Pransellknit

A little while ago, I decided to knit a beanie as a gift for a friend. I had a hat’s worth of yarn in stash in a colour that suits her very well, so it seemed that fate had intervened and the project was obviously meant to be.

Initially I cast on for Porom. The twists looked a bit puffy, but mostly it looked good. That is, until I finished it and blocked it. What was once a nicely-sized slouchy beanie had turned into a perfectly good shopping bag, without handles.

Slightly disillusioned but as stubborn as ever, I ripped it back and reused the yarn in an Icing Swirl Hat. It soon became apparent that it was far too small. So again I ripped the hat back, and soaked the kinks out of yarn. The yarn was starting to lose its structural integrity by this stage, and my disillusionment was starting to grow. As was my stubbornness, for that matter.

I don’t have photographic evidence of either of those mishaps, which is quite fortunate as it means I’ll most likely remember that yarn as this beanie:

Anna Karenina by Veruschka Babuschka
Not very much Bendigo Woollen Mills Luxury 8ply, Cream
2.75mm and 3.25mm needles
Start: August 2010
Finish: August 2010
Modifications: different yarn
Ravelryed: here

The pattern hadn’t been long published when I knit this beanie up. It was a nice easy knit, with just enough variation to make it interesting. Having two beanie failures ended up being a blessing in disguise — of the three patterns, I think this one turned out the best and I’m really pleased with it.

This isn’t the first time I’ve used Luxury, but I must admit I’m a bit frustrated with it. While it’s a lovely soft yarn and comes in quite a few nice colours, it drops quite a lot after its first watch (see Porom). Sadly, I don’t think this is an uncommon problem. I had been planning to make a few bigger things using Luxury 4ply, but I am now a bit Luxury-shy.

Who would have thought all of this was down to not swatching? I tend to swatch for larger garments, but take for granted that for something relatively small, like a hat, would be ok without a test swatch. I have learnt my lesson.

It was lovely to read everyone’s comments about my Derwents, it’s nice to know that their popularity wasn’t confined to just my primary and high schools.

The Derwents were used to plan out my latest graphic design assignment: an A3 poster based on a song lyric of my choosing. I’m fairly inept at both drawing and using image editors so I had to be a bit creative in how I produced the poster. Luckily, I recently came across a lovely cross stitch blog, and had been thinking about doing some cross stitch. So, it was decided that cross stitch would be a good way to avoid drawing and image editing software.

Armed with grid paper, coloured pencils and youthful enthusiasm, I put together a pattern based on a cross stitch border found on etsy, vintage transfers found on Flickr and a particularly uplifting lyric from Morrissey. A week and a half later and with slightly less youthful enthusiasm, I had cross stitched this:

To save my sanity somewhat, the cross stitch is around A4 size, half the required size. Through the magic of scanners, I then made it A3. Although some of the texture is lost through scanning, it works surprisingly well as a paper poster. I won’t bother posting the scanned version of it, as it more or less looks the same as the photo.

For those playing at home, the lyric is from How Soon Is Now? by The Smiths. My Dad seemed a bit dismayed when he saw the cross stitch today; I’m not sure he understood why I went to all the effort of cross stitching something so depressing. To me, that’s the point of it — dainty is often associated with pretty or positive things, when it doesn’t necessarily need to be that way.

Prior to this assignment, I had only attempted cross stitch once when I was ten. My auntie helped me to make a couple of book marks for my parents which I think worked out ok, if not a little wonky. There’s still a fair bit of wonk to this piece, but I don’t think it would be as good if it was perfect.

Irrespective of the mark I get for the assignment, I’m really proud of this work. It’s not often I look at things I’ve made with a sense of pride. I’m often happy or satisfied with a knitting project or other non-crafty pieces of work, but pride is just that step further. The trick will now be to make sure I keep doing things that I feel proud about.

I’m currently doing a short course in graphic design, and my most recent assignment has allowed me to dust off my colouring pencils.

They were my most treasured item for quite some time during the 90s. Back in primary school, Derwents were the king of colouring pencils, so I was very excited to receive a set of 72 studio Derwents for Christmas one year.

These pencils were extremely well loved, and as a result the tin they came in and the plastic trays are a bit haggard. However, they were all in order — even now I have a compulsion to set them all in numerical order, with the writing facing the top.

It was funny to see which colours were my favourites back then. Shades of purple, teal, red and black were sharpened down to stubs, whereas most of the colours I prefer these days, green and brown, have barely been used.

As I’ve been using my coloured pencils over the last week, I’ve been surprised by the memories it’s conjured up. You never know when nostalgia will strike!

A more organised blogger might have a few blog post ideas squirrelled away for times where there’s not much to blog about. Sadly, I’m a fairly disorganised blogger, so I’ve let the blog go fallow again. I have been busy knitting while I’ve been away though.

Grandfather Vest by Veronik Avery
1.25 balls Bendigo Woollen Mills Classic 8ply, Anthracite
4.50mm needles
Start: August 2010
Finish: September 2010
Modifications: different yarn, and that’s it!
Ravelryed: here

As soon as I saw this vest, I knew I had to buy the book that it’s from, Knitting 24/7. It’s a book that’s full of good staples like scarves, jumpers, shawls and socks, so although I primarily bought it for the vest pattern, there are enough interesting patterns to make it a good buy (especially if purchased via the wonderful Booko).

The vest pattern is very straightforward as it’s knit in the round up to the armholes. I think that’s the reason why its completion snuck up on me — it’s very easy to get into a trance-like state knitting stocking stitch in the round. Before you know it you’re staring at a pretty much completed vest that just needs buttons sewn on to be done and dusted.

I was originally planning to use a pair of lovely green glass buttons that I received for my birthday last year. However, while in my trance-like state, I decided that the grey/brown fabric and the green weren’t meant to be together. This left me in a slight state of indecision as I hadn’t considered any other yarn/button pairing, but then these grey buttons jumped out at me as I was sifting through my button collection:

The yarn used was probably the oldest yarn I had stashed away, so it fit in nicely with the ‘first in, first out’ stash theory. It was purchased in either 2004 and 2005, and was leftover from a hat and scarf I knit for a friend. While it’s a good policy to make sure there’s more than enough yarn to cover the project you’re working on, my aversion to running out of yarn resulted in my having around 400 grams extra, which is a tad excessive. Having said that, these leftovers have given me a very wearable item of clothing, so my whinging is minimal.

The colourway, Anthracite, is a bit of a strange one. Under some light it looks quite grey, and in others, very brown. I think it’s a colour that was produced for only one or two seasons which is understandable — it was very hard to get a good idea of what the colour was like from just the shade card.

I’m a little disappointed with the fabric I produced with this yarn, as it’s a bit uneven in places even after blocking. I’ve used Classic 8ply before and gotten very neat results so I’m at at bit of a loss to explain why it’s not so good this time round. Hopefully it’ll even up as I wash and wear it.

It seems my trance-like state was very productive, for as I was creating round after round of stocking stitch, I decided to make the cabled jumper for Matt rather than the striped raglan. As much as stocking stitch makes for good commute projects, I found myself wishing for something a bit different. Something with cables should scratch that itch, even if it flies in the face of ‘first in, first out’.

Cakes are the bane of my baking existence. My attempt to make a sponge cake in Year 7 Home Economics resulted in a spongey pancake, despite following the recipe to the letter. And a failed attempt to bake my birthday cake a few years ago ended with a teary phone call to my parents, telling them not to visit (of course they still visited). In the case of the birthday cake I was admittedly also feeling stressed about a looming uni assignment deadline at the time, but it was the cake that pushed me over the edge of sanity and into the embarrassing dramatic display void.

Clearly, I bear the psychological scars of cake failure, so It was with some trepidation that I tried this cake recipe. I (and Matt, for that matter) am glad to report it was a complete success!

Ginger Cake (from Women’s Weekly Recipe Cards, circa 1970’s)

Cake:

185g butter

1 cup treacle

2 cups brown sugar, lightly packed

4 cups plain flour

0.5 teaspoons salt

1 tablespoon baking powder

2.5 tablespoons ground ginger (the recipe calls for 1.5 tablespoons, but I like ginger a lot)

1 teaspoon bicarb soda

1 egg

1.25 cups milk, warmed slightly

Preheat oven to 180C. Grease and line two deep 20cm tins

Place butter, treacle and brown sugar into saucepan, stir over low heat until sugar dissolves and leave to cool.

Sift flour, salt, baking powder, ginger and soda into large bowl, add cooled sugar mixture, lightly beaten egg and warmed milk. Mix well.

Pour mixture into tins, and bake for 55 to 60 mins. Cool slightly before turning out onto cake cooler. Ice when completely cool

Icing:

90g butter

3 cups icing sugar, sifted

2 tablespoons lemon juice (I measured the first tablespoon, then added to taste)

Cream butter until soft, then gradually add icing sugar. Add lemon juice to taste, and until it’s soft and light.

It’s a pretty dense cake, but the light and fluffy icing offsets this well. Most importantly, it’s a delicious cake. The only drawback is that the recipe yields two cakes, and it’s hard to halve the recipe on account of the one egg. I can’t say I’ve conquered my fear of baking cakes, but this recipe has certainly put me on the road to recovery.

It seems that a layer of dust has started to settle on this blog. It’s been a bit crazy round here; a good and exciting kind of crazy, but irrespective of whether it’s good or bad, crazy can be quite time consuming.

In dealing with the craziness, knitting is a luxury that has only possible on the work commute. As a result, Pickadilly’s progress has been a little slower that I’d like. That said, I’m just about to start the increases for the second half of the waist shaping. Pickadilly is the second top down garment I’ve made (Liesl being the first), and the novelty of being to try the garment on as I go hasn’t worn off one bit. I really need to dust off my copy of Knitting From The Top and make top downs part of my regular knitting diet.

While actual knitting has stalled, yarn acquisition is in full flight. Machen|Machen recently made a lovely jumper using Cascade 220 Heathers in Bainbridge. I’d been wanting to try that yarn for a while, so I bought some.

Never fear, it was a well considered purchase which involved the usual amount of umming and ahhing. In the end, it was decided that the colour would match this pattern rather well:

I picked up this pattern book, Patons Jet/Skol Book 929, at an op shop a couple of years ago. Mostly it was for the pattern above, but I can’t deny the kitschy attraction to the fly fishing theme that runs through it.

Like with a lot of older patterns, a bit of gauge-wrangling might be required. However, as long as I’m careful, I won’t end up knitting this jumper two and a half times like I did the last time I knit Matt a jumper using a pattern from the ’70s. I might be a tad optimistic in only buying six skeins of yarn, but he’s a skinny lad and I’ll think positive happy thoughts as I knit it.

I’d really like to start making this jumper soon, but I feel bad for the yarn I bought to make a different jumper for Matt last year (I often feel bad for inanimate objects, it’s a failing of mine). Is it completely ridiculous that I’m thinking about instituting a ‘first in, first out’ regime for my yarn? As much as it’d bring a bit more order into my chaotic knitting life, I can’t help but think that it is.

Matt’s fingers have been suffering this winter. While I’ve been getting by just fine with my Herringbone Mittens, Matt’s gloves gave up the ghost in Japan. In their stead, he’s been trying to survive with a pair of fingerless mitts I made for him in 2006. Fingerless mitts seem to be fine when it is barely cold, but as soon as the weather even marginally resembles Winter, they are completely insufficient.

He was well overdue for a pair of knitted gloves, particularly because I’d promised to make him a pair after I made my Dad a pair of Knucks a few years ago. In what can only be described as perfect timing, just as I was starting to look for glove patterns, Ozknitter pointed me in the direction of a nifty mitten pattern that would do the trick.

Presto

Chango!

Podster Gloves by Glenna C.
Sock yarn from the Bendigo Woollen Mills bargain room (equivalent to Heirloom Argyle)
2.75mm needles
Start: July 2010
Finish: July 2010
Modifications: different yarn, larger needles, added rows to the thumb gusset
Ravelryed: here

The largest size offered by the pattern were for small mens’ hands, so I used 2.75mm rather than 2.5mm needles and added two more rounds to the thumb gusset. With these modifications, they fit pretty well.

By far the best part of this pattern is the podster thumb. It has a little flap so he can flick his thumb out and use his iPhone (iPhone touch screens are unresponsive to gloved fingers). The pattern calls for part of the flap to be knit separately and then attached to the thumb, but was a little unclear about how to sew it down. I ended up using a whip stitch which probably wasn’t the best option, but it’s pretty secure and the dark yarn hides a multitude of sins. The long cuff is also really good, and can be easily tucked under jumpers or jackets.

So far, they’ve been worn nearly every day since I snipped the last end off. Nothing says success than that.

Like many people, it was my Mumma (Grandmother) who taught me how to knit. I think I was around five or six when she taught me how to cable cast on, the knit stitch and to cast off. I liked knitting, but was never really that committed to it as there were toys to play with, trees to climb, books to read, and most importantly, my parents to annoy. I don’t particularly remember any of my really early knits, besides a garter stitch scarf for my Dad. I was knitting massive 32 stitch rows and when I ran out of navy wool, I simply switched to black wool. It was never finished, and I suspect Dad’s quietly pleased he never had to wear a rough garter stitch scarf with blocks of navy blue and black.

A few years later, the Country Women’s Association visited my primary school and taught the grade five and six students to knit. So, the three grade five and six students (I went to a very small school in the country) filed into the staff room and were given brown paper shopping bags. In the shopping bags, there were a pair of needles (4mm if I remember correctly), yarn (Cleckheaton Country I think — it was definitely an Australian Country Spinners yarn), instructions on how to knit, and a pattern for a garter stitch beanie. Because I’d remembered my Mumma’s wise words, I was soon off and away, knitting my first beanie. Except, I wasn’t, and still am not, a hat person. So I made a camera case.

When I found it at my parents’ house recently, I was pleasantly surprised by how it looks, over 15 years on. The tension’s a bit off in places and there seems to be a short row in one place, but fabric’s not too bad. The seaming’s a bit rough; it looks like I tried to seam using a kind of mattress stitch, but it’s a bit holey.

I made a drawstring cord and a little loop for the corner using finger knitting. Well, it’s the finger knitting I was taught in school, which resembles single chain crochet. Sadly, the drawstring seems to be missing, but honestly I’m astounded I found the camera case at all.

It’s not a particularly pretty piece of knitting, nor is it something I’ll likely ever use again. However, it’s not something I could bring myself to donate or throw out. It’s a part of my knitting history.

Last night I discovered my table and chair was posted on Design*Sponge, which was not only a lovely surprise, but a nice way to end the working week (thanks for the heads up Debs!). If you’ve moseyed on over here on account of that post, welcome!

It was astutely pointed out last post that the blog has taken quite a sunny turn. So I don’t get people’s hopes up, here’s a dull grey jumper I finished a couple of weeks ago:

Still by Kim Hargreaves
2.75 balls of Bendigo Woollen Mills Boutique, Grey
4.00 and 3.00 mm needless
Start: May 2010
Finish: July 2010
Modifications: different yarn, smaller needles to get gauge (no lengthening required!)
Ravelryed: here

I mean dull in the nicest possible way, because I’m really happy with how this jumper turned out. The length is good, the waist shaping sits nicely and I really like the neckline. I was concerned the gathered sleeves were going to be a bit fussy for my taste, but they seemed to puff out a little less with the yarn I used. This might also be because of the sleeve cuffs, which despite my adherence to the pattern, seem a bit shorter than the version in the book.

The yarn was a limited run that came out a couple of years ago. I bought three balls almost as soon as I saw the shade card, because Bendigo Woollen Mills was, and to a certain extent still is, not known for their greys. I think the colour suits the pattern well, making it a little less girly than the book’s version, which is a pastel pink. The yarn itself is a little rough, making it a wee bit prickly, but nothing I can’t get used to. I have worn it a couple of times and it has started to pill around the sleeve cuffs. It would be preferable if it didn’t pill, but I’m one of those odd people who gets a strange sense of satisfaction from de-pilling, so it doesn’t bother me too much. It’s a jumper that will get a lot of wear.

I enjoyed reading everyone’s thoughts on the value of handcrafts. It’s a recurring issue, but one that I doubt will ever be fully resolved. It is inherently difficult to price handcrafts — as Michelle mentioned, I think there’s a tendency to price goods based on what the seller thinks the buyer will pay, rather than what’s fair compensation for materials and time taken to make the item. I did this myself in my short foray into selling knitted items. Obviously, there is no point pricing something so high that no one will purchase it. However, to me it seems pricing of handcrafts is often based on the price of its substitute, machine-made or mass produced items. Perhaps (re)education is required for both the buyers, in terms of understanding the time required to acquire a skill and produce an item, and the sellers, in terms of valuing their hard-earned skills. Having said all that, it seems like quite an over-simplification for, as mentioned before, quite a vexed issue.

Yesterday Matt, Mum, my sister and I went to the Australian Sheep and Wool Show held in Bendigo. It was absolutely freezing yesterday, even with Henry to keep my neck warm, so most of our time was spent in the sheds, with only a cursory glance at the sheepdog trials as we scurried from shed to shed. Like last year, there was a sea of Ravelry badges at the show, but this time I felt a little less intimidated. Perhaps 2011 is the year I’ll actually attend one of the events organised on Ravelry…

We didn’t get the camera out at the show, which is quite fortunate given the battery was pretty much dead when I took this post’s photos this afternoon. I apologise in advance for the photos — it’s a very dull and dreary day making natural light hard to come by.

Last year, I only bought one skein of yarn. This year, I also bought one skein of yarn. Funnily enough, it was Colinette Jitterbug, the same as last year, but this time in Vincent’s Apron. Vincent’s Apron was the colourway I became enamoured with at the show last year, but I didn’t buy it then because it didn’t fall within my yarn buying policy guidelines (only buy yarn when I know what I’m going to knit with it. It might not make sense, but I’m running with it). However, I could not stop thinking about it. Luckily, this scarf pattern came along, which I thought would look great in Vincent’s Apron. When I got to Sarah Durrant’s stand yesterday, I couldn’t find a skein of it anywhere, bringing on a cold sweat, but fortunately she had some in a tub at the back. So it only took a year of deliberation, but I finally bought the yarn I obsessed over at last year’s show.

In addition to the single skein of yarn, I purchased a Namaste Circular Case from Stranded in Oz. I wasn’t planning to buy one of these yesterday, but had been looking at them online for a little while. There’s an ongoing battle between me and my circular needles, and up to this point, the circulars have been winning. I’m hoping this piece of modern knitting organisational weaponry will help me overcome my circulars’ tangling and absconding ways.

The last of my purchases was completely on impulse, which is very unusual for me. I bought this beautiful woven scarf from the Bendigo Spinners Weavers and Handcrafts Group’s stand, for the princely sum of $25. It seems to be made from two different types of Bendigo Woollen Mills yarns — Rustic for the warp, and Mohair for the weft. It’s a bit prickly around my neck, so it’ll soon have a conditioner and wool wash bath which will hopefully soften it up. Besides that, I really love it. The colour is great and I like the herringbone weave a lot.

I feel a bit guilty for paying so little for it. Although I have absolutely no experience in weaving, I can’t imagine that $25 is sufficient compensation for the person who made it. Perhaps I should have offered to pay more? It’s quite a vexed issue.

So, there endeth my Sheep and Wool Show wrap up for this year. My purchases were pretty modest and pretty yellow, but I’m really happy with what I brought home.