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Balerno 1: 24 – 30 May

Following on from some of last week’s comments, you may be wondering what it’s like in Edinburgh in the springtime. Allow me to illustrate. Yesterday, Margaret and I thought we’d go to the Botanic Gardens, a 10-minute walk away. The sun was shining the sky was blue and, yes, it was windy, but only in gusts; in between it was merely a bit brisk. So off we went, taking with us the camera and the cardigan we finished last week, in response to all those (2) requests for a modelled picture.

Ten minutes later we were inside the gardens. We thought we’d go stare at the ducks a while, which is about the same as watching 24-hour news on TV but more challenging, so we strolled down to the pond. The wind got up and the branches started to thrash around ominously. The sun went in. A few light drops of rain began to fall, making ripples on the water. But, we thought, if the ducks don’t mind, why should we? 30 seconds later we were huddling under the shelter of the nearest tree as the rain came hosing down, ripping up the grass like tracer bullets, and the wind was about the same as standing too close to a jumbo jet preparing for takeoff. Five minutes after that everyone was ejected as it was so windy they were closing the gardens to the public. By the time we got home again the sun was shining and the pavements were dry.

Which is basically to explain why there aren’t any more cardigan pics just yet…

Another week, another project. This time it’s a gansey for my Uncle John, who lives in Balerno, a few miles away. It’s being knit in Frangipani navy. The chest size is 45 inches, so I’ve cast on 364 stitches for the ribbing. This will increase to about 400 for the body. I haven’t settled on a pattern yet, as I want it to incorporate patterns from the east coast of Scotland and the south coast of Devon, both areas that have associations for my uncle. As they share many common elements – cables, chevrons etc. – this shouldn’t be difficult. Anyway, I have a few more days to decide.

We found Nemo . . .

We took a trip to the aquarium on Wednesday, tucked under the shadow of the Forth Bridge, aquaria generally being one place you can visit in the rain without being inconvenienced. It was perfectly fine, except for the number of school parties – in fact, with the humid, echoing atmosphere and all the screaming kids it felt like school sports day at the pool. The children were so thick on the ground that at times it was like standing in mist.

and the sharks . . .

It was “Pirates of the Caribbean” month at the aquarium, to coincide with the release of the new movie. This is worth mentioning, since this time the film is based on a book by the great Tim Powers. (He wrote one of my all-time favourite fantasy novels, “The Drawing of the Dark”, as well as this classic pirate/ghost novel “On Stranger Tides”.) Nice to think he’ll finally get the royalties he deserves.

and the piranhas

Finally, thanks to Stephanie Fitzgerald for letting me post her email on sewing in ends to the relevant “How To” page. If anyone has any observations on techniques like this to add, please feel free to comment.

Fife 26: 17 – 23 May

And here we are. The ewige werk really is vollendet.

The gansey’s been pinned out on its drying boards for the best part of week while Margaret and I took it in turns to keep watch with a shotgun and blast to smithereens any moths which dared approach. Today it was time for the cardification to begin.

As my role in this was limited to wielding the shears for the waiting reporters, much like a lord mayor cutting the ribbon on opening a new landfill site, credit for the rest of the process goes to Margaret. (Rumours that she initially locked herself in her room and refused to come out, shouting through the keyhole “I’ll get you for this, Reid” and “You can’t make me”, until lured out with pieces of ginger coated in dark chocolate are, of course, completely unfounded.)

So, it’s over to her:

Front detail, on the blocking squares.  What’s that ripply pleat thing, you ask?  Well if it weren’t there, the front would be larger than the back.  So to make the front nicely blocked, the back would have to be overblocked.  The pleat takes up the excess in the front, making for balanced blocking.

Sleeve detail.

A closeup of the pleat.  It was roughly basted with another colour of gansey wool.
The Zipper.  Despite commenters’ good opinions of my perspicacity, I didn’t start looking for a zipper until the gansey was nearly done.  Many hours legwork and internet searching later, I found transparent zippers with chunky teeth.  Regular dressmaking zippers were too wussy for a jacket, chunky teeth are more appropriate.  Unfortunately chunky teeth zippers only come in about 5 colours, none of them remotely like the colour of this gansey. The pleat has been unbasted and the very centre has been marked with pins. The first row of stitching commences.  The plan is to stitch two rows then cut between them.  Cutting then stitching would probably lead to stretched-out edges.  My sewing machine has a fancy pseudo-overlock stitch.  Zigzag or three-stitch zigzag would probably work just as well, or a few rows of fine straight stitching if your machine can’t zigzag.
The first row of stitching, to the right of centre. And the second row of stitching. An overall view of the two rows of machine stitching.
And a slightly more close-up one.

Let the cutting commence!

Nearly to the end . . . it wasn’t scary at all.  Much.
Yes, it really did get totally sliced up the middle. The back of the machine stitching.  The colour of the bobbin thread doesn’t really matter as it won’t be seen when the zipper installation is finished. The first side folded over and basted down. Two stitches from the steek will form the zipper placket, and the rest is folded underneath.  The zipper will be stitched along the column of purl stitches.
Now both sides have been folded and basted.  I’ve used a doubled length of yellow rayon machine embroidery thread.  It’s visible and is smooth for easy removal.  It does kink up alot though. The zipper basted in place.  The two protruding ends of the zipper tape will be folded and stitched down later. Oops!  We cut some of the machine stitching.  No worries, I just machine stitched over it again.
Everything basted in place.  You’d hardly know there was a zipper in there. Sewing the zipper in, by hand.  Doing it by machine just didn’t seem right somehow.  For one thing, hand stitching is more flexible than machine stitching.  And machine stitching might leave a more definite seam.  I used a darning needle, a single thickness of the sweater yarn, and a running stitch. The back side of the zipper showing the stitches.  Here I’m securing the zipper tape and seam allowance with herringbone stitches, using a sharp needle and sewing thread.  One stitch in the zipper tape, then one stitch in the body of the gansey.  Where possible, I’m catching the backs of purl stitches.
A shot to show why I’m securing the zipper tape.  It’s nice and smooth(-ish) on the right where it’s stitched down, but it’s ripply on the left. The zipper installed. And a close-up view.  The zipper pull is a bit naff but I should be able to change it.  It’s also plastic so I don’t expect it to last too long.

So, in brief:

Materials:  Sewing thread in a sorta matching colour; bobbin thread in any colour; smooth basting thread in a contrasting colour; yarn from the gansey; 22″/55 cm transparent open-ended zipper with chunky teeth; a blocked gansey

Tools:  Sewing machine preferably with zigzag stitch; sewing needle for basting and herringbone stitching; darning needle for installing zipper; scissors (sharp dressmaker’s shears will be easiest).

Process:

1.  Sew two rows of stitching up the centre.

2.  Cut between the two rows of stitching.  Yes, you can do it.

3.  Fold the raw edges under and baste them, using a sharp needle and smooth thread.

4.  Place the right side of the unzipped zipper face up under the right side of the gansey.  Starting from the bottom up, baste in place, using the sharp needle and smooth thread.  The folded edge should be at the centre of the zipper.  Repeat for the left side of the zipper.

5.  Sew the zipper in place, starting from the bottom up, using the darning needle and gansey yarn.  Why from the bottom up?  If it’s really crap it’ll be less noticeable at the bottom, and by the time you get to the neck you’ll have had lots of practice.  Fold down the protruding ends of the zipper tape and sew them in place.  Occasionally run the zipper pull up and down to make sure your stitches aren’t obstructing the teeth.

6.  Sew down the zipper tape and gansey seam allowance using a sharp needle, matching thread, and a herringbone stitch.

7.  Carefully remove the basting threads.

8.  Open the zipper.

9.  Put your left arm in the left sleeve and your right arm in the right sleeve.

10.  Zip up the zipper.

Caveat:  This is the way I did it – but it doesn’t mean it’s the only way to do it.  YMMV.

Fife 25: 10 – 16 May

Every time I complete a gansey these days I play part of Wagner’s Ring Cycle to celebrate. It’s a sort of ritual, a rite of passage. The piece in question comes early in the cycle – before there’s so much as a hint of a horned helmet – in Scene 2 of Das Rheingold, when Wotan, father of the gods, realises that the giants have finally finished building Valhalla. “Vollendet das ewige Werk!”, he sings – the eternal task is finished. And really, what could be more appropriate?

Of course, in this case the cardigan’s not quite finished. I still have to draw my snickersnee and rend the front in twain, after which Margaret can heroically attach the zip; but first it has to be washed, blocked and dried, which is where we are now.

I was beginning to wonder if I’d have to open my third cone of Frangipani yarn as I worked down the cuff. (I find those cones very confusing to judge – they seem to shrink very quickly from fat to thin, then no matter how much you knit they stay the same size for ages. We’re through the looking glass here, people.) But with three inches of cuff to go I finally ran out of Cone 2, and so have only ended up using a tiny amount from Cone 3. Heigh ho. (In fact, if I’d just knitted regular cuffs instead of my adjustable extra-long 6-inch ones I’d probably have got away with just the two cones.)

There are many reasons to use Frangipani, not least the range of colours like this one. But my favourite is the fact that, because you’re using 500g cones instead of 100g balls, you have far fewer ends to darn in at the end. (And given my feelings about sewing-type activities in general, that’s quite an incentive, believe me.) With just a couple of ends to be darned per cone (or more where there’d been a break in the yarn), a job which can take me up to an hour this time lasted less than 30 minutes. (I’m still not saying it’s fun, mind.)

I haven’t had much time for knitting this week as we’ve had an old friend to stay. I’ve known him for over 25 years now – how scary is that? We first met at archive school, which was much like Harry Potter’s Hogwarts except instead of magic we learned how to read old documents, translate Latin charters and take down with minimum force genealogists who tried to use a biro instead of a pencil.

(We took him out to Cramond beach one windy day, where Margaret sneakily held back and took photos of the two of us walking part of the causeway to Cramond Island; I’m the one on the right: my friend is on the left complaining we made him get sand in his shoes.)

He’s moving in with his long-tern partner and is looking to save space. So he’s ripped all his 1,500 cds onto his computer and is giving the hard copies away; and now he has a Kindle he’s planning to get rid of all his books too. As he points out, everything before 1920 is out of copyright and free to download anyway; and if he feels like reading a book he always just buy it again and download it electronically.

Of course, in a sense he’s right – I did an exercise some years back and found out that, with a few exceptions, I tend to read books once every 10 years. So why do I hang on to all my old Hermann Hesse paperbacks and PG Wodehouses? How often am I going to read War and Peace again in the few years remaining to me? How many books on my shelves have I only read once?

One of the principles of records management, the branch of archives that applies to modern and electronic records as opposed to historical ones, is that if something isn’t looked at you get rid of it, as it’s just taking up space. But it seems terribly cold-blooded to apply that to my personal stuff!

For example, I see I have 6 versions of Wagner’s Ring Cycle on cd. This may seem like overkill to a non-Wagnerite. I admit I don’t listen to them all that often these days – and hardly ever all the way through (the cycle comprises 4 operas and 15 hours of music, after all) – and yet somehow 6 versions doesn’t seem nearly enough…

Hmm. Maybe I won’t downsize just yet.

Fife 24: 3 – 9 May

If there’s anything that proves to me the quantum theory of alternative realities governed by the choices we make, it’s job interviews. Even if you don’t expect to get the job, you still find yourself imagining what it would be like, what you would do, how you would live, as if you’re seeing another you in the future. For a few days you’re living two lives, one for each of the trouser legs of time stretching out in front of you. Then, when you fail to get the job, the waveform collapses, and you’re back in a single reality again.

This happened to me last week. I went all the way down to Oxford (6-7 hours by train) for an unsuccessful interview for a job based in Glasgow (don’t ask). The interview itself went well, even if it was a bit superficial – in fact, truth to tell, I’ve had far more rigorous examinations at the immigrations desk at Boston airport. But I answered all the questions, gave a good presentation, and didn’t trip over the doorway and end up in the interviewer’s lap, like I did so memorably all those years ago at one county record office. So I have no regrets. (No job, either, of course, but you can’t have everything.)

The day was memorable in another way, too. The wind was blowing hard into my face as I walked up to the Bodleian Library for my ordeal, and suddenly something hit my glasses, and my left eye blurred. When I took my glasses off, I found the lens smeared with bits of some green insect – I’d received my first bug splat as a pedestrian!

All this and the unshakeable cold meant that I didn’t get a whole lot of knitting done last week. Still, as you’ll see from the pictures, I’ve finished the other sleeve pattern and started the cuff. Just under six inches to go! I was absurdly pleased to find that I had exactly the same number of stitches at the start of the cuff as the other sleeve (118 decreased down to 108); of course, this is just as it should be, but it’s nice when things work out. And when I divine the tea leaves (tricky with tea bags but not impossible) I see a tall, dark pair of scissors looming in my future.

It’s been something of a week of rejections. I sent off my novel to a handful of agents to test the water a month ago. I’ve now received my first couple of rejection notices, as they slowly work through their “slush pile” (which they charmingly call the hundreds of unsolicited manuscripts awaiting their attention). Both were form letters, but one had a nice handwritten note at the bottom: “I need something a bit more scary, though nicely done”. Which is some consolation at least.

This week’s bread is a variation on Scottish morning rolls, softened with olive oil rather than milk, and with a couple of teaspoons of sugar added to take the edge off. Take them out the freezer first thing, pop them in the oven for 10-15 minutes, then split them steaming hot and slather with anything that comes to hand. Then go back to bed and sleep till noon.

Margaret celebrated her birthday at the weekend. What do you give the woman who has everything? Reader, I gave her my cold.

 

 

 

 

 

Fife 23: 26 April – 2 May

Well, this week’s blog has a tawdry, hungover, morning-after-the-party, stale-coffee-and-cigarette-coated-tongue feel to it.

Bogart or Doom?

I mean, the last few days have seen a birthday, Easter, a royal wedding-cum-public holiday, the seriously underdressed Beltane festival on Calton Hill and a new series of Doctor Who. After all that, I guess the only thing left is to fold away the bunting and wait patiently for Christmas. (Somehow a referendum on adopting the alternative voting system on Friday doesn’t set the heart a-skipping in the same way – can’t imagine why.)

I’m writing this a day early, on Sunday, May Day, as I have to be away from home for a couple of days (so apologies, I won’t be able to respond to any posts till mid-week at the earliest). Many years ago I used to be a Morris dancer – think bells and cudgels and real ale – so May 1st is always associated in my mind with getting up at 4am and driving off to Brackley market square to dance the sun up, which usually happens around 5.35am. We’d get a surprisingly decent crowd shivering on the cobbles, then it was into the pub for a cooked breakfast (ah, bacon – the curse of vegetarian taste buds) and some music.

Some years we used to “beat the bounds”, an old custom where you process around the old parish boundary, marking key points with dances and beats of the drum. (Because your parish was the most important unit of local government for centuries it was vital to know its limits.) Delightfully, these days the old boundaries are often obscured under housing estates. Few things are more satisfying on a cold morning when you’ve got up at 4am, than to stroll into a housing estate at a quarter to six beating drums and shouting – and when people come out to complain, thrusting a collecting hat under their noses! (Of course, Britain has rigorous gun laws – I don’t suppose it would work so well everywhere.)

Still plagued with this persistent cold – I no longer have to look phlegm up in the dictionary, having a daily yellow rohrschach test in my handkerchief  – I have ploughed on with the gansey, and am well advanced down the sleeve. I’ve just reached the tipping point, the moment when feel you’ve decreased enough to really get the effect as you knit, it all starts to speed up like a spider zeroing in on the centre of its web. Also, I’m still on my second 500g cone of Frangipani 5-ply yarn – only just, though. I’ll still have to break into the third cone to finish it.

The bread this week is a toothsome ciabatta, a very soft dough that is ideally mixed by machine. Not being able to afford a machine I relish the challenge of doing it by hand, though a stranger observing me through the window may have wondered why I was making love to an octopus (as in the great Simpsons mafia joke, “No, I didn’t say he was dead, I said he sleeps with the fishes…”).

As I say, hopefully I’ll catch up on Wednesday. Till then, enjoy the Spring and good luck with the Easter chocolate withdrawal symptoms!