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.