jane brocket

next year i am looking forward to...

...more spectacular amaryllis flowers. This is 'Bolero', my first amaryllis of the winter; very pink and very lovely, and a perfect shade for toe-nails in summer 2009.

...painting my toe-nails similarly shocking colours when they come out of sock hibernation.

...knitting something other than socks. This is a definite as I have signed a contract to start writing a knitting book later in 2009.

...finishing the books I am writing: a book for Hodder and a quilting book for Anova (Collins & Brown).

...reading more 'domestic' literature using Nicola Beauman's brilliant book for guidance. I've been so busy with other things recently that I've missed true immersion and escapism in excellent writing.

...escaping into film, too. I have a large backlog of Cary Grant/Alfred Hitchcock/films noirs to watch again. Rear Window calls.

...looking through my study window in spring at the tulips we planted.

...planting more low-maintenance but beautiful plants. I feel 2009 will be the year of the hydrangea and the dogwood. Vibrant, wonderful habits, of interest most of the year.

...not competing with my new plants.

Happy New Year.

strike me pink!

My 'Strike Me Pink Raspberry Jam Cakes'. Inspired by the  first P.L. Travers book and Mary Poppins' favourite exclamation of delight, the one she uses when she and Bert enjoy a afternoon treat of winkles, cakes and tea after leaping into one of his pavement pictures. The recipe is in Cherry Cake and Ginger Beer - it's a cinch to make and leaves everyone wondering how on earth you got the raspberry jam inside the cakes.

hyacinth socks

With its flecks and markings in pale, sugary colours, I'd thought of this yarn as a big, soft ball of nougat. But as I completed these socks I changed my mind and began to see them as hyacinth socks. There's the pale pink and blue of the flowers, the green of the leaves, the brown of the soil in which they grow, and the ivory background of lovely indoor hyacinths such as 'L'Innocence'.

With perfect timing, the finished socks match this year's blooms which are just coming into their own now. The white flower is 'White Pearl' and the pink is the splendidly named 'Spendid Cornelia' which turns from pink to mauve to lilac. They smell wonderful - as Phoebe discovered when she modelled for me and we both swooned a little with the perfume.

The yarn is Schoppel Wolle Admiral Flakes 2016fla bought directly from Germany, knitted on 3.5mm dpns using the same old pattern that came free with a ball of yarn and which I have now committed to memory.

desk credits

Daffodils: British growers

Tulip vase: Annie Doherty

Telephone: John Lewis

Golden syrup tins: Messrs Tate and Lyle

Knitting needles: long-gone makers

Sewing machine: second-hand Bernina

Felt pin-cushions: Cassi at Bella Dia

Papier mache figure: Julie Arkell

Wall colour: Dulux

Mess: all my own work

the first of many

I've been watching this hyacinth bulb while I do the washing-up for days now, willing it to grow and burst into flower, half-hoping it would do so while I'm standing in front of it. Then last night, when I was in bed, the first bud opened and I came down this morning to the sight of one pure white, star-shaped flower with that classic, delicate hyacinth scent.

What's lovely is that this is just the first of many such flowers - not just on this bulb, but on the various bulbs I'm growing in jars and on all the rest that are gradually emerging from dark corners of the house where I have been gently coercing them to flower indoors and much earlier than nature intended.  Which explains why I like to applaud their efforts.

                                                :::::

Thank you for all the marvellous comments on the last post. I can't tell you how much they mean to me.

if you don't know me by now

One of the things I have enjoyed about writing a blog ever since I started is the feeling of complete independence. I can write as and when I like and on whatever topics I please. I have total editorial freedom and no deadlines. How could I not like it?

And, as you may have noticed, I have never taken money from advertisers so there have never been any potential conflicts of interest or hidden messages - something that matters enormously to me.

Nor do I ever take any direction when blogging from anyone else, even my publishers. Now I am fortunate to work with three fantastic publishers but my book-writing and blog-writing are two very distinct entities. The blog is mine to do with as I please and never have I been asked to change what I do by my publishers. In fact, when I took the decision (for various personal reasons) to move on from the yarnstorm blog, they knew nothing about it until it had happened but have accepted it very graciously (I told you they are wonderful).

My blog is emphatically not commercial and it upsets me greatly to receive comments, particularly from long-time readers, suggesting that I was pressurised into taking down yarnstorm and that my blog is tainted with 'grubby commercialism'.

I'm sorry that some of you think I would bow to pressures like that. I thought it was pretty clear all along that this voice is my voice, not a puppet's voice.

                                                  :::::

Anyway, enough of all this. I'm fed up with it. So let's get back to the good things in life that I like to share on the blog. Like chocolate cake.

ladybird, ladybird

I've been having more hospital treatment and each time I go for an appointment, I am dumbfounded by the wonderfulness of doctors and nurses. And by the magnificence and size of the hi-tech machines that make sure an epidural injection goes into exactly the right place [in my back]. It makes me very teary to be so well looked-after, and to be allowed to admit how much pain I have experienced during the last few weeks.

Strangely enough, just last weekend I came across a reprint of the very book that influenced the way I see hospitals. It was a Ladybird book (above) that I read as a child not long before I was very ill. I still go into a hospital expecting to find brisk nurses wearing crackling, starched aprons and ridiculously tall, fan-like head-pieces, and am always a little surprised to be treated by doctors without white coats who fiddle about with needles and sharp objects, blood and muscle, without the slightest concern for their shirts and ties, skirts and jackets. And I still think all nurses knit when they are not working.

But some things never change. Cups of tea. Kind enquiries. A discreet hand under the elbow to help you get out of your undignified position on a table. This Ladybird book brought it all back home.

                                         :::::

And today in The Times there's an obituary of  Douglas Keen, editorial director of Ladybird books, the books that were such an important part of my childhood (all those Peter and Jane stories in which I was Jane) . It's good to see some of them on the shelves again; I particularly want to read the one that explains how to make your own transistor radio - and at the same time drink tea out of the Ladybird mug my Mum gave me for my birthday (she knows how these books are imprinted on my memory).

i...

...like this picture I took at Wisley - the colours of the berries and the tree bark, the sense of stillness and dampness, and the little droplets of water.

...feel odd licking the bowl when making a chocolate cake for the children when they are not here. It still tastes delicious, though.

...have found a dramatically dark purply-red amaryllis that I've never seen before called 'Black Pearl' and can't wait to see what the flowers are like. Now I am wishing my bulbs would hurry up and produce them.

...am reading Random Commentary by Dorothy Whipple, a sort of diary-journal. She notices so much and has such a clear voice that I am completely engrossed.

...am looking forward to watching Elvis Costello on 'Spectacle' this evening because someone at C4 put it on far too late for me last night (gone midnight, for goodness' sake) and because I've loved him ever since I saw him in concert in Manchester in 1978 (and my middle name is Alison).

...am ready for some sleep. Lots of it.

contrast

To Wisley for some fresh air and a walk round the empty gardens looking at sticks of sprouts and bagged-up banana plants and the many tones of brown in the landscape. Not as melancholy as it sounds, but in fact very beautiful. And anyway, there's a great cafe (more people in there than outside yesterday) and a wonderful, huge glass-house to escape into when you need some warmth and colour.

We went in at the same time last year and I took photos of the tall, slender orchids, so I was hoping there would be more of the same this year. After our glasses had cleared after steaming up (always good for a laugh) we found all sorts of hot-house plants looking very exotic and out-of-place next to the bare, sepia-tinted world outside. Still, I like the contrast and it reminds me that those sad sprouts won't be there forever.   

starry-eyed

I could eat mince-pies at any time of year. I love the mix of crumbly, buttery pastry and the fruity, spicy, alcoholic filling, and when we make our own we go overboard on all the ingredients just to be certain they will taste right. Today though, I discovered that I've put my pastry cutters in a very safe place and, on Phoebe's say-so, used cutters that gave much bigger rounds and stars than usual. And my goodness, it worked. Now we have proper-size mince-pies with proper-size stars with a snowy dusting of icing sugar for a proper-size mouthful of mince-pie deliciousness .