Party

What are you doing on Wednesday night at 6:30? No, you can do that on Thursday. The correct answer is: listening to Party.

Last Wednesday night I went to see a recording of episode three and four of series three of Party, by Tom Basden for Radio 4. Now obviously I haven't heard the first episode, so I can't absolutely guarantee you that it's going to be as fantastic, funny and sharp as the second two episodes but I would put money on it. Quite a bit of money.

As I mentioned before, I have somehow managed to miss Party on Radio 4 so I bought series 2 from iTunes before going to the recording. I knew it was funny but I really wasn't expecting to be laughing almost constantly throughout the entire recording. Tom Basden is a really good writer. Not only are the episodes very funny but they're also just a single thirty-minute scene. And that's not only clever but also very impressive.

Earlier in the year I went to see Old Harry's Game and it was funny. I laughed. But Party is funny and I couldn't stop laughing. I know that I've highly recommended a lot of stuff in the past but Party is well worth listening to.

Oh, and you should know: when the third episode is aired, Jonny Sweet is actually eating Jacob's Cream Crackers. And he didn't even sneak a drink. Plus, Tim Key attempted the splits (though I'll be honest, the crackers were more impressive).

And, if you really are busy at 6:30 on Wednesday, then Party is going to be the Comedy of the Week Podcast. So you really have no excuse not to listen.

Radio: 1, Knitting: 1

Last night radio won a decisive victory over knitting when my wool and needles were confiscated by BBC security guards. Fortunately I remembered to retrieve them at the end of the night. I joined women who had brought a pair of scissors and two forks in the oddest ever walk of shame.

I had confidently insisted to my friend that we should aim to get to Portland Place for 6 and that we should expect a queue. We got there at 6 and there was no queue. In fact, we were let in immediately and took full advantage of the quite bar and our choice of seats in the cafe.

I'm not going to say anything on the subject of what the recording of Party was like because it really does deserve its own post.

So instead I shall end with this proof that the early bird both catches the worm and gets a latte too:

Button

I am in love with this button. I think all hats shall have this button from now on.

This Big Button Hat is destined for the Wateraid sale at Christmas.

Radio 404: Not Found

I'm not sure how this keeps happening but it's time for another trip to London, this time it's thanks to a conference that should be both interesting and informative. It also happens to start at 9am which is far too early for me to travel up in the morning. One of my friends is in the same position so we'll be going up the night before because the alternative is a 04:30 start and still missing the first half hour of the conference, which is something that no one wants to see.

As you'd expect of me, I checked the BBC ticket site for recordings that evening. Most of September is already fully booked but there was one recording on the night that we'll be there: Party.

My brain did something a little unexpected and I got the mental equivalent of a radio 404 error. I've never heard of Party, that's odd. Is it new? Nope, it's the third series being recorded. Have I just got confused and is it actually The Party Line, The Party Party or one of the other political comedies with the word 'party' in their titles? Nope.

Now I don't claim to be an expert and I don't imagine that I've heard every radio comedy broadcast in the last few years. But I was a little surprised. I was even more surprised when I mentioned it to my friend and he said "The one where they're students? That's really funny! Well, I think it is. It's quite funny. I think."

I know I've written before about the difficulty of recommending comedies to other people but this is the first time I've been on the receiving end. The more we talked about going to the recording, the less certain my friend was about how funny Party really was. I've done exactly the same thing. There are a couple of things that I'm absolutely certain are funny and would insist that everyone should hear but there are all too many programmes that are obviously hilarious to me but are completely lost on others.

Fortunately, I have faith in my friend's taste (even though he doesn't get Bleak Expectations for some reason). So we've applied for tickets, received tickets and now we're taking a half day so we can travel up to London and get in the queue at a reasonable time. After complaining at the start of the year that I couldn't get to see the Now Show this will be my third recording of 2012. I feel more than a little greedy.

As I'm going to a recording, I thought it was only sensible to have some idea of what the plot is, so I've bought series two of Party from iTunes (Why not series 1? Ask iTunes). Fortunately, it turns out that my friend is right and it is funny. Really very funny.

Do You Know Who Wrote This?

Well, of course you do. I have an entire page explaining who I am.

Even if Do You Know Who Wrote This? hadn't been trailed in every spare minute of Radio 4's broadcasting last week, I think I'd have made an effort to catch it. The play looks at online identities and the anonymity that people hide behind when they use forums, chat sites and social networking. Ten years ago I think that would have been a fairly niche audience but the explosion of social networking in the last decade has brought to the fore a lot of issues that were previously the territory of small, cliquey groups of geeks. I mean, I've even heard the word "trolling" used on Today. Not used correctly but it's a start.

I know a little about this subject because, for several years, I worked as an online moderator for a reasonably large American company. I spent my evenings patrolling discussion forums in search of the sorts of comments that no one wants their children exposed to. I've seen my share of spam attacks, "inappropriate content", flame wars and trolling. More trolling than you could possibly imagine.

The number of people who used their real names on the forum was probably close to a dozen, out of many thousands. It just wasn't done. Not by the members and not by the moderators either. Even when I left I didn't reveal my real name, all the users ever knew about me was that I was female and European. Anonymity was an essential tool to how we worked and an essential component to the discussions that went on, not so much because people wanted to hide their personality but because those real life names had no relevance to the world we were in.

It may sound like a lot of people hiding behind aliases but it was anything but. When people post under a name that has no gender, age, race or nationality attached to it then the responses are based on the content of that post, not the preconceptions that might go along with that name.

Using an alias to shield bad behaviour is a short term thing. If you're in a true community, with active members and an expectation of reasonable discussion then the reputation of your username is as important as the reputation of your real name. Strong communities are self-policing because they have a social code that's equivalent to those we have in real life. If you flame others then people won't take you seriously. It's irrelevant whether that name can be connected back to a real identity because your online presence will be discredited among your peers.

We should aspire to communicate in communities where content is key. A person's opinions, self-expression and online behaviour is what matters. The actual identity of the person typing the keys should be the least relevant of all things. If what you're saying is worth saying then people will respect you for it, regardless of the name that you use.

The play did a good (and funny) job of exploring the reach of our online interactions and the chaos that absolute truth might bring about. But I think it's worth pointing out that, in a strong community with clearly defined ground rules, flaming and trolling isn't an inevitable consequence of anonymity.

Which brings me back to my original point: do you know who wrote this?

Yes, because I made a concerted decision to write this blog under my own name and not an alias. I believe that if I'm going to post my opinions about things, especially if those things are creative works by people who might not agree with my opinions, that I should do that under my own name. I realise it may sound hypocritical when I've just defended anonymity but, for as long as the patterns and programmes I post about have a real name behind them, I think they deserve a real name in return.

One Hundred and Thirteen Days

Although I love Christmas, I don't normally start planning and preparing for it quite this early on but, thanks to a major project in work, I'm already planning for December. So it only seems natural to start planning my knitting for December too.

Last year our work knitting group raised over £600 for Wateraid in our Christmas sale and the time has come to stop doing selfish knitting and to start on scarves, hats, gloves and tiny little stockings. Okay, so I actually started the stockings in February but that's beside the point.

I'm not the only one, we already have a dinosaur and several Christmas decorations in the Knitting Cupboard. I'm not sure I'll manage to contribute quite as much as last year but my bus knitting time is going to be turned over to the sale shortly.

So far I've only started one scarf, its another Loopy & Luscious because, I'm ashamed to say, the wool is fairly cheap. I don't begrudge donating my time and yarn to the sale but it's a lot easier to see the total as profit when things are sold for more than the cost of the wool alone.

The balls on the right will be hats, gloves and perhaps a Maluka, as they are very much the rage in knitting group right now.

Unplanned Scenic Diversion

Okay, so I got a bit lost while walking in the peak district. But at least I had plenty of time to think while I tried to find my way back to the path. It turns out that navigating by a stream is only a good plan provided that there aren't four streams.

I took some yarn on holiday in the hopes of working out a couple of patterns that have been in my head for a while. It all seemed a bit boring though and, on my walk, something else started growing in my mind. There's an interesting border in one of my stitch books. It's a cable with an in-built fringe that has caught my eye a few times though I've never quite had a use for it.

I'm not sure whether it was the lovely, expansive surroundings or the chilly evenings in my tent with no big, drapey wrap for my shoulders but by the end of the holiday I knew what I wanted to make. It would be a crescent-ish shaped wrap/scarf, worked side-to-side with the fringe on the lower border. I deliberated a bit on what would go into the centre but I was fairly certain it would be something very open and not too same-y.

When I came home I started on a few prototypes. I began with my Chiminea lace and played around trying to get something a little more elongated that would flow better over the whole length of the scarf.

The colours are extreme, I know, but these are just prototypes. The large rectangular block shows the progression from the Chiminea pattern (just visible at the lower end) through some messy attempts at cable, through something that's a little promising, into a pattern that I'm actually happy with.

Then I had to work out how the increasing would work, that's up in the top right. This isn't the first attempt, it got ripped back three times before I was happy.

In the bottom left you'll see two versions of the braid/fringe, the left-most one is by the book but the one on the right is a lot stronger. The fringe is made by dropping stitches and cutting the loops but the by-the-book version is far too loose and I wouldn't trust it to hold together for long. The second version has a twisted stitch between the fringe and the pattern which really locks in the fringe.

The yellow triangle was an attempt to bring it all together but the cable is too narrow and the shape is all wrong.

The blue triangle that's still on the needles is attempt six (at least!) and is the product of a long team meeting. I  tried a lot of ways to start things off but I'm really happy with the final result. Happy enough that I've now cast on draft one of the real thing.

There was one section that I couldn't face prototyping: how to get from the end of the blue triangle to the start of the blue.... trapezium? So instead I just went for it. And that seemed like a good plan until I got to row 55 last night and realised that I'd gone very wrong and had forgotten two stitches entirely from my pattern. That'll teach me to be patient with my prototypes.

The Chrysalids

Well, this is  my one-hundredth post. No one is more surprised than me, I didn't imagine that I'd manage to keep this up past four or five. No comments about how photos of yarn or random things don't count.

Anyway. A few months ago we were discussing books in work. I'm pretty devoted to my books. I'm far too over-protective about the condition of the covers, I don't lend them to anyone and the idea that I might get rid of a book once I'd read it is utterly unthinkable. The person I was talking to is the complete opposite and the argument he put forward was: "You only read 1000 books in your life time, why would you go back to the same book twice?"

At the time, I couldn't clearly frame my reasons for reading some books over and over. It's easy enough to try to make an analogy like, "You watch films more than once" or "You go back to the places that you enjoy more than once". But it's more than that. Reading is an experience that depends as much upon the reader as the book. I return to books because, although they may be the same, I'm not.

I don't return to every book but there are three or four that I go back to every few years and one of these is The Chrysalids, a novel by John Wyndham that was dramatised on Radio 4 a couple of weeks ago (sorry, it's already fallen off iplayer). It's the story of a young man with telepathic-like powers in a world that fears and punishes any difference from the norm.

I'm not sure exactly how old I was when I first read it but I was probably around eleven. It wasn't the first book for adults that I'd read but it was the first time that I read a book and realised that, while I enjoyed it, I was only seeing one facet of the story. To an eleven year old girl, it's an adventure story about a boy with special powers who works with his friends to escape the dangers of their village. But every time I've re-read the book, I've found something more in it. As a teenager it was a story about not fitting in. As an adult it's a story about the terrible things that people can do when they believe that they're right.

There was an adaptation of the Chrysalids in 1981, broadcast in the last year on 4 Extra but it felt like a dramatisation of my eleven-year-old understanding of the book. The recent two-hour version captured the atmosphere of fear, paranoia and secrecy that I came to recognise in the book as I grew older.

With a core set of characters that are children growing to young adults, it'd be easy to concentrate on these aspects but the play focused on the implications of their 'deviations' and the tyranny of the society that feared them. Obviously there's a lot of detail that is missing from any adaptation but it didn't feel missing. Despite knowing every inch of the plot I still thoroughly enjoyed the play.

Representing their thought-shapes into words over the radio is bound to be a bit of a simplification but it was well handled. Just confusing and noisy enough to remind us that it's not exactly words but clear enough to be clearly understood. The overall effect was to draw you into their world and drive home the uniquely close relationships between main characters as they shared their thoughts and feelings. Something that definitely passed me by when I first discovered the boo

I'd recommend listening to The Chrsysalids if it's broadcast again. And if not then I'd recommend the book, regardless of your age. It's a story that will grow with you.

Rewarding Rewards

I've written a few times about my growing kickstarter addiction and I know I mentioned that I was supporting Sara of Smudge Yarn's project to fund the development of her Irish yarn business. For my reward I chose unspun fibres, the colour blend is Illuminate (inspired by colours in illuminated manuscripts) and I chose to have it blended with metallic fibres. It arrived in the post shortly before I went on holiday and I couldn't have been more delighted.

I don't know what I imagined illuminated manuscript colours might be but, as soon as I saw the blend, I understood completely. The mix is fantastic and the fabulous coppery fibres perfectly highlight the other colours. I don't think I've ever been so excited to start spinning something and I even managed to start before I went on holiday.

I tend to spin quite finely. My spinning teacher described me as one of nature's laceweight spinners but even my best attempts ave been fairly inconsistent up until now. But something about this blend suited me perfectly. I mean, absolutely perfectly. I think I only broke my thread three times during the whole lot, which is utterly unprecedented. There are a few burrs (texture!) but, for the most part, the yarn is smooth, consistent and exactly what I was aiming for.

Most of my spinning has been Navajo plied but, because I was hoping for the maximum length from this, I decided to just go for two ply. The result is somewhere between laceweight and 4ply weight but I'm hoping it should still be suitable for the project I had in mind. Unfortunately, the 270 metres on this skein probably isn't enough so I'm hoping that I might be able to buy another 100g of the same blend.

I'm not sure what I'm looking forward to more: knitting this skein or hopefully spinning another!

Repeat

Quite a few years ago, when I was just getting back into knitting, I found some very discounted rowan yarn on sale. It was lovely, soft, spongey and asymmetrically plied with a single metallic thread. It was probably the first yarn I bought that was in any way out of the ordinary. Of course I had no idea what to do with it, but when has that ever stopped any knitter?

I bought four balls of purple and a ball each of blue, grey and dusky pink. Then, with the exception of a moderately wearable hat, the balls lurked under my bed for years.

Four years ago my sister was pregnant and, as it got colder her bump got bigger. So I dug out the wool and I knitted her a large but fairly shapeless and uninspired bump-wrap. The best part were the large and sparkly buttons I found to co-ordinate with the purple wool.

Now my niece is three and a half and my sister decided to clear out her maternity clothes. She let me have the bump-wrap back so I could salvage the buttons but I managed to recover more than that. I unravelled the yarn, wrapped it onto my niddy-noddy and the skein took its place in my own personal yarn shop.

There it remained until I came to pack up for my holiday last week. I knew I had to pack projects that I'd really feel like knitting in my tent in the evenings. They had to be projects for which I had the pattern printed or something I could read from my phone. And they had to be interesting.

There's something fascinating about the idea of knitting a lacey pattern in aran/worsted weight yarn so once I'd decided to do something with my purple Rowan, I knew it had to be a scarf. I procrastinated from my packing by scouring Ravelry until I came across Arroyo. Worsted, interesting, long, a little unconventional but straight-forward enough to read from my phone. In short, everything I was looking for! And, once that was decided, I knew that I'd be making it for my sister.

At times the rows were frustratingly long. I added a few more horizontal repeats because I knew I'd have yarn to spare. As the evenings drew in and the tent got a little chilly, 271 stitches felt like 250 too many but I'm so pleased with the results.

I'll admit that I had my doubts about the large area of garter stitch and but it came out fantastically springy, I just wanted to dig my fingers into it the whole time. In fact, the hardest part turned out to be blocking the points out without stretching out the garter stitch at all. I blocked the points out more than the pattern called for because the pattern's just too beautiful to not show off to its full.

I'd highly recommend this pattern. I've been frustrated recently because I've knitted several scarf/shawl/wraps that aren't quite long enough. This is quite the opposite, it's not only lovely but it's practical. I'm really hoping that my sister will get a lot of use out of it, either as a wintery scarf or as something to put round her shoulders on chilly evenings. Tent optional.

Rewind

I'm not much of one for ripping back my knitting. When I make mistakes I generally catch them in time to correct or disguise them and, if not, then I can usually live with it. I find it distressing when I see some of the almost-complete projects that some of my friends have ripped back. So it was pretty much unprecedented when I ripped back a section this large:

Recently I've been working on a new bus project, a South Sea Treasures shawl. It wasn't a bus project to start with, there were far too many stiches and the pattern was far too fiddly, not to mention the frustratingly slow process of threading the far-too-small-holed beads. But by the time I reached the main section it was perfect for the bus and it lived in my handbag for several weeks.

The pattern is Russian with an English translation. There are three charts knitted in sequence followed by short rows to form a crescent. It was only by about half-way through the third chart that I really grasped what was going on in the symbols. I don't know if it's just a different convention of charting in Russian but I couldn't make my knitting look like other peoples' photos.

The symbol key shows dots for knit and dashes for purls but, from what I can gather, these are actually dots for stocking stitch and dashes for garter stitches. But this isn't what caused me to rip back dozens of rows, I can live with a little muddling between stocking stitch and garter stitch.

The main cause of my confusion was the third chart:

Someone else had suggested that there might be an error in the central stitch as it would need a decrease to maintain the stitch count. But the more fundamental problem I found was that the second chart is worked across 12 stitches and the third is worked across 14 stitches.

I wish I'd taken a photo of the mangled, crazy results of trying to align a 12 stitch and 14 stitch pattern but it was not pretty. The only reason I kept going with it for so long (to row 57) was that I couldn't work out how I would fix it if I *did* rip it back. But somewhere around row 57 I was struck by a revelation and realised that it wasn't row 30 that was misleading but rows 26 to 29.

This is what I think the chart should look like (count-wise, I make no comment on the actual stitch symbols):

It seems blindingly obvious in retrospect, I know. The chart starts off with 12 stitches then the increases in row 30 bring it up to 14 for the rest of the chart. There definitely isn't a decrease in row 30, that just makes the problem worse and leads to large swathes of ripping back. As I mentioned above, I think that rows 26 to 29 are actually all knit, then for rows 30 to 35 are alternating knit/purl to form stocking stitch.

On the whole, I'd recommend the pattern but look carefully at the charts and some of the photos on Ravelry before you start. I'm quite certaun now that the charted stocking stitch/garter stitch sections are effectively reversed throughout.

I completed the shawl with about two inches of yarn to go (from one beautiful, soft, luxurious skein of Manos lace). If - or maybe when - I make this again, I'll probably skip at least one repeat in the middle section of chart three and add a few horizontal repeats to make it a bit longer because, although it does go round my shoulders, I'm not too sure how I'll wear it.

A Seagull Ate My Hard Drive

Okay, so he didn't actually eat it. But he's definitely planning to.

Helympics

Turns out I was a bit too pessimistic about yesterday's Old Harry's Game recording:

128 meant I got to sit downstairs and - in one of the rare situations where going somewhere alone is an advantage - I got tacked on the end of a row a bit further up than the rest of the 120 - 150 sticker group. 

The staff organising the seating on Sunday were a bit clearer and more rigid in their queuing system but there was still no shortage of very polite, Radio 4 style loitering going on. Imagine 250 people in a small space, all of whom desperately want to get a good seat but not at the expense of being seen as pushy or getting in anyones way. Thank goodness for organised studio staff with microphones.

I hadn't thought before about the differences between seeing a sketch show and seeing a full half-hour comedy (or rather, two of them) but it was a very different experience. Is it ridiculous that I found myself wanting to shut my eyes and just listen? Considering I'd travelled to London specially, probably yes. But there's something odd about seeing the actors stepping out of scenes to sit down when they don't have lines for a while - however practical it is - that messes with my suspension of disbelief.

I think I have pretty good suspension of disbelief. I'm basically extremely gullible. Go on, try me, I'll believe just about anything up to a point. But, strong as my suspension of disbelief is, it's also extremely fragile and once that point is reached there's no going back. I can't enjoy certain parts of The Lord of the Rings films because I accidentally saw a bit of the extras that included footage of Fangorn Forest. Now my brain knows that it's a set so I see a set. This is why I never watch special features on DVDs. Ever.

Although I'm looking forward to hearing John Finnemore's Souvenir Programme broadcast (1. there's a whole other recording's worth that I've not heard; 2. I will finally get the insomnia song out of my head) I think I may be looking forward to Old Harry's Game more. Although I've heard the complete two episodes, which are broadcast Thursday 12th & 19th, I need to know whether I'll enjoy it for what it is or whether I've blown my suspension of disbelief entirely. If I have, it doesn't matter. It'll come back. Because I finally know what Jimmy Mulville looks like and he looks nothing like the Thomas I've got in my head.

Andy Hamilton closed the recording with a tribute to James Grout, who died this week. Brilliant as Annette Crosbie is, James Grout's voice was something else entirely. I think the whole audience felt privileged to give him the tribute of a round of applause.

Punctuality II

Once again I'm in the queue outside the BBC and once again I've got my timing wrong. Although I'm a good half hour earlier than yesterday, the queue is already back to the corner. I wonder just how early this queue starts.
Although I'm closer to the start, I think the queue is more densely packed so I'm going to predict sticker number 202. And a long line for the bar once we're in.

Things I Have Learned II

Things I've learned today:
1) if you want to go to a radio recording, go early
2) the radio theater is really quite big
3) John Finnemore has shoes that make his feet look long. Or long feet. Not sure which.
4) the Jubilee Line has travelators!
5) even in the age of ipads, radio scripts are still paper
6) when I tipsily said back in April that you should listen to John Finnemore's Souvenir Programme because it'd be funny, I was right. You should and it is.

Punctuality

As I type this on my irritatingly small phone keyboard, I'm looking out over a massive pit of BBC workstations at Broadcasting House. The canteen area in which audiences wait before radio recordings has a wall with glass windows and, no matter how often I've seen this sort of thing on TV, it's still weird to see it in real life. It's like the secret lair of a bond villain, complete with odd tracks just outside the window for equipment to go back and forth.

Why am I here? Because I was lucky enough to get tickets for the recording of John Finnemore's Souvenir Programme. Happy as I was to get that confirmation e-mail, it's got nothing on the relief I felt when I got a little sticker on my e-ticket 20 minutes ago.

The advice that the ticket unit gives you is: "admission on site 6.15, studio doors open from 7:15". What they don't tell you is that, of you turn up at 6.20, the queue will already be right the way round the corner of the building and the people all around you will already be joking about getting turned away in an "I'm not going to admit just how bothered I'll be if I'm turned away" sort of tone.

Fifteen nerve-racking minutes later and I was in.

I'm now in a very informal queue that seems to have formed just because a couple of people went to stand by the doors. I'm not sure that we even know that they're the right doors but no one is going to miss out on a good seat for the sake of a little extra queueing.

I don't know if things have just changed a lot since the last time I went to a recording or if this is the John Finnemore effect. I've seen one girl in a pilots jacket so I suspect the latter.

Soapbox

In January, many popular areas of the internet took part in a blackout to protest against internet-related bills. Yes, these were American bills but this is the internet, there's not really any such thing as 'American' here. 

Broadly speaking, anyone who understood the internet was against these measures. With an extremely loud voice, the internet stood up and said "Um, actually... no" and the bills were shelved.

As in normal life, the internet has a very large silent majority and an activist core. The January blackouts raised awareness far beyond that core, reaching out to a lot of people who'd never really thought about what the internet meant to them.

A little like the Occupy protests, the blackout consisted of a lot of people saying, "No, that's not what we want for the world." The obvious next question is: "Well, what do you want?"

Far less like Occupy, the internet has an answer. Okay, so it has a few million answers. That's what freedom of expression gives you. But it has a rallying call:

 Please sign the Declaration of Internet Freedom

We stand for a free and open Internet.
We support transparent and participatory processes for making Internet policy and the establishment of five basic principles:
Expression: Don't censor the Internet.
Access: Promote universal access to fast and affordable networks.
Openness: Keep the Internet an open network where everyone is free to connect, communicate, write, read, watch, speak, listen, learn, create and innovate.
Innovation: Protect the freedom to innovate and create without permission. Don't block new technologies, and don't punish innovators for their users’ actions.
Privacy: Protect privacy and defend everyone's ability to control how their data and devices are used.

The internet isn't the newspaper of our generation. It's not the radio station or the town hall. It's the soap box and the park bench and the kitchen table of our generation. It's where we speak our minds, meet our friends and share our creativity. 

Oh, and if I've not swayed you with my argument, try this one from a fellow signatory

Patrick from Webster, TX
Our collective creative expression and potential for innovation has never been more transparent. The idea of actively cutting ourselves off from this pool of wealth and knowledge is beyond ridiculous. The Internet is not something you can control, only maintain. To attempt control would be to invite chaos. Please don't take away my porn.

The internet: Land of eloquence, creativity and pornography. Keep it free.

I Get It

Dear Messers Powell (GCSE English teacher) and Shakespeare (deceased),

I would like to publicly apologise for my 16 year old self and her inability to enjoy Henry V. I revoke any negative comments I may have made, specifically any statement that suggested that the play was "boring", "rubbish" or "not as fun as physics".

I realise that Henry V was rather wasted on Teenage Rebecca as, to a large extent, was the whole experience of going to the theatre.

Even in recent years I thought I got it, I really did. I've spent the last couple of months listening to Vivat Rex and I enjoyed the epic scope of it all and the intricate inter-weaving of agendas. I like going to the theatre and I like seeing or hearing Shakespeare plays.

But last night I saw Henry V at the Globe and I really do get it now: it's not about understanding the play, you're actually allowed to enjoy it. And, once you really enjoy it, you can get completely lost in it.

I realise this is something I probably should have understood by now but this is the first time I've come out of a Shakespeare play feeling, not only entertained, but moved, involved, caught up and transported.

I have never described a play as awesome before but that's about the only word I can think to use at this point. Even Teenage Rebecca might be able to relate to that.

Yours sincerely,

Rebecca (ex narrow-minded teenager)

+1 Fanbase

Like all people who are a little too interested in something, I have an irresistable urge to try to convert others.

This applies equally to knitting and to radio. I can't count the number of conversations I've had on the bus or in the office that include: "Have you been on Ravelry? Oh you must! It's like Facebook but for knitting." And, regardless of whether they're looking intregued or bewildered, I generally go on at length about how inspiring it it and how wonderful the free patterns are.

I'm taking an evening class at the moment and a few weeks ago the conversation turned to radio drama. I'm not sure why I felt personally offended when someone described it as "very much aimed at its audience", especially as that's a particularly irrational critisism, but I felt the need to passionately defend radio drama. And comedy. And radio in general. Until people started giving me the "Okay, shut up now," look that I'm quite familiar with.

Over the last few months I've been trying to convert a couple of people at work to the joys of radio listening. Oh, they already listen to Radio 4, but in the sort of hap-hazard way that I feel can only the result of insufficient dedication rather than a very sensible choice to just do more interesting things with their time. 

Also, as I mentioned some time ago, my brother-in-law told me that he'd quite like to listen to more radio comedy. Although I've had mixed success with my colleagues (leading to some random conversations on the subject of Yes Minister), I was thrilled when one of the first things my brother-in-law said to me this week was "I've been listening to Cabin Pressure". We then did a bit too much quoting and laughing about lemons and Birling Day. 

It turns out that the only thing better than enjoying a programme is talking to someone else who also enjoys it. Especially when that person can do a rather good impression of Douglas's tone of voice when delivering put-downs.

So that's +1 to the "Radio Appreciators" list. Okay, it took a couple of months and I'm still working on my colleagues but, eventually, a time may come when everyone I know has been converted to a radio listener. Or to knitting. I'm not bothered which.

Highlights

Possibly my new favourite station announcement (because we've all got one, right): "the train now arriving into the very centre of platform nine is the..."

Now, tell me I'm not the only one picturing trains with vertical take-off.

At lunch time today, two people asked me for directions. Not only was one of them not even foreign but I actually knew how to direct them! Somehow my new hair seems to have disguised me as a Londoner.

Improvisation

It's been a while since I tried to work out something completely new in my knitting. Oh, there have been scarves, but I know a lot of different techniques for scarves and its fairly hard to go too far wrong. Hard, but yet somehow I manage it.

Since I finished the latest Twirly Skirt, I've been at a bit of a loss for bus projects. My criteria for bus projects is: short/circular needles; yarn in balls; and rows I can stop at any point. Generally, I've also looked for simple things, either stuff I've made before or basic patterns. For some reason, it had never occurred to me to use bus time for the sort of knitting experimentation that I never seem to get round to at home.

Months ago, I bought several balls of 4 ply with crazy, ambitious but vague plans of working out how to knit a person. It's something I've had in mind for a while but never quite started. Yes, I know there are countless doll/amiguri/person patterns out there but I want one that's mine. Something that's flexible enough to use for any number of different things.

Not a headless zombie. Really.

Turns out, feet are hard. Really hard. It took me three days of bus journeys to be happy with what I had for the feet but, since then, it's gone rather well. The hands have come out a lot better than I'd expected, thanks to my car share partner who suggested mitten hands. They look rubbish in the picture but will be better when finished off. And even better when I make a second copy of this thing and actually get them to the same size!

I'm trying to minimise the sewing up (the worst part of making toys) and it's been worked in one piece so far. I'm particularly happy with the joins on the ankles and wrists because, not only does it remove the need for sewing up, but it also looks like cuffs. I have used a seam up the backs of the legs and undersides of arms but that may change in draft two.

On Sunday I started on the head and I think that's going to take even more attempts than the feet. What shape are heads, anyway? But the fact that it's come this far in a couple of weeks is really reassuring. It's even got pipe cleaners in it so the figure can be posed a bit and the soles of the feet are felt rather than knitted so there's a chance it might be able to stand - something else I'd really hoped to work out.

I guess the true reason why I'm making this pattern up, rather than using an existing one, is simple: Where else am I going to find something that is customisable; 4 ply; small; one-piece; poseable; and has a chance of standing up?

Me? Demanding? Never.

Blue is the New Green, Red is the New Brown

- 1 green corsa in need of a steering column

+1 blue corsa with fully working steering column

But, in less mixed and far less expensive news, I have fulfilled a long-held desire for exciting hair.

Balance

I've been busy this week. And last week. And I'll be busy next week. And the week after. In fact, I'm starting to look at November with a fond longing and a rose-tinted vision of a month filled with calm days, quiet evenings and free time.

For the last month I've been mentally penning a letter to Feedback.  Why, oh why, oh why... can't I find a concise way of explaining my complaint.

Hmmm. I actually just typed out a draft version and it was by far the most boring thing I've ever written. And I include university coursework on telescopes in that comparison.

This is going to sound a lot more rant-like than it really is but here's the basis of my issue :
I applied for tickets to the Now Show. It was made extremely clear that it was a random ballot. It would really have helped if they'd said when people would know by or, at least, how they would hear. But at least I wasn't really expecting anything to come of it.

What I did learn is that, if you're successful, you find out at least two weeks before the show. The problem is, two weeks isn't a lot of time when it comes to booking train tickets and hotels. 

Then I applied for tickets to Old Harry's Game and John Finnemore's Souvenir Programme (added benefit: I can now spell "souvenir"). The process was the same but, as there was no mention of a random ballot, I hoped that I would get tickets if I got in before it went to "Fully Booked".

I waited.
John Finnemore's Souvenir Programme booked up.
I waited.
I waited.
I concluded that I probably wasn't getting tickets.
I waited.
Yesterday I got an e-mail for Old Harry's Game on the same day that it booked up.
I was happily excitement to see Old Harry's Game.
I was vaguely confusion about the ticketing system.
Logically, I concluded that I wasn't getting tickets for John Finnemore because I'd have had an e-mail.
I decided it was time to find something else to do on Saturday night or change my plans and just go up for the Sunday.

This afternoon, I got an e-mail to confirm that I've got a ticket for John Finnemore too!

Now, the reason this post is called Balance is down to the fact that I got the e-mail ten minutes after learning that my car had (terminally) failed its MOT. After bad news, on an rubbish day in work, that's part of a busy week in a gloomy month, that was pretty much exactly what I wanted to see in my inbox.

So, although I have a bit of a complaint (which really just amounts to: if you can e-mail me confirmation for my application, why can't you e-mail me to say I don't have tickets? And two weeks notice isn't a lot of time to book trains and hotels) it's balanced by an even bigger thank you. Thank you, BBC ticket unit, you saved up a bit of good news for when I needed it.

Unfortunately I have the nagging feeling that, as I now have to buy a car, I probably shouldn't be spending my money on frivolous trips to London. However, I am choosing to ignore this feeling. Instead I am taking the "compared to a car, what's a trip to London?" approach.

Oh, and if anyone wants a 2001 Corsa, let me know. It's green, generally reliable and would suit someone with spare steering column.

When in Cheddar

Never pick the disturbing wild animals. You have been warned.

Do visit though. Everyone there is lovely and the man in the cheese dairy knows some fantastic cheese facts.

The Benefits of Disorganisation

I wouldn't describe myself as a disorganised person. Anyone that has seen my desk would disagree. But I like to think that I take a normal amount of organisation and apply it in concentrated doses where it counts. Usually my work. 

Unfortunately that tends to leave a trail of chaos at home and a misty atmosphere of vagueness about what I'll be doing at any given time. 

Usually this isn't a problem but today I discovered that I've accidentally been counting one weekend in June twice. On the 23rd I will be camping. And on the weekend before the week of the 25th, I'm going to London. Camping, in case you are wondering, will not be in London.

Fortunately, this revelation was preceded by the far more pleasant discovery that tickets for John Finnemore's Souvenir Programme have gone up on the ticket unit site today, with dates on the 7th and 14th of July.

This is the first day I've not checked July's page since I added the ticket unit to my open-every-day tabs in the desperate hope of seeing a radio recording. So it came as something of an unexpected surprise, as did the fact that there's an Olympics specail of Old Harry's Game recording on the 8th of July. I've been a fan of Old Harry's Game for long enough that I have a cassette version of the first series. That's at least two audio formats ago.

So. Not only have I double booked myself on opposite sides of the country, I have also been too disorganised to get a hotel in London for the 23rd/24th. In addition, I have no adventurous evenings booked for that weekend. On the other hand, there is now a weekend in July that contains John Finnemore's Souvenir Programme on Saturday and Old Harry's Game on a Sunday. Plus I get to go camping.

I think the choice is obvious. 

Oh, and if anyone knows whether the BBC Ticket Unit are susceptible to any forms of bribery, please let me know.

We Are Amused

Extremely amused. Nicely done, fabulous knitters of Knitiffi, the people of Bristol approve.

 

My Own Personal Yarn Shop

In the beginning there was "wool". It was a generic term for stuff to knit with. I can clearly remember my mum explaining how to pick wool for a pattern and that, generally speaking, the less acrylic it had in it the better. I also remember being daunted by the fact that the stuff with less acrylic was as much as four pounds a ball! For a teenager looking at patterns that would require ten balls, that's a staggering price.

I spent a long time completely oblivious to the range of wool that truly was out there. My idea of a good wool shop was having Patons and Sirdar. Then I joined Ravelry and started to use the term "yarn". I went to Get Knitted and got my first proper glimpse of real quality. And real price tags.

Over the years, the amount of money that I consider to be a reasonable price for yarn has grown quite considerably. If I spend less than £5 on a ball/skein then I begin to suspect that I may accidentally be buying acrylic. And as my imagination and mental library of patterns and techniques have grown, so has my tendency to buy any yarn in which I can see the potential for something interesting.

As a consequence my stash of yarn grows regularly and relentlessly. No longer am I buying generic balls of generic double knit, instead my living room has become filled with clear plastic bags of expensive, beautiful yarn. They take up quite a lot of space.

I had a bit of a tidy up yesterday and gathered together my favourite skeins. In my living room I've got shelves that have always reminded me a bit of a yarn shop. 

I guess the result was inevitable.

New Day, New Tension

When I said that my Maluka scarf was my first project with my own handspun, it was technically true. Earlier in the year I began a scarf with my Rainbow Handspun, I did a little test knit and carefully picked the right needles so that it'd be narrow but not too thin. The skein started at red and moved rapidly through orange and yellow to green, all in a lovely consistent near-chunky weight.

Then I reached a point in the skein where I'd clearly gone to bed and woken up in a much more laceweight mood.

I've carried on regardless because, well,  what else can you do with yarn that switches from chunky to laceweight in a single row. Unfortunately, that means that the scarf changed from narrow to extremely skinny and from long to loooooooooooooooooooooong.

I'm trying to stretch the red-green section with some aggressive blocking to even out the width. And, when a scarf is this long, another half-foot can't hurt. 

Random != Fair

Or, if you prefer, Random <> Fair. Select your notation of choice.

Anyone who knows me (or, in fact, anyone who has investigated my Adventures tag) will know that I went to London in April despite the fact that the training course I was supposed to be on got cancelled. Well, it's now been rescheduled for late June so my attempt to book an unrealistic number of things to do in London has begun once again.

For years I've been wanting to go to the Globe but I keep ending up in London during the winter. This time's different so I've booked a ticket to Henry V (see previous ramblings about Henry V). And I've even rented a cushion, which seemed the sensible thing to do.

Excited as I am about going to the Globe, that's just one night out of a whole week so I've been watching the BBC ticket unit like a hawk in the hopes that something might come up. When the Now Show appeared a few weeks back I jumped on the chance for tickets. Unfortunately, it's a random draw for tickets and it's pretty clear now - two weeks after the draw - that I don't have a ticket.

Now this isn't going to be a massive whinging rant. I've seen the Now Show twice before (2002/3ish) so I can't complain too much. I also know that a straight first-come-first-served on tickets isn't fair because something like The Now Show is going to sell out in no time. But I also know that if I lived in London, I'd be putting in for every single ticket opportunity that came up.

Okay, so a "This is the first chance I've had to see a radio show in ten years, please give me preference" check box might be a bit too much to hope for. But a random draw gives everyone the same chance at getting tickets, regardless of the chance they have to actually attend a show.

I don't have a solution to this. I'm not suggesting that a first-come-first-served process would be better. I just wish that I was seeing the Now Show.

Twirling

Well, radio has rather swamped knitting lately in the list of things I've posted about at any length. This has been down to several things but primarily:

1) I've knitted a lot of bunting and that's boring

2) I've been busy

The only knitting time I've had lately has been bus time and, unfortunately, bus knitting does not lend itself to anything particularly interesting or complex. A little while ago I started (another) scarf but its 300+ stitches are not Park & Ride proof. So I've reverted to boring knitting.

Last year I knitted a twirly skirt for my niece, which she refers to as her "Auntie Becca Skirt". Unfortunately, my sister is now sick of the sight of the Auntie Becca Skirt and has been seeking every opportunity keep it off my niece so that she wears something different for a change. With dubious reasoning, I decided I should make another one so that at least it wasn't the same colours over and over again.

Unfortunately, the original source website for the pattern has now closed down. Fortunately, there's a copy hosted (no comment on the legality or copyright status of this). If you're looking for a good pattern for a child's skirt, you can't get better than this. Trust me, it's a massive hit and it is as easy as it comes. It's particularly ideal for anyone looking to build confidence with knitting in the round. Or anyone looking to knit without the risk of elbowing fellow bus passengers.

Because it calls for cotton in worsted weight, I've never been able to find a perfect yarn for it. Instead I used King Cole bamboo cotton, which is double knit rather than worsted. The first time I knitted it I tried to work out the tension and massively over-compensated. The result was a skirt that will probably fit my niece until she's at least six. Although it's massively over-sized, I've used the same number of stitches it this time round because I know it'll fit (with the help of plenty of elastic) and, more importantly, I know it will twirl perfectly. 

The best thing about the yarn is that it's totally indestructible. Initially I was worried about stripes in pale cream and deep turquoise washing together. Nope, nothing bled. I was a bit concerned about the slightly hitchy nature of cotton with its multiple threads. Nope, no big hitches. I don't know how many times my niece has worn it, or how many times my sister has washed it but I'm pretty certain that the answer to both is: a lot. And it still looks great.

The one and only drawback to the pattern is that as it increases, the rows can get pretty long but you don't notice if you knit it in the round. Perfect for the bus.

So all I can say to my sister is: Sorry. Another skirt will be incoming shortly.

Support A Local Yarn Producer!

Well, Irish is almost local.

And the fleeces are local to her.

Stop nit-picking the title and look at the lovely yarn!

Bunt (verb)

Bunt (verb): to apply bunting

• He bunts
• She bunted
• They are bunting

Seven + Eight

Between the ages of eight and eleven I lived in Australia and Australian television filled a lot of their schedules with old programmes they'd bought from the UK. As a consequence, I'm one of the few British people in their thirties who can honestly say that The Goodies formed an important part of their childhood TV. I've also watched a lot of classic Doctor Who (Tom Baker to Sylvester McCoy). I know that the memory plays tricks but my memory is pretty certain that Doctor Who was on almost all the time in a more or less random sequence of Doctors.

Like every proper geek, I've got a healthy addiction to the current incarnation of the series but I also remember the classic series with affection and an abiding fear of The Cleaners. I've loved the Big Finish productions that have been broadcast on Radio 4/4 Extra, partly because they have one foot in the old and one in the new series. And partly because I've got a proper soft spot for Paul McGann, an extremely under-rated Doctor. Big Finish have given the eighth Doctor a fantastic platform with some truly memorable adventures, plus a great companion in Lucie Miller.

This week was the first time I'd heard one of their dramas for the previous Doctors (maybe it's the first they've broadcast, I've not been paying close enough attention). Last week 4 Extra started two Sylvester McCoy adventures: A Thousand Tiny Wings took on some big themes in a three-episode sequence; followed by Survival of the Fittest which will conclude this week. 

The first episode of Survival of the Fittest was pretty close to a stand-alone. It outlined how a Nazi scientist from an alternate timeline became obsessed with time travel, leading to her becoming stranded in the substantive events of history. The best part was the fact that they did it with a fabulous cameo/crossover by Paul McGann.

I'll confess that I've not bought any of Big Finish's Doctor Who dramas but this is exactly the sort of geeky cool that is going to make me click that 'download' link. Their catalogue of sci-fi content (Highlander, Stargate, Blakes 7, Doctor Who etc) is intimidatingly vast. I'm fairly certain that my tendency towards obsessive, completeist collecting might kick in if I were to begin to buy from Big Finish and I know my bank balance wouldn't thank me for that. Though I will confess to having bookmarked the link for future moments of weakness.

Anyway. If you're a fan of Doctor Who and have never heard any of the audio adventures, give them a try this week. Keep it up, Big Finish. And more please, 4 Extra!

Temptation. And How Not To Resist It

I have just discovered a table of unattended and clearly abandoned scones, complete with clotted cream and jam in the empty canteen. I challenge anyone to not resort to theft in those circumstances.

Unthinkable Serendipity

I've probably mentioned before that I have roughly the same taste in radio as my colleagues. They don't quite have my obsession preoccupation passion level of interest but we generally like the same things and they're very patient with me when I try to make them listen to far too many things.

"I like Think the Unthinkable," a colleague said the other day (only without the hyperlink).
"So do I but in some ways it feels a bit dated. Crazy overspending on ineffective consultants isn't quite such a big deal as it used to be."
"Dated? How old is it?"
"Um...." <insert sound of typing 'Think the Unthinkable' into Wikipedia> "Early two-thousands. 2001 to 2005... Hang on, four series?"

At the risk of this turning into another statistics-based repeats rant, when I did my un-statistical charts I left Think The Unthinkable out because I was pretty certain that there were only two series and that makes for a bad pie chart. After all, in the several year I've been listening to Radio 7/4 Extra, there have only ever been two series broadcast. The programme page only listed two series so therefore: two series. I didn't expect that the big flaw in my charts would be the fact that they couldn't represent a complete lack of any broadcasts.

Anyway. A couple of evenings after I'd been discussing Think The Unthinkable with my colleague, I noticed that it had appeared on 4 Extra's comedy schedule. Normally I'd think "that's nice" and not bother to check into the details. Surely it'd be another repeat of series one or two? No. Series three.

If you've not heard it before, Think The Unthinkable features a completely useless group of consultants who rampage through a series of companies wreaking a destructive trail of 'savings' and 'improvements' as they invariably leave customers spiralling into bankruptcy in their wake.

If I say that the characters are largely either too stupid or too awful to be likeable, it’ll sound like an insult but it’s really a compliment. Utterly misguided and oblivious Ryan; naïve and new-age Daisy; overbearing and intimidating Sophie; and just plain disgusting Owen. If you knew any one of these people in real life you’d change your phone number and move to house to escape them. But even though they’re terrible, and even though they’re perpetually doomed to make a bad situation worse, each episode remains funny and never crosses into the cringe-inducing failure that some sitcoms wallow in.

So if you're a fan of Think The Unthinkable, make sure you're not missing out on the first repeat of the third series since records began (or, more accurately, since the new website programme listings began). It's funny, not nearly as dated as I perhaps implied and it features Marcus Brigstocke. With Giles Wemmbley Hogg too, it’s clearly Brigstocke-season again on 4 Extra. Repeats for 2000 Years of Radio and The Museum of Everything can't be far behind. Now, if only that too had some secret extra series.