Ruthcrafts

Hitting the Wall - a collaboration, a sock, and some thoughts about... walls.

noreply@blogger.com (Ruthcrafts) — Thu, 19 Aug 2021 21:45:00 +0000

Can you imagine a wall? What does it look like? How does it make you feel?When I thought about writing a post about the inspiration behind the Hitting the Walls socks, it struck me how laden with meaning walls are. Markers of geography, geology, environment, and class, walls are boundaries and intersections. The walls that feel familiar to you might be the coal-darkened sandstone of the North, or red bricks, or pink Malvern stone in the West Midlands and Herefordshire, or the golden sandstone of Bath, or dry-stone walls, or the multi-coloured bricks of Reading, but whatever they are made of, they also hold potential as that in-between space: do they hide a secret (The Secret Garden has a lot to answer for), or a portal to another world (I'm thinking of The Silver Chair, but there are other walls that are not quite walls).

So, it turns out I have quite a lot of thoughts about walls. If you're unfortunate, I'll expand upon them. For now, though, it is the figurative wall that I would return to: when Rusty Ferret Yarn suggested that she was considering dyeing yarn 'as black as my brain is' I looked around me at the room I feel I haven't left in the last 18 months (I know that isn't objectively true), at the wall in the crafting / office room I love, but which I feel I'm banging my head against on a regular basis, and thought - well, that sounds like a collection I can get behind.

Depressed as shit, you say? Seeing all the people on the 'socials' who have the beautifully tidy homes with period features, or curated stashes, or 'Instagrammable' accessories and feeling like you'll never make the grade? Join the club. Finding it difficult to pull together the energy to get dressed, or washed, when you see no-one? Been there, and there's no judgment here. Why shouldn't yarn reflect the full range of what we might be feeling? And when Leona's yarns are as gorgeous as they are, bring on the darkness! (And good daylight lamps, and my glasses.)

For me, one of the hardest things about *gestures widely* has been the unending and recurrent horrors. No travel? Fine. No childcare? Bleep, but ok. No leaving the house? I can handle that. No change, for day after day, month after month, while being on edge? Not so much. Each time hoping that this quarter it'll be easier, you'll have found your balance, your boundaries, your better habits, and then finding that the wheels have fallen off, or there's another lockdown... that's a wall.

It's also a wall when you're trying thing, after thing, after thing, to feel better, to make progress, to have your skills recognised and your potential acknowledged... and getting no-where. Dusting yourself off, picking yourself up, and finally lacking the wherewithal to try again - even when you 'know' that other's will tell you that if you just keep going you'll find yourself on the other side, and it will be easier? That's a wall too, and no matter how many times you hit it, that brick will still be there, the ledge just too high.

Take a repeating, brick or stone-like, textured, pattern, and create it in knitting, and you have a wall. More than that, though - the texture is soothing to touch, the repeat easy to memorise and repetition itself calming, and the purl ridge every so often gives you a handy stopping point, if you need a daily dose of knitting. Simple, yet engaging, I wanted these socks to be manageable through brain fog; soothing in a crisis. A final detail: an eyelet ladder, for hope. For the friends who keep offering a hand to help us up, for a bit of pretty despite the numbness, for finding a way out.

The Hitting the Wall socks, a collaboration with Rusty Ferret Yarns in Numb, from her Depressed as Shit collection, will be available from 1 September.

An Accounting

noreply@blogger.com (Ruthcrafts) — Mon, 30 Nov 2020 21:33:00 +0000

It's the last day of the month, and so time to reflect - on this month of blogging, of trying this whole 'fixed priorities = progress towards goals' malarkey....

Writing: a blog post every weekday

So where are we? This is post 19 of a possible 21 weekdays in November. I missed 2, both in the first half of the month. I remember one being a night where I was just too tired to sit at a computer for another hour, but the other one had completely escaped me. In some ways, I think it has taken on a bit of momentum; in others, I know I'm not adhering to a coherent 'style' or type of content, and I do sometimes wonder if I've done anything I can write about. A couple of things did make it easier - finding a regular moment to do it, and setting up a folder on my phone that syncs to my laptop, so that I can transfer photos from one to the other easily.

What I am pleased to find is a space where I can think things out. I used to be a note-taker, a list-maker, a scribbler in corners, and at some point that stopped, whether because my current work doesn't demand that sort of thinking, or because I spend all my time in front of a computer, and without a pen to hand, I don't know. What I do know is that without that habit (and with the nibbling away at the little slivers of time that I have), I haven't had a place to think through things - be they ideas, a vague notion, or feelings.

Putting aside 30-60 minutes a day without distractions (usually) to spell something out has been valuable, and feels a bit like stretching a muscle I don't use enough. I feel like having this and similar spaces gives me room to let ideas grow in - and certainly over the last few weeks I've been able to pull together a few thoughts from the ether into actions that will hopefully progress further soon.

One example of this is the Crafternoons - from a vague inkling that I'd like to do something to feel the connections of crafting, and that I'd like to do some fundraising for Mind this year - to a proposed two events, and a very lovely response! Thank you so much for showing me that I can put an idea out in the world and other people might like it.

So while I won't be focussing on writing in December, I will not be going away completely. This habit has proven its worth, and while I'm going to be busily crafting away over the next few weeks, I'll be back here to show them off every so often!

Yoga: a 30 day yoga journey in 30 days (Home)

Yoga has certainly been the 'weaker' of this month's goals (tonight will be night 21 of a 30 day programme), and that's mostly because of one thing. I was doing really well with it as a late-night activity... and then my son went into what I'm hoping is still a sleep-regression / brain development / teething patch, and has gone from sleeping 8-7 to being awake sometimes for an hour in the wee small hours... sometimes for 3 from 9 or 10pm. If I've not done the yoga before he wakes up? I've no chance.

And then I've let myself get lazy on the weekends, because I'm tired. What I know is that carving out time is vital, and discipline has to be part of my setup for my next goals - especially for the ones that can be hard to start, however much they help once they're going.

What's next? December's plans

I think I came to a decision about these around two weeks ago, and it still seems like a sensible idea. December will, no matter what else I do, be centred around Christmas, and for me, Christmas means two things: crafting, and music. Yes, food is also a key player... and some of the crafting will be baking, but crafts and music it is. So, here they are:

1. Practice music every weekday - be that choir rehearsal, a service, or piano practice so that I can play some easy carols in time for the holidays.

2. Make something, or progress with the making of something, every day. This one shouldn't be hard to achieve (the 'to be made before last posting dates' list is long), but I'd like to complete it in the spirit of Christmas magic and generosity, and combine it with some family time so that Pumpkin also grows up knowing that we enjoy making things for those we love.

I'm hoping that making these my priorities for the next month will allow me to meet deadlines I already have, do the things I know I need to do, but also enjoy them, and by starting out saying 'making and music are what matters to me this month', I can make time for them, rather than just trying to fit them in in the corners.

Real life isn't always Insta-worthy

noreply@blogger.com (Ruthcrafts) — Fri, 27 Nov 2020 21:36:00 +0000

I very nearly decided that tonight was too cold and too dark for a blog post when I don't feel that I have much to say, and then I thought again about how often we're determined to show the positive 'Insta-ready' parts of our lives, and only those on social media, and how much time I spend reminding myself that I'm comparing my every day to everyone else's best bits, and thought I could at least show up, and show that sometimes there isn't a lot going on.

Today I have worked, ordered some things on-line, picked up Pumpkin from nursery, thrown together a not-very-exciting dinner, and attended a last virtual choir rehearsal before (thankfully) we can return to distant in-person rehearsals next week. I've been cold for most of the day, despite a woolly jumper, and I'm a bit gloomy because I'm tired.

I'm tired because my 20 month old is not sleeping through at the moment, and so every night this week I've been up for an hour or more at some point between when I force myself to go to bed (not early enough), and when I drag myself out of it to start work.

None of this is a problem, and I'm not looking for sympathy or solutions. It is what it is (probably a growth spurt, or related to his language development, which seems to have taken another little step up), and it will pass. I have plenty of lovely plans for the weekend, a very large mug of hot drink downstairs, and one morning this week when I didn't have time to eat my breakfast before work, I managed to make myself this tray instead.

So there you have it - a tired end to the week, so I'm looking forward to the weekend, with more crafting, some running around with a toddler, some wrapping and a possible trip to the post office... have a good one, folks!

Actual crafting...

noreply@blogger.com (Ruthcrafts) — Thu, 26 Nov 2020 20:45:00 +0000

You know how I said that I didn't have startitis? Well, I don't. I think I'm being remarkably reasonable and prioritising wonderfully. It only looks like the 'attack of the squirrels' (thanks, Dunderknit) because every time I come back around to crafting progress, I'm working on something else. I've got a perfect rationale: the project I'm making is going to a friend for Christmas, so needs to be posted in a couple of weeks; it's a slower project, but one that quite suits being picked up and put down; and everything else on the crafting list needs more time / can be posted later.

Oh yes, and it's a cross-stitch. I used to cross-stitch a lot - in my late teens, when I could knit, but wasn't good enough to be doing a lot, and the notion of an online community did not exist. I subscribed to Cross-Stitch Crazy for a year just as I went to university, when I had a sewing machine which I used for costuming shows and bits of bag or cushion making but wanted something to sit and do in front of Film4 in the common room...

Now? I occasionally find a pattern that I like - current favourite designers include Plastic Little Covers and Satsuma Cross Stitch - and then I rather enjoy it in brief bursts: I have a supply of threads which if not the precise ones called for, usually covers most of the bases in terms of the designs I pick, I have a small stock of Aida in my big 'generic crafting' box, a surprisingly high number of embroidery hoops, and my eyesight is just about good enough to follow a chart on my phone / laptop screen, so recently projects have come out of stash, and feel to cost me nothing but the time!

I do now also always make myself a thread-keeper for the colours I've picked. Since I'm not using the DMC/Anchor colour codes specified, this helps me identify the colours I need by symbol, and taking the time to prepare a few lengths and line them all up makes it much easier to manage than the constant tangle of skeins I rummaged through as a teen.

Yarny Goodness!

noreply@blogger.com (Ruthcrafts) — Wed, 25 Nov 2020 20:50:00 +0000

I've two things to share today - one personal 'hurrah' with additional temptation, and one wider celebration to share.

Personal things first - this glorious box is currently sitting in my craft room:

Containing 240g of custom-dyed mini-skeins in 12 wee parcels, this box of Rusty Ferret delightfulness is my advent calendar gift to myself. I have not previously allowed myself the extravagance of buying into the trend for luxury advent calendars... but this year is 2020, and it's Rusty Ferret! Doing fairytales! (I am restraining myself from additional exuberance in typography and punctuation.) My current plan is to open a parcel every odd day till Christmas Eve, and then to spend Christmas Eve (not entirely, you understand), identifying a project to cast on on Christmas day, and knit as much of as is feasible between then and Epiphany (Twelfth Night). The slightly mad 'challenge' element of that is that I'm thinking that 240g of fingering weight, plus a couple of additional skeins from my stash that suit, might make another multicoloured cardigan or pullover. Something using helical stripes in the stash yarn plus the minis as they go... maybe? Definitely a rabbit hole I will enjoy falling down.

And it may be that I find some inspiration in the Fasten Off Yarn-a-Long, which has launched today with discounts on patterns by over 90 designers and a stitch-along starting very shortly and running right the way through to the end of 2020, when we wave this year a very distinct 'good bye'!

This Yarn-A-Long is full-to-bursting with amazing designers and wonderful projects (and yes, I've taken a little wander through the search pages in putting this together and suddenly find it is later than I thought!), and is a brilliant way to find new-to-you designers in a forum that is not Ravelry, when Ravelry has become inhospitable to many through their re-design and its attendant accessibility problems.

So, what are you waiting for? I don't have a pretty picture to share - go and follow the #FastenOffYAL and #FastenOff2020 hashtags on Instagram, and enjoy the clever, beautiful, and witty things you can do with yarn.

I have a Plan - and it involves you!

noreply@blogger.com (Ruthcrafts) — Tue, 24 Nov 2020 20:51:00 +0000

After my vague promises about a Mind Crafternoon, I have been putting some time into thinking about the logistics of a virtual event that can be as welcoming as possible, and I have suggestions in relation to two dates.

'Christmas' Crafternoon

From 2pm to 5pm (GMT) on the 12 December, I will host a virtual Crafternoon for anyone who is happy to email me (ruthcrafts@ruthv.co.uk) by Friday 4 December with their email and postal addresses.

The afternoon will be hosted on Jitsi, a virtual meeting platform that has worked well for me in the past. I will email participants with some recipes, crafting information and notions lists. I will post participants in the UK a small envelope of additional materials.

You are welcome to just join for the chat, but encouraged to participate with the crafting - this will be easy and paper-craft focussed.

If you'd rather bring your own project to work on, that's also fine. You may just have to listen to me trying to instruct others in making things!

'Twelve Days' Crafternoon

On Monday 28 December, I will host a second, similarly virtual Crafternoon. This will be a more relaxed affair, as befits the season. Everyone is welcome, but for this one, please bring your own project - be it a clay-modelling kit you received for Christmas or a long-languishing work-in-progress. Surrounding yourself with things that make you happy is encouraged - I'll be making sure I have cake, if not mulled wine and mince pies too - but otherwise, consider this a gentle, friendly moment for you in the midst of whatever is going on. Again, please just email me to let me know that you would like to receive the event link.

The awkward bit

As well as providing an environment for us to get together, craft and chat, I also intend that this will raise some funds for Mind. Whatever the glib social media folks say, mental health really does matter, and in the dark days of winter, in a pandemic... it matters more than ever that we challenge the stigma of mental illness, that we recognise when we need help, and that we fund that help in the community because the government certainly isn't doing so.

I know many of us are feeling the pinch right now, but if you can, please do donate at my Just Giving page.

A moment of Potential

noreply@blogger.com (Ruthcrafts) — Mon, 23 Nov 2020 20:32:00 +0000

As I start this post, I'm getting flashbacks to previous moments so similar as to think I've probably written it before. Oh well. I'm trusting you to forgive me, and perhaps to find something different in this occurrence of it, or my telling of the tale.

We start with a Sunday morning... a Sunday morning that began with a lie-in after a 2am wake up, and then became a late-morning trip to the shops for OH and Pumpkin (who likes the scanner very much). All of which resulted in: a clear 90 minutes with no interruptions, when the toys had been cleared from the living room floor (largest area of floor space without significant furniture), and the magical roll of paper could be unrolled.

Take that unrolled paper, add a couple of paperweights (yes, one of them is a lovely wooden elephant that I was given by a family member who had found it in India), a roll of greaseproof/baking paper, a Sharpie, and some time kneeling on the floor, and the result is: the pattern pieces for some #hudsonpants, a #laneraglan, and a #blackwoodcardigan, all traced at the appropriate sizes so that the prints remain unblemished and can be found a poster tube to live in.

For some reason, this moment, more even than the fabric being laid out on the floor in a similar fashion - that will be an evening this week, post and washing cycles permitting - is the moment that feels to me the most like 'potential'. It's a moment where the handmade item exists in concrete, defined form, but remains pristine. Plans have been made, fabric has been ordered, and the intention is there... everything is possible.

At this moment, human endeavour has yet to blemish the record, by discovering that the stretch in the fabric is too great, or the size I decided on was optimistic, or I have problems with needle or bobbin tension on my machine, or, or, or. The ways a project could fail are legion, and in sewing there is less opportunity for revision and polishing once a job is started on what turns out to be in some way the wrong foot.

One of my recurring 'problems' is that because I visualise a thing very fully before I start it, I can get to a point where I can see the straight line from where I am to the end, and in that final furlong, the mystery disappears and... I lose interest. I tend to rush the last 10% of a project, shifting from process to product maker, and if there a point in time when I'm most likely to mess the whole thing up? It's on the last evening's work, when I just can't make myself care about getting that final detail spot on.

It's not startitis - yet

noreply@blogger.com (Ruthcrafts) — Fri, 20 Nov 2020 21:26:00 +0000

This weekend might mark peak 'preparation chaos' for this peculiar festive season for me. I have been refusing to look directly at the prospect of Christmas.

Last week three things happened:

it finally dawned on me quite how rapidly it was approaching,
I realised that my opportunities for browsing and impulse purchases were not going to materialise
not only do a lot of my presents need to be posted, but in a number of them, there is some handmade element that needs to be finished first.

And so, the dependencies transform a list into a number of action points, the postman (to whom I am forever grateful) is especially busy, and my weekend contains a couple of click and collect visits. Today even saw an in-person delivery from a local printing firm, who not only understand that sewing patterns should be printed onto light paper, and charged me a reasonable amount for three patterns I want to sew soon, but, on hearing that I was stuck in meetings until after they would have finished for the weekend, drove the tube to my house!

As a result, I have bags and parcels of presents and part presents and supplies for presents around the house in numbers that make it feel more like 10 December than 20 November, and I'm torn between over-whelm, determination to keep focus, and a mad desire to start everything!

I think part of it is (nonsensically perhaps) a wish to get every project to the same point - 'done' - so that I can wrap and label and post in one fell swoop. Not only is that not sensible (posting deadlines being what they are), it would leave me with an elves' workshop too full to bear. So prioritisation will happen; Otto will be finished, and wrapped and labelled and posted; the Lions will be wrapped and posted with the other bits that need to go with them; a couple of the 'next batch' projects will be lined up properly to begin; and gift tag arrangements for this year will be considered and made... and then we'll revisit and review next week.

The Importance of Community - and where we find it.

noreply@blogger.com (Ruthcrafts) — Thu, 19 Nov 2020 21:04:00 +0000

Over the last seven months, a lot of ink has been spilled in discussions of community, and of what our current isolation has done to our sense of it. We can't come together in great groups of bodies to watch a play, or a sports match, or run a church fete... but I wonder if this isn't just one more of those subjects that a crisis has shone a spotlight on, and where the standards and expectations we refer to are those of a different time.

When people talk about community, they often mean the local community, the people we live near. But how many of us can say that our local community was strong in 2019, 2018, 2017? The high street and its demise has been a cause for concern and clickbait headlines since before clickbait was a word, and community in urban settings has always been fractured, because people are different, and turn to different things when they have the opportunity to. The key for the future of our physical communities is keeping enough in place, and enough support there, to maintain connections, and to encourage people to participate.

I've lived where I do for 12 years now, and I have, gradually, built ties to the community - I've been to the gym and to exercise classes in a close-knit group of people; I've worked in a number of the shops on that high street, and shopped in more; I sing in the church up the road; I went to the breastfeeding support group at the community centre.

Almost none of those communities have disappeared this year. My exercise classes moved online, and the chat stayed on my phone; the shops are still there, offering amazing service through click and collect or home delivery; the choir rehearsals started with reduced numbers in very strict conditions and then moved to Zoom; my knit-group went to the park, and then virtual. The Christmas fete is being held over the phone with a printed catalogue and a whole host of activities! Yes, it may have taken a bit of inventiveness, but does it bring us together? Absolutely.

In some ways, I feel more connected to my locality, because I'm here all the time! I'm not travelling 10 miles to a city every day to work, and only seeing my house in the dark. Instead, I sit in my 'home office', and I watch from my window as the neighbours go for walks, the delivery services appear, the recycling van passes through... I've seen more of my neighbours in lockdown than I did before. I'm able to shop locally because I am here, and I can arrange to collect printing from a local print shop in my lunch break safely.

The communities I miss are those I used to travel for - my family, of course, and my knitting (and other) friends. I would usually go to three knitting festivals over the course of the year, and I have missed seeing the familiar faces, meeting the friends I only see in person at those events, and fleshing out those conversations that can't be had in full in a social media thread.

Tonight I've been to a wonderful event, and it sounds like it might be the first of a series - Karie Westermann In Conversation With Esther Rutter, discussing knitting in the landscape and how our countryside has been created by wool. After a busy day at work, and a rush to and from nursery, that hour of talking seriously about something that matters to me, in the company of a whole host of amazing knitters was such a boon. I feel like I've reconnected with the friends I've been missing from festivals, even though we couldn't talk to each other.

This has really brought home to me how much our knitting community matters to me - how much I'm missing in-person events, and how much connecting through virtual media can help with that. There are new podcasts out from Pins and Needles and Caithness Craft Collective, and I'm looking forward to sitting down with these friends, even if we have a time lag, and they can't hear me agreeing with them! Community is a construct of people coming together, and we need those ties to support each other in easy and difficult times. If necessity is the mother of invention, then let's use the stimulus of 2020 to keep those connections going, to recognise when we're losing touch, and to rebuild our links to each other.

Nearly there

noreply@blogger.com (Ruthcrafts) — Wed, 18 Nov 2020 21:08:00 +0000

My goals this month might be about writing and moving, but today has been... rather static! I'm about to start a voluntary project on work time (more on that in a week or two) and it's involved a few extra hours in front of a screen to get trained and set up.

Add to that a rather pressing deadline, and I've mostly been quilting! It's not very exciting, but the quilting is complete, and the binding is - nearly - on. Where patchwork intrigues my puzzle-solving brain, and quilting is a feat of determination, patience, and podcasts, binding is a gentle, warm (you're under the quilt) and soothing time to reflect. As long as the deadline isn't too close, you can put on a box set and go. And fill the project that's been long in the planning though speedy in the execution with just a little hand-stitched love.

Having previously bound full-size quilts, I'm still surprised by how quickly a 1.2m square goes... (about 4, maybe 5 hours?), so by the end of tonight, my lions should be ready to have the cotton threads trimmed, and be bundled into a parcel to be posted. In another year, there's no way I wouldn't be travelling with it. But this year is not another year, and so this rather special parcel will make the journey alone, and meet someone before I can be there to hold them. But I will be, before too long, and I believe it will keep people safer.

Making plans... Setting Goals

noreply@blogger.com (Ruthcrafts) — Tue, 17 Nov 2020 20:28:00 +0000

As Friday's post about last week might have made obvious, my default setting is 'do all the things', or at least, 'do enough things to keep your brain and creativity and body and sense of self happy - and then cram in all the practical life-admin stuff where you can'... Sustainable as this may have (not) been before Pumpkin arrived, the sheer fact of having to have fed and dressed and changed and played with a small person (and not, therefore, being able to lock yourself in a room and sew for 12 hours straight in order to meet a deadline, or stay at the office until 7 because it's then quiet and you can get the work done) has forced a re-evaluation of priorities, and in the process, a number of my habits have been exposed as... less than ideal.

So, after a long walk on the hills, and some honest conversation with a good friend, we came up with a plan: given that I want to achieve things, and need to keep various elements in regular play to keep myself in balance; I should stop trying to make progress on all fronts at all times.

It may not seem like much, but that's a revolutionary thought in my world. Simply declare that something is not a priority at the moment? How? By having a record of what my global 'areas' of activity are, recognising that some (household, family) are key and recurring priorities, and that to use my time effectively, the focus for the rest of my time should be in one or two of them.

From that starting point, we identified writing and yoga as two focuses for November: so, I'm writing a blog post every weekday in solidarity with those embarking on #NaNoWriMo but without the time or mental preparedness to be creating anything so continuous as a novel, and I'm working my way through Home from Yoga with Adriene again.

The goal of this process is to know where my energy should be being put, not to devote all my energy to those things - to know that if I'm having a rubbish day, or Pumpkin is refusing to sleep, or I'm just tired, the only things I need to do to feel that I am 'achieving' are to draft a blog post, and to complete a yoga session. So far, this has felt surprisingly freeing - the mental list of many things I'm not making progress with has disappeared in favour of this list of two. And when those are done, any progress I make on other projects becomes a bonus, not expected behaviour.

I need to start planning my months and goals ahead - December will be I think mostly crafting and music, so that I can ensure Christmas crafting is complete, and bring some carols at the piano to the restricted festivities ahead. That pushes running, which I want to get back in, to January, which lets me ask for bits of kit for Christmas, and means I'm working towards lighter days, even if only by tiny increments... and perhaps I pair that with some coding / career progression consideration? Who knows. Time will tell, and the challenge of changing gears while keeping elements of what has worked is one I've not yet established how to grapple with.

One final note: his only works if there's also a space to say 'not today' - yesterday, Pumpkin woke up as I hit publish on the blog post about quilting, and refused to go back to his own bed until midnight. So no yoga was undertaken. Yes, that means I'm behind; no, I'm not letting that be a sign I should give up on the whole endeavour (as I may have done in the past). Failure is an option, and recognising my limits is not failing... or so I'm retraining myself to realise.

Things I've learned while quilting

noreply@blogger.com (Ruthcrafts) — Mon, 16 Nov 2020 20:44:00 +0000

Like almost everything I do, I have almost no 'training' in quilting. I started sewing because my mum's mum's machine lived under a table in our dining room, and I liked playing with fabric. I made tote bags and quilts because they were square(ish), and the vagaries of my FE college (16-18 education) timetable meant that I had extended periods of 'free study' time in the middle of the day that I could spend in the library, which just happened to subscribe to British Patchwork and Quilting. I'd read the instructions and daydream... and it is possible that I watched How to Make an American Quilt at a formative age.

At some point, I started buying the occasional quilting magazine or book, and every so often I'd get some fabric, make some decisions, and make a quilt, or a cushion, a table runner, or a quilt top (yes, I have a king-size quilt top that has never been quilted; yes it was originally intended as a gift; no, that's not my story to tell). I go to quilt shows, and I buy fabric. But I don't consider myself a quilter - I don't have a series of quilts that rotate around when I want to freshen up the decor by swapping soft furnishings, I've never been to a patchwork or quilting class - I'm making it up as I go along!

Despite this, it seems I have acquired some useful knowledge over the course of time, and since the lions are nearly finished, and I need to stop blogging and go and hand stitch a binding... let's see what I can share:

1. Patchwork and quilting are two different things. You can make a patchwork cushion (like the one that Otto is sitting against below) and not quilt it. You can make a quilted cushion, and it not be patchwork. You can like one, and not be much bothered about the other. I love patchwork. I do not enjoy quilting. If I could afford to ship my patchwork off to be quilted by someone else? I probably would.

2. Patchwork is mostly a question of accuracy. If you cut pieces carefully and accurately (I recommend a rotary cutter and a ruler and mat), and stitch accurately - a quarter-inch foot is amazingly helpful for this - then your patchwork will come out much better.

3. If your piecing is not perfect, the bigger the project, and the more additional seams you have, the less noticeable it will be. That said, if you don't check and re-square your blocks as you go, then it will get further and further out of alignment. Depending on how you quilt it, you can also encourage the eye to see straight lines where there are none. You are making something for your home or your loved ones - remember that, and try to forgive yourself imperfections.

4. Pressing your seams really does help. If you press them consistently to the darker side you often find that the seams will naturally alternate in your patchwork, and you won't find yourself in a position where you have all the seam allowances on the one side. This will also help keep them in line and abutting more closely.

5. You will usually find that patchwork can be done in small blocks, and therefore suits having 'bits' of time to do it. I wouldn't say that you can accomplish much in 10 minutes, but if you set aside half an hour, then you can definitely make progress, and depending on the rhythm of a particular project or design, know where you've put it down.

6. Remember that quilts used to be made from leftover scraps and bits and pieces. You don't need to use pristine sets of fabrics from the same collection, or designer. Again, depending on your design, you may well find that you only need little bits of one fabric or another, and at that point, the stash you've been curating for a while will come into its own.

7. Similarly, quilt backs can be made of multiple pieces. Quilting shops will stock quilting back fabric, because it's extra-wide, and you can back a whole king-size quilt with it. But you don't have to. You need something that isn't too dissimilar in weight to the front and the wadding, and you don't want anything unstable to work with, but I've backed a quilt in fabric intended to be curtains before, and there are no quilting police knocking on my door.

8. Making the quilt sandwich takes time, patience, and floor space. I don't have a solution if you don't have the floor space (I've contemplated access to a church hall before now), but you really mustn't think 'it'll only take a moment'. I use an adhesive spray (505) to stick my layers together initially, reinforced by quilting safety pins (they're bent), and the lion quilt (1m20 square) took me about an hour to lay out and pin.

9. Quilting eats thread. Just eats it. Buy more (500m more) than you think you need, and if you're doing it on the machine, wind a few bobbins before you start.

10. Before you start quilting, decide on your quilting design. With my sewing machine, anything other than straight line echoes of the patchwork is very hard work, but even that merits being planned out before you start.

11. Binding doesn't have to be the same fabric all the way round, and binding clips are fantastic for keeping the binding in place while you work without your thread catching on pins all the time.

Friday... made it.

noreply@blogger.com (Ruthcrafts) — Fri, 13 Nov 2020 21:54:00 +0000

Sorry lovely people (presuming that I'm not just writing into the void), this has been a bit of a week, and I've reached Friday evening in one piece, but rather lacking in anything of interest to say.

Apart from that that phrase 'a bit of a week' strikes me as both the sort of thing I say all the time (especially in times of Covid?), and fundamentally meaningless. So what do I mean by it? What has this week been a bit of?

A bit of work. Well, 35 hours to be precise. (That's full time for my company) Worked 8-4 with an hour(ish) for lunch each day. A lot of that was very tedious and repetitive scheduling, but today I think I might nearly have finished writing the macro to turn a form into a useful document for my team. If anyone uses it.

A bit of knitting. Otto now has two legs. That's progress, and he does seem to be on track to be ready to be posted by the end of the month.

A bit of quilting. I now have 4 full-size lion panels completed and ready to be joined, backed and quilted over this weekend. Small progress, but I was waiting for a wadding delivery that has now arrived, so momentum should build again, I hope.

A bit of training. I'm volunteering with Action Tutoring through my workplace community investment scheme, and have had my initial training session and security checks this week.

A bit of reading. For some reason I've started the runner-up in my book-club's latest vote for December's session, and that means that I have two books to read by the beginning of December. Not wise.

A bit of singing - one of the reasons that Friday nights feel harder work right now is that I've started singing Christmas songs with my church choir in preparation for a potential 'distant' carol service. Rehearsals over Zoom and hearing rather more of oneself than one likes are a great break from the 'working week', but the race to have bedtime sorted? Less straightforward.

A bit of yoga. I decided that writing and yoga were my focuses for this month (more on that in a proper post next week. And though it makes me sound like a yummy mummy wannabe, it's probably keeping me together! I'm re-doing Home from Yoga with Adriene, and 20-25 minutes of calm and physical work at the end (very end) of the day is proving really helpful. Again.

Looking through this list (which, if I'm looking for completeness, doesn't include nursery pickup, laundry, cooking dinner every night, or other household tasks), I suspect I see where the 'bit of a week' feeling is coming from. I had promised myself I would cut back on the number of things I was doing, to avoid weekends that are a complete write-off because I'm too tired to do anything other than cook, parent, and sleep. So yes, I'm not quite half-way through November, and feeling a little squeezed.

But here's the weekend. A little more time to take a moment to breathe, to enjoy the autumn, spend time with my family, and to create objects with love. See you on the other side!

Distant contact

noreply@blogger.com (Ruthcrafts) — Thu, 12 Nov 2020 21:11:00 +0000

I don't know whether it's just the passage of time, the arrival of lockdown #2, the sheer number of social events that I would in a normal year have attended by now, or the creeping sense of festivities around the corner, but I've definitely hit a point where I'm feeling the absence of social contact all over again. I'm starting to daydream about festivals, to imagine a scenario where I'm heading off to meet a bunch of friends in a city centre, and to contemplate ways to make that happen without running undue risks or breaking any rules.

Lots of events have already thought of this, and gone virtual, or made online options available, of course. Maddie Harvey and Louise Scollay are hosting an online knit-retreat on 29 November (already sold out), and the Knit-Tea Retreat in October was an entirely online affair, causing a ripple of excitement across my social media for the duration of the weekend's merriment, even though I wasn't able to attend.

Add to these 'special' occasions the regular meet-ups, (yes, I've joined a Zoom book group, and have up to three knit-'nights' a week I could attend), and you could be forgiven for thinking that there's no need for additional sociability. And yet. I can't always get to the regular knit-nights, for a whole host of reasons, and putting aside time to dedicate to doing something with friends is a rather different proposition.

And I think that is a good half of my problem. How do you portion off time to work on something creative, especially alongside other people, when you're still in the same space that you work in, you relax in, you play choo-choos in, you read Postman Bear in? How do you build a barrier that says 'I'm not playing with you now' when you're still in the house? I ~~need~~ want specific appointments that are not just a regular evening event that I might be too tired for.

The other half is that while knitting along with people is great, it's not quite the same as getting together to try something new or different, or the same as each other. In 'normal' times, I do try to go to Glazy Days in Ledbury for an evening session every so often - just to spend time making along with others. The Mind 'Pause' boxes are an option for this: while it was still possible, I did get together with a few friends to try our hands at some origami, to... moderate success.

While I'm here, I should also mention that numerous knit-alongs or craft-alongs also exist online, and of course our virtual spaces are more important to us than ever. Some are being reinvented (the possible giftalong alfternative has its own website and everything), others continue on Instagram, through podcasts and so on. I'm tempted by some finish-alongs, but have to recognise my inability to stick to an arbitrary deadline, especially where gift-knitting is concerned.

So here's what I'm now thinking of: finding ways to create spaces where I can join friends ('real-life' or 'virtual' no longer being a distinction) to make things - to work on the same projects, or to try something new. Nothing fancy, but, for example, I was talking to a friend yesterday about putting an afternoon aside to make a patchwork cushion, and having check-ins to catch up and move on, or just keeping that virtual window open alongside so we can wave when we're stuck. More scalable might be something akin to the remote retreat on Twitter, wherein goals can be stated at the beginning of the day, specific times of breaks and contact are in place to encourage healthy habits, and your pocket friends can touch base throughout the day.

In the meantime (if either of the above sound like a good idea to you, do say - in particular if you'd like to try something I can support/help with, since apparently I'm missing teaching too...), I have also signed up for a Mind Virtual Crafternoon. I need to check calendars and pick a date, think about materials lists, recipes and templates to circulate, but in due course, I will add a link to a Just Giving page here, and am happy to include you in the guest list - just @ me in any of the usual places!

A project underway

noreply@blogger.com (Ruthcrafts) — Tue, 10 Nov 2020 20:56:00 +0000

What's this? A new project? erm, well, yes.

But didn't you just show us all the many projects you already have on the needles? The socks, the blankets, the shawl... wasn't there a cardigan somewhere unfinished? Ah, yes. But you see, it's November.

What's special about November? November is when all the festive crafting projects that have been percolating in the back of my mind have to be started if they are to be ready to post to their intended recipients. November is when the curve of 'it is reasonable to be making something as a Christmas gift' meets the rather steep curve of 'Christmas posting deadlines exist'. And so, when I was driving back from my pre-lockdown 2-emergency trip to a non-essential shop 10 days ago, and spotted that my LYS was open, I stopped to pick up a non-essential 100g of DK wool, and last week I cast on Otto.

If finished by the end of the month (which seems likely at current rate of progress), Otto will be posted to a little girl who missed out on her hand-knit newborn cardigan because of the post chaos caused by lockdown 1. So I've decided to make her a bear, because that is a gift that she won't grow too big for before it reaches her.

I don't often make toys, but there is something very appealing about Otto, and the related Elijah - stuff as you go, pick up and knit, almost-no-finishing toys. In both cases (without giving away the secret sauce), you cast on at the back of the head, knit to the front and cast off at the nose; pick up for the body and knit down, pick up for arms, and knit out, pick up for ears and knit... and you're done! No tiny pieces to sew up and sew on, no mis-identified arms that are sewn in the wrong place - just some fiddly dpn work at the start of each limb, when you're working around a small number of stitches and the rest of the body.

I do hope to make a Pinglewin (or 2) in due course... but not this year. This year, the festive crafting is staying under complete control. No making-proliferation here. Not at all. Not even tempted...

About some books

noreply@blogger.com (Ruthcrafts) — Mon, 09 Nov 2020 21:13:00 +0000

For a long time, I was 'the girl who reads'* - the girl who read while walking home, the girl who was told to watch out for lampposts, the girl who found that some paperbacks (Pratchett, McCaffrey, thank you publishers) would fit in a blazer pocket. And that hasn't ever really changed, but for a while, books were work, and work was hard, and reading was about knowing everything so that if someone challlenged me on an interpretation I could elucidate and justify my position. I first got a Kindle to carry pdfs of seventeenth-century texts around more easily.

And it wasn't that I stopped reading, so much as that I had to find other hobbies. What do you do to relax if the words on the page are all your day? Well, you knit. And you sew. And you quilt. And you might indeed find your
self learning a lot about those subjects too, and deciding that some work on the representation of textiles in fiction of the seventeenth century would be an interesting project; and wondering whether it matters that nettle fibre can be spun and made into yarn, and knit into sweaters for seven brothers, or when textiles stopped being material culture and became a literary marker of something else, even in the early modern world.

At some point, life changed. I got a 'real' job, working in an office, barely reading or writing anything, and knitting and sewing a lot. What does it say about our culture that it was easier to find friends who knit or sewed or baked (and in some circles I was admired as a young woman who performed these femininities so well) than it was to find someone to talk about books with? And so I was knitting a lot, and sewing quite a bit, but not reading all that much. Unless I came across a trilogy and fell down a rabbit hole and 'lost' a weekend to a different world.

That habit continues (yes, despite the toddler - just don't ask how much you can do while holding your Kindle in one hand), but this year has been a bit of a year. A year of incredulity, despair and disconnection, but also one of time, of home-coming, of a quiet revolution in considering what is worth consuming, worth acquiring, and a year that might yet end in hope.

In this fractious and fragmented time, I have rediscovered the joy of ordering a book and going to collect it; of being able to choose where my cash goes; being able to spend that little bit more on books because I don't have train fare to find every month; and of being able to order books to help me to see the world differently and to learn.

*yes, I know about La fille qui lisait dans le métro, and yes, it's on my list.

A bigger project: Quilting time

noreply@blogger.com (Ruthcrafts) — Fri, 06 Nov 2020 21:19:00 +0000

If you follow me on Instagram (@ruth_crafts), you might remember that just before my son was born, I made Elizabeth Hartmann's large Hazel Hedgehog quilt.

It reminded me how much I like patchwork, and the benefit of the smaller size was that the resulting quilt was relatively straightforward to machine quilt on my dressmaking machine. And so, I've recently embarked on another (and there might be more coming soon - no, I'm not pregnant!).

The single biggest challenge with these quilts is the complexity of the cutting list. I've made more traditional patchwork quilts in the past, and while there are a lot of pieces to cut, they are in a relatively limited set of sizes. For my current project I'm making 4 lions, and that required 41 differently-sizes pieces in 2 colourways, with most pieces being cut at least twice. Cutting all of these correctly, and labelling them for later, takes a lot of concentration - and quite a bit of time.

It had been supposed to be a nap-time job, but in the end I decided to commit to a day off and really get it done... and it took most of that day between nursery runs.

As for the labels, though it seems wasteful, I've found I have to put a pin and paper label in every piece, or I'll never be able to identify them later. A basket for each colourway also helped!

In fact, once the cutting out was done, I've found that the design is put together in such a way as to positively reward being made in chunks of time: 5-10 pieces together make an element or sub-block, and in the end, a final 6 strips/blocks come together to make the full lion. The second pair, having the benefit of familiarity, were even quicker to pull together, and so I hope to have a full quilt top by the end of this weekend... waiting only for the wadding I've ordered to arrive, and time to quilt and bind.

(This is the Lion Block from the Spectacular Savannah pattern. Yes, I also have the Fantastic Forest pattern. And the North Stars. No, I don't see that as a problem.)

Today

noreply@blogger.com (Ruthcrafts) — Wed, 04 Nov 2020 16:52:00 +0000

Today has been a day of watching, and waiting, and lost focus, and distracted mind. And that's just for me, who lives on the far side of the Atlantic, removed from an election that might just change the political landscape for a long time - whether or not the person living in the White House changes.

When I was younger, I didn't really understand why people would wait up all night to watch results (and bearing in mind that in my lifetime in the UK, the decisive numbers do tend to come in in the early hours). One set of politicians or another didn't seem to make much difference; they were so far behind where we stood as a society that we would continue to make progress regardless. Oh, there were years of feeling disenfranchised - I was born in the Thatcher years in the North-West - but even the sense that another grey old Tory would be prime minister was not enough to dampen a certain optimism about what was coming and the fundamental irrelevance of government in driving that. Is it significant that I think my first 'news event' memory is the fall of the Berlin Wall? Perhaps. Perhaps more likely is the very fact that during my teenage years we were coming out of the Cold War, out of the Thatcher years, and into something else.

I should also note that I'm conscious of my privilege in experiencing it this way: I certainly felt as a teenager that we weren't going to be a racist or a homophobic place any more - the world had seen that it was ridiculous to be so, and would just... stop. And that's a naivety that I could not have gotten away with had I not been a white girl from a relatively good neighbourhood.

A part of me wants to say that I can't tell whether it was just my youthful optimism that led me to see world politics and society in this way, or whether it is in fact accurate to consider the years since 2016 as a darkening time. Is it just because my world view is no longer the popular view (according to democratic process) that everything seems to be going backwards, and getting worse?

I cannot be sure, but at the end of the day, the people I oppose are the people that deny other people their humanity. It is not okay to say that other people should not / do not / can not exist or do not deserve the same protections or rights that others have.

Whatever the outcome (and I'm extra perplexed by the fact that I am, in US politics, a 'blue' person?!?), the realisation that our rights are in constant negotiation, our voices always at risk of being drowned out, our votes a responsibility, but also a right 'granted' us, and that there is fundamentally no difference between 'Western democracies' and any other state in a situation where a powerful leader may decide to stop counting or declare a victory - nothing special that protects that democracy, is not a realisation that can be forgotten.

Shall we talk about some knitting?

noreply@blogger.com (Ruthcrafts) — Wed, 04 Nov 2020 16:32:00 +0000

It's strange that this sort of post, which used to be pretty much all I posted here, seems the most difficult to start after such a long hiatus. Why would you care what I've been knitting? There's been a lot, and not much at all... Finished objects have been seen, but I am fairly sure that some of the WIPs have been WIPs since before I stopped thinking about my blog as a space to share regularly.

So what are the highlights? I knit a Carbeth Swan while I was pregnant, and it's just starting to be cold enough to bring it out of the wardrobe and see if it works on the post-baby body - this year the 'office' heating is much more conducive to hand-knits!

I have since knit not one, but two, fingering weight cardigans for myself - in part because I found that breastfeeding ruled out jumpers, and in part because I find a light cardigan more versatile to actually wear. That doesn't of course mean that I've finished the Earnest Cardigan I started 3 years ago... that's still waiting to split for the sleeves and find it's rhythm.

Socks? There are always socks. Currently, I think only three on the needles: 1 pair of a knit and purl pattern in Owl About Yarn's Harvest Sock; 1 pair of a cabled-panel sock for the OH in Countess Ablaze's Rust; and 1 pair of 'Soctober' cabled socks in a Forest yarn from Starry

And shawls? Of course. I've not finished one for a while, but I'm working on a design for a two-colour fingering weight large shawl, and it's stalled while I take the time to count stitches.

Oh, and since the baby is now more of a toddler, of course there are also still blankets on the needles. Because why would I ever finish them?

And toys. Infrequent, but important, and fun.

Is there a lesson to be learned from this? An argument to convince you of? No, just a wander through some creative projects, finding that my patterns of behaviour remain pretty much the same. I can finish a project, but I can start far more, and far more frequently. I will still focus better on complex patterns than on plain stocking stitch, though my concentration span and eyesight are both victims to an insufficiency of sleep. And I'll still - always - use the need for 5 minutes concentration on a project as an excuse to cast something else on.

A Month to Kick-start a Habit?

noreply@blogger.com (Ruthcrafts) — Mon, 02 Nov 2020 22:22:00 +0000

Yesterday was All Souls' Day. The first of a new month heralded by contemplation and the lighting of candles, a month in which the darkness creeps ever closer, and the vibrant colours of autumn are blustered away, to be replaced by stark shadows, damp, and cold. And this year? This year November brings even more uncertainty: the outcome of the US election may be being predicted, but I am wary of my echo chamber and fearful of polling numbers that have been so wrong so many times; a further and stricter lockdown is close upon us; and Christmas plans are already being re-written at a different level.

But November also brings epic challenges - challenges that centre on the fact that we are all, pretty much, stuck inside in the dark on our own... that all we have is time. Whether it's stitches for NaKniSweMo (National Knit a Sweater Month) or words for NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month - the Nation seems to be moot), there are people across the world using the fact that multiplying any step by 30 results in something pretty big to kick-start a project to keep them company as the nights get longer, and to make them part of something even bigger. What else is a hashtag, after all, but a way to indicate that you, too, are doing something on your own in a spirit of togetherness?

So here's my contribution, such as it is. I'm borrowing a leaf from Louise Tilbrook's book to avoid trying to build habits that carry from workday to weekend, and ditching the novel in favour of a web-journal but here I am, tapping away at the keyboard and avoiding the siren calls of distraction, to say that I'm aiming to write. To post something every workday in November: to see where that takes me; try something new; and find out what connections it might build.

Packed full of potential

noreply@blogger.com (Ruthcrafts) — Thu, 08 Sep 2016 07:30:00 +0000

Once upon a time, when I was less confident in my dress-making skills, and less frustrated by ineffective clothes shopping trips, I used to make myself bags. Drawstring bags as gifts for friends; zipped washbags for hens on a hend do; project bags for me and the knitters around me; lavender bags for older relatives; the odd hand-bag for myself... nothing very complicated, and nothing very ambitious or accomplished.

And since I'd been making these for ages, when I wanted a new bag to carry my laptop and A4 folders on occasional trips out to make progress in environments safe from distractions, I rummaged through my old Burda World of Fashion issues and found this baby-kit bag.

Pockets seemed a good idea - a zipper top and flap similarly so. A couple of adjustments were needed to be sure my laptop would actually fit, and I added a layer of wadding to the internal divider in the hope that it would provide a little extra protection against knocks.

Fabric choice was straightforward and out of stash - I think I originally planned some cord trousers from this, but decided that the wale was too wide, and combined it with a length of cotton from the quilting stash for linings and details.

I'd definitely recommend this sort of sewing to anyone learning to sew, wanting to improve their finishing skills, or simply building on their techniques and understanding - it gives you the opportunity to focus on those skills in combination with straight seams, and without the added complications of fit.

The final result is big.Bigger than I had anticipated from the two-dimensional measurements I had been looking at. The depth of this bag makes a lot of difference, and while I do use it regularly, it doesn't quite play the role I had hoped. Rather than allowing me to take my laptop into work with me if I need to complete something at lunchtime or afterwards, and fit my lunch and wallet and knitting, this is the 'overnight with projects' carryall.

For example, if I'm off to work one day, I can pack my lunch, glasses, wallet and site pass alongside my washbag, pyjamas, change of clothes, notebooks, reference book, project folder, novel, Kindle, brolly, knitting and spare knitting, chargers, and laptop. And then it takes me from work, through a train journey to an evening with a good friend to the next day, which I can spend out and about working solidly, before heading to the theatre and back on that same train home and to bed. It's big but it's presentable, and if I'm a little careful about the balance (I really must cut back the number of notebooks I carry), isn't too heavy.

What I still need to find is the perfect bag for my original need - I'd like to be able to carry my laptop and charger in a bag with my keys, phone, wallet, lunch and sock project. I've recently started following Emmaline Bags on Instagram, and certainly feel there's more of this sort of making in my future.

It's all coming up - Babies

noreply@blogger.com (Ruthcrafts) — Mon, 29 Aug 2016 09:30:00 +0000

Why do buses all come along at once?

I'm not sure this is a particularly useful question, but in terms of life events, I've certainly hit a 'certain' age: by which I mean that while I'm not yet that woman of that age (whatever age that actually is), I am a woman of child-bearing years, and since our social circles are formed of those of an age with us, I now find myself regularly encountering people wearing slightly larger, more empire-line outfits, quietly taking half-days off to attend doctors' appointments, and finally declaring the start date of their maternity leave.

Unsurprisingly, I've also now gathered around me a small selection of favoured baby knits - simple patterns for effective garments in little sizes, which I can rustle up according to the preferences of the parents. I'm even considering taking this a step further, and beginning a full-on baby trousseau - not for me, but so that I am always ready for a surprise announcement. While I decide whether that smacks a little too much of madness, I'll share my favourites, in case you find yourself in a similar predicament.

For the classic baby set

Stephanie Purl-McPhee's Nouveau-ne comes in one size - newborn; but should that be viable for your climate and the time of birth of the baby concerned, it is an excellent pattern. It includes hat, cardigan, and bootees, all of which share the same classic lines and striking unisex pattern.

It hadn't previously occurred to me to look for a set, but I've knit the bootees and cardigan once already in a pastel green, and am planning a second (white) set for a particularly traditional family.

For an interesting and versatile knit

Ysolda Teague's Envelope Sweater is one of the first baby knits I knit. Knit first from cuff to cuff, and then from the yoke edge down, this will keep your interest throughout, and result in a cushy, warm, garter stitch hug for the baby lucky enough to receive it. It is one of very few patterns for this useful neckline, too, which makes it more unusual than you might expect.

For a quick garter stitch solution

Stephanie Purl-McPhee's Cutest Baby Bootees are effectively made like tiny socks - which means that they are not only a quick knit for that friend you see all-too-rarely, and whose news reaches you only just in time to whip them up, but you can also make them in the most wonderful range of colours as a stash-busting project!

They also combine well with other garter stitch projects, for those times when bootees alone are not quite enough - I've made them from the same yarn as a Baby Surprise Jacket (wonderful pattern all of its own, of course) and found myself with a modern and stylish set; and held the yarn with another 4-ply/fingering weight for the Purl Soho Garter Hat for a top-to-toe gift.

For simple contemporary style

The range of patterns available from TinCanKnits for babies and children is simply brilliant, and they all reverberate with strong modern lines and contemporary style. My current go-to pattern (in progress) is a Flax - for a little boy due in October, and I think it's a perfectly simple and effective. A little of me really wants to make the i heart rainbows jumper, but I fear my colourwork is not yet good enough to pull it off, and it really needs to be done right.

And a final note for the seamstresses out there:

I've also been stitching for the little ones recently, and can definitely recommend Boutique Casuals for Boys and Girls by Sue Kim. I happened to pick up the issue of Sew Magazine that included this adorable little dress, and after a little wrangling with the pattern pieces (via download etc), and a little googling of details regarding sizing, spent a lovely couple of evenings sewing it up. I'm wondering if the next rabbit hole may not after all be building a trousseau of sewn items with matching knits... there's a lovely little cardigan in What to Knit - The Toddler Years that would look brilliant with one of these.

Thinking about Identities

noreply@blogger.com (Ruthcrafts) — Tue, 16 Aug 2016 07:30:00 +0000

Woman, daughter, wife, worker... the ways we negotiate the complex web of identities that comes from any participation in society and the structures of the family are a perennial favourite in feature columns for women's magazines and Saturday supplements, to which I'm not all that interested in adding. What has struck me recently however is how closely our more specific and self-defined identities are related to the contexts in which we developed that personality; played that role; assumed that identity.

To some friends, I am a linguist, an academic, a reader; and they expect me to understand the finer points of eighteenth-century narrative fiction, or the progression of theatrical representation during the English Civil War and Glorious Revolution. To others, I am a crafter of some experience; and I'll weigh in quite happily to discussions of tension and cable charts, swatches and steeks; dress-making cheats, hand vs. machine quilting; good sources for paper-craft supplies; recipes for tray-bakes; measuring drop for curtains. In yet another circle I am the competent administrator; fond of an excel formula, useful fact checker and proof-reader for anything to do with my current area of expertise, and the person most likely to write an email that is a tad too long and complex for the readership.

These roles are masks we don, and in general terms, we swap between them quite easily - who isn't a slightly more confident person in their friendship group to the workplace, or more likely to swear with one group of friends than with another? Accents, registers, posture, all vary based on the context for that identity, and as human chameleons, we maintain them all. Of course, there's the occasional moment of doubt; when you see people out of context, or bring different friendship groups together, but as a rule, we wear our disguises lightly.

Lightly, that is, until a something happens to make you see the difference between who you may be in one place and at one time, and who you are now... For me, the first such experience for a long time came when I was looking after my parents' house when they were away. I was home alone, and had carefully ensured that there was enough sewing (the dog being rather to participatory when it comes to knitting) to keep me occupied. In the interests of keeping myself moving, however, I had also brought along my running gear, with the intention of heading out for a jog a couple of times over the long weekend. I had not counted on the sudden doubt, discomfort and extreme self-consiousness that struck me when I came to set out.

Let me say it again - I was alone. The dog had no strong opinion on my ability to jog around the block, and my sister (who had popped in briefly), had assured me that it was quite possible. It is a rural area, and the one set of neighbours who would recognise me would not think it remarkable. Yet I had that gut-renching sense of exposure that you get when you're about to step into a studio class for the first time; or present to a new group of people. I got over it, and it was fine, but it took me some time to work out where that feeling had come from. I was wearing the wrong mask. When I lived there, I was the bookish child; the one whose school shirt on her last day had SWOT written across the back as a badge of honour; the one whose only sporting prowess was the left-handers' knack for winning half-rounders by being difficult to bowl at; I walked, and I read as I walked, but I did not do exercise. Now, four years after starting an office job and deciding that some habits needed to change, I am, in my home life, a person who has a gym membership; I go to classes two or three (or four or five) times a week, depending on work and other commitments. But that person is not the person who goes back to look after that dog. There's a shift that happens (possibly on Preston station), that ensures that once I'm there, the mask I'm wearing is the most appropriate for the context. But sometimes contexts need to change, and when what was a good habit to get into has become a part of your identity, then I think it's time to incorporate that change into the identity you're wearing.

Tied into these clashes of context and role are the ways in which our social media presence, and the algorithms behind these outlets, reinforce the single identity on each platform. I use Instagram largely to capture my crafting progress, or the natural world around me and so Instagram shows me other people who share photos of yarn, of patchwork, of makers making and the creative process; of those reflecting the beauty of nature in their work and lives. It doesn't show me (at least at the moment), those who may disagree with me politically, or whose lives are full of animals, or football, or Big Brother. Twitter is a little broader - more likely to include commentary on the worlds of arts, culture, language study, politics, geekery, writing - but still it shows me the world according to my preferences: reflecting the things I post, the world I have said I am interested in, encouraging me, if I want to fit in with the world I have asked it to show me, to present myself in those ways.

How would it respond to a post out of character, off-message? Seamlessly, no doubt, but as I've noticed some around me starting additional profiles to allow them to post certain things to some followers, and keep other elements separate, it has made me wonder why it is that in encouraging us to connect, these technologies drive us towards a more two-dimensional and pigeon-holed existence. Certainly there have been those who have questioned openly how our interactions through such media have affected responses to political debate: in both the general election last year and the EU Referendum, the reinforcement circle of seeing only the viewpoints you will agree with presented to you seems to me to explain at least in part the shock and surprise of some at the outcome. Like privilege, which ensures that those who have are sheltered from the travails of those who have not, and have to consciously seek exposure to other ways of living and of thinking, social media places us in increasingly siloed environments, while at the same time giving us the illusion of connecting more widely.

Making Lemonade; or Hay while the Sun Shines

noreply@blogger.com (Ruthcrafts) — Mon, 13 Jun 2016 20:30:00 +0000

Every once in a while I am summoned North to ensure our somewhat mad golden retriever is fed, watered and exercised while the usual inhabitants of the house are elsewhere. This tends to involve lengthy train journeys and using up some annual leave, but what I need to remember is that actually, it is also a series of days of freedom in a beautiful setting, with no other demands on my time than those of the dog's routine.

In fact, my most recent visit has been particularly revealing in terms of how a negative could be turned into a positive, and how looking on the bright side can really transform an experience.

Problem the first: the dog and knitting do not work very well together. She likes to be fussed, and in particular sees the times in which the humans are in soft chairs as times for putting her head in your lap and licking / investigating whatever you may be holding.

Solution: Pack a sewing machine. It might seem a little crazy, but actually, my sewing machine does fit in my suitcase, and I'm (thankfully) strong enough to carry heavy things.

Problem the second: the planned project I had thought I could whip through on this long weekend has a significant decision outstanding on it, and was not ready to bring.

Solution: Let's start all the things! I have a fabric and pattern stash for exactly this sort of eventuality, and in fact very rarely buy that fabric without a pattern / project in mind for it (otherwise I end up with the wrong amounts of stuff), so out came the box of fabric, and the box of patterns, and with a quick notions check - I have a zip stash too, and a collection of thread, I was all set.

Problem the third: I forgot to pack my dress-making shears.

Solution: turns out I'm in a house where I can put my hand on shears, and tape measures, without much difficulty!

Problem the fourth: I had checked that the Burda pattern 'envelopes' I pulled out included the pattern pieces, but not the precise details, and found that waistband and facings were missing when I opened them. I also had forgotten that being Burda Style magazine patterns, the traced pieces would be all that was in the packet - so no instructions.

Solution: after 15 years of sewing experience (but not considering myself particularly accomplished - I make it work, and the first 5 years were characterised by student theatre, where if it will last the week of the show, and pass muster from the auditorium, you're golden), I discovered that I can actually draft waistband pieces and neckline facings without much difficulty. I can also sew a skirt and dress without instructions. Woot!

Pins travelled surprisingly well in their pincushion, and cutting out was straightforward - barring the fact that my knees don't like the floor as much as the pins and scissors do. Sewing up was actually very enjoyable, and the dog seemed quite content to remain under the table while the work was being done above it!

So at the end of the weekend, what do I have to show for it? A new Belcarra top for work, which fits and will hopefully serve me well if summer has in fact actually arrived; the front (with pockets) and two back pieces of a skirt from Burda style, which needs the waistband interfacing and lining, an invisible zip and a hem (turns out the zip I found in the right colour and length was not an invisible one, and for this pattern, it would make a difference); and a third iteration of my trusty Burda style dress, to refresh the Kaffe Fassett model which I'm shocked to discover I made 5 years ago, and as a more colourful, breathable alternative to my black 'office' version.

Not bad, when considering it was combined with at least 3 hours of walking per day, and a tiny bit of knitting did also get done!

Now to address the question I don't yet have a definite answer to: why do I have to travel 300 miles to get any sewing done? Yes, knitting is easier to turn to in odd moments at home, but I do have occasional stretches of time, and weekends are just as prevalent in the Midlands as the North... I need to tidy. My sewing table is well set up, but it gets used to put things on, and I really need to remember that I need that space clear if I'm to get a project out, work on it, and put it away again.

Top Haps

noreply@blogger.com (Ruthcrafts) — Tue, 31 May 2016 21:12:00 +0000

Shortly after I knit my first Hap, I failed to manage everything I was carrying with me effectively, and dropped it en route to the railway station. It was found, and all is well, but in posting my loss on social media (in the hope someone local would spot it and know who it belonged to), I found a particular fact of note: the majority of responders thought I must have mis-typed, and had instead lost a hat. My husband is proud to state that thanks to KnitBritish, he now knows what a Hap is.

It was for Louise's wonderful Hap-Along that I knit said Hap – Brooklyn Tweed's Kelpie. This was rather a serendipitous happenstance: I had been bought an Eden Cottage Yarns yarnling sampler set for my birthday; have a signficant stash of sock-leftovers for the final stripe, which I didn't dare risk a yarnling on; and came across a sale in the Isle Yarn shop just before the cast-on date. It was a pleasing and steady project – the construction of a hap means you've plenty of simple lovely garter stitch to help you familiarise yourself with the yarn before you begin the more intricate lacy sections.

My second Hap of 2015 was in fact not finished until 2016, but it was perhaps my most impetuous project ever – I saw Karie's publication announcement* for the Mahy (rav link) on Twitter, decided it had to be made, and arranged a detour from planned events on a weekend away to ensure yarn was bought. Pattern, yarn and cast-on all came together within 2 days of publication, and progress only stalled as I hit the Christmas knitting crunch. Helpfully, the size of the Mahy is also such that it finally justified the long-delayed purchase of blocking boards: children's play pieces from John Lewis (handily delivered to our local Waitrose) which can be configured according to the shape of the garment. I was very pleased to finish this in time to meet Karie at Joeli's retreat in February!

And the latest, possibly greatest news of 2016 in terms of haps? Kate Davies has turned her attention to the hap shawl for her very-very-nearly-published book project. With essays and historical research alongside contributions from Gudrun Johnston, Lucy Hague, Martina Behm, Jen Arnall-Culliford, Veera Välimäki and other absolute stars of the knitting galaxy, this project is one which has been murmured about in hushed tones over the last year until the news of pre-orders opened, and since I placed my order, and started seeing the designs being featured on Kate's blog daily, the anticipation has only been building. Words do, at this point, fail me, and I can only direct you to read the blog, pore over the beautiful designs, and perhaps order the book.

(ETA: since I first published this post, I have also become aware of the lovely Louise Tilbrook's beautiful Hebridean Hap design, recently published and inspired by the amazing tale behind Rachel Atkinson's Daughter of a Shepherd yarn.)

The moral of my tale? Haps are amazing. They can be simple, they can be stunning, they can be striking; they speak of hard work, of comfort, and of style. And they mean you can talk about being Hap-py to your heart's content!

*if you haven't seen her more recent publication announcement - that of the Kickstarter campaign for This Thing of Paper - head over here to find out about it. (Brilliant and inspiring, in my opinion)