Apologies for the shorter blog this week, but, like the pictures, it’s all being done on my iPhone – which is brilliant little device, and I don’t know where I’d have been without it (literally, as it’s got both maps and a location device), but it’s not conducive to hammering out reams of deathless prose.
More tangible progress this week, the advantages of clean living and a non-existant social life. The pattern is slowly becoming clearer too: to paraphrase the late composer Vaughan Williams, I don’t know if I like it, but it’s what I meant!
Still no computers at work, but we now have telephones so I’m not complaining. And the sun is shining as I peck this out so I can say of Edinburgh, as the hobbits say of Fangorn, that I ‘almost felt I liked the place’.
Proper blog next week, by which time I’ll be a whole year older…
There are a mere 55 steps leading up to my flat, and I’ve discovered the best way to deal with this is to make base camp somewhere between the first and second floors, and lay in a store of oxygen cylinders for the rest of the ascent. They say we normally use just 5% of our lungs, but I’m definitely pushing the other 95% on the last flight, I can tell you; the sound of my ragged wheezing is so loud the other occupants sometimes come out to see who’s sawing through a giant redwood on their landing.
I’m adjusting to life in the city quite well, as I live a mere 15 minutes’ walk from the National Archives where I work, and in the morning can stop for a coffee to take with me if I choose. Sure we haven’t got computers or a phone yet so no one can get hold of us, but I’m not complaining as that way no one can get hold of us.
Well, as Sam Gamgee says at the end of the Lord of the Rings, I’m back (though in my case I return from my first week at the National Archives in Edinburgh, not from watching a bunch of elves, a wizard and a hobbit depart from the Grey Havens; otherwise the similarity is very close).
If you look at this week’s photos you will no doubt be wondering why I bothered, since I’ve only managed half an inch in the 10 days or so since my last blog. But in my defence, though it may only be half an inch, it’s an important one. Let me explain.
First of all, I’ve reached the dividing point between front and back. So the gussets are half-done, and will be placed on holding yarn until I’m ready to pick them up again when I start the sleeves. I’ve made these gussets slightly longer than in previous ganseys, so they span 25 stitches across at the widest point, not my usual 21-23 stitches. 23-25 seems to have been the traditional width; I always start off with the intention of making them slightly longer but end up leaving it too late! (The reason the gussets aren’t on holders yet is simply because the yarn I use for the purpose is in an unopened box in Edinburgh, along with the rest of my life.)
Secondly, I’ve decided to stick to my original intention of completing the gansey in this pattern, and not chickening out and switching pattern just because this pattern isn’t working out the way I’d hoped. I finally managed to take a picture that shows the effect I’ve been describing in this blog over the last few weeks, but which previous photos haven’t picked up. (Forgive the slightly blurry monochrome quality, but it was taken with the camera in my iPhone.) This was taken with the knitting on my lap and a lamp shining over my shoulder, giving the effect of uplighting. Now, I know it doesn’t exactly replicate Henry Freeman’s gansey the way I’d hoped, but it’s not half bad; and if the finished, blocked gansey looks anything like that I’ll be content, or as content as one can be in this fallen world.
There’s a famous anecdote of Chinese Premier Zhou Enlai, on being asked what he thought the impact of the French Revolution was, replying that it was “too early to tell”. Well, that’s still where I am with regard to my version of the Staithes pattern in this gansey. Sometimes it looks like it might come good in the end and recreate the pattern quite effectively, while at other times it more closely resembles medieval pillow mounds seen from the air. (Actually, that’s a thought – has anyone tried to knit an archaeological site drawing as a pattern before – other than Stonehenge, anyway – and how cool would that be?)
I’ve been debating whether to bail out and turn the pattern into a band across the chest, and switch to another tried and tested pattern for the rest; but I’ve decided that’s the coward’s way out – the gansey equivalent of a loaded revolver in the desk drawer. No, I think the world needs to know how this will turn out, so I’m going to carry on (for now at least). I can wear it on special days when the sun is at a particular angle to show off the pattern just so; or I can position myself nonchalantly under streetlights, in the hopes that someone will take me for a seagoing private detective on a stakeout; or I can lurk by the fridge in the hopes that someone will ask for a pint of milk, so the light will… Well, you get the idea.
I still think the pattern will emerge slightly clearer once it’s been washed and blocked, though it won’t be as definite a pattern as my model, which is a shame. But it should give an interestingly textured feel to the thing, and there’ll be enough of a pattern to get by. The effect I hadn’t anticipated is that, with the extra knit row separating the patterns, the purl stitches appear sunk into the surface of the gansey while the knit stitches seem to stand proud – not the other way round.
Let’s start with the Moray Firth Gansey Project. Remember a couple of weeks ago I discovered that one of my images was being used to promote the project? Well, it turns out to have been an honest misunderstanding; I’ve been in touch with Kathryn Logan, the project leader, and it’s all sorted: they’re continuing to use the image with my full consent, and I’m still rather flattered that they’re using it. So that’s all right.
Anyway, the reason for all this was the fact that I’ve had a couple of ganseys lurking in a chest for a couple of years, which we’ve never got around to photographing till now. And as this seemed the ideal opportunity, and the sun was shining, off we went. You can see the pictures of the first one, a combination of various traditional patterns that took Margaret’s fancy, 
As I’m sort of between jobs at the moment, and haven’t moved to Edinburgh yet, I’ve had plenty of time for knitting this week. Of course, being the idle young scamp that I am, I haven’t taken full advantage of it, and have instead spent my time sleeping and rashly climbing up Glastonbury Tor. (And shame on the website that refers to the “magical mystery Tor”!) But as the pictures will show, I’m making progress and am now an inch or so up the gusset. I still can’t quite make up my mind if the pattern is working or not (two plain rows for every knit 2/purl 2 pattern row, if you recall). You see, it depends on how the light strikes it – in the wrong light (i.e., most of the time) it just looks like bumpy stripes, which isn’t very appealing. But in the right light – if you hold it just so, and squint with your head on one side like you’re looking at one of those 3D “magic eye” puzzles that used to be all the rage – it almost looks exactly like the pattern on Henry Freeman’s gansey.
Now, the thing that stops me worrying too much at this stage is that this is just how the bottom panel of