Zombies ALIVE! Run awaaaaaaaaaaay...

Zombie Socks

Don't faint, please, but you can run away screaming if you wish...

I have finished a pair of socks. That they are the Zombie Socks by Sheryl Giles seems apt. I myself am feeling somewhat zombie-ish at the moment.  This has been caused, not by a bite from a zombie (I wonder how one DOES become a zombie - I may have to Google this... I shall be right back... Okay, so you have to be 'infected' and killed by a zombie. I think this is relevant...) but by being in the 35 degree heat of the South of France then the 22 degree air-conditioning of the French High Speed Train system then the 34 degree heat of home. Add a liberal dash of sniffly people ON the train and Hey PRESTO - instant cold.

:: sniffle ::

Ugh. Of course, the timing is somewhat crap, as I have a concert in a week's time in Germany, and some music still to get into my system, but I guess there's a lesson about procrastination to be learnt there, if nothing else!

But I FINISHED MY ZOMBIE SOCKS!  This pleaseth me. It doesn't make me feel any better,  sniffles-wise, but FO-wise it makes me smile! Huzzah!  (They're called 'Zombie' socks because they include SCARY dropped stitches!)

 So mis-matched they MATCH!

I am rather fond of these! It was the first time I used 'sock' yarn and I wasn't sure how the variegation would work, but I do like the way they're almost negative mirror images of each other!

stretched out and looking GOOD!

But I am also pleased that I can post one of my 'stealth' objects now, too... A few days ago it was the birthday of a lovely friend of mine from Ravelry. I was already sending her some rather HAWT shoes and the timing was such that I thought I'd send her my first evah amiguri-type knitted thingy and some yummy yarn as a birthday pressie...I don't have a photo of the yarn, but I can tell you it was called 'Raspberry Ripple' and came from my favourite 'Angels & Elephants' dyers...

The amiguri-type-thingy? Well, I attempted a little cupcake with a cherry on top... I had it in mind for the recipient a long time ago and was quite pleased with how it turned out...

 cupcake for G

Ach well, back to attempting to throw this cold... and finishing the other stealth objects... and praying for cooler temperatures!  Heh!

:: sniffle ::

Bach en Drôme

I have freckles and my hair is a little lighter. This is what comes of spending a few days in the South of France in 30+ degree heat!  Marvellous!  Drôme is a département of South-East France and I had a brilliant time with my friends doing a concert of some gorgeous music by Bach. 

But first I must show you where we rehearsed in the East of France before we went down south...

The Ancient Post House of the village.

Okay, so you know me well enough by now to expect a few more photos. I did, after all, come back with over a hundred...

Above is the family home of the conductor of the group and I've been coming here for nearly 10 years of rehearsals, concerts and fun, but never, until now, have I taken any photos - VERY lax on my part.  The garden was blooming, we had lunch under the mimosa tree and rehearsed in the music room, (complete with numerous harpsichords) the window of which can be found at the top left of the house as you face it... Ah... Bliss!

 I can't remember for the life of me what this is called...

 grapes nearing ripeness

 um, don't know what this is, either, but it was pretty

 déjeuner sous l'arbre de mimosa

The concert was in the pretty little town of St Donat in Drôme and the church was beautiful (but the interior refused to be photographed well), as were the ancient and carved cloisters and... ah...

 floral motif stained glass windows

 cloister arches with neo-classical waste-paper bin

 more carved pillars

 vielle player

And just to prove to me that there is still life in the old camera yet, it pulled this little number out of the hat...

 chrysanthemums

I am pooped but very pleased the concert went well (even more so because I was singing the alto solo and I could be HEARD! Oh YEAH!)  If you ever get a chance to hear a concert or recording of Bach's 'Tilge, Höchster, meine Sünden' (based on Pergolesi's 'Stabat Mater') I'd thoroughly recommend a listen...

O is for...

Obsession

Angels & Elephants hand-dyed sock yarn 

I may have waxed a little lyrical on this topic before. And then I only had 2 types of the stuff. Today, to add to my obsession, a package arrived in the mail with my final (for the moment) shipment of yarn from Angels & Elephants, who are based in Cornwall, UK and have their yarn shop on eBay.

I now have the colourways of Tintagel (denim blue and green), Maisie (lavender, blue and turquoise), Polruan (green, blue and yellow), Tamar (light and dark lavender and pale green), Sea Spray (blue, lavender and pale jade) and Damson Delight (damson, purple and pink) I think I may be a tad spoilt for choice. Until I see the next consignment of colours on eBay, bien sûr... And sock yarn doesn't count as stash anyway, does it? 

So, after gathering all my wee smooshy, yarny babies into my loving arms and just breathing in the colours, (you can too breathe in colours... pfff) I decided to get my camera and try to take some pretty pictures. I think I may never again have such a beautiful subject... (Um, until I see the next consignment of colours on eBay...)

My camera, on the other hand, was playing hard to get. It is a rather old Olympus C-Zoom and takes about 10 pictures before I am informed by means of a blue screen with a big red cross on it that there ain't no more pictures getting taken. It laughs in the face of zinc carbon batteries (nom), eats rechargeables for breakfast (nom nom), gazes greedily at anything that promises 'long-life' (nom nom nom) and almost salivates (work with me here, people) at the thought of nomming quickly through a couple of lithium cells. And if I even think about using the macro function, then this snacking turns into a full-scale face-in-the-trough nom like-there's-no-tomorrow.

:: sighs ::

So, four batteries later I ended up with some yarn pin-up shots. Or as my DS would say, some obligatory arty-farty shots. Most of them, needless to say, were pretty naff. Darling Olympus, I think you've earned your retirement.

 Rolling hills of colour

Oh, how I love these colours. I'm turning into such a hand-dyed junkie. I guess I'll never have enough yarn like this, yet it feels a bit strange to start a project with them, because they're just so damn pretty in the skein. But, biting the bullet, I have started one super secret sock project with one of them. To end this post I'll show you the sole, as it won't give anything away apart from how lovely the yarn looks knitted up a bit...

Super Secret Sock Sole in Sea Spray
(For DS - Sally Snake goes sssssssssss!!!)

You'll notice I've artfully covered the toe... That's 'cos it's an unholy mess. I *may* cough cough have misread the directions...

N is for...

Night

 lunar echo

I am a night owl. I seem to get most work done in the hours of darkness and feel more at peace then, too. Of course, at this time of year and the heat it brings, I love the cool evenings even better... It has always been thus and I suspect always shall be.

The photo above was an attempt at capturing the face of the Man in the Moon, but all the photos turned out a big blur of light except for this one, which although does have the big blur of light, it also managed to capture some kind of reflection through my window pane. I like it a lot!

Night. Excepting end-of-term hysteria in this student town, the nights are quiet here. 3am is so still. And night-time has so many photographic personalities.

  Foggy night in Tours

Colours are exaggerated yet muted around a street lamp on a foggy evening, or sharpened and enhanced with reflections from water...

 Amsterdam Gracht

It makes me think of home...

View from my parents house to my grand-parents house

 Sunrise

...but then it can also invoke annoyance. See the big, wide-open space between the 2 houses here? It opens up to the field in the heart of the village... See an earlier post entitled 'There Goes My Childhood' for further explanations of my disgust about the future of this view...

But, the night is not always my friend. Insomnia strikes occasionally and then any lure of the dark and love of the night flees from my soul and I pace the apartment muttering not-so-sweet nothings to my over-active brain. I must admit that the first time I ever appreciated French tv was during one of these episodes.  Falling asleep to re-runs of the Simpsons in French leads to strange dreams, however.

My last sleepless night was a few days ago... Or a few nights ago, if you prefer. The tv wasn't doing anything for me, camomile tea only made me closer acquaintances with my porcelain necessarium and pacing about hurt my foot too much. My eyes fell on my knitting, but I knew I wasn't in the mood for cables, or indeed anything that entertained a certain brain-using thinky-type element. Some no-counting mindless knitting was called for. I saw the silver wire and a tube of little shiny beads (oo - shiny), sat down and ended up with the beginnings of this.

Pointless and Arbitrary Wind Catcher 

I dedicate this wind-chime-catcher to the Completely Pointless and Arbitrary Group on Ravelry. It seems apt. It will neither catch the wind nor chime, but it looks pretty and shiny and sparkly and, well, does it need any more point than that?

It's made from quite a few metres of 28-gauge silver wire and a multitude of little silver and glass beads. 

oo - shiny...

And at that I shall off and switch on every light in my flat. There's a thunderstorm brewing and, ironically, they frighten me when it's dark outside...

A miniscule bit 'o this an' that...

Ugh, blogger have changed formats again. No longer can I justify the text paragraphing. This annoys me. There are now only 4 text sizes. Okay, I shouldn't complain about that as I only use two, normally, but just the same... Ooh - woopee you can format the HTML on the page, but as I don't know enough of the code to do that, it'll just be another button I won't press.

Oh dear, I've started off on the wrong foot. It's the heat. It makes me cranky. It's 32 degrees outside and 30 degrees inside my apartment and as I have no a/c, my standing fan is only succeeding in blowing hot air about. A bit like me, in fact.  

So, there's a tag/label for this post and it says 'knitting'. It's there for a reason, I promise. In fact I've been doing a lot, but for reasons of stealth, secrecy and something else beginning with 's' that I can't think of at the moment, I don't have much to actually SHOW you. But I'll do what I can.

Here is a cuff, an ankle and a heel flap.

Crooked Cable Sock № 1

[OOOO! I take it all back. Blogger has not only allowed me to place the picture WHERE I WANTED IT, instead of putting it at the top of the post where I normally have to cut and paste it to where I really wanted it, but it gave me options as to what size I wanted it - ON THE PAGE. I may be easily amused, but this amuses me, easily!]

This little sock pleaseth me also. The cable pattern is très simple, the *gulp* lacy-holey things aren't too nasty (well, the first few rows were pretty nasty until I figured out that tension of the correct variety would enhance things visually no end), and I have figured out that the 'eye of partridge' stitch for the heel works a lot better when the slipped stitch in the knit row is slipped 'as if to knit' and not, as I have been doing, slipped 'as if to purl'. The fabric is much denser, and although the pattern isn't visually as strong as the purl version, who's going to notice when it's in a shoe?!

I do love the EoP stitch though. There is something altogether soothing about it. So much so that I took close-up photos for my enduring ocular gratification.

Celtic Cable Socks № 1. Heel-flap pr0n.

 

Just as an aside, I'll post a close-up of the cables on said Celtic Sock, too. I love cables. I'm not sure if you know that about me, yet... ;-) I'm almost finished sock one, so maybe I'll have another kitsch photo of me wearing 2 different socks for the next post, if I can finish the crooked cable one around the same time...

 cables, cables, cables, cables, cables...

Stealth projects? Yes, well... One is, um a secret to send to someone who doesn't know about it yet, but who may occasionally peruse this blog, and the other is a secret something being knitted as a test for a lovely person, which is Super Stealth Top Secret. And, child that I am, I am loving the subterfuge! Even if I'm making no sense in any form whatsoever! They're both immensely enjoyable to knit. So much so that the secret-present one is already finished and the stealth test has taken over everything else. It is GORGEOUS (even if I say so myself!) and I look forward to the day, in some months hence, where I'll be able to post about it in a more definitive manner.

Until then, I will watch the world from a hole cut into my newspaper and will endeavour not to attract too much attention to myself...

M is for...

MILE OF YARN

(Actually, just under, but that doesn't
make such a snappy heading...)

I bought some skeins of wool.*
They were pretty. I was in love.

They were smooshable. I was in heaven.

Then I tried to ball them. I was confused.
They tangled. I was annoyed

Yep, the lot of a newbie skein buyer. What do I do? Obviously, trying to ball straight from the skein was a no-no. Actually, not so obvious at first: I believe there is a tangled mess lurking somewhere in a corner of my apartment, hoping never to be noticed again. I tried using my knees for a holder. Well, it worked, but my back refuses to let me try that method again. So I swallowed my pride and asked for help and received lots of ideas and no 'Hah! n00bie-have-you-not-heard-of-swifts'-like taunts! Yay.

No.1 was to use a lampshade: unscrew the thingy that stops the lampshade from spinning, whang on the skein and Bob's your mother's brother. Sadly I own no large lamp-shaded, um, lamps. (Moral to No.1 - Life is not complete without a lamp-shaded reducer-of-shadows of the large variety.)

No.2 was to use a spinny, spinny chair. I haz a spinny, spinny chair and so rushed off to attempt to gently rest a skein where it would have most spinny, spinny fun and watched, non-plussed, as the skein slipped from its perch and wound itself around the base of the chair. I did, however, manage to ball one skein before the chair decided it didn't want to play anymore... (Moral to No.2 - spinny, spinny chair only good for wheeching** around in a spinny, spinny way while typing at the computer.)

No.3 was to use another pair of hands. Sadly, I am not Lakshmi or Vishnu, nor do I have anyone close at... um, sorry, hand to lend an helping... um, sorry again, hand, so off I trotted once more to find a solution. (Moral to No.3 - Life is not complete without someone else at home. :: sighs :: I bet those Hindu Gods didn't have this problem...)

No.4 was to place the skein around my feet and wind it from there. FEET? That smacks somewhat of excercise :: gasps :: Also, see original problem... (Moral to No.4 - Laziness does not a ball from skein make...)

No.5 was to turn a chair upside-down, wind the skein around the legs and wind in the 'old-fashioned way' and what do you know... a mile of yarn later and I CAN haz ballz of wool!

Pretty!

Tomorrow I am off to buy a swift. Dammit.

* 2 skeins of Angels & Elephants Hand-Dyed Shetland Sock Wool in Damson Delight.
2 skeins of Angels & Elephants Hand-Dyed Shetland Sock Wool in Sea Spray
1 skein of Jennifer's Flock Sock in Pinot
1 skein of Jennifer's Flock Sock in Gold Olive
1 skein of Jennifer's Flock Sock in Summer Green
1 skein of Jennifer's Flock Sock in Copper Pennies
1 skein of Jennifer's Flock Sock in Tomato Leaf

** Wheech - to move through the air, rush, dash with a whizzing sound.

Pollen and Sneezing and Bach, oh my...

Ugh. And verily I say unto thee, Ugh. I've not succumbed to a bout of hay-fever for yonks, but there was something blooming in Rennes that didn't like me. Or liked me too much. I'm not quite sure. Excuse me a moment :: honks into a hankie ::

The project in Rennes was lots of fun, in a good-heavens-you-want-us-to-rehearse-HOW-many-hours kind of way... We were performing in the Parlement de Bretagne which although unassuming in a 17th century way from the outside, was breath-taking inside...

La salle des Pas Perdus (The room of the Lost Steps)

Le Grand Chambre

Me, being me, came back with sixty-odd photos. The place was fabulous! It's only recently been opened to the public again after an horrendous fire in 1994 but the restoration work was beyond perfect.

Part of the immense and incredibly baroque ceiling in the Grand Chambre

One of the hallways surrounding the courtyard

But yes, there was a lot of hard work involved in the concerts. And I use the plural. I was roped into doing another concert of medieval polyphony aswell, although with some of the same musicians. Sublime music, but not completely do-able on only a couple of read-throughs before the concert itself. Yikes. Ach well, I could've said no, but they were a person down due to illness... Anyhoo, needless to say we were all knackered after the last concert of Bach. But then again, one voice/instrument per part is exhausting at the best of times. Mmm - cantata BWV48 and the g minor Lutheran mass. Well worth being attacked by rogue pollen for!
 I was a good girl, however, and in the 8 and a half minutes I had free I did some KNITTING! Oh yeah! Well, actually I did a lot of tinking and frogging because my second Zombie Sock managed to fall off one of the needles in my bag and after a lot of cursing and fiddling I think I managed to get it back to where it was before the free-fall accident. *sigh* So there's nothing to show for that, sadly, but I did get some log-cabin squares done for the BAG!
Knitting these is so relaxing! I guess you can already tell that by the 'interesting' not-quite-straight edges... Ach well, I know this bag will involve felting, so I'm rather excited about it and not worried too much about 93- and 87-degree angles!
And thank you for all the encouraging words concerning the L. A. C. E. dilemma - I am girding my loins in preparation of starting something soon! WHEE!!

L is for...

Lace.

Um... actually, no, not really. It was originally going to be 'lace', I promise you, but after the Lace Fates conspired against me (see an earlier post) I had to give it all up. So instead, here is a picture of a not-quite-so L-is-for project:

L is for Little White Bag?

Mina is the daughter of very good friends and neighbours here in Tours. She turned four years-old on the 9th of June and I've known her since she was, um, almost before she was merely a twinkle in her daddy's eye, as it were... Her vocabulary is scarily impeccable and she can already spell my name out on her mini white-board. With a pink pen, of course. She is a precocious wee darling. A but naughty at times (well, she is only 4!) but always says please, thank you and gives you a kiss on each cheek. *sigh* I made her this little bag as she loves the things I knit for her. She wants me to teach her now, which will be interesting. I shall attempt to view it as a French vocabulary exercise as I can only really talk about music, beer and noise with any kind of authority at the moment (the word to be used lightly) and even then...

I also gave her a wee necklace made from the extra buttons I made out of FIMO for the bag, and attempted a crochet chain with REAL yarn. It was a lot more scary than doing the same thing with wire, I can tell you. I don't have a photo of the necklace (it was more of a spur-of-the-moment, very-last-minute, OMG-is-a-bag-enough kind of thing...) but I do have one piccie of the buttons, artfully shot by moi. The blurriness was, um, artfully intentional...

Fimo-licious buttons

Mina came round to say thank you after she had decided to change into a dress that matched the bag. I wish I'd taken a photo - cuteness in a pink and blue flowery dress, wearing the necklace and holding the bag that was already stuffed with her favourite things of the moment, including a toy mobile phone in the phone pocket. Way, way too sweet! So I am happy that she is happy. Huzzah!

And now it is time to decide what knitting projects to take with me on the next foray away from home... My Tsarina of Tsocks 'Vintage' sock kit arrived today (to much jumping around and squealing 'wheeee') but that is definitely a 'home' project. I may be able to fit in a few balls of the Noro Kureyon into my case to continue the log-cabin squares (oh, I decided to make a bag out of the afore-mentioned log cabin' technique - I don't think I have enough yarn for a full blanket, and I do love me my bags), and the Zombie Sock number 2 is nicely portable and the pattern is already in my head... Nicely written pattern, that one... I don't know how much spare time I'll have, though, as it's only a 4-day project.

I think I'll bring along another sock to start, just in case... Just probably not a lacy one...

There goes my chidlhood...

I'm upset.

By the next time I'm able to get 'home' home (my heart rests in Scotland...) my village shall be changed beyond recognition. Oh, I know, it's all about letting go and moving on etc, but I tear-up every time I think about it, which is often...

© Jim Bain

This little village is where I spent the first 19 years of my life, before going off to college. It is where my mother was born, where my grandparents lived and we can trace our family back generations to this small area. According to a local history book* it appears on record for the first time in 1144 and lies between medieval roads leading to an important religious town 3 miles away. It nestles between 2 hills and its name means 'The Valley of The Kinness' (which is a small burn that meanders its pretty way out to the North Sea a couple of miles away.)

But, yes, it's fair to say that there has been some development over the years: outlying fields having the odd house built upon them, old farms being turned into steadings, the biggest of which was to the north-west of the village around 20 years ago, with the addition of a small council estate. But the village has basically remained in it's very old formation for centuries, with the old common grazing ground in the middle: once the place to keep your sheep. You can see it in the photo - the massive patch of green to the top-right... In the past 200 years or so (since the need for having your own sheep nearby was no longer relevant, I presume) the field has been used for growing crops.

Ah, the memories - fields of barley to run through... (on the tractor tracks - we was good little people!); the hay bales to make fortresses out of in Autumn; the tall Summer grasses to make little palaces out of when it was a fallow year; the Bonfire Night festivities which my LS and I would watch from our Gran's living room window opposite the field, oohing and aahing at the fireworks when we were wee... This field is the heart (and soul, if you'll allow) of the village.

3 Years ago a housing developer approached the owner of the field in regards to buying it to build 28 houses, a shop and a flat there. There were many things they were proposing to change along with the building works and the village went up in arms. They were thankfully successful in blocking the move and we all breathed a sigh of relief.

Fast forward to April 2008 where there are major changes in the local council - new people in, old people out. Suddenly there are signs on the field telling us - TELLING US - that there will be works beginning in the early Summer 2008 on a new housing scheme on the field. 30 houses. ('affordable housing', so the sign informs us - how generous of them...)

Of course, it is inevitable. It is prime real estate. The owner is a greedy old bastard who is flagrantly going against his father's wishes in selling the field in the first place. (The family have been farmers here for generations.) But to shove 30 houses into a not-enormous village commons, a commons which is surrounded by ancient cottages and huge gardens, seems avaricious beyond belief.

It will affect a huge proportion of the village, considering that most of it was built up around the commons in the first place, and by the next time I'm home in October there will be nothing left of the centuries and centuries of history encompassed there. Nothing but the building works of 30 cramped-together houses, and memories.

*'Fife in History and Legend' by Raymond Lamont-Brown

Lace, schmace

I seem to be rather lacking in FO's at the moment. There is a reason, of course. In fact there are a couple... The first, and most important, reason is that my Bestest Friend in the Whole Wide World (hmmm, he might puke if he actually saw that nomenclature) finally visited mon petit chateau for a long weekend. He's currently working with an opera company in Eastern France (he's a conductor, not a singer, so he's more akin to a 'normal' person... As a lump of coal is more akin to a piano than a teapot is, for example...) and took his free days off chez moi. I didn't touch a single skein. Lots of gin, yes, but no yarn. Much was drunk while admiring the thunder and lightning storms.

Very faint double rainbow
So it wasn't just the gin, after all...

So, that's 3 days covered. Then you have to add the week it took me to unearth the floor, clean behind silly things like toilets, yarn-stashes and fridges (he lives in IKEA-land - everything sparkling, matching, in its right place... I inhabit a more, shall we say, rustique suburb of said land...) and buy gin. I kept sampling it, you see, and having to run out and buy more. Well, stagger out and buy more, at any rate.

But the biggest time vacuum has been the lace. LACE. That pretty, pretty fabric that all knitters seem to be able to churn out at a rate of knots... Um, sorry about that... Lacy socks I have queued in abundance. Lace shawls are constantly under drool-alert. Lace-irific evening bags shimmy and dance in my dreams. So I thought "Why not?"

Why not? I'll tell you WHY NOT... I am so ungenerously gifted in the art of knitting lace it's not even funny. Well, actually it is moderately amusing! I didn't aim high - I began with, well, I won't tell you what I began with, as it's supposed to be an easy pattern. A beginner's pattern. A 'Knit With Mother' pattern. Let's just call it 'That F****** Lacy Sh*t Piece of Bag' pattern.

Yo. Yes, I can do those. Not a probl... oh, yon. And yfrn. Okay - that's just a yo between a purl and a knit, and the other is between a knit and a purl. Yeah, not a problem. Oh cack. Yrn and yfn? Hang on, I may need paper and a pencil here... SSP. Hmm, like a SSK, but with a purl. Obvious. I think? Yes, I can k2tog and p2tog. Check. TBL? Oh, through the back loop. Yes, can do... Slip purlwise and knitwise, yup, them's already on board. (I may be elaborating things a... *cough* tad here...) Okay. So. Get needles, get yarn, get pattern and KNIT...

3 days later... And frog. Again. Accompanied by air a vivid shade of blue and some fine and pretty cotton, not so fine or pretty any more.

I shan't go into details. I love you all that much! It is suffice to say that the very long list of all things lacy that I wish to produce in the future shall stay looooong. I think I may have inadvertently summoned the Lacy Demons Who Abhor Cable Lovers. Maybe they don't like chocolate?!!

Now CABLES are another thing entirely. Cables are my reason for spending my rent money on yarn... (Gads, I hope my landlady doesn't see this...) Cables are my friend, my life, my everything. I'll see your CF4 and raise you a T4B... I laugh in the face of T6R and have T5BR's for breakfast.

Or I would do if I wasn't now trying very hard to make a non-lacy bag for my neighbour's too-soon-to-be 4 year-old daughter!