Two Blind Mice (And Four Sighted Ones)

On Ravelry I am part of a group called 'Selfish Knitters'. That is, people who almost solely knit for themselves. Sounds a bit mean, sure, but after last year with all the Christmas presents, I suddenly realised I hadn't a single object that I had made for me. As it happens, only three out of thirteen of my projects on Ravelry I've kept; one was a very simple crocheted tube for storing my crochet hooks in and the other two are works in progress.

I'm a terrible selfish knitter, but I have recently bought loads of new patterns for gloves, jumpers, etc., with only myself in mind so, for the most part, from here on in, my knitting is for me. I'm the one who pays for the materials and puts the effort in, so shouldn't I get something nice at the end of it? Anyway, I digress. Although I've made the decision to become a (more) selfish knitter, every now and then something pops up that actually, you know what? Is going to be completely selfless. And this project, is exactly that.

Humble beginnings...

At the beginning of August, the woman who taught me how to knit (what, two years ago now? Jeez, and I still consider myself a knitting newbie) put out an open request for a knitting project. It was something she needed doing but simply didn't have the time. I felt that as she had, freely, taught me knitting and has been a source of help in all things yarn related that I just couldn't pass up the chance to return the favour. It was, genuinely, quite wonderful to be able to do something in return. Yes, I picked up the needles two years ago, but I originally did it so as to have something to keep me busy at re-enactments (between all the other jobs that keep me busy), rather than as something to take up as a proper hobby. But it became more than 'just a re-enacting' thing; it became something I genuinely love doing. Something that keeps my creativity going. Something that, when I finish, I get excited about and proud of myself (forget a degree, look! I KNITTED SOMETHING.) I never thought that something so 'daft' such as knitting would become such a big part of my life. And, sure, my mentor could not have known that either (or, maybe, being an avid knitter herself she knew exactly what she was getting me in to) but, certainly, without her help it is a hobby, a craft, that would otherwise remained a complete mystery to me. So, if you're reading this, thank you so much. You gave me so much more than just the knowledge on how to knit; you gave me something to enjoy, to become proud of, to explore and learn. I just thought knitting a few, toy mice was the least I could do.

So what was this knitting project exactly? Well, as the title and previous may have given away, it was six toy mice. Two adult mice (mummy and daddy mouse), two children mice (sister and brother) and two baby mice (so one could be asleep and the other awake). Originally I thought this would be a fairly quick project, but, although individually the mice knitted up reasonably quickly, the number meant that this was a fairly time consuming project. I think, in total, it took about three and a half weeks for me to knit all of them.

I-Cord Tail

Now, this pattern was a wonderfully easy pattern. It was a nice change from the project I was (still am) half way through, which I'd probably rate about a seven out of ten for difficulty compared to the mice's three. They're the harder end of beginner, or possibly the easier end of intermediate. Bridging the gap, maybe? I'd certainly recommend this pattern to any beginner knitters wishing to expand on their techniques. Part of the reason I found this pattern so easy was because it was knitted on the round; I'm most comfortable when knitting on the round as this is (unusually) how I began. Straights (that's two needles, flat knitting) didn't half feel peculiar the first time I used them! For this pattern, I used between two and three plus one needles (two/three being the amount of needles with stitches on and the 'plus one' referring to my working needle; what would be the right hand needle in straight knitting). Apart from the baby mouse, which was the child mouse pattern on smaller needles. Unfortunately, I couldn't get a hold of any 3mm DPNs, which meant I was forced, for only the second time in my knitting career, to use... Circular needles. Now, for those unfamiliar with knitting (and I do apologise, because this blog is linked to Ravelry, meaning a lot of people more versed in knitting than I am read this, but I also know full well that I have Facebook friends who wouldn't know the difference between a DPN and a crochet hook if it stabbed them, which we all know can be a painful experience) DPNs are, as the full name suggests, double pointed needles. Circulars? They are essentially two straight (single pointed) needles, attached with a piece of tubing or metal, so as to create the same effect as knitting on multiple DPNs, that is 'knitting on the round', or, producing a seamless tube instead of a flat piece of knitting.

Damnable circulars!

Anyway. I remember a long time ago I joined a discussion online about whether people preferred DPNs or circulars. I was in the minority (and it was the minority by quite a gap!) in using DPNs. The vast majority of people seemed to either struggle with DPNs or just preferred the ease of circulars. At the time I hadn't even tried circulars and, ultimately, decided to stick with what I knew, which is why I continued to buy DPNs over circulars whenever a project called for it. Some people even preferred circulars to straights! As a newbie knitter I was under the impression that circulars were a miracle send to the knitting world and I was a bit of an oddball for preferring (or only knowing how) to knit on a billion needles and in doing so increasing my chance of stabbing myself on something pointy tenfold. And this project was my second project on circulars (and the first where I'd been knitting in the round, rather than using them as straights); so, surely, I am a through and through circular convert now? I have thrown all of my DPNs and straights to the wind and replaced them all with the glory and wonder than is circulars?

No. I despise circulars. I honestly don't know how people can use them, or find them easier to DPNs. DPNs are a piece of-; it's just straight knitting with extra needles! Easy as! Circulars, however! Oh, the yarn gets tangled, and then it loops around the needles and the working yarn accidentally gets knitted into a stitch and it flops about and the tubing pulls everything which way and JUST NO. Never, ever, ever. Nope. I am declaring war against circulars. I will march with my armies of DPNs against the evil that is circulars. To make matters worse, you know that delightful M1 stitch that I love so much? Yeah, that made a regular appearance in the pattern too. Between the circulars and the M1 stitch I'm surprised I had the emotional energy left to finish the mice.

The start of Kitchener stitch.

How Kitchener stitch should
look.

My first, botched, Kitchener stitch.

Still, circulars aren't the only thing I experienced in the course of this pattern and perhaps the befuddlement of circulars is a small price to pay for picking up Kitchener stitch in no time. Kitchener stitch, also known as grafting, is a sewing looking it up. Now, from the brief amount of research I did on Kitchener stitch (because before now I had NO idea what it was or how to do it) it seems that a lot of knitters struggle with it. Someone said that part of the dislike for Kitchener stitch was simply the fact it was sewing and not knitting (although I did find a tutorial on how to knit Kitchener rather than sew it, but I never tried it out), but I also get the impression that it confuddles people. I don't know. I think it's a bit like that awful yeast based spread product; you either get it, or you don't. And I fall into the former camp (for Kitchener, not Marmite). It just makes sense to me. It's P1 front, K1 back, (K1, S1 off needle, P1) front, (P1, S1 off needle, K1) back, repeat until done. I mean, my Kitchener stitch is far from perfect (and my first attempt I bodged) but it really doesn't seem as difficult as other people make it out to be. I don't know. Maybe it's not that uncommon to understand it and I've just found the wrong sources, or maybe I'm one of the lucky ones who can do it, problem free. Whichever it is, it's a great sewing technique. I love the finish it gives and I'm really glad I got a chance to learn it. Apparently, it's a very common method for finishing off socks, although not one I've used before (I just sew them closed). Definitely be using it for my next pair!

(yes, sewing, not knitting) method used at the end of a knitted piece instead of casting off; it's used to create a seamless piece of fabric, by making it appear as if the knitting from either side is continual. It's... Not that easy to explain in text alone and I never was any good at teaching so if you really want to know what on Earth I'm on about I'd recommend

Turkish Cast On

A few rows later...

My first, terrible Turkish Cast On.

My last, better, Turkish Cast
On.

Alongside learning a new way of finishing a project, I also learnt a new way of casting on. It's called Turkish Cast on. the pattern originally states (which did have me confused) that I needed two pairs of circulars for this cast on method. Fortunately, I found tutorials for both how to cast on using DPNs and a single set of circulars. I stall have no idea (or aspiration to find out) how to do this cast on method with two circulars. It just... Seems a bit redundant to me. Anyway, this cast on method is very similar to Kitchener stitch in how it looks. It creates a seamless piece of fabric. So, match the two together and you end up with a piece of knitting that seemingly has no beginning or end. It's great! My Turkish Cast on isn't as nice as my Kitchener stitch; then again, I struggle a little more with it. It's not overly difficult, but it requires wrapping the yarn around two needles, instead of regular cast on, which only uses one. You then knit into the wrapped around stitches and somehow, miraculously, end up with a piece of knitting with no edge. It looks really nice. Again, I find Turkish Cast on a million times easier on DPNs than on circulars, although I get a tighter, less noticeable cast on when I do use circulars... Not enough to make me a convert though; I'll just iron out my DPN problems.

That scene from the Exorcist.

Most of the body parts were knitted on the round, starting with Turkish Cast on, finishing with Kitchener stitch. The ears were knitted flat and the tail was i-cord (you always knit from the right and never flip the work), which again, was something I hadn't experienced before. So although this was an easy pattern, I actually learnt a lot from it. It was a really fun project; partly because it was selfless, partly because I learnt so much, partly because it wasn't frustrating. It was just... Fun. Which was really nice and made a change from doing something challenging. The mice came out really cute, too. I may have to knit one for myself (no, I'm not sick of the pattern yet, six mice on). Plastic eyes were added for the four older mice. I only wish I'd used a different colour yarn for my stitch marker when knitting them up. One thing I hadn't expected (which wasn't an issue) was because of the way each piece was finished, it meant they needed to be stuffed while still on the needles. I had been expecting to cast off, stuff and sew closed. Ah, stuffing toys. I'm going to become an expert at this rate. Once I'd knitted all the components (forty-eight in total), I packaged them up and sent them away. I'd been told they would be assembled, and my friend wanted to add wire to make them poseable and such, so I figured it was best to leave that to her.

Beady little eyes...

Overall, I really enjoyed doing this. It's such a lovely pattern; simple, but effective and the end product is so cute. I'm really glad I got a chance to knit it. It's a pattern that was already in my Ravelry library, but one I probably was never going to do, until this chance popped up.

Oh, and if anyone reading this needs any parenting help, queries or is in need of nannying services, you should definitely check out Orchard Green. This isn't as random an endorsement as it seems, however out of the blue it appears. This is said friend who taught me knitting. She's such a lovely person and very knowledgeable.

All bagged up!

In closing; three types of yarn were used. Two DK, in white and oatmeal (Stylecraft pure wool) and one in four ply, again, white (Four Seasons Hot Socks Uni). The white DK was for the adult and children mice, the four ply for the babies. The oatmeal was used for the tails and inner ears (except on the babies who had pure white ears). The adult and children mice used 4mm DPNs, while the baby mice required 3mm circulars; pattern stipulated double circulars for both sizes, but I substituted. 4mm push fit eyes were used for adults and children, while babies had their eyes embroidered (not by me). Pattern is Mouse by ViolaSueKnits. Pattern also gives instructions for mice sized scarf and hat, but these were not knitted.

That's next to 10p.

Bendy arms!

Hello Mr. Mouse.

Major Knitting of Major Clanger

I feel that it's pretty apt that I managed to finish this project alongside the announcement of a new series of The Clangers (although they will be replacing the original knitted TV stars with more modern, CGI counterparts). If you remember, I first posted about this project way back in January and, to be fair, the knitting itself didn't take that long. I just took a hiatus on this project between completion of knitting and final assembly (that was several months; I probably finished the knitting part around Easter time and since have been working of my Lincoln Imp and a set of toy mice for a friend). I'll confess, I didn't really appreciate how much there was in the 'assembly' part and, as such, I'm not sure if this qualifies as a knitting project, a sewing project or something that combines both as well as painting, wire work and toy making.

Maybe it should just be tagged as 'toy making project', or just 'The Major Clanger Project', which sounds a little bit like some dark, government secret you'd find in a gritty, dystopian thriller.

Humble beginnings; or 'shaping'.

Clanger skin!

Anywho. The knitting part of this project is actually fairly complex. I mean, I wouldn't say it was difficult, but it certainly isn't a beginner's piece. For the most part, it is work in one long piece, which means there's lots of increases, decreases, turn (that's changing the direction of the knitting half way through a row so you end up with more rows in half of the project than the other) and all sorts of shaping. Only the arms and ears are knitted separately and they take no time at all, but the main body is time consuming. I also found the weight of yarn to needle ratio problematic; as it's a toy, the knitted fabric needs to be quite firm, so needles that are actually a size or two smaller than what would normally be required are used. This makes the stitches smaller and, as the yarn is still bulky, tighter, to create a nice, sturdy fabric that won't show or be misshapen by stuffing. Unfortunately, I'm already a tight knitter, which meant that my stitches were insanely difficult to knit. Honestly, my knitting was so tight I was having to peel the paint off of my needles to give just an extra few nanometres of space to move the stitches around on. I, uh, also bent one of my needles into an 'L' shape by fighting those stitches. Twice. That's a lot of force put into simply knitting a damned stitch. Fortunately I have a nice dad (and boyfriend) who had the tools required to straighten out my needle, although it does have a little kink in it where the bend occurred.

Ready for sewing.

I did learn how to do the 'm1' or 'make one' stitch in this pattern. It's a near invisible increase and not that difficult to do. Guess what? I hate it. Even thought it really isn't all that hard to do, I always forget how to do it and, if knitted wrong, instead of leaving an inconspicuous increase it leaves a giant, gaping hole in the fabric. So several undoing of rows, or pulling down of the entire project are needed every time I encounter an 'm1'. I wouldn't even mind so much, but every project that I have done since this (which, as I said early, is only two, or five depending on how you look at it) uses the 'm1' stitch. And if I haven't done said stitch in about three days I forget how to do it and have to look it up. It's infuriating. I don't know why I struggle so much with this stitch, but I just do. That and, particularly on this project, picking up the bar? Well, you know I mentioned that the knitting was impossibly tight? Yeah. That made knitting the 'm1' require a small act of God at times.

Bah. I hate m1. And it's stalking me where ever I go, mocking me and my inability to do it correctly. That's alright, only another four Clangers to go. And probably every knitting pattern I pick up from here on in!

First assembly.

Still, as horrible as it was to knit at times I actually, for the most part, enjoyed the project. Or maybe that's retrospect talking, as I just adore the finished product. Quite easily my favourite and, in my opinion, best of my knitting projects. In fact, at this date, it's the only one of my projects on Ravelry that I've awarded the highest happiness rating to (when you finish a project it allows you to rate how happy you are with the finish object; there's five little smiley face, with the first being really upset, the second being a bit miffed, third being kind of 'meh'/neutral, then a small smile then a giant smile. most projects get the small smile, this go the big smile).

Anyway, as I said, this project ultimately entailed a lot more than just knitting. I had intended to finish/assemble Major over summer when mum (read; the toy making expert in our family) was about to help me out. Because although I will jump wildly in to any knitting pattern, regardless of ability required, give me a needle and thread and I quake with fear. However, due to one thing then another it just didn't get done. My dad said it was fine, finish it and give it as a Christmas present, which he said was apt as it had been given as a Christmas present. But I didn't want to give it at Christmas; it was always meant to be a 'just because' (or maybe a 'thank you for buying me knitting stuff') present and it felt like I was cheating to save it for December. I knew my dad (along with the rest of my family) was coming up for my graduation ceremony so I figured I would make and finish it to present then.

Queue the song No Fear, as this became a completely solo project.

Never has a Clanger looked so evil...

Clangers drink tea, as well as soup!

The assembly wasn't overly difficult, to be honest, just time consuming. First I sewed the body piece together and then stuffed him. That was more difficult that I first envisaged as I foolishly didn't leave a very big hole at the bottom to stuff him. As such, his nose isn't very firmly stuffed (which means it's somewhat poseable, so that's a bonus?) but the rest of the body is. Once the body was stuffed, the hole was sewed up, then arms were sewn together, stuffed, and sewn to the body. After this came the 'cutting stuff out of felt' bit. Fortunately, my parents had provided me with al(most all) the felt I needed and had already scanned and blown up (boom) the patterns to the correct size. So I had to cut out two tiny, pink hands, two black eyes, two bits of pink felt for the ears, a tiny oval of pink for the nose, four feet (they sandwiched a piece of card, so each foot was made of two pieces of felt) and all the necessary components for Major's armour. I also had to cut out hair from brown felt, which was the only colour I hadn't been supplied with. Although the pattern says to make his armour from felt, in the show it's actually metal, so they did suggest painting it gold. I did this, but didn't realise they would need over night to dry. Oh well, no big issue... Right? I spent Monday day and evening sewing Major and assembling all his body bits, so by the time I went to bed I had a finished, but naked, Clanger. That meant I only had to put his armour together the next day. Only, the next morning, as I got out my jewellery wire (I make wire rings/jewellery on occasion, so have reels of gold coloured wire, which was just perfect for the finishing touches to the armour), and started adding the holes and wiring everything together I suddenly realised... The armour didn't fit. Even though it was the right size, there was just no way I was going to get it to all connect seamlessly. So I had two options; fix the front and back panels and have gaps at the side or try and make some panels to fit the gaps. Which meant more painting, even though my parents were coming that evening.

Back and front panels of armour.

So paint away I did. The panels are a little large, but I don't think that matters too much. After fixing the rest of the armour together and creating the harness that it all hangs off of (and then having to rush around tidying the house) I eventually got the hair dryer out to quick dry the paint. It was still a little wet by the time I decided to fix it into the rest of the armour, but not so wet it was going to come off on anything. Then I glued the 'C's on the front and back with PVA and, again, used the hairdryer. Then all that was left was to dress Major.

Adding holes for wiring.

And didn't he look fantastic. I had been pretty pleased when I'd just finished him, but the addition of the armour really made it perfect. As I've said before, I really am pleased with the project. The only thing I think is perhaps a bit iffy is his feet (I'm not a fantastic sewer and they were really difficult to sew on); they may need sorting out some time, but now he's in the hands of my dad (which means mum is nearby to sort out my sewing mishaps). They're just not as secure as I would have liked, but, hey, learning curves. Overall, I still think he's brilliant.

Extra panels being added.

So after he was made, all that was left was to leave him on dad's pillow to find later on that evening. I think dad was just as happy (if not more so) than I was; it's always a great feeling when your hand made gifts are genuinely appreciated. Everyone was pretty impressed with him, which is always a confidence boost. My boyfriend even tried to convince me to keep him as, he said, it 'was a shame to give away something that so much effort had been put in to'. But no. As much as I love Major Clanger, he was never meant to be anything more than my creation. And I'm glad that my dad likes him so much.

'C' for 'Clanger'.

As always, the base facts. Used a pink DK wool (no known brand, acrylic) with 2.75mm (UK 12) needles. About 50g of yarn was required. Needed gold, brown, black and pink felt, plus gold wire and thin card, to finish the project in total. The body, arms and ears were sewn with a tapestry needle and yarn; the felt (feet, inner ear, hands, nose, eyes and hair) were sewn with matching thread and fine needles. No sewnign was required for the tunic, although wire tools were needed to secure the wire 'staples'. Assembly too two days, knitting took a couple of months. Pattern was from The Clangers, by creator Peter Firmin, Carol Meldrum and Ruth Herbert.

Major Clanger!

 

The happiest Clanger.

Just Passing Through; Passport Wallet

Hello to all and anywho still read (or who, maybe, have stumbled across this blog from somewhere on the web). Long time no post, ey? I know that's how so many of these blog posts start, but there is good reason for it this time. So, as you know (either because you know me or because you've read the previous posts) I've been working towards a degree. Well, I'm not now. Since last September I've been in my final year and after Christmas pretty much everything took second place to my degree. So this means that I have neither had the time to blog, nor the time to actually do any crafts to blog about. (As it happens I have this post and one other completed thing that I can blog about, but I don't currently have access to the photos. Yes, since February I have genuinely only completed two projects; oddly enough, they're both sewing not knitting.) That said, it was worth putting aside every single hobby of mine to work on my degree; I mean, it's not every day you walk out of university with a First Class Honours. So why the delay in blogs? Because I'm awesome.

Zip, zip, zipping away!

Anyway. It was my father's birthday back in July. Since I bought my sewing machine I've been buying a fair amount of craft/sewing books, and in one of them I found a pattern for a passport wallet. Recently, my dad has got a job that requires international business trips again, so I figured this would be a useful present, as well as a fairly simple way to improve my sewing skills.

Now, it's not just a passport cover, this. It's a bit bigger and has a load of different pockets to keep various important things in. So, passport, boarding passes, business cards, etc., etc.. There is even a keyring inside for hotel keys (although most hotels use cards now, don't they? Ah, well, good job there's a card slot on the front!). I'd known for months that I wanted to make this for my dad but didn't actually get started until the week before his birthday, as I wanted my mother's guidance (don't I always?) Unfortunately, trying to sew something for someone when you live with them, isn't the easiest thing, so lots of stealth was required. Fortunately (and I know he's going to read this) my dad isn't the most perceptive of fellows, and he never really noticed my mad dashes to hide the sewing stuff. That, or our living room is always in a perpetual state of 'mid-sewing project', courtesy of my mum and our re-enacting. I don't know. I suspect both.

Top is the outer fabric, bottom two are the lining
and the inner pocket, the black is the card pocket.

As with the vast majority of my sewing projects, I didn't go shopping for fabric, but instead raided the spare room. I needed three fabrics; an outer fabric, an inner lining and one for bias binding. There were some nice red cottons, but I eventually decided on a green brocade for the outside and a paler green for the lining. As for the bias binding? Well, I just bought some black bias binding tape instead. I'd never used bias tape before, let alone made it from scratch (and, to be brutally honest, the pattern was poorly written; I think I would have just got confused and ended up binning the project). I also needed a zip; originally I was going to go for black (to match the bias tape), but I had a green one left over from when I had knitted a pair of SackBoys last year. I had thought it wouldn't work well, being a different shade to the lining, but actually it compliments it (the photos do not do this justice).

Zippered wallet

Something interesting (at least, to me) was that the wallet contains plastic pockets. The pattern said to source plastic sheeting, the kind that would be used for table coverings; I, however, decided it was cheaper (and easier to source) plastic wallets. You know the kind teachers use at school? Big, A4 size plastic wallets, with plastic slidy zips at the top? Yep. I got some of those. I figured they would be durable enough for the wallet, given that they were essentially for transporting bits of paper anyway (which is, for the most part, what the wallet will hold).

Inner pocket with two plastic pockets.

Plastic is an interesting material to sew with. It's a lot hard to flatten, as it buckles quite noticibly, than fabric if not sewn perfectly flat. Furthermore, it's a pain if you have to unpick a seam, as once the holes are made, they're there forever. This can either look messy, if they're not covered up later on in the process, or, if they're not lined up properly, can make the holes of the next seam 'loose' (if the next holes are lined up so they partially overlap the first ones). That said, I think it really adds a sophisticated look to the wallet, making it not appear so home made (even if that is the charm of hand made gifts). Fortunately, the bias tape covered up the imperfections on the edges.

Pockets pre-sewing.

The wallet is essentially made up of different rectangles and squares in different materials. The largest rectangle forms the outside, then a slightly smaller one for the lining. Using the lining farbic again, a pocket is made that fits half of the inside. Then, on the other side, is a plastic, zipped pocket, followd by two open plastic pockets on top of the lining pocket. Finally, a small rectangle is added to the front to form a card pocket.

Lining/inner completed.

All of the fabric was backed with interfacing, to give the whole structure some rigidity. I added some to the card pocket, as per the instructions, but as I was using heavy weight wool and not cotten it really wasn't necessary, and, ultimately, just made more work for me. The use of so much interfacing did, however, make sewing difficult as there was often upwards of four layers to sew through (outer, interfacing, interfacing, lining; then often plastic, or another layer of interfacing and lining). I'll confess, some parts I did struggle with (and I think the machine did, too). I don't know what it is about my mum's Brother (aha, heehee, no, not my uncle), but I always seem to mess it up. For whatever reason the thread coming from the shuttle always gets tangled. I set it up correctly, it works and then, out of nowhere, the thread wraps itself around the shuttle and jams the machine. Literally, every project I have done with that machine has had this problem, and I honestly don't know why! My mother can't replicate it, even if she wanted to. Between this and the thick layers, there were times I wanted to throw everything out of the window.

Finished product! How swish!

Still, I got it all done in the end, even if I was a little late (I had to finish it on my dad's birthday, which meant he knew he was getting something hand made a few hours before he got it, as I had to kick him out of the living room. He thought he was getting Major Clanger, who, I have to admit, is still unfinished. Fully knitted, but needs putting together and his clothes making. Part of this, along with the reason mentioned earlier, is because I don't actually own any stuffing and haven't got around to buying any yet, so I may as well just pilfer mum's). My dad was really pleased with it, and, actually, so was I. I'd had great fun being really finicky and OCD with the bias binding tape and making sure none of the stitching was visible, even though it was just extra work for myself and not actually integral to the project. Mum had to do the last bit though (the sewing of the bias binding on the outside), as her hand sewing is far superior to mine; it meant not only was it less visible, but it also took a fifth of the time to do. The bias binding was also used to fix the keyring in place, and to make a pen holder between the inner pocket and the zip.

When I asked my father to comment on it, he responded with (and I quote), 'it's f***ing cool!' As only my father can.

When closed; card slot.

 Some facts then! The whole project took me three evenings. I could have done it in less time, but sewing it had frustrated me, and it was agreed that I needed to take time out (as in, finish it the next day/his birthday) to make sure I finished it well, rather than rush it and botch it. It measure 11"x11" (when open) or 11"x5.5" (when closed). The pattern was taken from 100 Pretty Little Projects, which is a great book for ideas, but not one I'd recommend to beginner sewers (not because the patterns are particularly difficult, they're just not very clearly written).

Knitmas '13; Owl Socks

It has been far, far too long since I blogged. And not because of a lack of crafting, I assure you! The needles, the hooks, the paint brushes, everything has been agogo since I posted.
And yet I haven't posted. I guess I have just been too busy with uni. You know, that really rather important thing that is the main focus of my life currently. Yeah, that. For the record, it's worth not blogging for the results I have been getting and I'm so close to finishing now, too. One more assignment, two exams and then... I will have a degree.

But enough about that. I haven't written a diary 'this is what I did today' blog in years and that is not the function of this blog. This blog is for crafts and that's what all of you readers are here for. (Or so I presume. If that isn't what you're here for then I have to question why you're reading this in the first place. Also, Ramms+ein's Amerika just started playing on Kerrang! radio. This makes me happy.)

So it's April, nearly May, right? Well into the 'new' year, right? Yeah, well, due to my lack of posting I'm going to be all festive again. More Christmas presents, oh yes. Last Christmas post, I assure you. At least, until it is Christmas again (although I'll probably still be on a backlog, so you'll be getting Summer themed posts or some such nonsense).

A sock! In many shades of purple.

The last person I knitted a gift for for Christmas was my brother. He suffers from the cold, particularly in his feet, so I decided the only thing for him was to knit him a pair of socks. Well, that and, although I'd only knitted half a practise sock before, I knew I loved knitting socks. So it was winners all around in my opinion.

I decided to knit using DK wool instead fingering weight wool (the normal weight of wool for socks) as I wanted something that would be a bit bulkier and snugglier. This, however, presented a couple of issues. Firstly, although not impossible to get a hold of, wool/nylon blend yarn (which is what is recommended for socks, as pure wool breathes well but wears quickly) in DK weight isn't all too common. I could find, online, plenty of wool/nylong blend yarn in fingering weight, but very little in DK. Fortunately, there's a great little wool shop in Lincoln called Spins and Needles and, after messaging them through Ravelry, I found out they had just ordered some DK sock wool in, in half a dozen colours. I went over one afternoon with my boyfriend to pick out a colour; I was originally going to go for a solid purple, but my boyfriend preferred the variegated wool. I found this a little ironic, as when I explained that I'd be knitting my brother purple socks and with what motif, he had told me they were far too feminine (I responded with that I knew my brother better than he, and knew this was a winning combination; he later agreed, once he saw the final product).

The second problem was finding a pattern. Most patterns are knitting with fingering weight wool, or seem ridiculously difficult. That said, the weight wool was not the only issue; most patterns seem to be designed for females (i.e., for smaller feet) and the few that were for men were still too small for my brother's large size UK 11s. A pattern in DK weight for anything larger than a men's size UK 9 seemed non-existent.  Fortunately, the internet exists. I decided on Deb's Super Simple DK Socks (which are exactly what the title would suggest) and with the help of Ravelry's forums I worked out how to knit a bigger pair of socks. In short (no pun intended), as I was not knitting a pattern onto the foot of the sock, I needed only to knit straight (circular?) row until they were about three inches shorter than the desired length (then I was to knit the shaping rows; these would for the toe).

My brother initially mistook this
for the Ultima Online symbol...

As these socks were super simple, I decided I wanted to add something a little different to them. I had seen a brilliant pair of socks that were covered in cabled owls, but the pattern was for the wrong weight, foot size and, to be honest, looked too complicated for a beginner sock knitter like me. The owls were cute though and anyone who knows me well, will know that I love knitting cables. They're so ridiculously easy and yet so effective (although do have the issue of looking a bit 80s if too many are used). Fortunately, I am good enough a knitter to be able to pull apart (easier; I don't think I could an advanced pattern) patterns to use the bits I want in something else. Thus, my own, DK weight, simple, single owl motif socks were born (er, knitted?)!

When I first knitted the owls, they some how ended up on the back of the sock, rather than on the ankle, where I had intended them to be. I think this is an issue with the sock pattern, that gives the starting stitch as the centre stitch, but then, when you start shaping, that centre stitch has become the side. Ergo, as I'd been measuring my side from the centre stitch, which then became the side, my side became a back. Fortunately, I only had to pull down an hour's, at most, work to remedy the problem.

Slip free stars!

The first sock took me about a week to knit. This was good, as I had over run when knitting my dad's hat, giving me less time to complete the rest of my Christmas projects. I had offered to finish knitting the Sackboy mum had begun knitting for my brother about five years ago (as I have since completed two of these; one for myself and one for my boyfriend) if I ended up running too short on time to finish the socks, but she has misplaced the pieces. So, yes. First sock took a week; I had another two weeks to go until Christmas, so i knew I had plenty of time and there was no need to rush. Bad idea. The next thing I knew it was the 22nd of December and I had about five rows of the second sock started. Thing is, we visit my brother on Christmas Eve rather than Christmas day, so that cut my knitting time by another day. On top of that, I had some non-slip stuff I wanted to put on the soles (it is called 'ABS Latex' and is fantastic; I've mentioned it before), which takes twelve hours to dry. So I needed to have this sock finished by the evening of the 23rd, so I could put on the latex and have it dry and wearable for when I wanted to give it to my brother.

I was doomed. My brother was going to have to be presented with one, lonely sock and receive its pair, probably in the the new year. I'd come so far, too; people had told me knitting a load of Christmas presents for people while maintaining a busy schedule wasn't going to be easy, but I wanted to prove that I could do it. So close, only to fall at the last hurdle.

They look good on, if I say so myself.

I didn't fall. I bound over that hurdle with gusto and gracelessness and lots of coffee, but I did it. In less than forty eight hours I managed to finish the second second sock and stencil on the latex soles in the early hours of the morning (I decided to go for stars, to match the night theme going on with the owls). I surprised myself; I genuinely had not thought I'd be able to do it, but I did. I can, apparently, knit a pair of socks in four days, then. Not that I would want to. That was a lot of knitting for me.

It was good to get it finished in time though. Not sure I'm going to repeat the process of knitting Christmas gifts for people (even if I do decided to start early in September), or if I do it'll be for one person. But at least I can say I have done it.

My brother appreciates the socks (I hope), but I don't think he's aware of the mad dash I had to do to get them to him on time. To be fair, I don't think he's ever really watched me knit.

... No comment.

Sock facts then! As I mentioned earlier, the yarn was DK weight; it was a brand of yarn called Aire Valley DK by west Yorkshire Spinners and is a brilliant yarn. I believe it cost me £5 for 100g (with student discount). The pattern said that for larger socks I would need two skeins, but I ended up (bizarrely), only using one and still having yarn to spare. The pattern asked for 3mm (UK 11) but I only had 3.25mm (UK 10) in DPNs; this wasn't a bad thing as I'm a pretty tight knitter and I think on 3mm needles, the socks would have been too tight to wear comfortably.

The Gift in the Machine

For Christmas I was given £50 by my Aunt and Uncle (thank you very much). They said it was to spend on whatever alcohol it was I drank (they have expensive tastes in alcohol, and, I have to admit, mine aren't exactly cheap); I, however, like to spend gift money as a lump sum. So rather than buying five £10 items, I'd want to buy one, big, £50 item. Why? Because chances are I 'll save up enough money to treat myself to a bottle of  quality  spiced rum or gin at the end of the month, while something that's worth £30, £40 or £50, well, on a student budget I'm likely to not get there.

I was wondering what to spend my money on when I saw some little sewing machines for sale in the local supermarket. They were £50 and very, very pink. I'm not much a sewer, but this is partly because I always have to use my mum's sewing machine; because I don't have any sewing equipment of my own. I do really want to learn; as a historical re-enactor I feel it is an almost compulsory skill and yet I've got away without it for nearly ten years now. That and my mother provides all the clothes for me, my brother, my father and herself. Bare in mind that I've physically grown a lot since I was twelve and have needed multiple sets of historical clothes, plus the fact that my father and I now do multiple periods. To date, I have had eight sets of historical clothing made and only one was made by me (and even then, only half of it). I feel that if I want to continue this hobby that it is unfair to continually rely on mummy dearest to cut, shape and sew every garment I might want.

A little machine, but my machine.

So, yes. I want to learn to sew. I'll be the first to admit that I'm not passionate about it like I am knitting, but I do want to learn and, hopefully, as my skills increase so will my enjoyment (currently, I often find myself getting frustrated by my projects and I often try to finish them in much too short a space of time). Anyway, I went home and voiced the idea of buying myself a sewing machine to my mum; she thought it was a good idea but when we researched the brand of machine available locally, the reviews were... Not so great. To eBay it was then, looking for older, but higher quality, machines with a top price of £50. I managed to stumble across a wonderful little gem; a Singer Featherweight Plus 324, made in the 70s/80s, barely been used for a whole £30. Now, there were a couple of other listings for the same machine, both which were upwards of £50. Bargain, I thought. Bought it and then the next day I went round to pick it up. 

I feel that the spool is in an odd place on this machine.

I spent the remaining £20 on various other sewing bits. It was missing a zipper foot, for example, so I bought one of those, a handful of threads, pins, fabric scissors, tailor's chalk, etc., so that by the time the weekend was out I'd gone from having no sewing equipment to pretty much everything I would ever need. Money well spent, I should think.

I have found that the need to use brand new Christmas toys has not faded with age and, with the sewing machine next to me I was desperate to try it out. My mum and I had a discussion; it was the evening, so no time to go and buy fabric or a pattern. Fortunately, our spare room is a bit of an Aladdin's cave of sewing stuff (I think it's a prerequisite of being a re-enactor, that at least one room in the house needs to be drowning in craft materials) so we went upstairs and rifled through what we had. Mum suggested that I make a simple bag to use as a project bag for my knitting (the one I had was actually a book bag and a little too small). Easy enough of a project and it meant that I got to play, so that's exactly what I did.

I cut a rectangle of some heavy weight gold and red fabric (so that my needles won't pierce it), a white linen lining and a pair of triangles to make the flap. I started with the latter most; they were easy enough to do, just sewed the two pieces together, leaving the long edge open to attach to the main bag later.


To the lining I added a couple of pockets. One tall and thin for any extra needles I might need (some patterns require a needle change) and a low, fat one for any other extras. Notably, my row counter and usually the pattern (or scribbled notes) itself. I accentuated these with a red thread trim. Chances are that you won't see them anyway because they're inside the bag, but, hey, the devil is in the details, right?

Now, this was my first sewing project working without a pattern, Honestly, we were working out of my mum's head. It wasn't a difficult pattern, but I do have to admit that, even after many years  of sewing, my mum's one downfall is insides. If you sew, you'll know that everything is done inside out, so that you can't see the seams; this can get a bit complicated when you're already working everything backwards and then add a lining which is the reverse of everything and not inside and and blurgh. It confuses my mother, especially when it comes to sleeves (she is forever making two left ones). So if adding a lining to a simple tote bag was going to confuse a sewing veteran, I had no chance. We spent pretty much the rest of the evening sewing and unpicking the lining because somehow or another it ended up being on wrong. Hey, I'm still new at this!

We finally gave up on trying to make the inner of the bag completely seamless. Instead, all unpicked, we (I) folded the heavy fabric in half, wrong side facing, with the lining, right side facing, folded around that. Then zip, zip, up both sides. Sew the completed flap to one side of the opening and there you have it. The basic workings of a knitting project bag.

The beginnings of handles.

All that was left was the handles. I could have done regular, normal handles but this is me. I cut six strips of the heavier fabric sewed them together to make flat tubes and then proceeded to plait these together. They were originally intended to be two handles, but it was forgotten just how much plaiting something shortens the over all length. So instead these two finished plaits were sewn together to make one longer plait. The seam was bound with thick, black tread to hide it. This binding didn't look too out of place, as it also bound the stitches by the d-rings, that attached the handle to the bag proper.

I'll admit, it was far from an adventurous first project, but it was something, something I could call my own and the first thing I had made on my very own sewing machine. Proud? Yes. Okay, it is no mesmer coat, I'll grant you, but mine none the less. And it was a damn site easier than what was to come (a silk A-line skirt; why do I torture myself like this?) in the following weeks.

A preview of things to come...

Knitmas '13; Tudor Cow Pat Hat

I know it's well into February and I'm still talking about Christmas but, hey, there were a lot of crafts around that time and I'm updating far slower than I intended to. One day I might start putting up regular posts (or, more likely, not, and they'll remain sporadic forever).

A Man in a Black Cap,
John Bette, 1545

Anyway, I knitted three things for people for Christmas. The second item I knitted was a cow pat hat. A what? Sounds awfully rude, doesn't it? It's no where near as messy as it sounds. A cow pat hat is a sort of flat, circular hat that was worn in the late Medieval through to Tudor periods of British history (although I suspect they, or a variant, were worn on the continent, too). The reason behind knitting this, was because I, and my family, are all re-enactors. My father and I began with the Tudor period, which then spilled out into Medieval, Dark Ages, Victorian and (due to the centenary), World War I, and eventually spilled out to my entire immediate family.

Let's rewind a little. I learnt knitting during the summer before last (2012), while I was at a Tudor living history event. I was working in an ale house at the time, but when there was no public I found I had very little to do and needed a way of keeping my hands busy. I had a friend there who would knit after hours and I questioned its authenticity; it seems that knitting was around way back when, but not like it is today. It was not a craft that was done by everybody, but instead only by those in the Cappers Guild. Only women married to men in said guild would have been taught the skill (as it was primarily a male orientated skill; oh, how times have changed!). Shapes were simple, no patterns, purling, cables, etc. and most were knitted on the round. Or so I have been told. There is a lot of debate about the history of knitting and how well a protected secret it was, so no body is really sure, but this is what I have been lead to believe. Anyway, it meant that I was allowed to knit at the event, providing the needles and wool were authentic. Fortunately, someone there sold authentic needles and the gift shop sold hand spun, hand dyed wool that had been made on site. I ended up with a set of four 2.25mm (UK 13) needles and a lovely deep green, 4ply wool. To those of you who know knitting, talk about throwing me in the deep end. Once you've learnt on the round, straight knitting seems ridiculously easy.

Six OC needles...

Okay, so that's where I began. I realised I enjoyed knitting far more than just wanting to do it at events, to which my mother bequeathed my Gran's needles unto me along with a load of spare wool she had (my mother is not a knitter) and, well, the rest is, if you'll excuse the pun, history. Summer 2013, I'm back at the Tudor living history event and my mum decides to treat me to some more authentic wool; a yellow-green colour, Aran/worsted weight. We spent some time discussing what could be made with it (as I really ought not to waste authentic wool on a non-authentic object) and eventually it was settled. I would make a hate for my dad for him to wear during the event.

Before stitching; looks like a
mushroom cloud...

This seemed like a great idea, until I noticed one teeny, tiny problem. Re-enacting and living history, while not unpopular hobbies are far from mainstream. I suddenly realised that I did not have a pattern. I asked around a few friends and they told me 'you increase to the right size, then decrease to the right size and then increase and decrease again'. That was it. That was pretty much all I had to go on.

Do you know how hard it is to even knit a flat, patternless circle when you have no idea what you're doing? It isn't easy. So I was stumped, didn't know what to do. Then, by a stroke of luck, when I was flicking through knitting books at the local book shop I found a book that was all about knitting circles. Brilliant. They had a pattern for a flat, patternless circle. It wasn't a hat pattern by any means, but it was a start.

Mostly done; just need the under brim

So I began with that; now is probably a good time to mention the sheer quantity of needles used in this project. Normally, patterns (at least, those that I have encountered) are four plus one needles; that is, the knitting is held on four needles and one extra is used for the knitting. This pattern called for six plus one. So I was using seven needles (actually, I was using eight, but that's because I'm a little OC, and had four red needles and four teal ones as I'd had to buy two sets. So I'd keep swapping the seventh one so the needles were always alternate colours). It certainly looked impressive, although the number of needles were no more complex than a lesser number (the fact it was a flat item rather than a tube was what I found to be particularly difficult). I started with three plus one initially, to make sure the centre was tight and without a visible hole, then gradually increased as I worked in more stitches.

The centre looks really small, but it does fit.

The finished circle was not as large as I needed it to be, but after some thirty odd rows I'd worked out the pattern to get it to the right size. Well, then I realised I had a problem with 'the right size'. How do you measure the diameter of a circle that is currently hexagonal? I realised I was going to have to take it off the DPNs and onto some string/wire, so that it could form it's natural shape and be measured. A simple, but time consuming task that I would have to repeat twice over in the course of the knitting. Once it was back on the DPNs, it was time to decrease and I was on my own from here on. Measuring the size after decreasing proved to be more difficult, given knitting's tendency to curl; even on string I could not get it to stay flat for an accurate measurement, so guesses had to be made (as numerous  repeats of the measuring).

Top down; a perfect, patternless circle.

I'm really surprised that it turned out as well as it did, given that I didn't really know what I was doing. But it worked. Well, turns out I didn't quite have enough wool, so the under portion of the brim was about ten rows off. When I stitched the two parts of the brim together though, it pulled it all not place.

The only changes I would make if I were to make another, would be to make the top of the hat a slightly lesser diameter than the brim; this hat, they are the same size. I just think it would look a little better. Dad seemed really very pleased with the finished hat, which made me rather proud of my efforts. We have yet to do another Tudor re-enactment though, so he has not yet had chance to wear it with the rest of his Tudor period clothes. Should look good though.

I think he approves.

As always, the figures. 39 rows (with every other row being increased by eight) for the top of the hat, with 160 stitches; 21 for the first decrease, with 72 stitches; 19 rows for the brim, back to 160 stitches; finally, what should have been 21 decrease rows for the reverse of the brim was about 15, finished with 97 stitches. The flat circle pattern came from Nicky Epstein's Knitting in Circles. I used 6mm needles. The top was knitted to 30cm diameter, the circumference 58cm, or 18cm diameter.