jane brocket

gone to the beach

 

We are going to the seaside for a few days.

There will not turquoise sea. But there will be sludge brown/gunmetal grey/airforce blue sea with white horses (depending on the sky and wind).

There will not be busty mermaids basking, blissfully unaware of the sharks circling her. But there will be people lounging on sofas reading, blissfully unaware of the world.

 

There will not be bikinis on show. But there will be wetsuits for the (fool) hardy amongst us.

And there will not be tropical orange fish, but there will be fish 'n' chips and salt 'n' vinegar.

 

 Yes, it's a Great British Seaside Holiday.

[Cake by Phoebe, commissioned by a friend,  made after school one evening. I had to whizz to the local shop to buy more icing sugar and in the very short time I was gone, Phoebe had made the rather gorgeous mermaid and given her a fabulous figure and blonde-on-blonde tresses.]

my first pair of socks

 
 

This is my very first pair of hand-knitted socks. As in knitted for me, not by me.

These were knitted as a gift by Anna who came with beautiful baby Phoebe to the Loop book launch, and I was quite overwhelmed and very delighted with them. Anna wasn't sure if they would fit, and Phoebe was desperate for them to fit her and not me, but in fact they are perfect and therefore mine.

 

They are beautifully made with little garter stitch arrows on the soles, because they are knitted to Anna's own pattern for This Way Up Socks (free on Ravelry) which is a clever and witty way to knit socks from top to bottom then bottom to top , or the other way round if you prefer.

 

They also go with the beautiful little Milly-Molly-Mandy paper dolls that Ivy (aged 10) had made for me after reading Ripping Things To Do (she brought them on Saturday when she came with her mum, Lucy).

 

And they go with the Smarties left over from Phoebe's latest creation, 'Billionaire's Shortbread', ie millionaire's shortbread with Smarties on top. I meant to get a tasteful photo but it was eaten so quickly that I could only get a same-day, late night shot of it under attack.

 

 

 

australia

Must mention that The Gentle Art of Knitting will be published in Australia by Penguin in June. Sadly, there won't be a launch. (Just considering the possiblities it would offer for a Very Grand Knitting and Wine Tour makes me think there should be an Australian launch, preferably in a winery somewhere very beautiful like the Adelaide Hills or the Yarra Valley.)

launching books

 

Although Knitting is my sixth book (seventh if you count Spiky, which I do), I have never had a book launch. It has just never happened. Now, as I said to some people on Saturday, I don't exactly live a literary life; I don't drop names because there aren't any names to drop, I don't have a bazillion followers on Twitter (maybe because I don't tweet), I don't get invited to literary dos, and I don't get free books. So I never wanted a big brassy book launch anyway, but a small, friendly, cakey launch wouldn't have gone amiss.

 

Which is exactly what I got on Saturday at Loop. Loop is a wonderful place (it sounds daft but I didn't realise until Saturday that there is an upstairs as well as the ground floor and basement for classes. Duh, as the teenagers would say.) It's full of everything a good yarn shop should be: amazing yarns (obs, as the teenagers say), places to sit, books and magazines, beautiful knitted projects, and masses of inspiration. Very importantly, they also have knowledgeable staff who are passionate about knitting, and I don't know anyone better than Juju (who works there part-time) for advice, guidance and knitting knowledge.

Loop's owner, Susan, was on holiday, so Juju was in charge. She made the room look fantastic, and organised fabulous cake, scones and strawberries so that the table I was sitting at looked like a dream indoor knitting picnic. Phoebe and I brought cakes, and everybody else brought the atmosphere.

 

It was a lovely occasion. I met so many enthusiastic knitters and long-time blog-readers. I signed books and I talked (oh yes, I talked), and I enjoyed every minute of my Loop launch which has set quite a standard for future launches. Because now that I've found the way to have my sort of launch, I'm going to make sure there will be more.

Thank you to Juju and Susan and everyone at Loop for hosting and helping and making it all go smoothly. And thank you to everyone who came. I was quite overwhelmed by your interest,  generosity of spirit and kindness, and talking to you all is what made the event so special for me.

gentle crochet, too

  

[Art Deco Crochet Blanket in The Gentle Art of Knitting]

I know it's a knitting book, but there are times when you can't do things with knitting that you can do with crochet such as sit comfortably/slouch cross-legged on the settee/make  huge blankets without having serious shoulder problems from the weight on the needles/create textiles that look equally good on both sides. So, with the blessing of my broad-minded publisher, I included a couple of crochet patterns in the book, as I know lots of knitters move between knitting and crochet, and because the ripple ripple I began a few years ago was waiting to be reprised. This time I made a more zig-zag Art Deco/ziggurat design but it is is just as easy, flexible and open to personal interpretation as the original ripple blanket (very first version here). This one is crocheted with the ever-wonderful Cascade 220 (including various tweeds and heathers) and a 5mm hook, and I could happily play with this pattern using Cascade yarns for many years.

I'll be at Loop tomorrow from 2-4 pm with books, cakes, knitted projects, and daughters.

Thank you to Charlotte, Vanessa, and Karen for the very kind mentions.

early wimbledon cake

 
As if there isn't enough doom and gloom in the newspapers and on TV, it seems that Wimbledon could be facing a strawberry crisis this year. Notice I use the word 'could' and the article says 'may', not 'will' and  'is most definitely'; we live in an age of terrible scare-mongering, even about overpriced strawberries at a tennis tournament.

I like to strike while the iron is hot, make hay while the sun shines and lemonade when life gives me lemons (and go overboard on clichés once in a while), so when I had a very strong urge to make a cake this week, I decided to make an Early Wimbledon Cake with all the strawberries and cream I could find in the fridge. Not because I believe everything I read in the paper, but because sweet, slightly lemony sponge filled and topped with lots of whipped cream and ripe strawberries is a very good way to satisfy that urge. And it tasted better than any measly and expensive - and maybe soon to get a lot more measly and expensive - portion of strawberries and cream would ever taste at Wimbledon.

still on tour

 

The Grand Provincial Tour is looking better all the time thanks to your suggestions. I now realise I need to add in lidos, outdoor pools and good swimming spots for physical refreshment, and the chance to consider the art and galleries as I swim very gentle lengths. I also need to research independent and second-hand bookshops in the gallery towns because you never know what literary gem you might discover whilst on tour.

 

I am relying a great deal on the art galleries and museums to supply the requisite cake, biscuits, buns and scones, but I think I may also need to go further afield to find truly excellent baking (particularly any local specialities), which means compiling lists of, and visiting, notable cafes and bakeries.

 

This isn't the first Grand Tour I have thought about but not executed. Simon and I have often talked about hiring a camper van and setting off for France with lots of novels, maps and guidebooks, because he fancies following the Tour de France one year. In his mind's eye he sees himself in small, dark cafes, chatting with the locals over a Pastis or few in unintelligible but totally fluent French until the moment that the Tour sweeps through the town at which point they all rush outside to watch, then file happily back into the cafe for the rest of the day. Meanwhile, in my mind's eye, I see myself in local markets using all the French food vocabulary I have ever learned, squeezing and sniffing fruit and cheese, and buying more dahlias than will ever fit in the camper van. I then work my way through Elizabeth David's books on French cooking (no matter that I have only one tiny gas ring in the van - I am sure Mrs David would not have let that stop her), and together we spend each evening sitting outside eating delicious food, drinking local wines, and watching the sun set.

It's amazing how many of you said 'do it, do the Grand Provincial Tour'. It seems many of us love the idea of going on tour as a sort of grown-up Inter-Railing adventure but with a proper bed at the end of each day, and yet very few of us manage to do it. Adulthood is nothing if not a huge restriction on our time, but at least Tour planning and imagining is almost as enjoyable as the real thing.

grand provincial tour

 

[Andy Warhol]

I've read so much about the Grand Tour that young, rich, well-connected young men used to make in centuries gone by. These tours were like upmarket, expensive gap years filled with art and culture (their parents hoped) and I'm sure the young bucks had a high old time bumping into old friends in places like Florence and Vienna, flashing letters of introduction via the old-boy network, and generally being high class Englishmen abroad.

The idea of treading the same well-worn path as everyone else through the galleries, drawing rooms and ruins of Europe doesn't really appeal to me, but there is a variation of the Grand Tour forming in my mind which I would very much like to do. It's not exactly posh and classical, but it would be a wonderfully educational and formative tour.

I would like to take a week off to travel to the provinces of England. No glorious capital cities, no famous excavations, no fencing, riding or writing poetry, but instead lots of amazing paintings in provincial art galleries in interesting towns. Because it seems there is this summer a cornucopia of lovely exhibitions in some of our very best smaller galleries up and down the country.

So I would start off with Warhol in Southampton as I think it's best to challenge any prejudices and preconceptions early in the tour.

 

[Lucienne Day]

Then I would move on to Chichester to see Robin and Lucienne Day and to consider their enormous contribution to domestic design.

 

[Vanessa Bell]

Next stop would be Brighton for the Radical Bloomsbury exhibition, because Vanessa Bell is one of my favourite artists and because the Royal Pavilion is a sight to behold (very Grand Tour).

 

[Stanley Spencer]

Then I would move northwards to Warwickshire to see the incomparable Stanley Spencer in what promises to be a great exhibition (what he called his 'pot-boiler' garden and flower paintings are quite brilliant).

 

[Eric Ravilious]

Next I would cross the country in order to catch the Ravilious in Essex exhibition in the very historical town of Saffron Walden (with a detour to visit Audley End).

 

[Henri Fantin-Latour]

After Saffron Walden, I would travel up to Co. Durham to the Bowes Museum to see the glorious flower paintings by Fantin-Latour et al.

 

[Ford Madox Brown]

I would end the tour in the familiar surroundings of Manchester City Art Gallery; in order to fit everything in, I would ask them to have their Ford Madox Brown exhibition ready for me even though it doesn't open until September.

I would also take in as many tea rooms as a girl can manage in a day, plus any interesting gardens in the The Yellow Book. The more I think about it, the more my Provincial Tour looks very grand indeed.

 [Inspired by the Spencer and Fantin-Latour exhibitions, I have selected paintings according to a floral theme, not by what is on display in the relevant galleries. However, I couldn't find the flower detail I was looking for in one of Ford Madox Brown's paintings, so chose a beautiful little painting of his son instead.]

 

daisies are my silver*

 

Each spring, taking absolutely no notice of fashions and colour trends, I buy a new pair of Birkenstocks. Long before the brand became big in Britain and ever since I had Tom and Alice in a German hospital where virtually all the doctors and nurses wore (often blood-spattered) Birkenstocks and looked so damned comfortable, they have been my shoes of choice. I wear them indoors in winter and all day long in summer. I find it difficult to understand why anyone would want to wreck their feet and feel uncomfortable in 'killer heels' but then, apart from a brief, mad love affair with Biba, I've never really got the whole idea of being told that some clothes/looks are 'in' and others are 'out'.

This year's new Birkies are silver. They twinkle and sparkle in the sun and go with every colour of nail varnish I own. (I have read that this season's nail colours are neon. I like it when my personal tastes** coincide with what's available in the shops.) They look very nice off my feet in a daisy-filled square in London while I wait for Simon in a meeting and read about Radical Gardening before going off for a very charming afternoon tea at the nicely bohemian Bea's of Bloomsbury where the baking is fantastic. (We got there just as the scones had come out of the oven - they were the best we have eaten in a long, long time.)

Daisies, Birkies, old rhymes and radical gardening, afternoon tea and freshly baked scones: some things should always be in fashion.

[The Women's Room is very on-trend (it's their job) and the place I go to find out what I should be doing, but there is also much more including some excellent writing about the joys and other things of being the parents of teenagers, and lots of good stuff about what's happening in London.]

*As in the old children's song/rhyme:

Daisies are our silver,
Buttercups our gold:
This is all the treasure
We can have or hold.

**Amended. Sorry, Adèle!

small portions

 

Although I'm all for big appetites and extravagance, I like to be reminded that good things can come in small portions.

:: A teaspoon of very cold lemon curd (I use Nigella's very easy recipe in How to Eat) straight from a jar in the fridge is sublime. Especially with a cup of tea as a variant on the old Russian habit of  having a spoon of jam with a glass of tea (one of my favourite domestic details in nineteenth century Russian literature).

 

:: A long short story or a short novella is a treat for a rainy afternoon or a quiet evening. The Mystery of Mrs Blencarrow is gripping; it's difficult not to rush the reading in order to find out how the mystery is revealed and resolved. It has surprisingly modern themes for someone who is perceived as a stalwart of Victorian fiction, and is just right for a single reading gulp.

 

:: A little £1 pot of pansies from Petersham Nurseries. I couldn't bring myself to buy plants at twice or even three times the price of their Columbia Road counterparts, and the tiny pots of pretty, nodding pansies were probably the cheapest plants in the place.

 

:: A 75p postcard from the V&A. I wanted to splurge on the Frederick Sandys catalogue raisonné after seeing this painting again at the excellent Cult of Beauty exhibition. The painting has some of the most exquisite flowers I've ever seen in a painting - at Proserpina's feet - and I would happily take just that portion of the canvas and frame it. (The exhibition is very lovely and all 'utterly utter' as they said at the time, with a good number of 'bored ladies' as Simon describes the Rossetti stunners, and plenty of images of a very mournful-looking Janey Morris.)

Instead I bought the postcard because it made me laugh. It was part of the Punch-led lampooning of the Aesthetes and the joke that they tried to 'live up to their tea-pots'. Not something that ever troubles me, although I couldn't possibly live up to my tea cosies.

 

:: I bought a small pack of very thin Clover quilting pins to go in a tiny pincushion made by Susie of Duxhurst Quilting. I love the dinkiness of the cushion and spend too much time arranging the pins by colour. 

 

:: I have seen and felt the very short and slim books in the new Penguin Great Food series whose covers are beautiful. I don't really like short collections and selections as it's all down to the editing and I feel I should be making my own choices (and how do you condense someone like MFK Fisher or Samuel Pepys?) but if they sold the covers on their own, I'd have the lot. (Good article here.)