musical interlude

No, this is NOT an angry rant about the outcome of I'd Do Anything! (If you haven't followed the series, then you really won't be interested. If you have, well let's just say that I think John Barrowman and Denise Van Outen are lousy judges. Jessie was robbed thanks to their malign influence over an undirscriminating public. Jodie certainly does consistent, but oh so bland and cheesy. I won't pay to go and see her. I love Oliver, so Jessie--or, indeed, Sarah or even Rachel, would've been different...). Oh dear, I appear to have given my rant. Moving swiftly on...

Glancing through the Fitzwilliam Museum programme recently, I was thrilled to spot a lunchtime harpsichord recital. My mother adores harpsichords and I share her love so I suggested that she and Dad join me and Graham there. The programme was celebrating the 150th anniversary of the birth of Arnold Dolmetsch
If, like me, you played the recorder during schooldays, you may well be more familiar with the work of his son, Carl Frederick, who compiled lots of recorder books for schools. Needless to say, the programme had a real "early music" flavour. And we loved it! (Though I was surprised to notice Ma's nose wrinkle up at one point, only to have my nostrils assailed seconds later. Still, I suppose that afflaetus causes less disruption to a concert than coughing or nose blowing...)

After such a treat I found myself at quite a loose end the following day (both Graham and his daughter are in deep in the throes of academic masterworks at the moment and both of them wanted to use the computer; it was one of those "I'm outta here" moments!) So I headed off to Ely, planning an idle day of rootling through the antiques centre and the market stalls. But I found myself drawn to the cathedral. (No, not the stirrings of Christian sentiment in my breast, just the call of an ancient monument and the joy of sacred space, no matter to whom--or what--it is dedicated). And as I went in I spotted a small notice advertising a choral recital later that afternoon. I had no idea what the programme would be but, as the admission charge was merely a donation on the way out (if you see what I mean) I decided to give it a go.

What serendipity. The acoustics in the Lady Chapel are bizarre: you will be flummoxed by even the clearest of diction, yet you can tell preciesly which singer is making which sound. You can differentiate bewteen each alto, each tenor. As the choir launched into Palestrina my spine tingled, and the hairs of my arms stood on end. As they moved into Peter Philips' ascendit deus, a praticular favourite of mine, there were tears in my eyes. That was the absolute high point but the rest of the programme was inspired: a couple of Victorian church pieces, it is true, but alos Britten's Hymn to St Cecelia; an e.e. cummings poem and, to conclude an American spiritual arranged by Bob Chilcott.

The performance, by the University of London Chamber choir, was outstanding and the Lady Chapel just amazing. If you've never been it is a cavernous space with white walls, flooded with light from windows largely devoid of stained glass. It is a wounded space, ravaged by Cromwell's followers who erased faces on the many little human figures carved round the sides, but it reamins triumphant. Cromwell's men left the grotesques carved above the friezes and the focal point is a modern, very sexy, statue of Mary (by David Wynne) looking anything but demure and virginal. Her hair is impossibly golden, her complexion improbably fair, her hips sashay (surely she is dancing) and, whilst her eyes are looking down (with token modesty)her nipples, pointing heavenwards, defy gravity!

It was, truly, an unforgettable afternoon. (The music so sublime that I couldn't face watching I'd Do Anything that evening, preferring to let the dying notes of the last piece echo around my brain).

What an extraordinary gift that recital was. Maybe concerts-- like buses (and men, but that's another story)--come along in twos.

How not to tidy your desk...(secret diary of a procrastinator aged 47 and a half...)

1. Start on Friday by removing large piles of paper and stacking them precariously on the floor so that the desk at least looks tidy and so that step daughter can use the desk and computer over the weekend. Promise spouse (and self) that it will be your number-one-top-proirity-no-excuses-made way to spend your next day off. (Today, Wednesday!).

2. Oversleep on Wednesday and wake up with slight headache. Decide to read in bed for a while to see if headache goes. It doesn't, so try sleeping a bit longer... That doesn't work, and time now nearly 10am, so try shower. Slight improvement. Sort laundry and put first load in washing machine.

3. Decide that it would be a very good idea to check through all email accounts, ravelry, friends' blogs etc in case any replies are needed. Explain to spouse that this is really urgent and, anyway, it would be much easier to tidy desk whilst he is out teaching this afternoon, thus giving me entire run of study. (He can be so gullible). Unload washing and spread over clothes horses as sky looks so grey.

4. Brainwave! If I have an early lunch then I will have lots of afternoon to do tidying in. After lunch, realise that there is lots of afternoon stretching ahead of me, and thus decide that it wouldn't harm to have a bit of a break before tidying starts. Catch up with the serials in People's Friend (people don't believe me when I tell them that this is my favourite magazine, but just remove my watch from me sometime, and you'll see that its a prize from their "Love Darg" in 2000). Something in People's Friend reminds me of something I want to google for. In reflex action I accidentally log in to ravelry and go blog hopping. Discover rather intriguing quiz, but am shocked by result:

Take the Quiz here!

Horrors! I am sensible and boring. Now feel even less like tidying desk, in case I live up to quiz's utter misdiagnosis.

Think I'll begin by removing all distracting craft materials/projects from study. Might help if computer is moved to another room, too. Suspect main problem lies in the fact that most of the "compost" on my desk is unclassifiable. Feel like crying. Admit to self that real literary heroine is Mary Lennox in The Secret Garden. Most particularly in the chapter called "I Won't, said Mary!"

Help! Anyone got any handy hints on how to make tidying painless (nb please do not say "regular filing"). Oh, and there is a very tempting sticky choc cake in the kitchen but spouse has taken careful note of its dimensions and will know if I cave in...

Five Things Meme

I've been tagged by Wibbo, so here goes:

The Rules

Each player answers the questions about themselves. At the end of the post, the player then tags 5-6 people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know they’ve been tagged and asking them to read your blog. Let the person who tagged you know when you’ve posted your answer.

1. What I was doing 10 years ago:

Living in a student room at Essex University, where I was immersed in a Master's Degree which had the most off-putting title: MA Literature (Women Writing). I was also busy getting divorced, but managed to keep my sanity by regularly hopping on buses/trains to Essex coastal towns. I'd just discovered a rather wonderful yarn shop in Clacton (Bowen & Wallace; they've no web page but were at 72 Pier Avenue and were staffed by real enthusiasts). I'd also just purchased a lovely wicker hamper which was rapidly filling up with stash.

2. What 5 things are on on my to-do list for today (not in any particular order):

Hmm, well, there are things I probably should have done today (rounded up papers for tax return; laundry; tidied living room; sorted through toppling tower of books to decide which ones could go off to Oxfam/Amnesty and planted the runner bean plants a neighbour has given us). BUT both Graham and his daughter are writing to deadlines at the moment (L is finishing her PhD diss on animals in Southern African Fiction; G is working on a paper for a forthcoming conference on Geoffrey Hill) so I decided that the best thing to do was to go out for the day. So here are 5 things that I actually did do today: travelled though the fens by bus (Stagecoach services 12 and 9); paid my first-ever visit to Ely Museum; paid my umpteenth visit to Ely Cathedral (where I got to hear the most amazing recital in the Lady Chapel...more of that in another post); treated myself to ribbons and buttons; cooked a lentil, vegetable and potato bake.

3. Snacks I enjoy:

Twiglets, blueberry yoghurt raisins, crystallised ginger, oatcakes with peanut butter or with cheddar cheese and chutney; dark choc.

4. Things I would do if I was a billionaire:

Travel the UK and then world (picking up as many knitting, crochet and spinning tips as possible, not to mention a truly global stash) and fund education projects for women all over the world.

5. Places I have lived:

Liverpool (until I was almost 4 years old); King's Lynn (for the rest of my childhood); Manchester (utterly disastrous stab at a degree in Medieval Studies); Bromsgrove (living at my aunt and uncle's for a year, whilst doing a secretarial diploma...I failed most of that, as well!); New Malden (London commuting days); St Albans (whilst there I actually managed to get a degree from the University of Hertfordshire); Wivenhoe (got that MA!) and a couple of locations on the outskirts of Cambridge (Where I started, but abandoned, aPhD). (Hmm, this appears to have turned into "places where I have studied!")

Well, that was the easy bit. Now I've got to think of people to tag. Trouble is, I think lots of people have done this meme already, but I'm going to suggest Siret; Susie; Lyndsay-Jane; Linda and Heather...

UK Swap (Round 2 questionnaire)

I've decided to take part in Round 2 of the UK Swap, so here's the questionnaire...

Part One: Crafting
Do you knit, crochet, or both? both
What do you like to make? quick things, quirky things
Do you have a favourite project? Anything featuring lots of colour and simple crochet stitches. I can cheerfully crochet dozens of corages, pots to felt in the washing machine and ripple stitch scarves.
Do you have a favourite type of fiber or brand of yarn? Noro
Do you have a least favourite type of yarn? Not really, but I don't use much acrylic or fun fur these days!
Do you do any other crafts? I'm learning to spin on my wheel, and I adore acid dyeing yarn. Can also be found turning wool tops into wet felt
Do you knit in public? If so where do you like knitting and what is your "portable" project? Just try and stop me! I go for simple crochet projects (see question re favoruite projects)
What do you carry your "portable" knitting in? A rather excellent small tote bag that a friend got for me at a yarn store in the US
Are there any knitting gifts (book, toy, yarn, item, tool) that you have been lusting over? Nothing leaps to mind at the moment!

Part Two: Your Favourites
What is your favourite colour? Greens of the olivey/khaki/lime/citrus kind.
What is your least favourite colour? Don't have one, but don't really like anything too insipid.
What scents/smells do you like? anything woody, citrusy or mossy and natural scents like rose, geranium and lavender
What don’t you like? that dewberry scent the body shop used to do, yuk, too sweet
How do you like to pamper yourself? (bubble bath, hand creams, massage, manicure)
Decidedly low maintenance, but do enjoy cruelty- free products like Faith in nature bubble bath (seaweed,mmm) and neals yard Cocoa Butter body cream.
What goodies to you like to eat? (chocolate, biscuits, sweets,crisps etc)
Dark choc, cherries, crystallised ginger; blueberry yoghurt coated-raisins; twiglets; those thin strips of dried fruit you can get in health shops.
Do you prefer tea or coffee while you knit? Any particular kind? Totally abhor coffee (yuk); don't mind green tea with lemon; like almost all herb teas (though not so keen on peppermint, unless it is fresh from our garden! Spoiled, or what?) Have also discovered that cider and G&Ts (NB not at the same time as each other) are good accompaniments...
Do you listen to/watch anything while you knit? (TVshow-Along, movies, music, podcasts, audiobooks)Radio 3, Radio 4, music (world, folk, classical), ER (but it really isn't the same without Dr Kovac!)

Part Three: About you, Living & Past-times
If you were a specific kind of yarn, which brand and kind of yarn would you be (and why)? Noro Kureyon: uneven, bit prickly in places, may unravel once in a while, but full of subtle, yet striking colours and inspiration; relaxes beautifully after a soak in bubbles. Am aiming to grow up into Noro Silk Garden: all the aforementioned features but just a little bit sparklier and tougher!
Where do you live in the UK? (General idea not address)East Anglia
Have you always lived here, or did you grow up somewhere else? Grew up 40 miles from where I am now, but spent a couple of decades in other places in between
What is your favourite place in the UK? Torn between Yorkshire and Norfolk. Prefer countryside to towns.
If you could visit anywhere in the world, where would you go? Most of my desired locations are North and/or East
What other hobbies do you have? Walking, picnics, reading, folklore, natural history, history, travelling through the UK by public transport .

Part Four: The Theme
Walking through woodland in August: cool, but with shafts of sunlight coming in; fabulous colours and textures (I'd slipped over in the mud just a couple of minutes before taking this); a river babbling off to the side (the fabulously named Murk Esk!) and the sound of a steam train leaving Grosmont station (we were in the North York Moors, on the outward leg of a round trip from Grosmont to Beck Hole and back again). Note the hyperbolic crochet potential of the bracket fungus and all those gorgeous shades of green.

Final Part:
Any allergies/preferences (fiber-wise or treat-wise)? I love surprises and I like tracking down my upstream pals at the earliest opportunity...
Anything we missed that you’d like your partner to know? I don't think so!

coral in the capital

On Tuesday I took my completed coral reef contributions

and those of fellow KTog members to the Royal Festival Hall and was stunned by the size, range, variety and beauty of things that were being brought in from all over the country. But guess who was so busy being awed by giant crocheted anemone with a central flower made of dozens of non-applicator tampons that she forgot to take photos. (Rhetorical question, you know the answer...) Thank heavens that Yvonne, who went a couple of hours later, was more organised!

Whilst in London, I managed to pay my first-ever visit to I Knit London. And I'm smitten. I was a model of restraint leaving only with a book on spinning, 2 balls of Wensleydale Longwool (DK) and one of those infamous disappearing crochet hooks (of which you have heard far too much this evening). But I'll be back to buy more soon.

the "other place"

It has taken me a while to come to terms with events of Saturday before last, when we caught the cross-country bus service to Oxford (aka "the other place") for a meeting of the Sylvia Townsend Warner Society. It wasn't just the traumatic loss of my favourite crochet hook. It was also the fear of talking to those amongst my fellow Warner enthusiasts who didn't know that I've given up on my PhD thesis on her. I don't mind telling people, nor do I mind their reactions (which range from sympathy to congratulations!), but I still stumble over the inevitable follow-on question: "so what are you doing now, then?" Watch those jaws drop as I reveal that "I work part-time in a small shop to fund my craft activities". I'd love to say "I'm an artist, working in textiles" but I'm not sure I deserve that label, hey ho.
"But surely you're still writing?" Well, yes I am, but I don't think that this blog is quite what is meant...

Despite all this ego-wobbling trauma I did have a great time. Lunch with friends I'd not seen for a couple of years; a concert of pieces composed by STW and of pieces by other composers who had set her words to music; then Graham and I headed off to a pub...

orchard idylls

I've spent the last two Fridays lazing in orchards. This Friday we strolled slowly through Granchester Meadows (currently awash with cow parsley)

to spend a lazy afternoon lolling on deckchairs, whilst sipping lemonade (and eating cake!) in the Orchard Tea Rooms. But it was the Friday before last when we had the "real" orchard experience.

The day didn't start too auspiciously, we spent 2 hours at a total standstill on the infamous A14, but eventually we reached our friend's smallholding, enjoyed some of the cider he'd made from his apples, and soaked up the calm and beauty...



and then used thetastefully lidded, strikingly blue,er, "thunderbox".

Alas, we got to spend less time here (the smallholding, that is, not the thunderbox)than we did on the A14; but what memories...

have hooks, dare I travel?

Yippee. Thanks to the generosity of the super-lovely thereyougothen, I now have a full set of silvalume hooks again. Not only that, I have spares in the all-important 5.5mm and 4.5mm sizes (for pots and ripple scarves, resepctively). Thank you Alison, it wouldn't be exaggerating to say thta you've restored my sanity!

But after last week's misadventures, I'm not sure that I dare go out and about with them. I've actually spent the last few days spinning (pics to follow when I've found my empty memory card) and haven't lost the wheel yet: it's even been to Rampton Spinners Guild, and back again, thanks to another Alison, yarninmypocket , and her car. Now, where did I put that orifice hook?

hyperbolic flowers

I think the staff at the rather lovely Rice Boat must have thought I'd gone mad last week, when I spied this wonderful vase of flowers


and got down on my hands and knees to take cloes-up photos


of these flowers, which just beg to be immortalised in crochet!


Anyone any idea what species they are?

Missing in action...2 x 5.5mm hooks

Sorry to have been so quiet of late. I've taken a few days' hols from work, so watch out soon for an orchard idyll in Norfolk; a visit to The Other Place (aka Oxford)and a capital adventure. Lots of pictures and words to follow.

But in those 3 trips I managed to lose not just one but 2 very precious 5.5mm crochet hooks! As these are the ones from which I make my endless supplies of sea anemone pots, I'm distraught. I do have other hooks but they aren't so good for hands that do overtime.

My beloved Susan Bates silverlume vanished from my lap on the X5 bus...I lay flat on the floor of the bus to hunt for it. I checked the interstices of the interstices of all the seats. But it had fled. I think it must have slid to the front of the bus and escaped when it stopped at Bedford.

Once we arrived in Oxford I had to buy an emergency Pony hook to keep my hands going. Yesterday, though, I visited the fabled I Knit London where I got a magnificent Clover soft touch hook. This got used as Liz and I crocheted and knitted together at the Royal Festival Hall; and again as we did the same on the train back to Cambridge. At Cambridge station, however, I made a fatal mistake. I heard a clatter as I left the station loos. I hunted round, and couldn't see anything, but when I got home I found that I no longer had my lovely new hook...

Curses! Now I'm going to have to use the emergency back-up hook again. (And even that made a break for it at the RFH)

Warning...

Feeling too ouchy to crochet today, I realised that I could no longer postpone the inevitable. Whilst I love shopping for books and yarn, I abhor shoping for clothes and footwear. One of my feet has a deformed toe joint and my chunky limbs defy all but the most generous cuts. Oh, and speaking of cuts, I also realised that my hair had grown from birdsnest into haystack. So I set out into town with a traumatic day ahead of me. Agenda: have hair pruned, buy 2 pairs trousers, one pair comfy shoes, one sensible frock, with long sleeves.

Quivering with terror, I went to Hairy Canary (the only place in Cambridge that can cope with curly and wavy hair) and booked the only slot they had left: 5pm. The terror, I should point out, is caused by their prices, rather than their cuts! But this left me with 5 hours to fill. I did the best thing possible and went on a lunch crawl: a tasty baguette in a favourite cafe; a Chelsea Bun from Fitzbillies(eaten on Laundress Green) and a lemon tea in the coffee bar at the Grad Pad. The view from there is always beautiful but today my eye was caught by two ladies crossing the bridge on Silver Street: each was wearing a purple jacket and a red hat. Does that combination ring any bells for you? I immediately thought of Jenny Joseph's "Warning":

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.

and decided that here were two women out for a day's anarchy. I stuck my head back into the paper I was reading (you can tell how keen I was to get the clothes shopping done!). Imagine my surprise and glee when, 15 mintues or so later, I saw another half dozen ladies dressed in purple, with red hats, congregating beside Queens' College. Suddenly, a dozen more appeared, one of whom was quite clearly a rebel, daring to wear a red ensemble with a purple hat. Then an entire coach load arrived, one of whom (total renegade) was in a red skirt, purple hat and leopardskin print jacket! All appeared to be post retirement age. As even more ladies in purple and red arrived I decided I had to rush over to Queens' to see what was going on.

By the time I reached silver Street, the ladies were posing for photos, with the Mathematical Bridge directly behind them. One held a banner aloft. I could only read the first word: "fiery", I'm guessing that the other word was women. The ladies then processed across the bridge, heading for the college hall. They were, alas, too far away for me to get a good picture, but I had to try:

I shot round to the tourists' entrance, flashed my University Card (to avoid having to pay £2 admission) and asked the ladies manning the gate if they knew what was going in. All they could tell me was that there was a big dinner going on. Of course, since I was in no hurry to do any clothes shopping, I took the opportunity to explore the college grounds.

Mind you, even a Uni Card can't get you into the Fellows' Garden: college members only. Hmm, I wonder what those ladies in red and purple thought, and whether they dared enact the line about picking flowers in other people's gardens?

Here's the poem in full:

Warning

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

Eventually I had to cave in and go shopping. And, whilst I spent plenty, I still don't have any trousers, comfy shoes or sensible frock. But I do have a sparkly skirt and some heels to wear with them! Oh well, I get paid again in a month's time. Now I must go and practice my spitting.*

*I bet I'll do better at that than spinning. I have two bobbins full of disaster waiting to be plied, once the ouching eases...

EDITED TO ADD: Thanks to Ambermoggie for pointing me to the Red Hat Society web pages: it was their Grand Eastern Gathering!

this week's crop

Thanks for all the kind thoughts about my achey hands etc. As you can see, things have been much better this week:

Four crocheted, felted "sea anemone" storage pots, using various shades of Twilleys Freedom Spirit

Fifteen crocheted brooches, using oddments of yarn (mainly DK), some handpaitned by me. Not sure that the yellow yarn works with the colours I've used with it!

But I'm wondering whether I've overdone the crocheting, as I managed to drop a cup of iced tea all over myself at Cambridge Botanical Gardens this morning. Oh well, at least it was iced tea and not hot! And at least I didn't slip over on the stepping stones like one unfortunate person whom we saw. Happily he didn't get too wet... And then there was the poor grandmother who'd lost her grandson. Just as she disappeared from sight, we heard her grandson calling her. So Graham set off in one direction, I ran in the other and, eventually, everyone was reunited. I forgot to take my camera with me so here, instead, is a rare picture of me, one which Graham took a year ago today in the Botanical Gardens in Durban, South Africa:

meeting the magician

I think that the last time I went to see a magician was about 1973, when I saw Ali Bongo at the King's Lynn Festival. All that I can remember of his act is that he made sausage dogs out of balloons; impressive, but scarcely sleight of hand, and certainly not magical. I adore the French word for conjourer--prestidigitateur--which reveals those cunning digits that perform the "magic". And I love the scenes in Cranford that involve the conjurer. (I'm not sure whether or not they made it into the BBC adaptation; if they did, they were in the episode that I missed).

Yesterday, however,I encountered magic of a very different, awe-inspiring kind; and in the most unexpected of places: a maths lecture. (Though maybe the truly unexpected thing is that I should be anywhere in the vicinity of a maths lecture. I think the sigh of relief when I completed my final GCE 'O' level maths paper in 1976 could be heard throughout Norfolk).

I want to try to explain what happened yesterday, but it still seems inexplicable, so please bear with me if I offer you a rather garbled account. (And apologies for the absence of photots, I forgot my camera).

Let me begin with why I was (suddenly) taking an interest in maths... Kettle's Yard is currently the venue for an exhibition about the areas where art and science meet and a friend (waves to Ann, blogless) had tipped me off that some of Dr Daina Taimina's hyperbolic crochet would be on show. Then I discovered that Dr Taimina would be giving a talk and spread the word to fellow KToggers. I was rather scared, to say the least, that the lecture would be all maths and no crochet. (Actually, I might not have gone but I had a bagful of yarn tht I needed to deliver to Ann). So you can imagine my relief when the curator introduced my magician by saying to all assembled "I don't suppose that you imagined that the next hour will be about crochet" (or words to that effect). Dr Taimina, however, quickly spotted that at least 5 of the crowd HAD come in search of crochet, and kept referring to us as "the artists".

So where was the magic? It was in straight lines of yellow yarn, worked in running stitch along crocheted hyperbolic shapes (work with regular increases that occur so frequently that the work will buckle, rather than rest flat). In traditional geometry, working on flat surfaces, the interior angles of a triangle will add up to 180 degrees. But the sum of the angles is far, far smaller on the hyperbolic plane. It was amazing to see such tiny angles, yet sides so obviously forming triangles. Indeed, if you could stretch the sides to infinity, the sum of the angles would be zero. (Needless to say, Dr Taimina has not done quite that much crochet!)

But what has left me speechless is the grid. If, on a flat piece of paper, you have lines crossing each other at 90 degree angles, all regularly spaced, you get a square (graph-paper-style) grid). But do the same on a hyperbolic surface and right-angled pentagons appear. I'm still not sure that I believe my eyes, nor even that I've absorbed the information correctly. Now that is magic!

I'm back!

Sorry about the recent silence; I've had rather a lot of pain in my neck/elbows/hands recently and it got so bad that I decided to go for at least a week without any knitting, crocheting or typing. Of course, having rested, things did get better but after my knitting and crochet fast I've been going overboard and the pain is back again. Grr. I'm going to take things gently and then if that doesn't work I'll hie me to an osteopath. Needless to say, with my hands so still I've been quite crotchety (makes a change from the crochet, I suppose) but I've been enjoying day trips by bus to Ely (a favourite haunt) and, for the first time ever to Saffron Walden, pictured below.

As you can see, Mr Caught Knitting came along to Saffron Walden, too. We had a fabulous time. So many medieval buidlings to admire, some extraordinary shops (one sells second hand books and bric-a-brac, I stepped back from some bookshelves and nearly collided with three long wooden poles, £35 each, which originally came from a four poster bed)and The Fry Gallery which is a must-see if, like me, you've loved Edward Bawden's work ever since childhood and fell in love with a Ravilious lemonade set about 10 years ago... The landscape around Saffron Walden is far more undulating than my usual haunts.

I've also taken the train to Norwich again, with members of the KTog crew KTog crew)

Here they are with their swag from Norfolk Yarn (full story here). I've finally realised that the best way to avoid being in a group shot is to be the person taking the photo!

When not out and about I've guzzled several novels (including some great secondhand finds, by long-time favourite authors like Elizabeth Goudge and Elizabeth Pewsey, who are so different from each other. Goudge's novels are decidedly moral--though not without their moral dilemmas-- but Pewsey writes about a bunch of upper-middle class bedhoppers with extravagent names: Quinta, Finella, Sylvester...).

Mentioning books reminds me that I've signed up for a very intriguing swap on Zoe's blog: the idea is that you select a novel that mentions knitting and was written before 1960, make a bookmark and use it to mark the page that mentions knitting then enclose some other little treats.

White Easter!

Graham has gone to church

but I can't decide whether to create more anemones (Scarlet took this picture at the KTog party on Wednesday night, where Anne got to work on a fabulous collection of sea slugs) for the crocheted reef.

or to do more work on young Radish. There is just one word for my spinning efforts to date, and it isn't fit for public consumption. Let's just say that we're having brake tension issues. Fine tuning has never been my strong point, but I seem to lurch from "too overtwisted to move through the orifice" to "so little twist that once through the orifice it snaps". Last night I spun some pencil roving into mad twirls but it is back to the fleece today (special thanks to Wye Sue for sending me a large bag of "play fleece").

(Oh dear, I think maybe I need to do some tidying up whilst Graham is out! And, no, that's not the chair I sit in to spin!)

Frustratingly, Blogger is refusing to let me upload pictures of the wonderful Easter goodies that Monkee Maker sent me for coming up with a mad name for her delightful crocheted pigeon. Suffice to say that I've eaten the eggs already, and the knitted muffin (with mad eyes and twirling moustache) deserves a post of its own anyway!

So I shall end by sending you

(found this card in an antiques centre in Ely)

Now--forget all that crafty stuff I was planning to do: I'm off to play in the snow, whee!!!

UK crochet coral reef project

Well, the spinning wheel and I are still at the treddling stage (but not for much longer, I'm getting steadier, and rarely let the wheel slip into reverse now). In the meantime, here's what's been filling my time.

(This one may be a coral, but, flipped over, it also has jellyfish potential...)

A trio of sea anemones.

A hyperbolic sea slug (which I may keep, as it is made from yarn I had-painted and would make a rather striking bracelet).

These are for the UK Coral Reef project. I've blogged about this in much greater detail (and with links to some truly awe-inspiring work) at the KnitCambridge blog

Two thousand and eight: a yarn odyssey

My schedule is so fibre-filled at the moment, and I'm having so much fun that (coupled with the evil sinus germs) I just don't seem to have the time/inclination to blog. Look here's my wheel (her name is Radish*) and I think I'm finally mastering the treddling):

And I can't remember whether I've mentioned my trip to Ely for the first-ever Ely KTog meeting. It was a fabulous evening and Jayne and Emily have found the perfect venue (good lighting, quiet music, squashy sofas)!

It seems hard to believe that the knitting group I rustled up (via Yahoo and the UK Handkniters Group) in March 2003 is now so big (12-20+ at most meetings, 70 members on Ravelry, 100 people receiving details by email)that we are having to switch the venue of our Saturday meetings. Here's a glimpse of some of us at this Saturday's meeting:
We'll be celebrating our 5th birthday on Wednesday. I can't claim any of the credit for this, it is all due to the many wonderful knitters and crocheters who have attended meetings over the years. Several of us remember events where only two (or, worse, one) turned up but the rising popularity of knitting and, in particular, the birth of Ravelry, mean that there is little danger of that now. Moreover, through the Ravelry group, it looks as if there may be more offshoots at new locations: if you're not on Ravelry, watch the KnitCambridge blog for more details.

The day after the Ely meeting I headed to Norwich to visit the rather wonderful Cloth and Culture exhibition at the Sainsbury Gallery and the equally wonderful Norfolk Yarn for a really tempting shopping experience. That trip was a dry run for two KTog group visits. The first of those was yesterday and I think it is fair to say that we had a great time, not least to Rebecca, of Norfolk Yarn: she is the perfect proprietor of the perfect shop! This afternoon (I'm typing this on Saturday, though goodness knows when I'm going to be adding the links) was another KTog meet and tomorrow I'm off to London to learn how to teach others to crochet a hyperbolic reef. And, of course, befoer I've managed to get this published, I'va actuaally been to the workshop. How's this for inspirational work:

I'll try to get a dedicated post done on this very soon!Oh, and (going back to my diary) earlier in the week (Wednesday?) I went on a Rowan finishing techniques workshop, to jolt myself out of my bad habits...

I realise that I've not shown you my SkipNorth spoils...but here's a shot of several swag-laden knitters:
(Since then, I've also acquired lots of lovely, dyed corriedale sliver from Norfolk Yarn and the truly brilliant Wye Sue has sent me a large bag full of combed fleece). I'll add some pics now and post this, then hope to add fuller reports of all these events (and, importantly, links) over Easter weekend (Yay! Two days off work! I might actually get some yarn spun).

Factual, chronological and sensibly composed, illustrated posts, with decent links, should be resumed again later this week...

(* I love Radishes, but Radish is also short for Radegund. It's a long story!)

wheely exciting

My amazingly lovely wheel was waiting for me when I got home today. We've set her up and been treddling (yes, Graham too, though I think he was pretending to be driving a pedal car).

Not sure that I'm brave enough to try to actually spin on her yet. (This has more to do with the befuddled state of my germ-filled brain than any reluctance to spin!)

skip, snuffle, spin

Am drowning in germs so very brief entry. Despite near-inability to breathe spent last w/end at in the company of many other yarnaholics at Skipnorth, the only holiday that ferries you around Yorkshire in a minbus with the express purpose of enabling knitting and yarn shopping. Other holidaymakers will be named and shamed--and my purchases will be revealed--as soon as I can breathe properly and think straight again.

But just a little confession. I'm awaiting delivery of a sonata from here....

what a knitcase...

There was great excitement here on Monday, caused by the arrival of a parcel.

It has to be admitted (and no doubt you've already realised) that Graham and I are both about 5 years old at heart. So even though the parcel was addressed to me, we both had to be there when it was opened. Off came the paper to reveal:

A stylish little case. The catches were opened, the lid lifted, the exciting burgundy tissue paper peeld back and lo!

and behold!

Knitting goodies galore, and more (apologies for the sideways picture, my HP software has not been playing ball for the last couple of days!) Some Posh Yarns Laura, in Camelot colourway (combining earthy browns with a luscious, vibrant green). Some Elsbeth Lavold Angora (squeeze those skeins). A delightfully sheepy card (revealing that all these goodies had come from my UK Swap Pal Heather). Green and Black's dark choc with cherries ("ooh, look" said Graham, "your favourite". Yes, indeed, and it is going to Skipnorth with me, I must try not to eat it before I get there!). Twiglets (these were opened straight away and, despite my reputation for being "the Twiglet Piglet, *"I have been rationing myself, and there are still a few left for tomorrow evening). An elegant silk corsage, in berry shades. A decadent candle, scented with ginger (we've been enjoying wonderfully relaxing candle-lit baths thanks to this) and, best of all, the perfect notions bag. You can see the beautiful green outside, but the inside is a work of art: bright green fabric strewn with polka dots, pockets and little loops with press studs for retaining useful things: such as the green stitch markers, the tape measure and the little bag of buttons that were inside it. Heather made this herself and it is perfect. As Graham's hand hovered over the chocolate, and as he went to put the candle in the bathroom, I rushed off for my prized Susan Bates crochet hook set and my indispensable Cibi. They fit! they fit! No more unglamorous plastic bags in my knitting bag.


I'm overwhelmed by how perfect these gifts are, and how carefully chosen. And I love the note explaining that the Elsbeth Lavold yarn is "an extra" from Heather's stash. Thank you so very much.

* I've been known as The Twiglet Piglet since time immemorial. I have my darling Ma to blame for the irritatingly catchy name!