Cat is bored.

We are still continuing our policy of feline containment. So far the cat flap has been destroyed and rebuilt three times. Cat has once escaped by either learning how to turn the switch on the flap or by applying brute force ( we were out and can only speculate.)
A large cardboard box filled with books and clothes destined for a charity shop and placed in front of the door was shoved rudely aside by cat trying to gain access to the cat flap.  And yesterday, while the chap of the house was quitely sitting at an open window watching the baby birds in the garden below, he was joined by the cat who then leaped out. Remember we live on the first floor. It was quite a leap. Cat is unscathed but our nerves are in tatters.

We are attempting to entertain the cat with a variety of expensive toys. He prefers, however, to play with a handmade bow tied to a length of wool and the very favourite thing, a piece of stringy stuff ripped from the towel basket by himself and then thrown around the house. Or a newspaper, preferably one in the process of being read.

I can't wait for the birds to grow up.

I have been

taking it easy so there is little of note to report. The garden has been doing all the work in this household, it is bursting at the seams with new growth and colour. Archie has been building beautiful staging for the greenhouse and I have been sitting in the sun with a knee full of knitting.

Magnus is not impressed with our new regime of keeping him in at night. Our big Silver Birch tree is playing host to many bird families and we thought it best to keep the beast inside between dusk and dawn to give the new folks a chance. The cat flap has been destroyed twice in escape attempts and the noise of a cat throwing himself at the front door at 3am is our new wake up call.  Thankfully it is a very thick door.

ME Awareness Week.

I'm no stranger to irony but this really take the biscuit. My ME was epecially bad last week and I spent most of the time in bed with only DVDs of Buffy The Vampire Slayer for company. I'm a wee bit better now but still feeling flimsy and, if I'm being honest, not a little grumpy.


So what did I miss when I was taking it easy? Only ME Awareness Week.

Thankfully the weather is improving and I have plans to sit in the garden,  knitting,  gazing at the tulips glowing in the fresh spring light and occasionally scaring the living daylights out of the little blackbird who has taken to following Archie around while he plants seeds.  That might sound nasty but he will have to be a lot less tame if he's going to survive sharing a garden with Magnus.

By the way - that's my finished sashiko table mat and an interesting knitting project glowing along with the tulips.

Call to Arms - or maybe needles!

A report has reached me that Shetland Council has decided to stop providing knitting lessons in schools. It is part of a cost cutting measure and while I acknowledge that we are in the midst of some pretty scary financial goings on, it seems incredibly short sighted for the Council to restrict information and training about a skill that the Shetland Islands are famous for.  At the moment every primary school child ( aged 5-11 ) is taught knitting including Fair Isle techniques.  Our craft traditions help to define and enliven our culture. They are far too important to give up without a fight.

Here is the article in the Times newspaper and here is the link to Shetland Islands Council if you feel inspired to let them know how important our knitting traditions are.  Please pass this on and send your opinions off to the Shetland Islands Council.

Thrift, Thread and Print.

I had a lucky find this week, a beautiful ring in a Charity Shop for all of 50p.  I stuck it on to a finger straight away and spent the afternoon in the Kirriemuir Wool Shop wondering if someone would come in to buy some sock yarn and then recognise the treasure on my hand. I love the changing shades of blue and violet that move across the surface and if you look carefully, you will see me in the reflection too.

More treasures this week included a day of printing with Tessa. I had fun with my home made stencil and some stamps. Next time I'm going to try lino cuts. I don't know exactly what to do with the fabric I have printed. Any ideas?

One piece of fabric I do know what I'm going to do with is my little sashiko practise. This is going to be a matt for our coffee table.  It is also my way of thinking about a larger sahiko project I have planned. A quilt made from old shirts. The sashiko thread is great to work with - it is not as tightly twisted as the usual embroidery floss so it doesn't kink and protest when you sew.

I finished the orange cardigan and it is awaiting buttonage. Photos to follow, I'm sure.

Rest in Mayhem, Malcolm Mclaren.

This is a little piece of wonderful from some clever people. God Save The Queen by the Sex Pistols in British Sign Language. Thanks to Matt Hulse for sharing this with me.

Talking to myself.

I've never been very good at keeping a diary. My childhood attempts would begin with great enthusiasm in January and tended to peter out  about March leaving only a few entries for posterity. Poor old Posterity faced  with my listings of what I ate for lunch or my fondness for Starsky and Hutch, written on pages decorated with red felt pen hearts.

These days I'm determined to keep a notebook of ideas and inspirations but the old reticence is still there. I don't like the blank pages and the expectation of what should be put on them.  I talked to Miss Frugality, who knows about this sort of thing and she gave me some sage advice which I can paraphrase as - just get on with it and don't worry too much about a page being rubbish as you can always cover up that bit.

I have been filling the empty spaces with daftness and thought and along with the slowly ( very slowly ) improving drawings, conversations are springing up. Little chats between me and what is happening on the page.  Limbs? I ask myself when drawing a prototype felt cat. Make it less like Hitler is the comment next to a pig who doesn't look like a pig. A page with the design for my headscarf has the note, tadpoles are too weird.

I like talking to myself.