Returning from Exile Island

I have started a new project.

But wait!

Does that mean some other things were finished?

Well yessiree bob.

Feather and Fan Beadspread

Spotlight Basics Dashing (100% merino - soft and lofty - rubbish colour selection)

18 Balls.

Cast on 180 stitches, work 4 repeats of basic feather and fan in each colour. Repeat three colour sequence six times.

Do not attempt to begin this project if you are over seventy - your death may intervene.

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See this cardigan?

Nice isn't it? So nice nice I had to knit it twice twice. Some pieces even thrice thrice.

I made this pattern up. I'm happy with it.


OTHER STUFF
Yesterday I received two knitting books yesterday as a thank you gift - I love them both.

Although one of them puzzles me. The knitting is nice, but the book is weird.


I mean if your online name were 'glampyre' (evocative of glam and goth and irreverence) and you named your book 'Fitted knits - 25 designs for the fashionable knitter' then why the fuck would you allow it to be styled like this? It looks like it could be twenty years old already.

Two cases in point:



Polyester Osti dress. Look at the shoes - I could pick up an outfit just like that for two bucks down the salvos. There is not even any retro appeal.


And look at that hair.

There is little doubt in my mind that Glampyre had almost nothing to do with the layout of this book. The alternative view (that she has the taste of Richard Simmons) is not supported by me.

If I were her I would distance myself from this publication.

OTOH, I have something else to say about a knitwear designer. Norah Gaughan - you are a goddess.

And, as you can see, here is my new project. Small, portable, not boring, quick. Small and quick - that's what the doctor ordered.

Elvis Costello - Good Year For The Roses

My favourite bit - 'but at least you thought you wanted it, that's so much more than I can say for me'

Saddest bit 'and from the bedroom the familiar sound of our baby crying goes unheard'

Sad Song Wednesday - REGRET

Don't it always seem to go, that you don't know what you've got till it's gone.


This week's sad song theme is Regret. Realising that you should have done more, said more, appreciated more and paid more attention to the person you loved. And now they've gone, and it's too late. This is a recurring theme in many a sad song.

Nominees in this category include: Bryan Ferry's 'Jealous Guy' - Elvis Presley's 'Always on my mind'.

And when she goes, she usually leaves the pots and pans behind.

The winners this week are tied, between the well known 'good year for the roses' and the less familiar but awfully sad 'Honey I'm a big boy now' by the sad song meister Billy Bragg. If you haven't heard it, you should go out and buy 'talking with the taxman about poetry' immediately.

Honey I'm a big boy now - Billy Bragg

I can see the kitchen light
From the road where I park my bike
But its dark there as it often is these days
And the gloomy living room
Really needs a dust and a broom
But I cant brush your memory away

Her father was an admiral
In someone elses navy
And she had seen the world before I met her
She would wash and cook and clean
And all the other things between
And like a fool I just sat there and let her

Chorus:
Now I can feed and wash and dress myself
And I can sleep without the light on
Honey, Im a big boy now
I dont know what she does with all the money that I sent her
Shes running round the town with the young pretender

I havent touched the garden
Since the day she walked away
From a love affair that bore only bitter fruit
She took everything she wanted
Which is why she left me here
With these pots and pans and my old wedding suit

A letter came one morning
That she would not let me see
And from that day I began to realise
That she would one day break
The home we tried to make
For sinners cannot live in paradise



I had trouble coming up with a song from a female singer on this topic - anybody?

What the ...

My dedication to this blog has waned in the past few weeks. I frequently toy with the idea of chucking it in altogether - my feelings about it come and go in waves. Anyhow, I'm obviously in a bit of a trough at the moment, I guess I should apologise.

I have, of course, a fair slew of excuses.

Excuse 1 - the dog. I got a dog. I love him so much, but he's wrecking the joint. But in a good way.

Excuse 2 - I have a redundant husband. Now, I know a lot of you might feel the same way, but mine was made redundant from his job about three weeks ago. He's been under my feet, in my face and on my computer for three whole weeks. When he gets another job remind me not to complain about him working long hours. Japanese women have a saying about husbands when they retire - 'wet leaf' - like something sticky and tenacious that you can't brush from your coat.

He, on the other hand, is so happy to get a handsomely paid break, he's swanning around like he's won the lottery.

On the upside it's great having a manny!

Excuse 3 - extraordinarily boring knitting. I have plans for new projects, but have imposed on myself the torturous duty of FINISHING the wip's before I reward myself with Frost Flowers and Leaves, and the MIREPOIX Bodice from the new IK. Thus, the knitting is so boring it's unbloggable.


Excuse 4 - New Job. I started a new job. The same day the husband lost his. Serendipitous, no? Shame my job is one quarter his salary.

I haven't done a sad song Wednesday for three weeks. I feel like I've BEEN a sad song though, does that count?

I've hardly read a blog for weeks either, whatcha been up to?

Even ravelry's not doing it for me.

BUT I do have a new toy. A brand new laptop! Dell lattitude d630 - windows vista. It's got a bit of setup to do but it's pretty snazzy so far. No more banishment to the dark part of the house for blogging or net surfing, the signal even goes out to the garden! (way to go, spending husband's redundancy package on essentials)

I will be back, promise. I need a little time - that's all.

A Berry Happy Birthday

So there used to be this stripey tiger who lived across the road. We used to traipse across to each other's houses for a cuppa and/or a knit, me often in pyjamas. Sometimes we'd go on daytrips - to Berrima, perhaps Austinmer or Berry. And if it were a warm day, our families would meet for driveway drinks. She doesn't just knit, she quilts, otherwise sews, spins and makes felt. Her house was a labrynth of collections and art; vintage sewing notions in a wall mounted box frame, antique jelly moulds, drawings and sculpture, and even a gaggle of 'victorian dust pressed tiles' whatever they are.

She was also known to make a mean batch of bills choc chip cookies and pistachio nougat. And she only drank the good stuff. I miss that.

And so it came to pass that the stripey tiger's husband finished his training at the hospital and went off in search of real work. They had long had a dream of a treechange - with a bit of land and a homestead and a ride on mower.

Well, her dream has come true, and she's done it. She invited a few friends to her house on the weekend for a country afternoon tea in her new homestead in Berry to celebrate her birthday.

Here's some pictures.











I didn't want to leave. Can't blame me can you?

Weak in the presence of beauty

Project Specifications

Pattern:

Pretty as a Peacock Shawl - by Jae of Some Knitting Required. Here's the story and more pictures here.


Yarn:
Louet Gems Merino Pearl - fingering weight in a colour hand dyed by Jae.
Almost a full 3 100g skeins - it's a big shawl.


Comments:
I really hope this pattern gets the recognition it deserves. It is amazing - textural, lacey and completely original.

I knitted this for Jae to test her charting - there really was no need as her charts were near perfect. But I was happy to do it because I wanted to say I was the first person to knit this shawl (bar the designer) in the world.

And now, sadly, I've got to let it go.

In the inimitable words of Exetor on Mork and Mindy (or perhaps it was Mork) - Fly. Be Free.

Next.

This is more like me

I notice Barbara on the yarn blog has been talking about this issue a bit lately again.

I have always wished I was one of the ignorant masses who didn't think or worry about hard things. The kind that think they've 'made it' if they've got a SS Commodore and an outdoor spa. If I didn't think I'd be so much happier.

That's what those SSRI anti-depressants do to me. They make me fat dumb and happy. I still know the world is full of suffering and we're all full of it but I don't care. And that is exactly why I don't take them any more.


May I draw your attention to this internet seller of mongolian cashmere.

And this one.

There are more I'm sure.

Don't you think that somewhere, someone is paying for our bargain? And don't you think that that person might be very poor and very desperate and possibly very hungry?

I do.



* You may wonder why if I care so much I started a blog about getting knitpicks to deliver to Australia. That's a long story, but basically I wanted to point out to them that their 'excuse' for refusing to deliver overseas is bullshit and we know it. It was kind of an academic exercise.

Hey you get on my cloud

I am euphoric at the prospect of finishing the peacock shawl.

Only ten pattern rows to go and then cast off and block.

If I could only get off ravelry i'd be knitting it right now.

what an interesting blog post.

PRIDE. TEAMWORK. EFFORT

We'll have none of that bullshit around here.


That's the sign stuck on the nearest wall to me at my new job. I know I'm going to fit right in there.

let's hear it for the boys

Sad Song Wednesday Part 3


Some girls think we know how to deal with the man to make him love us. Play hard to get. Treat em mean keep em keen. Stick to The Rules. Practice the Secret.

Become obsessed with their appearance. Look at ME. Listen to ME. Watch ME. Want ME. Love ME. ME ME ME ME ME.

Become clingy - he can't leave because he knows you need him too much. To keep him interested, make sure there's plenty of sex. Treat him like a baby so he can't do anything for himself - the perfect love shackles. Throw tantrums. Stamp the foot. Pout. Get friends with his mother/sister/dog.

Read his texts. Go through the briefcase. Change the locks. Have sex with someone else.

And meanwhile, how do we think all these manipulating games make him feel?

Probably a bit like this.

Shivers Boys Next Door

I’ve been contemplating suicide,

but it really doesn’t suit my style,

so I think I’ll just act bored instead

and contain he blood I would’ve shed?


She makes me feel so weary

my heart is really on it’s knees

but I keep a poker face so well

that even mother couldn’t tell

That my baby’s so vain

she is almost a mirror

and the sound of her name

sends a permanent shiver down my

SPINE



I keep her photograph against my heart

for in my life she plays a starring part

all alcohol and cigarettes

there is no room for cheap regrets

But my baby’s so vain

she is almost a mirror

and the sound of her name

sends a permanent shiver down my

SPINE


She makes me feel so ugly

my heart is really on it’s knees

but I keep a poker face so well

that even mother couldn’t tell

But my baby’s so vain

she is almost a mirror

and the sound of her name

sends a perennial shiver down my

SPINE


Your turn - sad song sung by boy about FITH confusing girl.

(Next week I promise I'll do something more current. I'm not really stuck in the 80's like it looks.)