jane brocket

patterns

 

It is suitably apposite that I'm writing something about patterns for a publication while following a pattern. And I can't tell you how good it has been to use one for a change. It's two years since I simply chose to make something I liked the look of in a book. What a blessed relief it has been to have it all mapped out for me: the design, the instructions, the shapes, the colours, the end point. The only slight problem was that it was a Japanese pattern written in Japanese, but I felt that this was a minor challenge after starting from scratch as I have been doing.

 

The minute I saw the crochet blanket made out of hexagons in this book (ISBN 978-4-07-262220-9, also here), I knew I wanted to make it at some point. I'm a real sucker for old-fashioned looking crochet with its shapes, lines, and wonderful colour combinations. In fact, it was the colours that struck me most as they are fresh, modern and interesting, and bring together shades I probably would not have thought of myself. This, in essence, is the joy of patterns: all the hard work and thinking and planning has been done for you, and you are free to enjoy the making, to watch the whole coming together in parts, to let your mind wander down any path it likes while your hands are guided by someone else's instructions.

 

The most satisfying aspect of it was forcing myself to decipher the basic motif pattern. I've only ever been to a single, one-day crochet workshop so am not exactly well-versed in crochet techniques and pattern-reading. But instead of giving up at the first hurdle - my initial efforts to follow the diagrams that all Japanese patterns use instead of written instructions were absolute mangled disasters - I persevered until I made a hexagon correctly. I used the Harmony Guides Volumes 6 and 7 plus a couple of other Japanese crochet books to show me what each little squiggle and line means in diagrammatic patterns, and it was one of the major triumphs of my year when the diagram became a crocheted hexagon.

I have spent the last couple of months making a few hexagons an evening when I have felt like it; crochet appeals to my inner slob and I love the way I can lounge comfortably when crocheting in a way I can't when knitting, plus a hexagon or two hardly puts me under pressure whereas with knitting I often feel compelled to complete a set amount at a time.

 

I couldn't use the exact yarn in the pattern partly as I have no idea what it is (it's all in Japanese) so I used Biggan Design (on a 4mm hook) which is wonderful to knit and crochet with, and comes in 64 colours, so offered everything I needed. As to colours, I simply looked carefully at the photos in the book and used what I thought was included. The only changes I made were to the final layout of the hexagons and to the placement of the colours as I decided to follow my own instincts rather than work out the chart given.

 

So here we have it. The result of two months' very relaxed crocheting. There's a lot to be said for happy pattern-following. 

...and five good things on wednesday

1. The crochet

The more I look at them, the more I like and appreciate old-fashioned crocheted 'granny square' blankets. It seems they appear everywhere these days - I even spotted one in a scene in Hush...Hush, Sweet Charlotte (no doubt an acrylic number as the film was made in1964). This could be because I'm noticing them for the first time or maybe because people becoming far less apologetic about the wonderful mismatches of fibre colour and displaying their previously hidden gems now that crochet is out of the closet once more. I found these great vintage blankets on eBay when I went in search of inspiration and confidence. Because that's what they are really all about: confidence to crochet as you please and to use up yarn, and not to fit in with others' ideas of what constitutes good taste and grown-up colour schemes.

2. The inspirational book

This talk of colour and confidence brings me neatly onto the next good thing which is Color by Kristin Nicholas. Now this, too, is really about confidence, and seems to me to contain enough material for two or three books which makes it amazing value. It's about colour, design and the joy of knitting, and I found goodness knows how many great ideas and inspirations in here - and that's without even looking at the patterns themselves. 

3. The vintage film

As I am very much aware of my own vintage status at the moment, when I discovered Hell is a City, a film made on location in Manchester in 1959, I knew I would be watching a little bit of my own history. And, sure enough, the film is packed with the Manchester landmarks of my childhood (and a number of unplaceable 'Manchester' accents). Great stuff. (It also led me to the fascinating and painstakingly researched website I have linked to - just one example of how the internet is so brilliant for sharing esoteric information. Without George Nixon's meticulous research, I would never have known that a house I walked past many a time as a child is a location in the film.)

4. The unironic CD

So while I buying the Dolly CD (see yesterday's post), I thought I might as well have a look at the Johnny Cash offerings. I grew up thinking Johnny Cash was all about 'A Boy Named Sue', the 1970s 'Man in Black'  and bad TV shows, but in the last couple of years - mainly via the Bob Dylan Theme Time Radio shows - I have come to realise that there was/is a much greater significance to Johnny Cash than I'd previously suspected. This was underscored by Walk the Line (even though I had to fast-forward the druggy bits, just as I had with Ray, because they make me feel quite ill) which was a revelation. This means I can alternate ironic but brilliant Dolly with the unironic and similarly brilliant Johnny, and really go country in the car.

5. The history

My natural inclinations and interests tend towards the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, but having gone to university in one of the most beautiful Georgian cities in England and having lived in various beautifully proportioned, high-ceilinged, sash-windowed houses with original heating (ie none), I am nevertheless drawn to the eighteenth century as a period of transition and taste. Amanda Vickery is an entertaining and readable historian with a genuine and highly engaging enthusiasm for domestic life (she also wrote and presented a wonderful Radio 4 series). Behind Closed Doors is an illuminating study of Georgian home life, with a particularly interesting chapter on 'What Women Made' which takes a new (and sensible) approach to understanding women's crafts and domestic accomplishments at that time.

and one for good luck: the genius

To mark his 75th birthday, BBC Four is having an Alan Bennett fest this week. His work ages beautifully, or maybe it just doesn't age at all, and is still as fresh, funny and moving as it ever was. What a treat to be able to watch and listen to a cornucopia of marvellously crafted plays, talks and monologues.

gathering moss

 

Lashing rain and biting winds are conspiring to keep me indoors gathering moss on the settee as I knit for my book. Occasionally I put on my wellies and my super-warm Clapotis and go out for a walk to consider the leafless trees and calculate when they will be green again (too long). Indoors, though, I'm calculating patterns in moss stitch, playing with yarns and needle sizes, and enjoying the process.

Moss stitch has to be one of my favourite stitches when knitted, but for years I didn't actually use it much as I found the constant changing from knit to purl tedious and arrythmic. But this time, I've decided the effort is worth it, and that once you have accepted the necessary switching to and fro, you can settle into a rhythm of sorts. Plus, the results are so attractive; I think moss stitch has to be one of the most sophisticated-looking stitches; for me, it has a look of Chanel about it (a good thing) and sometimes it can look as though it's not knitted at all (ironically, another good thing).

By the time the leaves are on the trees again, I may be completely covered in moss as I'm finding plenty of mossy inspiration and ideas. Just the thing to knit in this weather.

music to my ears

These words

are music to my ears, delight to my eyes, and the promise of happiness to my hands. Especially when written loud and clear in the beautiful and classic Johnston's Railway Type on a deep, deep purple fascia on a brand new yarn and haberdashery shop.

 

Mrs Moon (named after the the poem by Roger McGough) has just opened in St Margaret's, near Twickenham. Susan and Karen who own it are sisters with four young children apiece and they have brought a delightful style to the place; it's a mix of modern, vintage and quirky with fantastic wallpapers, colourful yet calm and, just as you would hope from the words outside, full of fabulous yarn and haberdashery.

If I were a local, I'd be thrilled to have Mrs Moon on my doorstep. I'm thrilled even though I'm not really a local, as this place is exactly what knitters and sewers need. It is real, live music to our ears.

ravelry revels

I've decided that Ravelry and Revels are similar in more ways than their spelling and play on words. Revels were a big part of my youth; my friends and I would buy a bag or two and take guesses as to which flavour was coming next (they are all anonymous in the bag). Most of the time we'd get something we really liked - a strawberry or orange cream or a toffee - but sometimes (and these were the ones you wanted to avoid) we got the stinkers, the coffee or the peanut. It was like Russian roulette with confectionery, but the worst that could happen was that you would have to spit something out.

I've been on Ravelry for two years now; I use it as a resource, a quite unique and rich resource. I love the fact that you can search a pattern and see dozens or hundreds of versions, or look for a yarn and see what fantastic things knitters are doing with it, or look up a knitter you admire and see what he or she is up to. These are the orange and strawberry cream Revels moments.

But then you suddenly come across a coffee cream or peanut moment - and the forums seem to have a particularly high count of these. I'm still taken aback by the levels of negativity and bitchiness (the phrase 'stitch and bitch' was never more apt than on some of the Ravelry threads) that these 'discussions' give rise to. Of course, I do my best to avoid them (like my least favourite Revels), but sometimes I am caught unawares and quickly have to move away or log off completely to take away the nasty taste in my mouth.

I suppose you could argue that there are plenty of people who like peanut and coffee Revels, just as there are plenty of people who like (revel in?) a good, anonymous bitch and a large amount of bile with their knitting. But really, I'm sure it doesn't taste good to anyone. 

So I'll keep using Ravelry, but wish someone would come in and tell everyone to play nicely otherwise they, like the yukkiest Revels, will be evicted.

pick 'n' mix

Now that Woolworth's Pick 'n' Mix is no more*, I have to go elsewhere to satisfy my cravings for impossible but enjoyable choice-making. Once again, I've found it in yarn shade-cards.

I am both paralysed and galvanised by beautifully designed shade-cards and some are definitely more seductive that others. I only have to glance at the choice, the colours, the possibility, the infinite variety on offer, to feel full of happiness and hope for a great knitting future. Of course, there is only one common sense answer to which yarn(s) to buy, and that is to buy the whole lot. If only.

Kristin Nicholas sent me a copy of the Nashua Handknits Color Book which is one of the most creative printed shade cards I've seen. The yarns are presented in different ways: as mouth-watering fluffy balls of mohair, as tiny, elfin swatches and, as the page for Kristin's yarn Julia shows above, as neatly wrapped tags. Kristin also included a postcard of her yarn wound into little egg-size balls in an egg-box. Ah, who needs to knit when you can just play all day with these yarns?  

I've been knitting little trial pieces with Kristin's yarn which is soft and gorgeous (as befits a yarn made with 50% wool, 25% alpaca, 25% mohair) and comes in a lovely range of warm, natural colours (with names such as 'Coleus' and Lady's Mantle'), and I had enormous difficulty making a choice for a bigger project. Heck, there must be something simpler than a Technicolor Dreamcoat that requires approx. 39 colours?

* I know that some other shops (and cinemas) have installed Pick 'n' Mix sections since Woolies disappeared, but they simply don't have the same feeling of potential, nor do they have the space for lots of lingering and long, drawn-out picking and mixing. Plus, the sweets in them are too gummy and samey - you need lots of variety and plenty of dreadful chocolates to make a Pick 'n' Mix memorable.

PS If you know of any other lovely/creative/tempting yarn shade cards, I'd love to hear about them.

the bottom line

 

When I was in my twenties and travelling all over Europe for work, staying in very smart hotels and eating in extremely good restaurants, I put on quite a lot of weight. This gain was further increased by the fact that I'd recently met Simon and found someone who enjoyed eating and drinking all the same things I did. Together we grew up and out. Even though I knew I had to do something about it, there was some satisfaction in knowing that my fat was either very expensive fat, or fat that had been gained with pleasure. Eventually it all came off in the run-up to our wedding, and even more was lost when I had Tom and Alice.

I've been thinking about the possibility of my bottom burgeoning once again through enjoyable eating. Now that the quilting book is on its way to the printers (I saw the cover in real life yesterday - it's stunning) I am all set to do the knitting book properly ie not flitting about doing little bits here and there as I have been doing, but honest-to-goodness, bottom-glued-to-the-settee knitting. And it is the prospect of having my bottom comfortably but firmly on a cushion for months on end that is making me consider my options. Should I

 a) throw caution and calorie-counters to the wind, invest in some stretchy tracksuit bottoms and spend the next eight months eating chocolates and cakes and biscuits, watching boxed sets of Cary Grant and James Stewart films interspersed with a chilling film noir or a cheesy musical, getting up only to make more tea or get another ball of yarn (or, even better, asking a child to do so) and produce some happy, cosy, soft and squishy knitting?

or,

b) keep a blackboard and calculator in the room where I am knitting so that  can chalk up every single calorie ingested and calculate how much horrid punishment I need to work it all off later, invest in a pair of very tight jeans that will shame me into controlling my intake while hoping fervently that they have the same effect as pregnancy, be thoroughly miserable for months and produce some thoroughly miserable, hard, thin knitting?

Ha, no contest. I've already bought the Rose and Violet Cremes.

pretty paradox

 
 

I can't believe that I am the only person who greatly prefers hand-painted yarns when they are twisted into delicious-looking skeins that cleverly show off all the flashes and splashes of colour rather than when they have been knitted up and are looking murkier and muddier and altogether less beautiful and eye-catching.

Believe me, I have done my best to love these yarns in their knitted state. Who wouldn't when they start off  these like Colinette skeins (they make me think of jam tarts and plum crumbles)? But still they don't quite live up to the expectations they create, not in my eyes at least.

Nevertheless, I have bought some recently - not just because I like to see them in skeins (in fact I'm sorely tempted to create some sort of skein artwork/showcase so that I can see them in all their softly wound glory) - but because I want to prove to myself that they can be used differently, in a way that exploits their changeableness but isn't made dull by it. I don't expect you to agree that it's a necessary task to set myself, but isn't that what paradoxes are all about?

The yarns are Colinette Cadenza DK Merino in 'Windfall' (bottom) and 'Raphael' (top): both go well with Tiptree jam colours.  

time well spent

school colours

When we were at the NPG on Saturday I bought a card featuring this this 1919 photo by Bassano which appealed because of the fantastic sweaters the two women are wearing and with such style! My goodness, I wished we'd all looked like that when we took to the playing fields of Manchester; warm hand-knits would definitely have reduced the pain of having to pretend to play hockey in the freezing cold or feigning interest in netball in the pouring rain.

I think I would also have liked some interesting sports socks, because I was never going to win any proper sports 'colours' by being good at games, and they would have brightened many a long P.E. lesson spent staring into space and trying to guess the time. This is why I like the socks I am knitting at the moment so much. It's a Regia yarn from the fantastic Modern Knitting site which could revolutionise the whole world of school socks with its huge range of yarns with brilliant stripes and colour combinations. Just think of the fun you could have devising your own personal school socks and how vivid and cheerful the school playing fields and courts would be if everyone could wear their colours. Although I would have been tempted to lean against the goal-posts and knit while everyone else ran around bashing each other's ankles with sticks...and then I could have knitted during the detention that followed. A win-win situation for me - just not in the sporting way.