Springtime in the Twenty-First Century

After spending the last few years insisting to myself and anyone that would listen (plus a few that wouldn't) that I had absolutely no need for a smart phone, I have bought a smart phone. I'm not sure how my usual two-texts-a-week phone use will change now I have 5000 texts per month on this plan.

5000 texts. That's at least 161 texts per day. Assuming I get 8 hours of sleep, I'd have to send one text every 6 minutes, all day, every day. It takes me longer than that to write some texts, especially on this little phone keyboard.

So now I've joined the 21st century I can take photos of things, write very slowly about them and then post them. All from something smaller than my first calculator.

On an entirely different subject: if you have to spend the first sunny Sunday of spring working on a VB project for college, I'd recommend that this is how you do it:

Chilled glass of cider not shown

Ed Reardon's Week Statistics

I've been listening to some old episodes of Ed Reardon's Week over the last few days. I'd forgotten how enjoyable it is, even though (or maybe because) half the references go clean over my head. 

For a while I was considering an attempt at a Reardonesque diatribe for this post, complete with disparaging references to Radio 4 Extra (extra what, precisely?) and its schedulers (no doubt composed entirely of twelve year-olds) but neither my vocabulary nor my vitriol is up to scratch.

And so I shall resort to my own medium to make my point: data.

There have been seven series' of Ed Reardon's Week, running between 2005 to 2011. I've looked at the BBC programme pages and the number of broadcasts each series has had. The initial broadcasts of series one to three pre-date the records so I freely admit that this isn't exactly a rigorous, "More Or Less" level analysis.

This graph shows the number of times each series of Ed Reardon's Week has been broadcast since 2007 (1-3) or since its first broadcast (4+). I've eliminated direct repeats but included repeats on 4 Extra that followed more than a month after an initial broadcast on Radio 4.

Well, that doesn't look terrible but it's not exactly comparing like with like. Series seven has had the same number of broadcasts in 14 months as series four has since November 2007. How could I express that as a graph, you might ask. You might, but no reasonable person would.

Nevertheless the answer is, like this:

Due to the fact that I'm still not quite up to speed on Excel 2010, the calculations aren't as elegant as I'd have liked but this graph is attempting to show a sort of broadcast-per-day for each series. 

The time period for each is measured from the date of the first broadcast recorded on the programme page (so the caveat stands about series 1-3).

I realise that this post has turned into a exercise in how to thoroughly alienate your reader but the point I'm trying to make is this: 4 Extra, please stop repeatedly broadcasting the first two series' of programmes. Ed Reardon is only one example of many great comedies that are stuck in a repeating loop of their early years. Occasionally the third season comes along after a six months or so (Vent!) but, more often than not, series one starts again a year later.

It's okay if this graph makes you feel that I need to get out more.
It makes me feel the same way.

I do realise that 4 Extra is all about repeats. I love that! My listening experience would be a lot narrower without the fabulous range and depth of the 4 Extra schedule. I also realise that new listeners are probably more likely to stick with something if they can hear it from the beginning

But please, I'm begging you 4 Extra, consider the graphs, look at your own records. Series four hasn't been broadcast for four years. Surely longer-term listeners deserve the reward of something new from time to time? 

Because the alternative is more graphs. And no one wants that.

A Fate Worse Than Homework

A couple of days ago I was feeling quite smug. In April I'd be going to London for a training course that I'd been hoping to do for more than a year. Even better, I'd be taking the opportunity to see John Finnemore on Sunday, an art show on Monday, John Richardson on Tuesday and Andy Zaltzman on Wednesday. Last weekend, after my frenzy of yarn purchasing, I even managed a few trial runs of places I'd need to travel to. My only concern was whether to book something for the Thursday night too. And maybe a little mini-concern that I might be rather tired by the end of the week.

Then I received a letter telling me that my training course was cancelled.

I should explain: I don't normally do this.  It's rare that I go away for work but, when I do, I am a model of professional and responsible behaviour (save for the odd G&T-inna-can). I usually spend my evenings sitting in a hotel room, watching BBC News, writing something boring for work and making sure I don't have any accidental fun. It's boring. I also don't make a habit of filling my week with exciting comedy and art events (even the most dedicated social butterfly would find that a challenge in Burnham). No, this was a rare and exciting thing for me and I was starting to feel a "Holiday" level of anticipation towards my week in London.

Maybe I've read too many books and watched too many films. I'm not looking for action, adventure and high romance from real life but I'm pretty sure the rules state that: when a character pushes themselves outside the routine of their regular life to experience new things, it's supposed to have a good outcome. They are not supposed to receive a letter telling them that their fun has been cancelled.

So I've spent the last day trying to work out exactly how much I'm willing to spend for something I really want to do yet know in my heart will be too expensive. Come hell or high water I'm seeing John Finnemore but it was the entire week-long comedy/art adventure I was looking forward to. But I know what midweek London hotel rates are like. Plus food. Plus the train tickets. Plus travel when I'm there.

Just how much are three comedy shows and one student exhibition worth?

Well, thanks to the genius of laterooms.com, it's looking like Rebecca's Super-Fun London Adventure may be more feasible than I'd first thought. Apparently there are student rooms you can rent out of term time. Add in some complex but undoubtedly sound advice on splitting train fairs and it's actually beginning to look like I may be able to afford my fun after all.

Now one final challenge remains: I just have to beg, bribe or bully my team leader into allowing me to take a week off during our busiest month, while he'll be on paternity leave and we're two people down. Surely that can't be harder than finding affordable accommodation in London, can it?

Yarntastic

I've been attempting something of a Yarn Pr0n Tuesday thing because I'm usually at college on a Tuesday night. So I cheat on Monday and schedule a picture of yarn that I like for while I'm out. So, in approximate keeping with my own tradition (four weeks is a tradition, right?), here are some photos of my purchases from Saturday.

This is Nimu Yarns' stunning Blea Lace. It's 100% silk and it has an impressive 750m of fabulousness waiting to be knitted into I-have-absolutely-no-clue-what. 

Although I was taken with the texture of the yarn (and I really don't have the first idea what to do with 100% silk laceweight) it was the colour that really caught me. There's a definite trend to most of my purchases this weekend and I just couldn't resist the stormy blue-grey colour, especially when I discovered the tiny flecks of turquoise in a few places.

No turqouise here, you'll just have to take my word on it

This is more Nimu Yarns Sizergh. I bought a stunning blue/black skein in December and my plans for it just won't work. I panicked when I realised I couldn't find it on their website so obviously I had to buy some when I saw it. Obviously.

For some reason I can't get a good, clear picture of the whole skein of Sizergh. My only guess is that the mohair halo is throwing off the focus of my camera.

If this were a regular Tuesday I think this would be my Yarn Pr0n

And here's the new holder of Most Paid For a Single Skein. It's also without any doubt the highest I've ever paid per yard: This amazing Pixie Dust by Yarn Collage is only 35 yards. 

What am I going to do with 35 yards? I have no idea but it's going to be a real challenge to do justice to this yarn. It's soft and beautiful and it makes me think of silk cocoons, strung together then spun in a web of fine mohair and silver. 

That's not what it is but it's still amazing and for some reason I can't seem to get a suitable close-up.

And that just leaves my two non-yarn purchases. Well, I also bought fabric but that's not going to look remotely interesting until I've done something with it.

It was probably inevitable that I'd buy some Colinette but the real surprise was just how little of it I saw at the show. This is Roving and I plan to fight the very strong urge to spin it. For a while I've been curious about felting with fibre before it's spun/knitted and I think this may end up as some sort of (highly) experimental scarf. 

Now, as if I hadn't indulged myself enough, I thought I should probably buy something that wasn't wool. I'd just succumbed to the Pixie Dust and was lost in visions of cowls when I came across the Stealth Bunny stall. Aside from being very friendly people with chocolates on their stand, they were also selling an extremely weird and wonderful selection of buttons. 

Well, I thought, if I'm going to spend lots of money on wool and (probably) make some sort of cowl with it then there's no way I'm putting a normal button on it.

That is a hallmarked, sterling silver button made from the bowl of a spoon and I would be far too ashamed to admit in public how much it cost. But it's so beautiful and so lovely to stroke. And it'll go so well on the shimmery Pixie Dust. And it's silver. And...

And...

And..

And, hello. My name is Rebecca and I'm a yarn addict.

Quilt Envy

The Stitch and Craft show was host to two quilting exhibitions I think.

Spread around most of the top floor were hundreds of quilted pennants from Quilts 4 London (although I'm currently listening to Ed Reardon's Week I'm going to resist the urge to comment on that 4). Apparently the aim is to give one to everyone competing in the olympics and paralymics. The pennants were a real mix of styles and clearly came from quilters with a wide range of skill. The volume was impressive and I can't even imagine how much work must have gone into organising a project of that scale.

Almost half the floor was devoted to the A Gift of Quilts exhibition, which was more impressive in size, scale and skill. Also for the olympics, this project will give one quilt to every team competing the games. 

I'll admit that I'm a late recruit to quilting and I should probably confess that I'm enjoying the process of making the thing more than I'm going to enjoy the final product. More often than not, all I can see in a quilt is a bunch of different fabrics that don't quite go together in a pattern that I can't quite make out. Or a set of boring fabrics in a pattern that is so regimented that it may as well just be printed.

Wandering round the exhibition, the point of several of the quilts still passed me by. I can appreciate the amount of work that goes into them (hand sewing hundreds of little squares of fabric will give you real appreciation of the amount of work a quilt takes) but the over-all effect of some were lost on me.

Only some, though. The rest were a lesson in how it should be done and the vast gulf that lies between my beginner's efforts and the beautiful quilts that approach works of art. Some of the best had too many people admiring them to get a photo. 

Here are some pictures of quilts made by people with excellent fabric-based imaginations:

This is how blue should be done

Unlike me, the person behind this quilt knows how to make rectangles not-boring

Just in case I'd been doubting my lesson in how contrasting colours work in quilts

This is the only quilt that made me laugh out loud

And this quilt is a physical manifestation of the gulf between my skill and true quilting

 

Yarn Budgets are for Losers

I have to start by saying that there are some unfeasibly attractive people in London. I kept wondering whether the tube had been suddenly overwhelmed by escapees from a high-end fashion shoot.

Anyway. This weekend I have mostly been travelling on the Bakerloo Line (or the Brown One, as I know I'm not supposed to think of it). I'd allowed about an hour to get to Olympia on Saturday morning and the plan went well until I got to Earl's Court, panicked that there might not be a train  in time and bought a massive A to Z so I could find Olympia myself. So my best-laid plans for travelling very light were a little dented.

The queue at the Stitch & Craft show was on a surprisingly epic scale and quite chaotic, though I did find myself behind a woman with a lovely entrelac coat that I would very much like to find the pattern for. 

I did quite a bit of fretting about whether I'd get inside before the workshop began but only because I'd convinced myself that it was starting at 10. Once I was inside and realised it was actually 10:30, I had enough time for a very quick exploration of the venue. Good job too, because it was packed before long. I'd hoped to get a photo of the sheer scale of the event but I never found a good vantage point.

The ground floor was mostly fabric and miscellaneous. The basement was workshops and card making. By 10:25 I'd only found two yarn stalls and I was beginning to worry that I might have planned a whole weekend in London in order to get only acrylic and generic brand yarn.

Fortunately I was proved wrong when I followed some slightly lost-looking people to the second floor and the extensive "Knitting Zone". With only a couple of minutes before I had to dash back down to the basement, I did a super-quick loop of the stalls frantically stroking exotic yarn and trying to work out how not to blow all my money in one place.

When I got to the Colour Wheel Workshop I'll admit that I was a little disappointed to discover that it mostly involved sticking bits of fabric to card. But, once we'd done our cutting and sticking, we moved on to colours that work together.

I've never really understood colour and I'd hoped that this might help. To a certain extent, it did but there was also a fair bit of: "...and if you take these three and add in the colour opposite on the wheel, see how it really works?" And I didn't. But maybe I'll never really get it. 

Apparently this combination really works well. I'm not convinced.

Following the workshop, I pushed my way through the packed crowd of crafters and headed back upstairs. I was particularly keen to find Nimu Yarns and any other smaller-scale producers/dyers. In the end I gave up searching and forked out an utterly ridiculous £4 for the show catalogue only to find Nimu right next to a stand I'd been to three times already.

A knitted village. Obviously.
I suspect crazy challenges like this might be why non-knitters think we're a bit strange.

I refuse to add up exactly how much I ended up spending but I do know that I set a new record for how much I'm willing to pay for a skein when I succumbed to some stunning yarn called Pixie Dust from Yarn Collage.

I'm going to have to wait for some good daylight to get some proper pictures because only natural light will do justice to most of my purchases. In the end I came home with:

• Colinette Roving (because I'd like to try some felting)
• Nimu Blea Lace (beautiful coloured laceweight silk)
• Nimu Sizergh (because I'm just not happy with my plans for the current skein I've got)
• Yarn Collage Pixie Dust
• A beautiful button made from the bowl of a silver spoon (Stealth bunny!)
• Fabric for a new knitting bag

In addition to all the yarn on the second floor, there was also an exhibition of quilts but that'll have to wait for another post.

All in all, Saturday was a great day and it ended with suitably large quantities of sushi. I only wish I hadn't spent several hours extremely preoccupied by the fact that I'd entirely forgotten the word "demographic".

Knitting: 1, Radio: 0

For the most part, my hobbies play well together. Knitting while listening to the radio works on the bus, the train and at home. There are whole projects that I will forever associate with a particular play (sorry, drama) or comedy that I might otherwise have forgotten if not for the fact that a joke or intense scene somehow became entangled in my yarn and ended up knitted in with the pattern.

But this weekend I faced a choice between my two great loves: the Stitch & Craft show in London or the More than Words listening festival in Bristol.

The craft show took an early lead. It was my birthday last week and I'd hoped to organise a girly weekend in London to celebrate, complete with craft-based indulgence and stereotypical quantities of wine. Unfortunately, the logistics proved impossible and I was left with only a stubborn determination to exercise my independence for company.

And yet, there was the More than Words festival and the BBC ticket unit luring me with their promises of radio on my doorstep. I have no idea what the workshops would be like but I know that I very much liked the idea of going.

In the end, knitting won. Okay, the combination of knitting and a destination more exotic than Bristol won. If I'm honest, I think it was the ticket ballot for More than Words that swung it. Yes, I see that it's fair. Yes, I see that really each person should probably get tickets to just one show. But if you're looking to make the most of a weekend then you don't really want to trust it to a random ballot.

I've still not entirely come to terms with my decision. I feel oddly guilty about not even attempting to go to More than Words, a little like I've made some lame excuse that no one believes so that I can miss a friend's birthday party just because I don't really feel like going. (For the record, I don't do that.) After all, I can do knitting all year round but how often does the BBC come and hold a listening festival in the nearest thing I have to a home city?

So, if anyone is going to More than Words, please have a little extra fun for me. Go to shows, go to workshops and listen to things, preferably in headphones crocheted by Get Knitted.  I shall be thinking of you while I force myself not to spend a small fortune on yarn.

Oh, and if you could tell me what a listening festival actually is, that would be great.

Cultural Overload

I've often wondered how the people of London get anything done. I think I could happily spend every weekend of the year just exploring the museums (if I could manage to ignore the rest of the extremely fun stuff on offer). I did a little searching for things on in London while I'll be on my training course in April and I quickly found myself booking tickets to see Andy Zaltzman at the Udderbelly. I can't really believe it's a giant purple cow but I look forward to being proved wrong.

Anyway, remember the project to knit a 7ft map of the world? Well, it ended up 186% funded and she's two thirds of the way through knitting the map. With the extra money there will apparently also be a moon and both will be on display at her university art show.

And, in an almost implausible coincidence of timing, the show will be on in London while I am on my training course.

So, without any real effort, I have already made plans for three of my five evenings away. Those other two evenings are suddenly beginning to look like a concerted challenge to my ability to find accidental fun.

Now I just have to hope this doesn't turn out to be the sort of training course that has homework...

Jillybean Twinkle Sock

A Very Kvothe Birthday

I've been meaning to write something about my latest bus project since... well, since I started it. It is knitted with the completely fabulous Nimu Torva that I bought from the internet then posted a picture of.

Before I succumbed to the lure of lustrous, brilliant-blue yarn, I forced myself to search Ravelry for a pattern that I would actually knit with it. I was not going to condemn this beautiful yarn to the Eternal Stash where far too many fabulous things already languish, forlorn and unknitted.

Ever since I saw a Clapotis at Get Knitted, I've been rather fascinated by it, as I think most knitters are. There's something irresistible about a pattern that so blatantly breaks the rules. So I was thinking maybe my lovely new Torva might be destined for a scarf. But I have a lot of scarves, plus a clapotis would probably take two skeins and I was trying desperately to be good and buy just the one.

If you search Ravelry for Clapotis, you get a lot of different versions of the same technique. On the first page of results, something caught my eye: Kvothe

Excellent photos? Check

One skein? Check

Triangular scarf? Check (Asymmetrical? Bonus check!)

Named after a character in a really good book? Check!

Well, there was no way I was going to not knit that! The only problem was forcing myself to break with my love of skeins and spend an entire knitting group session winding the fabulous cobalt blue into a ball.

The pattern was very well explained, despite being a translation from German. In fact, if I had one criticism, it might be that it's a little over explained. There's written instructions and two different versions of the chart. I had to read it through three times before I realised that it really was as simple as it first appeared!

At first I couldn't imagine how I'd ever get to grips with the rows but after a couple of days I had a revelation and realised just how easy it is to memorise: increase every row on the long edge, decrease every other row on the short edge. And, the genius of it is, because it's asymmetrical you just stop when you run out of yarn. Nothing gets wasted!

Even so, I was expecting to get bored because I loathe long rows. What I discovered is that rows don't feel long if you're working a pattern that requires enough concentration to keep you interested but not so much that you get frustrated. All in all, this pattern gets top marks from me!

For fellow Ravelers, I should probably explain I named my project Mantle of the Chandrian after the evil creatures that slayed Kvothe's family in the book. This is not because my scarf is evil (at least I hope not) but because of the blue flame that's a sign of their presence. Hey, if the pattern is inspired by yarn that matches the character's hair, I have to go with the colour theme of blue. 

Anyway, I finished it on Thursday night and set it to block. I then went away, drank wine, ate pizza, and generally celebrated my birthday. When I returned home, the blocking was finished!

This is not a picture of my scarf blocking.
This is a picture of my scarf on a wall.

 

The biggest surprise was just how fabulous the drape of the scarf is. Somewhere along the way I think I forgot that Torva is 20% cashmere. Also, I just can't say enough about the colour. I haven't managed to take a single photo that captures it properly but the blend of shades is just perfect. There's enough variation to keep it interesting but nothing so busy that it swamps the simple pattern.

I think I may have a new favourite scarf and, believe me, this scarf has a lot of competition to beat.

So, why was it a Very Kvothe Birthday? Because, in addition to finishing my scarf, my sister gave me the sequel to The Name of the Wind. So, for the first time in a while, I spent almost all of Sunday under a warm blanket getting lost in a book. 

Sorry, knitting, you can't come close to that.

Accidental Fun

This is about radio, trust me. For a while it's going to look like I'm writing a post about my life. But it's not that, promise.

In April, I have to go to London for a training course. It's going to be quite hard and involve a lot of learning about complicated things that I don't much understand but it's also going to involve spending a week in London and that is No Bad Thing. I've been pretty excited about the prospect of this trip because, let's face it, I don't go away much for fun so if work wants me to go away somewhere for not-fun then at least that's a step in the right direction. After all, fun may well be had by accident.

Because the training is in London and I am on entirely the other side of the country, I will be going up the night before (because the alternative is me dragging myself out of bed at 3am and probably sleeping through the first day of the course, or at least the part where they explain all the important words). Anyway, this means I will be in London for five nights with nothing to do but to seek sushi/a restaurant where I can eat alone and not feel like a social pariah.

Obviously the first thing I did - before even booking my hotel - was to research what radio programmes might be recording while I'm there. Unfortunately, I'm not sure that Counterpoint is something I'd particularly enjoy. Oh well, I thought, no doubt I'll find something to do.

And I have!

I'm an occasional reader of John Finnemore's blog, on the grounds that he is a complete and total (brilliant!) genius. Cabin Pressure is hilarious. He's always both funny and clever on the Now Show. And John Finnemore's Souvenir Programme last year was fantastic. The man can do no wrong in my books. So, when I sat down to waste ten minutes before I had to go out, I was happy to see he'd posted something about the next series of his Souvenir Programme. Actually, not just something but something about preview sketch nights, in London, on fortnightly Sundays.

London. Everything fun happens in London, I sighed. And on a Sunday too. That's a really inconvenient day for getting back home from London. Well, wouldn't it have been great if I could have gone?

In my defence, this entire train of thought took place shortly after I'd got back from work and it had not begun with me contemplating what I might do with myself while on a training course for a week. So, as I clicked through the booking link out of sheer curiosity, the fact that I am going to be in London on a Sunday hit me like a goose hitting a number two engine over St Petersburg. 

So now I won't just be aimlessly wandering London looking for sushi. There are four other nights for me to do that. No, instead I shall be going to see John Finnemore try out material for his new comedy series that will end up on Radio 4. And all I have to do is find Kilburn on a tube map.

Best. Training. Course. Ever.

Manos Cranberry Lace

Change Management

"They're not called 'plays' and more," my mum told me while we were discussing the Play of the Week podcast. "They're called 'dramas'."

I don't really have a lot to say about that. I have no doubt that it's the sort of change that usually drives pedantic radio geeks a little crazy. After all, as a species Radio 4 listeners are not huge fans of change and renaming every slot in a particular genre is a rather brave step. But I've read the Radio 4/4 Extra blog post about the change and the reasoning seems sound, especially in light of the near-constant trailing of "Original British Drama" on the BBC. Let's face it: Drama is what the BBC excels at, it makes sense to put that front and centre in the schedule.

Now, as a fully paid-up devotee of More Or Less, it would be unforgivable if I were to suggest that correlation equals causation. That would be stupid, especially as I have absolutely no insight into the drama scheduling department of Radio 4. And so, I shall simply comment on a particularly interesting correlation and make no suggestion at all about causation.

Radio 4 have changed 'Play' to 'Drama'.

Also:

There have been some damned good dramas on recently!

Usually I keep an eye on the Afternoon Play Drama but, although there might be one episode per week that I listen to, it's rarely more than that. I'm a sucker for an on-going series (McLevy, Number10, the weird and wonderful Pilgrim) but there needs to be something eye-catching in the description in order to overcome my usual unjustified apathy.

Well, over the last couple of weeks it's been hard to find a drama I didn't listen to. Okay, so Interrogation, Number 10 and Stone all satisfy my cravings for a series but, come on, Benedict Cumberbatch in Rumpole of the Bailey? You can't tell me that a picture of him (complete with Sherlock scarf and hair) in the Radio Times and front page of the Radio 4 website haven't pulled in a few more listeners to the newly-named Afternoon Drama. Even my non-radio-listening sister read the write-up of Rumpole.

I'm not saying that this is intentional front-loading of the new drama slot but, if it is, I don't blame them. Anything that brings a more listeners to the radio - and to radio drama in particular - is a good thing. After all, the afternoon play has always been a source for surprising gems in the schedule and, if the last two weeks are anything to go by, a new name isn't going to change that.

Winterthorn: Published!

The title covers it all really.

I've finally typed up my Winterthorn pattern; published it; realised I left off any kind of photo from the PDF; quickly stuck a photo on; and re-published it.

The hats are masterfully modelled by my sister and my mum. Hopefully it's clear which one is actually the right size!

While I was knitting the hats I wasn't working from a printed chart but rather a bitmap with each pixel representing a stitch. The advantage of a bitmap is that you can zoom in and select the number of pixels in each section. I find it more reliable than counting squares on a printed chart. I'd been hoping to upload the bitmap somewhere and link to it but I've been struck by technological incompetence and can't find a trustworthy hosting site for the file.

Bitmap aside, I'm happy with the pattern and now I get to indulge my favourite pastime: stalking my Ravelry recent activity!

Third Time Lucky

It's been a couple of weeks since I last wrote anything. That's because of three things that happened in quick succession. A reluctance to write stuff was not one of these things. I've actually quite missed the blog and that has to be a sign that I should keep doing it.

First thing that happened:

The BBC linked to my post. The actual BBC. I freaked out. I freaked out quite a lot. For the first ten minutes I very literally could not string "The BBC has linked to my blog" into a sentence:
Me: "They... They... They..."
Colleague: "Who?"
Me: "The BBC! They... They... They..."
Colleague: "The BBC what?"
Me: "They... The BBC... They..."

It went on for a while.

On a number of levels I'm not actually surprised, I've read the blurb about the blog linking before. I just never really expected it to actually happen. Especially as the BBC bot found my post less than 30 minutes after I'd posted it. And if they were going to link to my blog, why did it have to be a post where I commented on steamy almost-sex scenes written after far too long spent travelling?

Then there was thing two:

In case you can't quite work out what that can possibly be (and many people have wondered) it is a cardboard house, complete with flaps and knitted sand bags to help get across the facts about the impacts of the Summer 2007 floods. 

Obviously.

I'm still not entirely certain how I volunteered to make this, or how it seemed a good idea to take the "house with flaps for questions made out of a crisp box" concept and instead decide to make a three-storey house complete with photos of ikea interiors and a chimney with smoke. But I do know that it ate up a lot of hours and a lot of PVA glue.

Directly or indirectly, the late nights involved with thing two led inevitably to thing three:

I came down with a mutant cold/flu/virus thing that has left me with the world's most annoying cough. I'm not going to apologise for the self-pity. Ill people get to do self-pity.

The point where everyone seemed to realise that I wasn't making it up was when they realised I'd been off work for three days and I hadn't done any knitting! Now that's proper illness!

It wasn't until Sunday night that I actually managed to pick up my knitting again. I'd love to say that I was struck with renewed determination, that the days of rest had left me charged up and ready to demolish any knitting challenge in mere hours. Hardly. On one hand, I was quite glad to be doing something other than lying in bed doing pointless self-pity. On the other, I wanted to go back to bed and do a bit more self-pity.

But this brings me on to the subject of my post and, believe me, Third Time Lucky does not refer to the three things that have kept me off the internet for two weeks. No.

<insert dramatic drum roll>

I have (finally) finished Winterthorn version three! And, not only is it finished, but it's actually the right size! I've been showing it to everyone in work who has ever expressed even a passing interest in knitting! Unfortunately it's still too dark while I'm home to get pictures but, come the weekend, nothing's going to stop me photographing this thing, repeatedly.

I finished it Monday evening and blocked it with more care and attention than anything I've ever blocked before. I tried to prepare myself: Maybe it would be too big again. Maybe I'd stretch the rib too much during blocking. Maybe it would be too small. Maybe my experimental decreasing on a coluple of rows would be too obvious. Maybe I don't actually like the cream colour I've used.

In the end, it has turned out to be exactly what I first imagined when I woke up with a hat in my head in December. The final verdict is: 2.75mm needles and sensible 4ply wool. Now all I have to do is to write up the pattern, find a way to fit a 200-stitch chart into a PDF and publish it.

I hadn't given much thought to what yarn I'll recommend on the pattern but, now that I've completed the final (definitely final) Winterthorn, I think it's going to have to be the Rowan Pure Wool 4ply. I have a bit of a thing against Rowan wool and I know it doesn't really deserve it. In my head, I think of it as rather boring and overpriced. Well, I'm going to try to be nicer about Rowan in the future: the 4 ply was an absolute pleasure to work with and it has a loveley springiness about it that demands to go into a hat!

When I started out on this I never imagined that it would take three hats before I'd be happy. I never imagined it'd be March before I felt ready to write up the pattern. But I do know now that I'm happy with what I've designed and I'm confident that it works. It's given me the opportunity to try a few things (most of which haven't worked) and helped to add to my needle collection (I had no 2.75mm circulars or DPNs until now). Plus, I now have more hats and who can complain about that?

So, overall, this has been a positive experience. It's just that it has involved quite a bit more cursing, frustration and focus groups of my colleagues than most positive experiences!