I Have Very Helpful Animals

This is the photograph I was hoping to put up for the photography day of the knit blogging week but Lugh wouldn't play ball. I think he was rather surprised that I didn't follow my usual habit of chasing him off when he's only trying to help with my sewing up...

KCBW2012 Day 1: Colour

So, today is the first day of the Knit and Crochet Blogging Week and I completely forgot all about it. I've been meaning to post a lot of things this past couple of weeks but what passes for normal life around this place completely consumed me.

Colour. Some people love it, some love only certain colours and others don't seem to care. My father was a man who believed that standing out from the crowd was horribly vulgar and therefore would have been happy for my mother and I to wear beige for the whole of our lives. He should really have been prepared when I emerged into the world with hair roughly this colour:

There was no way I was going to merge into the background so, even if the hair colour faded, my love of colour as a whole remained. It didn't hurt that I grew up in the Middle East, a riot of noise and colour; the Cloth and Gold Markets were favourite haunts of mine and I soon learned from my mother to sew the gorgeous fabrics that were all around. Knitting came later as yarn was unobtainable.

Colour also brings memories, just as smell and taste do. Navy is not a colour that lives in my wardrobe, bringing back the memories of school, right down to the gruesome navy knickers. It's a colour of conformity to me, of mediocrity, of fading into the background - a respectable colour. Perhaps my hatred of navy is a kick over the traces at the whole stultifying idea of fitting in, not standing out, wondering what others might think or say. My own personal mini-rebellion.

Black, however, is a staple of my wardrobe, despite or perhaps because of my love of colour. I learned the beauty of a capsule wardrobe on a trip to Gibraltar when in the Royal Navy Reserves when both normal and tropical uniforms, computer manuals and, right down the  list, a few civilian clothes all had to be transported within the confines of commercial airline baggage allowance. Black came to the rescue and it has been my staple ever since.

If you remove colour from the equation, you get to play with texture. In cloth, you can have the sheen of satin, the glow of silk, the beautiful feel and look of velvet amongst many others. In knitting, you can play with texture too, with cables or stitch patterns or complicated lace. However, I tend to use my miriad textures of black as a background for the colour of my knitting and that too can experiment with texture.

I realise, though, that all colours are not equal in my wardrobe or my stash. My favourite colours are purple and green and those dominate with the occasional outburst of other colours. And this in-yer-face pink on the left is truly an outburst. You're not going to fade into the background with a shawlette or scarf in this colour. A colour for a confident day or a day when you want to feel or look confident.

Rarely, if ever, do I mix colours. Perhaps I'm a bit afraid to do so, still remembering my father's fear of standing out - to the extent where he refused to walk down the street with his fashion-forward sister wearing the latest London style. I don't trust my own sense of colour, preferring to stay with my black background and single colour knitwear. I trust to my favourite dyers to mix the colours for me, often remaining within the same colour families I know and trust. As knitters, we soon acquire our favourites, those dyers and suppliers who have similar tastes with colour and texture, the all-important handle of the stuff - whether yarn or fabric - that makes you want to feel it next to your skin and hug it to yourself. But colour is what first draws us in, particularly on the internet with all its hits and misses; we've all succumbed to the lure of that gorgeous yarn on the screen, only to find its promises of colour false as it arrives in the mail.

I can be more experimental with my socks, my feet remaining mainly out of sight within my boots, a small canvas to have fun with. The cat also seems quite fond of this particular yarn, as can be seen below.

But, then, there are those days, when you just say to heck with everything -

PUT YOUR SUNGLASSES ON, WORLD;

I'M COMING THROUGH!



It's Not Like This In "Country Living"...

Naturally, this being the Easter holidays, it was snowing yesterday. It was completely white when I got up in the night but the lying snow had melted by the time I got up and more was falling. It snowed all day here but nothing was lying. The dogs' coats have been dug out again and the open fire was roaring. Open fires aren't just for the ambience and pretty look, you know - no one except fancy magazine executives and other city refugees can afford to heat their country homes with just oil and tank gas as the bills would be through the roof.

And talking about ambience and pretty look, I wasn't exactly rocking the Country Living vibe when I took the dogs out yesterday afternoon, though ultimately more realistic. Ancient trousers resurrected from the linen basket as I'd freeze in the ones I've been wearing lately, nice thick hand-knitted hoody that pills like mad so kept for keeping warm at home,, big baggy t-shirt, knitted shawlette knotted round the neck, Sea Cadets fleece, newly-finished Bad Girl Socks keeping my tootsies warm under a pair of gum boots (as opposed to Yah Wellies of the Hunter variety) and all topped off by a genuine ragged and ancient Barbour, complete with doggie poo bags (unused), antique tissues and crumbled dog treats. Ah, the fashionable British countryside look - NOT. The dogs were so much smarter than I was in their glamorous and warm coats received from their Aunties Liz and Michele at Christmas.

And those gorgeous houses shown in the magazines never show the realities of the country. Where are all the pawprints and mucky bootmarks on those gleaming floors, particularly the white-scrubbed ones? Where's all the tumbleweeds of animal hair lurking under chairs and radiators? The half of a dead mouse left lying in the kitchen, perfectly presented for the unwary foot? A cat lies photogenically on the sofa but there's no tidal mark of fur outlining it. The logs piled by the fireplace are so perfectly stacked that using one would ruin the aesthetic.

Country Living? More like I Wish This Were Country Living.

Rantette: Temporary Employers

Dear Temporary Employer, perhaps we should get a few things straight.

I am not psychic in any major way. I may not know your organisation. I have only a vague idea of what you do or what my temporary role is to be; I most probably have never heard of you before. I may have heard of you but heard only bad things - all I can say after this past week in a particular division of my local council, is that all those bad things are confirmed. Now come the particular details.

You may have a particular set of tick boxes for new starts but I feel that more would be accomplished in telling me what to do than in taking ten minutes to adjust my desk chair ergonomically correctly.  I can do bugger all if you don't make sure that I can get into the computer system once I arrive. It might also be useful if you show me how to use the telephone system before you leave me alone to take calls during the lunch hour and please let me know who I might be expected to take calls for while their secretary is absent, rather than let that secretary tell me four days into the assignment. I can't do your filing instantly without you showing me the system and spending a little time telling me what the subjects of papers are if they are not immediately obvious; it's not my fault if I have to wait for stationery particularly when you are in charge of the budget and stationery cannot be ordered before the new financial year. Some people's habits and personality do give accountants a bad name. Don't bad-mouth me to my agency that I'm not taking enough initiative when you haven't given me enough information to do what I've actually been asked to do. It also helps to explain where and how to access documents and where typed documents should be saved to. Despite asking all other secretaries if there is work I can do for them, it is not always quicker and easier for them to hand over work to someone who will need to be shown everything about the system (because you haven't done it at the outset) and departmental standards. If I am interrupted for ten minutes in total during my lunch hour (which you will not pay me for), I am entitled to take that time at the end of the lunch hour; I don't work if you don't pay me.

Finally, when you decide to terminate an ongoing assignment after three and a half days with only quarter of an hour's notice, don't be surprised that the temporary employee is delighted to escape even though you haven't had the integrity to pay for the whole week - they won't get any more work that week. In addition, when the permanent secretaries tell the temporary employee that she hasn't been given a chance despite doing everything asked and just being plonked down and left to sink or swim, just know that your employees despise you for your lack of integrity, humanity and management skills. And no one is surprised that you are permanently advertising for professional staff when all those qualified professionals who live in your council area prefer to work for neighbouring councils.

Briefly - you stink as people and as employers. I have worked for many temporary employers and the majority of them have been professional, just and organised; it's a pity that some - like you - give the others a bad name.



Boinngg, Boinngg, it's Spring!

The Spring Equinox has been and passed, and the buds are sprouting like mad from tree and hedge all around the cottage. The daffodils are out and it will soon be time to attack the grass again. Last year, I let it lie fallow (posh term for doing naff all) as it was all covered in mud due to the river flood so I will have to sort out the strimmer and surf eBay for a ride-on lawnmover or resign myself to four hours cutting every weekend.

The weather is most un-Spring-like, scorching away like high summer though - this being Scotland - there are murmers of snow forecast for the weekend. Not that snow in April would be unheard of, however. My birthday is this coming Wednesday, 4th April, and my mother swore that she was glad to get into Aberdeen Maternity for the heating while the snow lay piled up where it had been cleared from the sides of the city streets in piles of over six foot. The following April, her cousin gave birth in England at the end of the month and had to thaw the radiator in the nursery with a hairdryer due to the hard freeze.

Be that as it may, it has been a glorious week. The dogs are suffering a bit though enjoying being out in the garden whenever possible, as well as throwing themselves into the river to cool off. Last Sunday I thought it was too hot to take them for a walk mid-afternoon so took the car up to the village for the papers. While I was there, I had the thought to walk them through Saline Glen in the shade of the trees and with the cool of the running burn. Like a fool, I hadn't brought my mobile so there are no pictures of Sunday but I do have some from last summer of a similar walk in the Glen.

It seemed odd to be out and about in the Glen with no leaves on the trees yet on such a hot day. There was a lot of damage from the winter storms (including Hurricane Bawbag) evident without new growth to soften the scars. The Glen was clearer and sharper to the eye without the covering of leaves, flowers and grass and small waterfalls could be seen as runoff from the surrounding fields to the north and gardens to the south poured down into the Saline Burn, which makes its way north from the Glen through the village to join the river just yards from the cottage.

Buddy was in his usual bouncy mood, playing King of the Castle and refusing to let his sister up from the burnside. Other dog owners had had the same idea for a good walk in the shade so there was quite a lot of sniffing and wagging going on all over the place. He's a very sociable character and happy to see anybody; Sheba is more reserved and fussy.

So, the next event is Easter and the shops are full of chocolate, candles, decorations and so on. I'm quite happy to make a pig of myself with chocolate and to stock up on decorations for next Spring Equinox. Lidl had some lovely candles in today in the form of beautifully-decorated eggs - six for £2.99 - and I would love to have had the money to buy a pack of each design.

Which brings me back to the subject of the Spring Equinox, particularly eggs. There's an urban myth/legend that eggs will stand on their pointy ends at the time of the equinoxes only, as this is the time when night and day, dark and light are in balance. Friends of mine always include this in their equinox ritual. Of course, you have to wait for the heavy yolk to drop to the pointy end but it's remarkable how the power of belief helps - eggs suddenly start to balance all over the place once someone is the first to balance theirs. Yet, the equinoxes are also the time when the tides change, when light becomes ascendent over dark and vice versa; the astral tides are changing and changing tides give rise to turbulence. This can certainly be seen in the weather - despite the sun and heat of this week, I have still had to scrape the car windscreen of frost in the morning and snow is predicted for some parts of Scotland this weekend. Turbulence can also be seen in the political sphere as politicians let the sun go to their head, open their mouths and put their huge feet in it (Tories, I'm thinking of you here, you bunch of evil shysters). Personally, the employment scene has also been rather turbulent this past week but I've tweeted enough about that.

I've been thinking a fair bit lately about the Equinox and Easter lately but I'll leave that for the next post.

Enjoy the sun while it lasts!

My Preciousssssssessss

I had some lovely squishy goodness in the mail this week, thanks to selling off some of my unloved yarn and therefore having some credit in my PayPal account. Both are laceweight and gorgeously soft and silky. 

First up is a skein of silk and baby alpaca in Berry Ripple from the wonderful Abstract Cat. This is intended for my Glasgow Rose shawl which I want to have done for October. I first saw the shawl in the competition run by The Yarn Cake for the first Glasgow School of Yarn weekend and fell in love with it there and then. I really want to have it done for the next GSY so, what with everything else planned, that will be interesting! And I really should knit up the yarn bought last year too, and spin the fibre...

The second skein of utter wondrousness is again silk and baby alpaca (but Royal baby alpaca this time - what's the difference?) from Ripples Crafts in the north of Scotland.

The colour isn't showing terribly well as the photographs were taken on a cloudy day. This next photo was taken the following, sunny day and, though a pretty lousy photo, shows the lustrous yarn and fabulous colour.

I've several laceweights lurking from Helen and they are all lovely. That includes several intended for shawls and two glorious wine-coloured ones for a lightweight cardigan bought at GSY last year (there seems to be a theme developing here). This one is intended for a lace shrug for the SWRI West Fife Show in June; well, not totally as it's a pattern that has been queued for a while but it's an opportunity to put a rocket under me and actually get it done. The local show in September is also hurrying me to actually do another long-queued item - a lace cowl this time - for that.

I joke about my yarn and fabric stash, saying that I'm building it up for when I'm living on a pension and can't afford to buy anymore. The way things are going with employment and pensions in the UK lately, that's looking less and less like a joke. I only hope that I can afford food and heating. At least I'm making my own clothes. I'd better get the garden sorted sometime to start growing my own vegetables then I really will be ready for the zombie apocalyse - or has it already arrived in the form of our current politicians?

Well, back to the socks - they're almost finished!

Welcome, Me!

Ooof, how to start this? I think I've described myself and my life fairly clearly in the profile to the right but I'm new to this game and I think it will be a bit of a learning curve for me. Perhaps I should treat it as Dear Diary/Blog?

And my interests are a bit of a mixture, some would think. This blog isn't going to fit nicely into one or other sections of interest. Yes, I knit, sew and embroider but I'm also opinionated on many subjects (including politics), studied language and literature at one of the ancient universities of Scotland, have worked in several sectors, love the countryside, and am a practising witch and Gardnerian Wiccan at that. Perhaps I'm being a little presumptive in thinking that anyone would want to read my musings so I'll stick to clarifying my thoughts?

Currently, I'm having difficulty in levering myself up from the sofa to leave my notebook and knitting behind and actually accomplish something that doesn't involve the web or yarn, like cleaning the house. Let's just say that I'm not a natural housewife. Still, I don't really want the cats to stick to the floor or be lost under a pile of newspapers. The dust bunnies of dog and cat hair are also threatening to take over the world.

I have a few things on the needles at the moment, Corinne cardigan from last spring's Knitty in a glorious colour (Jou Jou) of Sublime Cashmere Merino Silk that I got from The Black Sheep, a pair of Diagonal Lace Socks in Trekking and a very slow-going cardigan from the ill-starred Yarn Forward/Knit magazine in Sirdar Balmoral. All are for me as this year's resolution is to actually produce garments for myself and not others as before; however, I will make an exception for a good friend's first grandchild! Perhaps my first Baby Surprise Cardigan?

In other work, I need to send healing to a friend in Germany who is having serious problems with her back. The moon is currently waning so I need to think about how to word the work; I think I will use the old standby of candle magic as I always have the materials in the form of various colours of candles handy. So, today's work shall be the preparation of the workspace and altar before sending the healing. The trees and hedges are in bud here so winter and its harshness and cruelties are on the wane - I think that this is something I can use.

So, welcome, Me to this blog, and welcome too to any reader who may happen upon it.