New Tricks

It's our wedding anniversary this week.  Given a strong hint, my husband did his research on You-tube and then turned up this niddy-noddy for me.  It should yield a two metre skein of the new spun yarn, a skill which I am practising in order to improve.  He used some leftovers of beech from when he made his own work-bench some years ago.  Fotunately he has a shed for all his craft activities.

Meanwhile, I have been adding an applied i-cord edging to this throw.  It is knitted from scraps of sock yarns from the idea on Mason-Dixon Knitting.  I had never tried the i-cord edging before but it made a neat finish.  One of those mindless repetitive tasks in which knitting induces a meditative trance.

My back problem seems to have resolved itself into a pulled muscle, rather than anything more serious.  It is certainly inconvenient as well as uncomfortable.

Finally - it's that time of year again: a bumper crop of pears, from the warm dry spring we were lucky enough to enjoy.  Very different from the fixed grey cloud hanging over us at present.

Archive Footage

Last week someone posted a link to these photographs on a forum called "Design Addicts", and, as a result, many people have checked out my blog page where it originally appeared.  This is a hand-beaten stainless steel bowl made by Lakeland Rural Industries in Borrowdale - a kind of last hurrah for the Arts and Crafts movement.  When I saw it at a boot fair for a pound or two, I just had to have it.

The curious yellow stains on its surface are in fact reflections of the stained glass panels in our patio door, which is where I tend to take my photos, as it gives the best light.

We think the glass is early twentieth century: it certainly has an Art Nouveau influence to it.

Last week my husband went off to his biennial conference on legal history, held this year at Clare College, Cambridge.   While the cat's away, I thought, as I set myself the project of digging out a fourth strawberry bed.  I must have reckoned without the solidifying effect of a water table which is now much nearer the surface since the field drains became blocked in the snow and the spring appeared at the corner of our plot.

 Suddenly, I felt something shift in my lower back, and not in a good way.  I have spent the week hobbling about, with something like a permanent fold in the middle.  Not a good look, and particularly annoying in the last week of term, when I am looking forward to being  more active in the holidays.

Knitting your own Dog

Last week to the annual gathering of my husband's mother's family.  Much has happened in the year, as usual most obviously to the youngest and oldest in the group.  Thus the babe in arms at last year's event is now a confident toddler, while my husband's uncle is recovering from a bout of debilitating illness.

I am a great believer in the therapeutic powers of craft work.  A close friend was once given a complete knitted Nativity scene, made as therapy by someone whose husband had decided to release his inner teen and leave her with three young children.  Choosing suitable yarns and creating the figures had taken the edge off the long evenings for her.

So it has been for my husband's aunt: knitting these cute doggy figures helping to while away the hours of anxiety and concern.  These are all worked from the book "Knit Your Own Dog."

I was not at all surprised to hear that the work in progress is a German shepherd, knit from yarn spun from the dog's own hair clippings - though it would not be my fibre of choice!  For the dog-owner it will be a curiosity at least.

More craft work by the same hand.  Last year I came across a collection of crochet cottons in a charity shop and passed them on.  It is hard to believe that 50p worth of odds and ends can be turned into something so airy and delicate.  This is tatting, not crochet.

And so is this: a handkerchief edged with lace made by tatting.  There is something so crisp and perfect about the tiny picots bristling along the curves of this.  Hard to imagine blowing one's nose on it!

About Messing

This week we set off to walk across country to Messing, a village near Tiptree.  This is a ten mile circular walk.  We are trying to build up our mileage in order to be able to contemplate some of the many alluring long-distance footpaths on offer in England: the Ridgeway, the Cotswold Way, Offa's Dyke, Hadrian's Wall and so on. 

First we went out across fields planted up with row upon row of blackcurrant bushes - ours are just ready to harvest.

  We were pleased to see the contractors just about to start the harvest, using a giant machine which straddled the bushes.  Brushes made of many rubber fingers would knock off the berries into a conveyor of rubber dishes.  Then the debris would be blown off and they would be crated up.  All of these were destined for Ribena.

  Our own bushes have been heavy with fruit this year.  I love the sense of storing the vitamins for the depths of winter.  We have many jars of last year's jam still to eat, so I am freezing these down for later.

We sat down to eat lunch at the edge of a small copse.  Sitting silently on what passes for a hill in Esssex, we were pleased to see a huge hare venture out, lolloping across the rows of sweetcarn.  He was quite unaware of us.  At the turn of the field path, my husband spotted a young fox on patrol.  Let's hope that these two did not meet.

Messing is a very ancient settlement.  At first glance, the church looks fairly ordinary, with a nineteenth century tower.  Built into the structure, however, are pieces of masonry from a nearby Roman villa.  Inside is the real treasure: a stained glass winow dating from the early seventeenth century.  There too is an ancient wooden coffer.  The glass survived the Civil War because it was dismantled, packed into the coffer and stored in the crypt.  And here it sits, all these centuries later.

At the top of the village, just opposite the church, the village hall.  A blue plaque records that it has been in turn a workhouse, almshouses and a school before its present use.

Knitting-wise, I am embarked on an un-photogenic project.  The yarn is lovely: dark-brown Shetland from sheep on a local nature reserve. 

The pattern is one I have used before, with a plain stocking stitch back.  This is proving ideal for working while reading the sub-titles on the Danish version of "The Killing".  But it doesn't take a very good picture.

Abberton Reservoir

This week, by bicycle to Abberton Reservoir, a body of water renowned for its flocks of water-fowl.  As we watched the swan rose out of the water, wings beating strenuously.  We also saw curiously patterned Egyptian ducks.

The second lobe of the reservoir revealed the effects of the drought, with low water levels.  Some kind of major engineering works are in progress, and it was hardly a haven of peace.  Neither was the Visitor Centre as we mistimed our visit to coincide with that of a junior school trip. 

This is Layer de la Haye church.  We passed several intriguing large houses on the way, some clearly very extensive manor houses.

Our dining room has gained the mellow ticking of this fine clock, its battered face speaking volumes.  It is the clock from the pharmacy run by my husband's grandfather and father.  Once it was a fitment in the Edwardian mahogany interior, before becoming unreliable and being replaced by an electric version.  Then my husband had made a simple wooden case for it.  Later he  had another go, making this traditional round case.  When the mechanism was renovated by a clockmaker, my husband was mortified to learn that the dimensions he had used were typical of German clock-cases.  He brought the case home and reconstructed the little door to English specifications.  Strange, but true.

Now, of course, it looks exactly as if made by  a professional clock maker in the nineteenth century.  The clock man who lives across the road from us, who carried out its latest sevice, commented that at one time he saw a lot of this type of clock as every railway station had one and he had the contract.  It is a sign of the times - and of Essex - that he now earns his main living driving stretch limos for proms.

Finally, my version of the Mitred Crosses throw, knitted in 4-ply Shetland and scraps of sock-yarn.  I've decided it need not be any larger.  I am pondering how to edge it, and leaning towards a flat cable to suggest a band of quilting.  We will see.

Alma Mater

This week to my old Oxford college, for a School Teachers' Networking Day.  Nearly forty years I have waited for this invitation, but here it is at last.

 
As one of the former women's colleges, Somerville now finds itself having to take candidates from the general pool, as many of the more clued up entrants - male and female - opt for the big name colleges with the spectacular buildings.  I blame J.K. Rowling for this.

The day  began on the 10.18 from Paddington.  Already in the carriage were two females, each sporting a fascinator and clearly off to the races at Ascot.  One was demurely dressed in a maxi, but the other one appeared to be wearing a 50s swimsuit.  As she touched up the blood red varnish on her toe-nails, she squawked into her phone that she was entitled to a day out, and would get drunk if she felt like it....

No greater contrast could be imagined to these two than the hippy couple who were forced to sit next to them as the carriage filled up.  Both clutched grease-soaked brown paper bags containing cheese pasties, which they ate with relish. Every item of their clothing was well-worn and made of some form of hairy natural fibre.  The two sporting ladies had no choice but to budge up for them.

So to the Margeret Thatcher Conference Centre - she read chemistry here.  We met current undergraduates who looked about twelve; we networked; we watched mock interviews and made notes; we ate lunch in Hall, or rather, in what was once the college bar.  Amazingly, shortly after the admission of men to the college in 94 the bar was reinstated as a Reading Room.

Eventually, we were released into the rain.  I made first for this place of pilgrimage: the Annabelinda shop.   They specialise in fabulous couture clothing in velvets and Liberty prints.  Recently they have begun to take in their own creations from the past to resell as vintage and the shop is full to bursting with wonderful, well-loved items.  One could have spent a fortune.

Finally,this week's bear for the appeal.  A different and hopefully less fierce head-shape.  This owes a lot to Little Cotton Rabbits, where I notice that the bear head is similar to the rabbit, but with a different ear shape.  I was very pleased with the conceit of the eye-brow which I introduced.  It is probably invisible to anyone but me.

Winchcombe

This week to the little ancient town of Winchcombe, in the Cotswolds, en route to the duty visit.  Winchcombe is on the Cotswold Way and we planned to test out our walking muscles on a steep uphill.  We climbed up out of Winchcombe, looking back at the 14th Century St Peter's Church.

Up through fields with a distictly equine flavour, until we came across these lovely young animals who completely ignored us. 

At the top we reached a prehistoric barrow, Belas Knap.  In this long mound were four burial chambers containing the bones of thirty-eight people.  The grand entrance is also a trick - there is no way into the tomb at this point,  We were very impressed by the Cotswold stone walls, with stone the depth of roofing tiles giving a fine finish.

Down through woodlands said to be the inspiration for Tolkien, we had a splendid view of Sudeley castle.    We were entranced by the poppies at this field edge.

Winchcombe itself contains many ancient relics.  It had an abbey, established in the ninth century, of which nothing now remains.  What it did not have was a functioning tea shop.  There were pubs, and there were closed tea shops, but we had to resort to a deli for an actual cup of tea.

And what is this?  It's a Trauma Teddy, or my take on the idea.  We finally had a wet Sunday - whoever thought that this would be a rarity?  Someone at work is handing out project bags with a view to making 500 of these toys.  Knitting toys is often a revelation, as the body shape emerges from the various increases and decreases.  And customising the face is always fun - does it have life to its expression?  I recall a great pattern for Kipper the dog.

 However, the Trauma teddy pattern is for beginners - one long strip knitting the front and back just by changing colours, and then stitching up the sides and stuffing it.  I moved the seams, and then knitted the head on dpns, using increases and grafting to create the snout.  Looks a tad dog-like, and possibly rather grumpy.  Maybe not ideal for cheering up a child in distress...

Berries

This dramatic picture, taken two weeks ago, shows the effects of the drought on local field paths.  That is a very deep two-inch crack running all along the path.  Also shown are my trusty Ecco walking shoes, the most expensive shoes I have ever bought, but worth every penny.

We have now moved on to cycling, enjoying a round trip to Bures last Saturday.  The main routes in Essex are frighteningly busy, but there are many lanes which make for pleasant cycling.  Over the years we have been on holidays run by Headwater, where the idea was to cycle to the next place on the route on alternate days.  We went to Burgundy some years ago, and more recently to Tuscany.  The route used the strada bianchi, or small, unmetalled lanes, where these were available.  Going down a steep hill on one of these, where the surface was loose gravel, was a hair-raising experience.

  Most memorable was our trip to Norway where we hired bikes to extend our range from Geilo, a ski resort we were visiting in the summer.  From there we took the train to the highest point, Finse, where patches of snow still lay about - in August.  Here we off-loaded the bikes and used the rallerwegn, or cycle path made out of the railway construction road, to cover the forty km to Geilo.  It was all downhill, and one just need a firm grip and nerves of steel.

While in Cumbria, I of course visited Linton Tweeds.  I suspect this may become a habit.  Off the roll, I bought this brilliant, lightweight tweed, described as viscose, but handling like silk.  It is also available from Linton On-line at £22 a metre.

Then, I explored their remnants and bought these two skirt lengths from the £5 bin.  I can see the first one with a black top and cardigan.  The russet one fairly gleams in the light.  Three skirts for about twentyfive pounds - can't argue with that.

Next, my first efforts at the spinning wheel.  These are best described as "rustic," with every fault that spun yarn can have - thick and thin sections, over and under-spinning.  I'm hoping it will improve with practice.  I was certainly very pleased to master the art of treadling the wheel while drafting the fibre.

Finally, a bowl of our homegrown strawberries.  We have tried to manage the weed issues on our strawberry bed by planting up two beds through black membrane.  This seems to have done the trick.