Photographic evidence

I hate knitting sleeves. Everything zips along nicely and then I get to the sleeves and my will to live dies. I think I have twigged why I hate knitting sleeves.

Look at the photo. I'm wearing a Tangled Yoke Cardigan. It was originally knitted by Ms Old Maiden Aunt but it was gifted to me earlier this year. Lilith had knitted extra long sleeves because she likes having cosy hands. Look again. The sleeve is a full inch too short for me, if not more.

I have monkey arms, in other words. I already knew I had long legs because I struggle to find trousers long enough, but I never thought about my arms being long. Still, it explains my hatred of knitting sleeves - I have to knit them extra-extra-long and I had no idea.

Oh, by the way:

'I, Karie Bookish, sign up as a participant of Self-Stitched-September. I endeavour to wear handmade item(s) of clothing/accessories/ jewellery every day for the duration of September 2010'.

Yes, Virginia, I have chosen to participate in Self-Stitched September. I might not photograph every outfit I am wearing every day, nor will I blog my outfit every day (that way madness and narcissism lie) but when I do post, I'll link to the relevant handmade items on my Rav account (or otherwise document which items I have worn). It'll be interesting, although I'm still trying to figure out why I am participating.

• I want to wear handmade items more often (although I already do this)?
• I want to mix up the handmade items I wear (more likely)?
• I cannot resist a good meme?

So, today I'm wearing the Tangled Yoke Cardigan and my Echo Flower scarf/shawl. Let Self-Stitched September commence!

It reminded me of those summers when I would pretend to be Anglican for one day. I helped out in the home produce stall at the annual summer feté at the Anglican Church in Copenhagen - mostly as a favour to friends, but also because I could grab some really tasty homemade jam and sneak off with awesome homemade cakes (and cheap books). The shop was filled with all sorts of homemade goodies: jams, cakes, fudge .. oh, and knitting.

Oh, but the knitting. I had several moments of weak knees and uncontrollable knitterly glee. Plenty of pretty baby garments, practical gloves and neat scarves .. and then you would uncover one Shetland shawl after another. One-ply Shetland shawls - yes, cobweb Shetland shawls. The most beautiful, astounding things you could ever want to see in your entire life.

LH is holding one in the photo. I think at this point the two shop assistants had decided that we were bonkers, but harmless.

They pulled out more things for us to marvel at: fair-isle gloves and delicate lace scarves. I looked at prices and my heart nearly broke: for a full-size cobweb Shetland shawl (similar to the bottom shawl) the shop asked £75 (a quick price comparison). It is heart-breaking to see people of exquisite skill selling their handiwork at such a price - it is devaluating their work, their skill and their time - and I wonder why a centrally-placed Edinburgh shop is selling the shawls at such a low price? Does this reflect the market for such shawls or does it reflect that they are unsure about how to price the items?

LH said something profound about knitting journeys yesterday and I have been thinking about her words. Whilst I was physically taking my knitting on a journey yesterday, I began thinking about how knitting is also taking me for a journey.I am somewhere very different to where I am just a few years ago when I got back into knitting and that journey has only just begun.

In my head I'm playing around with a complex set of 'identity markers' and I am trying to work them out through knitting. I am getting increasingly interested in my knitting heritage (primary Danish and Faroese, of course, but with several detours because I am essentially a flâneur) as well as British textile history. I like to think of knitting as something intensely personal - the yarn runs through our hands and we touch every millimetre of the material we are creating - and I want my knitting to reflect me whoever I am becoming.

And to keep me warm and cosy so I will not die during the forthcoming Scottish winter. My cardigan's coming on nicely, non?

Unsurprisingly, most of the pieces are machine-knitted and at a fairly fine gauge. Some pieces explore garment construction (like the piece shown left), other pieces explore the idea of "fabric". One particular piece resembles a big pink bath sponge plunged on the floor - I can admire the skill in its construction whilst at the same time reject its aesthetic, can't I? - whilst another piece looks like an upmarket version of IKEA curtains (and uses the same stitch pattern as the Summit Shawl).

My favourite pieces are the ones which add twists to so-called classic knitting: items that acknowledge their debt to generations past whilst still trying to pave the way forward.

Hans-Christian Madsen has two pieces included in the DK: Knit exhibition and I really liked both. My favourite was the pullover shown right: a traditional Icelandic yoked sweater in subtle colours - but when you get closer, you can see that the colourwork yoke incorporates unusual materials.The surface is broken up - but by texture rather than colour.

Katarina i Geil also draws upon knitting traditions - most obviously from her native Faroe Islands - but uses cables in a really organic, free-flowing way. I am also impressed by her use of embellishment and contrasting texture. One piece is handknitted(?) in rustic wool with clever crochet ornaments in silk. Sadly my photos has not turned out well nor does she have any web presence, so you will have take me at my word.

For a handknitter, DK:Knit is not the most inspiring exhibition. I can see some possibilities in the play with surface textures, but I think fashion students will find it more worthwhile. I did enjoy my chat with the friendly staff and I was alerted to a new Danish bakery in Edinburgh. Mmm, tebirkes!

The knitterly content continues tomorrow..

Yes, there is more. Oh yes, there is more.

The day started with me drinking my morning tea whilst listening to BBC Radio 4's Women's Hour where I was informed that knitting was a "post-modern, ultra-chic habit adopted by the very, very cool." So now we know.

Then I began preparing for the Barcelona skirt sewing demonstration I'm doing Wednesday. I cut out the pattern pieces, read the instructions, and then laughed with relief. The skirt is very easy - just three pieces plus zipper and lining - and although I've not done much dress-making in the last fifteen years, I am confident I am not going to mess this up. Famous last words, of course.

The afternoon was spent in the communal garden. We live in a Victorian tenement flat and we share our garden with four other blocks. The plan is to make our communal garden sustainable and organic - today we attended a workshop on turning a tenement garden into a place to grow food (alongside all the other needs it has to fulfil: drying space, bicycle sheds, bin sheds, recreational space etc). A lot of the residents realised that edible plants were already growing in the garden - some planned (like potatoes, various herbs and strawberries) and some rather unplanned (St. John's Wort, barley and gentian). We discussed getting some fruit trees whilst having herbal tea and cake under the existing Cypress trees.

At this point I felt very middle-class.

Then D & I meant to go blackberry picking. Well, bramble picking since they call blackberries brambles here in Scotland. As you can see, though, the berries are not quite ripe yet (neither are the elderberries). So I went for a little walk through our neighbourhood instead.

The North Kelvin Meadow is just around the corner from our flat. There is a short video posted on its site which lets you see the beautiful space for itself - it is basically a waste ground between tenements which has been "adopted" by local people. There are tiny allotments on the site now but mostly it functions as breathing space for local wildlife and as a "wild" natural habitat in the middle of a busy city. I like looking at the ex-whiskey barrels that have become micro-allotments. Actually, I like spending time there, full stop. The Meadow is very peaceful.

(As you can imagine, though, developers are quite keen on getting their hands on the Meadow (it is right in Glasgow's prime property area), so there is an ongoing campaign to let the Meadow remain a meadow.)

On a personal note, I went for a walk (and a good cry) because I had some very sad news from Denmark. Sometimes I feel very far away from family & friends, and I am unable to travel back right now (for various reasons). It makes me feel powerless and downright awful. I love Glasgow - it feels more like home than anywhere else I have ever lived - but sometimes I do wish I still lived in Denmark. It would make moments like this one a bit easier to handle.

Anyway. Knitting.

I am completely smitten with the new Kim Hargreaves collection, Touching Elegance. It ticks a lot of my boxes: sumptuous colours, defined silhouettes, 1920s/1930s styling and copious amounts of warm fibres. I was torn between Eleanor, Ella, Nancy, Mae, Nellie, Isadora, Patsy and Delores - I told you I was smitten - and have sort of hedged my bets a bit (more on that later when I figure out if I'm right in doing what I'm doing). The collection feels a lot more grown up than my usual thing, but I think the colour palette has a lot to do with that. As you can tell from the photo, I have chosen a less than sombre colour - Rowan Baby Alpaca in Cherry Red, kittens.

Also in the photo: fabric. It's a long story but I have been roped into doing a public sewing demo next week. Don't ask. I'll be making an Amy Butler Barcelona skirt complete with lining and a hidden zipper. I'm petrified as I have not done any sewing for about two decades and all my sewing terminology is in Danish. Sewers everywhere, weep for your art and craft. On the plus side, I got to choose the fabric myself and I cunningly chose a design which matches my autumn knitting project. It'll be fine but I will be poring over sewing instructions and blogs the next few days.

Also on the agenda the next few days: a Joseph Beuys exhibition (I'm not huge fan of Fluxus, but I also have to step outside of my comfort zone now and then) and DK:KNIT, an exhibition on experimental knitting design hosted by the Danish Cultural Institute in Edinburgh (this means I'll be in Edinburgh on Monday, by the way. Give me a shout if you want to meet up for coffee).

Assorted linkage: Other Half loves this poster but I just cannot get beyond how Freudian it is. Or is it just me? Save the Words! is a beautiful application although most of the words are surely inkhorn terms. And this Icelandic jumper spotted at the Reykjavik Pride Parade is just about the best thing ever.

First, though, a big thank-you to some very generous people.

Roobeedoo and I had a quick conversation whilst at Knit Camp and it went pretty much like this:

Me: You look like you!
R: You look like you too!
Me: I have some vintage sewing patterns. You rock vintage sewing patterns. You want them?
R: OK!
Me: Cool!
R: I'll take a photo of you first before I go look at Knit Camp vendors!
Me: Ughdfsagr..

And so vintage patterns were sent north-wise and in return I received a very chic 1960s sewing pattern. Oh, and some yarn which was totally not part of the deal but who am I to complain when it's two balls of Drops Alpaca in a very fetching coral-pink-red shade. Funnily enough I have some grey Drops Alpaca in my stash and I'm sensing stripes + wristwarmers + hat ..

Earlier this year my friend Paula ran The Race For Life and I had chipped in as part of her sponsor deal. As a thank-you, Paula made me a personalised scissor fob in my favourite colours and I received my gift this week. I'm using the fob as my keyring (alongside a felted sheep - don't ask) because that way I'll get to see my gift every single day. I'm a huge fan of handmade presents.

And finally Ms Old Maiden Aunt handed me a Knit Nation goodie bag, a Sanquhar gloves kit (because I'm a big sucker for local history & knitting traditions) and her Tangled Yoke Cardigan. When I protested about the amount of gifts, she told me that she was bribing me into knitting her a Laminaria shawl. Hmm.. cunning plan, Lilith!

Now, I'm off to sit down with my new autumnal knitting project and hopefully having time to ponder various going-ons. It's been a mad week so far and it's not over yet.

Please note that this pattern is not a pattern with seven colourful illustrations, a list of abbreviations and row-by-row instructions. This pattern assumes that you are an intermediate knitter. It will not take you by the hand (no pun intended!). I have proof-read the pattern carefully but if you do find any errors, please let me know.

Pattern for The Vicar's Fields
Yarn: I used two different 4-ply Shetland yarns equivalent to J&S 2ply Jumper weight or JC Rennie 4ply. For a less rustic look, you can use fingering-weight sock yarn.
Yardage: 2 50g balls (one in each colour). Approximately 150-180 yrds per ball.
Needles: I used 2.25mm circs for my tiny size. You might want to up that to either 2.5mm (small) or 2.75mm (large). Upsizing is at your discretion. You can use either circs (magic loop) or double-pointed needles.
Gauge: 32st over 4"/10cm

A pair is made of two identical, reversible mitts.

---

CO 60 stitches in colour A.

Row 1: knit
Row 2: Purl
Row 3: *K1, slip 1* Continue until end.
Row 4: Join colour B. Knit 1 in colour B, purl in colour A. This creates your corrugated ribbing. Do this for ten rows in total. Take care that you don't pull the floats too tightly as you'd want the ribbing to stay slightly elastic. Break off colour B at the end of row 14.
Row 15: Knit using colour A, slipping purled stitches.
Row 16: Purl, increasing evenly to 70 stitches
Row 17: Knit.
Row 18: Join colour B. Follow chart (and repeat it 5 times per rows).

Repeat entire chart four times. Try on the mitt and see if the ribbing falls comfortably on your wrist and if you can just pinch together fabric round the base of your thumb. If you can't, repeat chart one more time.

Then slip the first 16 stitches onto a stitch holder or spare length of yarn, turn, CO 2 stitches in colour B, turn, knit remaining 54 stitches in pattern.

Resume knitting from chart (you should now be repeating it four times per row). I repeated the entire chart twice, but please adjust according to the length of your own hand.

Break off colour B. Knit one row in colour A.

Next row (row "1"): purl
Row "2": *K1, slip 1* Continue until end.
Row "3": Join colour B. Knit 1 in colour B, purl in colour A. This starts your corrugated ribbing for the top section of your hand. Do this for five rows in total.
Row "8": Knit using colour A, slipping purled stitches.
Row "9": Cast off in purl.

Thumb:
Slip the 16 stitches from the stitch holder on to either DPNs or a circular needle (I prefer DPNs at this stage, personally). Pick up four stitches (the two you CO'd plus two from either side of the slipped stitches). 20 stitches now on needles.

Row 1: Using colour A, knit.
Row 2: Purl
Row 3: *K1, slip 1* Continue until end.
Row 4: Join colour B. Knit 1 in colour B, purl in colour A. This starts your corrugated ribbing for the thumb. Do this for five rows in total.
Row 9: Knit using colour A, slipping purled stitches.
Row 10: Cast off in purl.

Weave in ends, and block to smooth out stitches.

Whenever I make tabouleh, I think of my friend Liz. Liz grew up all over the world - a true corps diplomatique child. She spent a good part of her upbringing living in far-flung countries and she would hang around in the kitchens watching local chefs preparing food. Liz's arsenal of dishes is therefore very different to all my other friends. Not only did she introduce me to tabouleh, she also taught my taste-buds to appreciate fruits used in savoury dishes, made me fall in love with American pancakes, and made me dream of zabaglione everytime I see ripe raspberries.

And then there is Atole.

Liz would cook Atole for us on cold winter nights. We'd clutch our hot mugs whilst standing on her balcony overlooking Frederiksberg and the world would be reduced to hot milk with cinnamon and sugar - and so everything would be alright with the world.

I miss Liz a great deal. She's here in the dishes I cook and in the things I enjoy, but good cups of tea and hot mugs filled with Atole are scant replacements for her company. When I miss Denmark, I miss people rather than the country. I left Denmark four years ago. In so many ways it feels like it has been a lot longer.

Ah, homesick for Denmark. Let's put on some (Swedish) music and dance around for a bit..

Apparently my mum sprained her wrist trying out the dance moves back in 1979. The apple does not falls far from the tree.

Thankfully the yarn is already mine as I actually dyed it myself yesterday afternoon. Woo.

Isn't it funny how I can always make time for lace knitting even though my knitting schedule is already full? Is that similar to how sock knitters think? Just one more skein of laceweight sock yarn? Just one more shawl pair of monkeys? Maybe I can relate to the sock knitters after all.

I really did not mean to make this yet another post about knitting, but somehow I succumbed. I do have links to share, but first: more knitting!

I finished the first of my The Vicar's Mitts and I'm overjoyed. Most glove patterns run too big for my ludicrously tiny hands. They are much too wide and then paradoxically too short for the upper part of my hand ("this bit") which therefore must be longer than the average hand. Witness the joy of designing a pattern that fits you like a .. erm .. uhm .. er..  glove!

If I were to be critical, I'd probably want to extend the corrugated ribbing cuff for added warmth, but I'm thinking a longer cuff would ruin the look. And I love how it looks and fits. I should do this self-designing lark more often. It's very gratifying.

(I do apologise for the photo. it is the oddest thing: on Ravelry the photo is crisp and beautiful; uploaded to Flickr, the same photo turns overly sharp/defined; here it turns blurry. What gives? And no, the glove hasn't been blocked which is why it is slightly lumpy.)

So, links.

• Firstly, a knitting link. I love Patsy. I think a red Patsy & I are meant to be. I have a cunning plan.
• Persnickety Snark has posted its Top 100 YA Books. Funny how so much YA literature is superior to so-called "grown-up literature" (Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials is one of my all-time favourite reads. Ian McEwan's much-praised Atonement isn't. ).
• One of the few sewing blogs I read had a fantastic entry: We Live in a Good Body. I have my own reasons for having assorted body issues, and I found it strangely .. affirming to read Gertie's entry: "I think so much of our culture is built around the idea of somehow getting another body, as strange as that may sound.(..) I've certainly spent plenty of time buying into the idea that I could somehow have a "better body" if I just did something differently. There's no upgrading to a better body in this lifetime. I already have a body, and it's a good body."
• This Air New Zealand in-flight video made my day. I don't even think you'd need to be a Kiwiphile to get a kick out of it (although if you are, yes the soundtrack is The Exponents)
• Karl Lagerfeld amuses me endlessly. I don't know why. Or maybe I do.
• AfterElton.com looks at obsessive fandoms. I'm long out of 'fandom', but I still have scars to show from my brief journey into X-Files fandom all those years ago. Although I've met some great people through my fannish years, I've also seen quite a bit of scary behaviour. Really scary behaviour.

And on a final note, I have definitely become Middle Class with a capital Em and Cee. I went out shopping for booze (long story) and I came home with organic ginger beer from a local brewery. Well then.