had been wandering happily around the town of Uppingham, which is gloriously photogenic with that unique character which rural England does so well -





The main street was basking in the warm sunshine (warm sunshine! It was pouring with rain and chilly to boot when we left Cork!) and you could hear the echo of peaceful footsteps as people went about their shopping.





The churchyard of Ss Peter & Paul was looking impossibly picturesque





- and the wallflowers were blooming on old moss-covered roofs and walls. A lovely place. I do like Uppingham and indeed all of Rutland. Multum in Parvo is the county motto, much in little.



Rutland, you may or may not know, lost its independence back in the 1970s, despite public outcry, and was hauled into neighbouring Leicestershire. The local people, however, never accepted this (a bit like Iowa taking over Nebraska maybe, or Massachusetts airily grabbing Maine) and fought constantly to get back their independent status. It is a source of gentle pride to me that I was part of that campaign, and was there in the House of Lords on the night that Rutland regained county status, in the 1990s. Good on you, Rutland! Always remember you with deep affection even though I'm back on my own native soil now.



By the way, this day trip took place during Round Three of Sock Madness, so, although you haven't seen much evidence of them, the socks were very much part of the day's activity, being worked on during the flight, in cafes, in the car when DH was driving, and even back at the airport.








A particularly lovely design this time, created by YarnYenta and called Talia's Wings.







And here's the finished pair (why does it always seem to be late at night when socks are finally done, and one has to try to photograph them under artificial light?) Very entertaining pattern to knit, and it introduced me to the sewn bind-off (they were worked toe-up, forgot to mention), which is an exceptionally useful technique, giving a stretchy attractive top to the cuff. I've already used the method on several other things, to implant it firmly in the Celtic Memory mind.





Now before Round Four of Sock Madness starts, some dyeing up has got to be done here in West Cork. No use waiting for fine weather, they'll have to hang in the greenhouse to dry. Sock yarns of course, in lovely shades of apple blossom and bluebell and all the other flowers coming out at this time of year, but also some laceweights, since so many have been asking for them. No time to lose!

Muffy the Yarnslayer Enters Sock Madness Contest!

Yes, it's true. Abandon hope all ye who hitherto thought you had a chance - Muffy has entered the arena.

Said she'd had enough and more of all this fuss and was going to show us all how it should be done. Collected a few balls of yarn, unearthed two rather vicious-looking six inch nails from her store, and dragged the lot under her cupboard. She's been clicking away busily in there ever since. Can't wait to see the results. I did point out she would have to make a set of four and she looked at me like I was daft.

Well of course you have to have four socks. How many paws does anybody have, for heaven's sake? I mean, what eegit would make - say two for example? G'wan away and don't be annoying me!

She did have some justification for her sudden decision to become a late entrant for Sock Madness (don't worry, moderators, she's created her own sub-division, called, with blinding simplicity, just Muffy, so she won't be throwing anybody else out of the running) since the one who feeds her and generally looks after her welfare has been noticeably distracted this last week or so, since the second round of the aforesaid Madness started.

The pattern for Round Two was due out on Saturday of last week, on or after 1 pm Irish time. But Celtic Memory was not at home. Nope, she was travelling with DH and was, at the appointed hour, somewhere north of Dublin on an attractive estuary where himself was photographing redshanks feeding.

It was fascinating to see how quickly the gulls had learned how to avoid finding their own food; they simply marked down a redshank, and as soon as that unfortunate creature had snaffled a juicy worm, they would descend and bully it until it reluctantly yielded its prey. Kind of reminds you of some human behaviour, doesn't it?

My mind was only half on the bird activity though, as the clock approached the fateful time. When would I hear that the pattern had been issued? The signal that would mean I had to dash for the nearest Internet access? (No, they tend not to have good websites right by the water on a muddy track, bit of an oversight really, I agree.) An hour passed peacefully. DH clicked away. I worked ferociously on a pair of Jeanie Townsend's Cathedral Socks to keep my mind from fretting. What kind of pattern will it be? Can I manage it? How long will it take? Are there others much faster than me? Why do I do this? And so on.

Then it happened. The bleep of a text arriving, followed almost instantaneously by a phone call. Bless the kinship of knitters. Chris texted to say the pattern was HERE and Rosemary in Somerset actually rang, to make sure I knew. Aren't friends great?

Overriding DH's protestations (he'd spend all day like that if he could, honestly, would we knitters spend all day on something? OK, forget I said that) I got the car turned and dashed for Malahide, a little seaside town. Big hotel on outskirts looked promising, and so it proved. Sitting in the car park gave enough of a signal on their wifi to download the pattern. Really, the things we do for knitting.

Work started immediately and didn't stop for the rest of the day. Continued while DH and a bundle (a flock? A gaggle? A gathering?) of birdwatchers watched short-eared owls at dusk -

- and even when one owl swooped low enough for me to glance up and see it in between frantic rounds of ribbing.

These are beautiful birds and not at all common in Ireland which is why we came to be up in that neck of the woods on that fine Saturday.

I think this owl was rather impressed with my knitting actually. He even made a second pass to get a closer look at the colourwork.

Oo, is that stranded knitting? Lookin' good!

Knitted late into the night in the hotel, knitted in the pre-dawn light (a mistake that, meant several rows needing to be tinked back). Even knitted all the way home (don't recommend following a chart on a bumpy twisting road for more than three hours, really don't).

But we took a break on the way, to visit Warren at Craftspun Yarns in Johnstown.

He's only just moved to this new shop in the town and was still getting the stock in order.

But it's a glorious place, already almost full of the most divine yarns, and big ultra-soft cushiony balls of roving too, of several different types. (Yes, yes, he does ship, check his website.)

If I hadn't already bought tons from him, I'd have snaffled even more of these irresistible fibre goodies. But I did come away with a cone of divinely soft Aran weight Blue Faced Leicester yarn. Well, it'll always come in handy, won't it?

It took a good two and a half days to finish those socks, a beautiful two colour pattern designed by Tricia Weatherston, and called Tokena, the Maori word for sock. It's ages since Celtic Memory has done any colourwork and on size 2mm needles it can be a bit hard on the hand muscles. In fact the thumb joint is still aching. But it was worth it. It's no harm to push your abilities now and again, and the result was pretty satisfying.

Of course the usual thing happened: having completed the socks in fairly quick time, found it impossible to stop knitting the darn things. And this is where Celtic Memory has been having a great deal of fun. A LOT of fun.

You remember that lovely old sock knitting machine I inherited? Well, thanks to the assistance of several helpful friends on Ravelry, it is now working fairly well (no you can't do complex colourwork on it unfortunately, believe me I thought of it!) so the time seemed right for a little bit of experimentation. You see, although I can now crank out tubes of knitting with the best of 'em, I haven't quite mastered turning heels and shaping toes yet. So lots and lots of practice tubes.

Until - like Paul on the road to Damascus, a blinding light hit me. Why not turn these tubes into socks with the addition of some hand knitting? Simple? Undoubtedly. Somebody thought of that already? Probably. But I genuinely thought of it by myself and that's always the best way.

Drum roll please. Remember Celtic Memory decrying cutting, steeking, any form of disfigurement of a piece of knitting? Well -

Here is a tube of beautifully soft merino knit being deliberately cut! Actually it only needed one tiny snip of one stitch and then some careful unpicking. But it was a first, a definite first, and nearly gave me a heart attack. That divided the tube into two. Then picked up stitches at one end on each piece (a 2.5mm needle was just right to match the machine stitches) and knitted the toes.

Then came the heel. Another terrifying, deliberate, counter-to-all-previous-learning snip.

Thank heaven for the training received in last year's Sock Madness. I knew how to do an afterthought heel. Hadn't ever tried it from raw stitches before, but it worked. IT WORKED!

Knitting the tube, about ten minutes. Finishing heels and toes, one evening. A bit of dip-dyeing and drying.

Ta-DAH!

HowZAT?

OK, so they're plain, no patterning, cabling, lace or other decorative stitchwork there. But they were so much fun to make. And already there are ideas forming for stripy heels and toes, colourwork cuffs at the top, so many other options. You just do all that long boring bit first, and then have fun with the decorative bits.

I'll probably be drummed out of the Sock Machine group for doing it this way round, and similarly from all the handknitting sock groups, but it's such a satisfying combination of hand and machine that I'm mad about it. And I've tried cutting a single stitch and it doesn't make everything fall apart! Isn't life full of fun surprises?

Made some new friends at the weekend: Linda and her family were over from Montana to explore West Cork and Kerry, so we met up in Killarney and went down to Kerry Woollen Mills. We saw all that lovely traditional bainin yarn, and also some delectable Jacob wool fingering weight.

Here is Andrew Eadie showing Linda a new design he's rather pleased with, a beautifully soft felted knit jacket.

And here is Linda, wearing one new jacket, carrying another, with husband Bruce and daughter Kimberley, ready to head off to Killorglin for more adventures. And she brought me a skein of Mountain Colors from Montana too, bless her! Hope the rest of the trip goes really well for you Linda, and that the weather holds out.

That same weather has been a bit mixum-gatherum here for the past few weeks. Went out one day about a fortnight ago to explore some lesser-known tracks over the mountains above Inchigeelagh.

It was dank and drizzly and not at all pleasant. Just look at that mountain road winding ahead for miles. It puts you in mind of Bilbo Baggins bumping along on his pony and wishing with all his heart he was safe at home with the kettle just beginning to boil.

Yet a week later, the lambs were gambolling in the fields -

the wild plants were already flowering -

- and even on the driveway at home, a determined little clump of violets had pushed their way up through the tarmac.

If you celebrate Easter, then a joyous Eastertide to you. If you celebrate other festivals, then happiness to you this springtime.

Of March Parades, Sock Madness, And Lost Villages

It's been a busy time. Was committed to two parades on St. Patrick's Day so a blustering bright morning found me setting up the trailer at Ballinagree, aided by a helpful piper.

It was the Kromski's first ever public appearance but it took to the open air and the birdsong and the general attention very calmly indeed. And, after adjusting to the stops and starts and bumps, I found it was quite possible to spin the Corriedale as we chugged into the village.

Yes, it's a small place, Ballinagree, but every single man, woman and child that wasn't in the parade turned out to cheer it on. Here we are outside the pub. I'm at the back, sitting on the old wooden settle with Eileen who's crocheting; in the middle are Deirdre with her Ashford Traveller, and Kathy knitting an endless scarf, while in front, standing up, is Sue demonstrating the drop spindle. People really did seem fascinated by it all, and I have lively hopes of resurrecting a once proud Irish tradition, pushed into the background by too-swift progress.

Hey all those of you down there in New Zealand who remember Deirdre with affection, here she is, getting in the warming coffee in the pub after the parade! She's getting married next month is Deirdre, and of course doing all the preparations herself from wedding dress to bridesmaids, so she's got quite enough on her plate, but she turned out for the parade like the good committed spinner that she is.

It was lively outside the pub too. We even had a harpist rattling out the tunes along with the fiddles and squeeze boxes and bodhrans. Real genuine traditional village entertainment, not created by PR companies or TV stations at all.

Nora Casey from the Alpaca Stud decided in the end that it would be enough to lead just one young lad on the day, and it's as well she did, since Vinnie, although he started out well enough, decided he'd have a rest right in the midst of the whole thing, and nothing could move him.

People shouted helpful advice, Nora tugged and pulled, the parade marshals couldn't quite keep their laughter under control, but Vinnie wasn't going anywhere.

Go away and leave me be. Moidering and messing me about. I'll walk in no more parades this day and that's the truth of it.

Eventually Pat stopped his tractor and came down to lend a hand. They lifted Vinnie into the trailer with all his pals, which is what he'd intended in the first place, and he rode in style to Macroom for the second parade.

Here we are waiting for the off in Macroom. We were really lucky with the weather - normally St. Patrick's Day is an excuse for a real downpour (not that the Irish climate really needs an excuse, it does it anyway).

Here are the Woodland String Band from Philadelphia, bringing a touch of American glitz and professionalism to the streets of Macroom town.

It was a grand day.

Two days later, it was Sock Madness 3 - or Sock Madness Forever as it's now called - and there wasn't time to think, let alone post.

The pattern came down at about midday West Cork time and by evening I was able to post a progress pic.

I put them on this Drunkard's Path pillow because the lovely pattern by Ronni (Raspberry on Ravelry) was based on that quilting design. The yarn is one of my own self-striping experiments - didn't turn out quite as intended (do they ever?) but liked it a lot all the same.

On course to finish within my two day record.

Only... the next morning dawned bright and beautiful and DH wouldn't hear of the day being spent indoors knitting. Off to West Cork with us, to gather even more material and pictures for The Book. OK, I could live with that. What did an extra day matter? The socks could come too.

Here they're being worked on Sheep's Head, on an absolutely deserted small boreen winding high above Bantry Bay. Nobody in sight or hearing, even though 'twas a Saturday (well Sophy Wackles was there, but she's being kept out of the picture for the moment).

Oh all right, here she is with some spring narcissi. Can you see the thread of sock yarn in her topknot?

And here is one of the socks, among some early wild violets (know what to call the colourway now, don't I?)

We had a good day, wandering on the lesser-frequented byways and looking for hidden beautiful places.

Like this green lane wandering up to a farmhouse on Three Castle Head -

- and this ruined village beyond Lissagriffin. You'll have to look closely to see the little stone houses blending into the landscape, with the gorse and the bracken and the ivy gradually taking them over, but the more you look, the more of them you'll see. Echoes of the past is the phrase that always comes into my mind when I see a place like this. Those tiny fields, the little houses that once held whole families, the lanes where children ran and men drove cattle - all now silent under the sun and the wind from the sea.

Oh the socks did get done, in only a little over the two days, so there is time to relax and rest the hands before the next round.

They really are divinely comfortable (now that the stitch marker left inside by accident has been located and gently removed) and I'm very happy with them. But of course it's impossible actually to stop knitting the darn things now. Found a pair of Jeanie Townsend's Cathedral Socks that I'd been working on (before Christmas for heaven's sake), and worked out where I was in the pattern (not always an easy task). They'll keep me going until Round 2. The hand resting can wait.

How Many Alpacas Can You Fit In A West Cork Car?

St. Patrick's Day approaches and Celtic Memory is headed for the Big Time. Been asked to demonstrate the ancient art of spinning on a float at not just one but two parades! Forget New York, forget Sydney, forget all the big boys, THIS is where it's going to be AT on Tuesday next, March 17.


Or rather THESE. Of course Macroom is one of them. Could hardly be otherwise, given that it's my local town. You might remember I took you to it last year, via a blog posting, and observed that although the parade might be small, somewhat unsophisticated, it was still a lovely heartwarming event. Well compared to the other parade, Macroom is pretty well up there in the New York category. Think tiny. Yes, a busy day for your local correspondent will start at noon in Ballinagree - the same village which hosts a spinning class in the local school every Wednesday night.

Ballinagree isn't exactly huge. You could probably seat the entire population, man, woman, and child, in a New York Starbucks and not consider the place overcrowded. But what it lacks in numerical force, it more than makes up for in heart and enthusiasm. Farmers are dusting down vintage tractors to drive proudly in the parade, housewives are baking pies and cakes for the refreshments afterwards. Children are finishing their costumes and decorating the floats.

Celtic Memory will be on one trailer, along with Deirdre (Deedledum on Ravelry), lately back from New Zealand, both of us demonstrating spinning skills on our wheels. I think I'll bring the Kromski. Nice outing for it. It can get to know other wheels. Also on board will be other members of the group, with knitting, crochet, and possibly drop spindles.

Once the Ballinagree parade has finished, and everybody has partaken generously of hot strong tea and cuts of apple cake, we pack into our various vehicles and hurry down to find parking on the outskirts of Macroom, there to repeat the exercise. They have common sense in West Cork, you see, and realised many years ago that if parade times were staggered, they would all get bigger crowds and also be able to share some of the good items (bagpipers, bands, etc. are in great demand on March 17 you understand).



It wasn't my idea to be in the parade(s) instead of enjoying the role of relaxed bystander, but the inspiration of the lady behind the Ballinagree Spinners, Nora Casey. Nora and her husband Pat run an alpaca herd (or stud, they can't agree which it should be called, one says one thing and the other says the other, so I'll put them both in for safety), and for the past few years have displayed their charming charges in both parades. This year, thought Nora, it was high time to link alpaca to finished product - hence the spinning and knitting. We'll be on one float, the alpacas on the other.


I was able to offer the contribution of a little advance publicity though, and to that end went up to their farm with DH, to get some pictures.








Here is Pat (and totally wicked and unreliable Recky the Corgi in the background) putting out some treats for the herd.



- and here is Proud Mother Of One letting King Stud know in no uncertain terms that she isn't interested today, thank you very much.

They have the most adorable faces and manners, these adopted West Corkonians, and a charming bleat, while their huge eyes, and those eyelashes -




I am rather pretty, aren't I?


We had to capture Proud Mother's offspring and take him up to a nearby stable. This was not so as to upset everybody, but to give some company to another baby alpaca who was feeling somewhat poorly and was being housed in a cosy stall with lots of nice warm straw. Alpacas are very gregarious and absolutely hate being on their own, so Pat was anxious to get Ginger up to join Snowball.



It took some doing, but we finally managed to secure the woolly little bundle, and persuade him to take a nice drive.







You just never know who you're going to find in the passenger seat of a West Cork car, do you?

Nora is confident that she will be able to lead Ginger in the parade, between the two floats. Myself, my money is on Ginger. Hope he has a global positioning device to get him home to Ballinagree when he makes a break for it.


Now to knitting matters. I got a wonderful bundle a little while ago from my friend Ana (Shenevski on Ravelry) in Bulgaria. As well as some genuine homespun yarn, acquired by her mother from an old lady in the Rhodope Mountains, she sent me two pairs of exquisite traditional slippers, along with some Martenetsi (little red and white tokens exchanged in Bulgaria on March 1 - these were the little objects I found tied to trees when I was there - that's what you do with them when March is over - lovely ancient tradition), and HOOKED NEEDLES!






Here is a pair of the slippers. Can you see that wonderful plaited detail on the back of the heel? And the glorious embroidery on the front?

I'd love to use these hooked needles for Sock Madness, now inexorably approaching (am I mad, didn't I say last year never again? And the year before? Where is your strength of character, Celtic Memory?), but am a little worried that they would take rather longer than the circular to which I am accustomed. Maybe it would be safer to try them out when the mayhem is over. Ana, they are beautiful. Thank you so much.

(An interesting footnote: I asked Ana if these came in other gauges and she said no, there is only one size for knitting socks. Isn't that refreshing? Instead of agonising over 2.25 vs 2.5mm, bamboo or aluminium, Addi or Hiya Hiya, it's a simple case of: you want to knit socks, you buy these needles. I like that very much.)


We've been having wildly changeable weather here over the past few days. The other afternoon, I looked out the window to find a blizzard in progress. The snow wasn't sticking of course - it rarely does in this part of the world - but still, snow in March?






Here are Patrick's cows snatching a mouthful of hay down in the field. Yes, it was taken through the closed window. No, I was not going to open the window. Not in that wind and snow.






Yet half an hour later, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the primroses were out in the orchard.








The plum blossom had somehow survived the battering -








- and even the leggy little narcissi were still upright. Guess they're tougher than they look.



Oh speaking of Patrick and his cows, we had such a drama this morning! DH looked out the window just after sunrise and saw a tiny calf lying in a heap in the middle of the field, with some crows advancing menacingly on it. Over at the other side by the ditch was another tiny calf, this time with several cows regarding it curiously. He immediately rang Patrick and within a few minutes our neighbour was out there with a tractor. He lifted both little creatures into the cab and headed off again. We didn't want to ring him, in case they hadn't survived, and he'd have enough to do coping with that without us aggravating it, but he telephoned us just a while ago to say that both were doing fine, having had a big feed and been tucked up in a warm straw bed. Apparently they were twins, from one cow, who had, as Patrick put it, 'got a bit irrational' after calving and decided she didn't want either of them. Gosh, I was glad DH had looked out at just the right moment!



Yarns have been dyed -





(you wouldn't believe the dodging between rain showers and clouds it took to get this sunshiny picture)







- and for those who were worried, I can confirm that Start-itis is alive and well and flourishing in West Cork. These are in Panda Silk, which will be nice and cool for the summer - I think the pattern is Diagonal Eyelet Rib or somesuch, but I can't find the original pattern anywhere - worked it from memory.





And this bids fair to become a rather nice slanted-edge wrap or stole, in turquoise mohair from Just One More Row. Hadn't intended to cast on for this at all - the original idea was to join in on Ruth's KAL for her utterly lovely Mitred Scarf which she has generously made available on her blog. However, I knew I was going to be out for the day and seized this mohair and the right circular, to get going on the aforesaid mitring. Cast on, worked the first module and then realised that of course it would never - could never - succeed. Ruth had naturally advised using sock yarn, to show off the shaping and detail. So why did Celtic Memory think that mohair would do just as well? Honestly, I shouldn't be allowed out!



However, there I was with a full day ahead of me and no way of getting home to change yarns and needle, so decided to make the best of it and create a design of my own. Casting on 4, working 4 rows, casting on another 4, and so on, makes for a very nice stepped edging, which you can stop when you get to the width you want. I'm working this in k4 p4 rib, although you'd hardly know it with the scrumbling effect of the mohair, but it does give a gently pleated effect.


Ruth's lovely scarf is a treat for another day. Yes, with the right yarn, stop rubbing salt in the wound, will you?




Dawn Brocco nominated me for the Kreativ Blogger award just recently. I was thrilled and honoured. Dawn's amazing designs for float-alone cables have always entranced me. Gosh, I must go work up one of her scarves right this minute!