Linea the Second

I know just how annoying it is when someone (usually someone you don't even know that well and who doesn't have a clue about crafting) comes up to you, grabs whatever item you're currently working on, and declares: "Can you make one for me?!" Usually in the tone of a small, petulant child. Yes I love making things, yes I enjoy making stuff for friends, but do you have ANY FRICKIN IDEA how long it takes??

I am however, also guilty of such outbursts from time to time. One such incident recently occurred on Facebook, when my friend B posted a fabulous image of an object he had just created. The petulant child in me stirred.. "I want one!" I blurted out. I am ashamed to say that I even added the sting of emotional blackmail by mentioning that it was my Birthday soon. Oh shame on me.

Approximately two seconds after having uttered this demand, I felt I should really offer something in return - an exchange of skills if you will. I offered B that I would knit something of his choosing. He chose a cat. Genius!

So fairly soon the cat started taking shape:

I really love making toys because they are generally fairly quick, and oh so satisfying. I had been requested to make the cat in the image of a dearly departed feline who was much missed: Linea. Seeing as B enjoys all things steampunk (as do I), I felt that Linea should have a steampunk inspired collar detail. After all, there were all those watch parts from Etsy which were still waiting for a project...

Collar in place, limbs stuffed and features embroidered. It was time to pose for the camera:

Ready for his close-up:

Bye Linea, I'm sure you will find a good home in Pennsylvania!

D day

So what does one send an avid knitter for her 50th Birthday? Well, if one should happen to know that said knitter has a penchant for intarsia and general colourful knitting, then it's easy: lots of colourful mini balls of yarn!

Under the direction of a nice lady on Ravelry, myself and friends of Birthday girl D were instructed to send our little parcels of scrap yarn to her for collation in Germany (D kindly helped us along when we were yarn tourists in Sindelfingen). Great idea!

Me, being rather convoluted in my thinking, immediately thought of what to package the little yarn balls in. The solution? A little boxy zipped pouch, which could also double as a project bag for smaller WIPs.

After finding, and later abandoning various unintelligible boxy pouch tutorials online, I decided to fudge it myself. Miraculously, it seemed to work and after much cursing, this appeared:

Not a huge interior space, but enough to cram in some yarn surely?

Curious about the fabric? It's actually from a shirt that M got while at a Disney 'Creative Camp' in the US (apparently they had to wear it to meet with John Lasseter). It depicts various scenes from the movie 'Bolt', which I thought was fitting seeing as D is such a dog lover.

So.. on to the winding. It really amazes me that a modern knitter actually *needs* to have both a ball winder and swift in order to function independently. Ok, so you could argue that one could have the yarn wound at a yarn store for you, but I'm sure that would probably be frowned upon if you didn't actually buy the yarn there.. So here I am with seemingly antiquated knitting equipment, trying not to get myself entangled:

Three skeins of Wollmeise Lace later, and I've had quite enough of 'quaint' knitting equipment. I did however, now have three little balls of Wollmeise Lace, ready to go. I added another three hand-wound scrap balls, and the zippy pouch was at capacity.

All full!

So all that remained was to hand over the little package to the lovely L, who in turn will add her yarn contribution and send it over to Ravelry lady. Happy Birthday in advance D! Hope to see you soon for more German yarn fun :)

Are you an Icecreamist?

I had the honour of being invited to The Icecreamists launch of the new shop in Covent Garden last week. Have you perhaps missed the the phenomenon which is The Icecreamists? They had a pop-up in Selfridges last year which made quite a splash, and I have been following their progress since then.


They were extremely generous in offering a free ice-cream cocktail and free regular ice-cream per person. Double dessert before dinner? Oh yes!


I had a 'Molotoffee Cocktail' and M had a 'Sex Bomb'. The Molotoffee involved dulche de leche ice-cream smothered in banana liqueur and topped with meringue which was *blow-torched* at the table, and then sprayed with rum from an old fashioned perfume spray bottle.


The Sex Bomb had Fior di Latte ice-cream blended with Ginko and other 'natural stimulants', and topped with a shot of absinthe dispensed from a nearby IV drip.


Don't believe me about he IV drip? Here it is:


The Molotoffee was delicious, but the Sex Bomb was a little too medicinal - and at £15 per serving it was rather lucky that it was for free! We should have chosen the 'Toast Mortem' instead which appeared at a neighbouring table: chocolate and hazelnut ice-cream with Frangelico which was to be spread on an accompanying slice of Panettone. Slight desert envy ensued.

M eyes up the Toast Mortem:



We were then asked about our next ice-cream selection, whereupon we decided to share one 'Choc and Awe' which turned out to be very dark chocolate ice-cream, without the drama this time. Very good, but we were pretty ice-creamed out by that stage so couldn't even finish it between us.

I must say that I was surprised by how small the place was, in light of the fact that the biggest appeal of The Icecreamists creations (apart from the crazy flavours) is the theatre and drama that takes place at your table. We were lucky to get a table at all, seeing as there were only three in the whole place! Ok, so there were also bar stools but if I was paying £15 for an ice-cream (no matter how enhanced) I would also want a comfy seat.


A very interesting experience, and I do wish them all the best if only because they have such a (literally) cool brand. Oh, and I hear that their 'Baby Gaga' has now been banned..

Sunday lunch at Battersea Power Station

The Secret Garden Party held their first winter event at Battersea Power Station last weekend. It was certainly interesting, but I can't help but feel that it could have benefited from a little better organisation.
Initially the 'Sunday Roast' was supposed to be a dinner from 7pm.. then it changed to a lunch from 3pm.. I got an email from Secret Garden saying I should pick up the tickets at a nearby pub, followed 10mins later by an email from See Tickets telling me that the tickets were available at the venue. Argh.
Half an hour was spent on Sunday morning unsuccessfully trying to get through to See Tickets in order to clarify. Finally, we decided to meet at the pub, and that was lucky as this was indeed the pick-up point for the tickets (otherwise we would have had to trek 15mins from Battersea Power Station to the pub and back again in the freezing drizzle). I could go on, but I think you get the picture..

The venue itself was very impressive though. A sort of huge tent had been erected in the middle of the power station to house a raised terrance of dining table, stages, bars and a variety of workshop rooms. There were also signs to 'hot tubs' and 'ass-trology' which had their own smaller tents.




Having proceeded down the impressive entrance, we sat down at our table and ordered some drinks. On the table was a note: "We will come for you at x o'clock. Be ready, be discreet. /Mr M"
Hmmm. After about 20mins, a couple of Thunderbird style red-uniformed chaps with 'The Trust' badges arrived to 'take us to see Mr M', and ushered us outside the tent into the freezing interior of the power station. We had to replace our shoes with clompy boots, don hard hats and dress in high-visibility vests.
I guess the health & safety aspects of this event must have been a nightmare, but the uniformed chaps managed to make it fun and part of the process of meeting Mr M rather than simply following H&S guidelines.

Stylish:



Then off we went, single file into the station itself with our red-uniformed guides babbling happily about 'the movement' and 'how exciting' it was. Having been exposed to a range of experiential theatre events in the past, I found it surprisingly easy to switch off from the non-sense chatter and instead try and get as many photos as possible while not falling out of the all important single-file format. Proceeding up through a dirty stairwell, past aging exposed girders, graffiti-clad concrete walls and plastic mesh, we were hearded into a tiny windowless room. Again we were treated to a load of non-sense about 'The Trust' movement, how there had apparently been 'victories on both sides' and that 'careless talk costs wives'!

Non-plussed we were escorted into the Machine Room which was impressive indeed. Row upon row of switches, handles, knobs and dials. Very retro-future looking.




Single file please!


A slightly unhinged-seeming lady in a white lab coat asked us to 'trust' before introducing us to Mr M himself in all his frizzy-haired glory.

Unhinged lady:


Mr M talked earnest codswallop for about 5 mins, before the following conversation happened:
Mr M (looking beseechingly at one of our group members): Tell me, what sort of mouse are you?
Group member (looking perplexed): I'm not sure I'm any sort of mouse.
Mr M: You're not sure you're any sort of mouse?
GM (not wanting to disappoint): Maybe...maybe a harvest mouse.
Mr M: A harvest mouse! You are a GOLDEN MOUSE!!
He then made us hold hands and sing along with him: "I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm happy, I'm happy, I'm not angry, I'm a golden pony..(repeat)"

Sing-song with Mr M. (I think the blurred nature of this photo reflects the weirdness of the situation rather well):


Soon after, we left the Machine Room with the unhinged lab coat lady calling after us: "Remember, sometimes 'trust' is spelled with a 'y'!" Scuttling back down the stairs and corridors, I again tried to steal a couple of moments just to look around and wonder at the huge decaying building. It really was quite overwhelming!


Spot the tent!



What was not so overwhelming was the roast dinner which was awaiting our return to the table. It was certainly edible, but not particularly exciting. Lunch was over at about 5pm, and was followed by a couple of rather bizarre floor acts: Dangerous Dave and Jizzum. Dangerous Dave proceeded to swallow a long pink balloon, before pulling a brown balloon animal out of his trousers. A 'poo-dle' apparently. Most amusing.
Jizzum were two ladies dressed as sperms. They erupted out of a large pink tube and proceeded to try to burrow into a large white yoga ball before stepping out of their white 'sperm suits' dressed as babies. All rather bizarre. And then the entertainment stopped.

Jizzum in action:


Wandering around the space it was clear that nothing more was going to happen until later that evening. There were little rooms with maps encouraging you to place a drawing pin and note at the location where you 'lost your love', an unopened stall promising to hand out locks to girls and keys to boys (if the right lock found the right key, there were Secret Garden gig tickets to be won), a cushion-filled room promising love stories etc etc.

Map of lost loves:


Sadly we couldn't be arsed to wait around much longer so decided to call it a day. To be honest, the main attraction was the power station itself and we were happy just to have seen that.

Should The Secret Garden Party decided to put on future events in London (especially in the Battersea Power Station) I would be happy to attend again, but perhaps arrive a little later. And not on a Sunday.

I can't help but think that London should really make more of this current infatuation with derelict spaces and do some proper tours. Could you imagine how much they could make from taking people around old tube stations, neglected historical buildings and the like?

Islandic/Danish/Swedish/English/South African shawl

This shawl started it's life as a boast. My mother picking up an Icelandic-looking shawl in a Danish yarn shop, asking me whether I could make her one, and me boasting that of course I could. My mother duly purchased the pattern and yarn, then the fun began.

The first problem was that the pattern was in Danish. I could understand most of it, but wanted to be absolutely sure that I didn't misconstrue something crucial. Therefore I solicited the help of the very patient L, who is the only Danish knitter I know, and after a few emails we were all clear.

Thankfully this pattern is worked from the bottom up i.e. the cast-on row is the v of the shawl and you work towards the top/middle. This way, your rows get shorter and shorter as you work - rather than longer and longer which seems to be the traditional way of knitting a shawl (and incidentally makes the knitter lose the will to live near the end).

The only problem was that either I was doing something fundamentally wrong, or the pattern wasn't 100% correct. I just couldn't seem to make the number of stitches add up. Still, after *a little* free styling on the pattern front (and about 10 months later), the shawl was finally finished!

Here it is pre-blocking:


During blocking:


And hanging out after blocking:

In the end I think it's safe to say that this shawl has a rather international flavour: Inspired by Iceland, purchased in Denmark, begun in Sweden, worked on in England and finished in South Africa!

What's that coming over the hill?

Yes it's a monst-ah, it's a monst-ah!! Actually two monsters:


These two are soon to be given to my colleague J who is imminently going on maternity leave - somehow thought they was appropriate! They are of course Rebecca Danger's 'Daphne & Delilah'.

Annoyingly I didn't have any white felt, but the gold leather seems to work too!

Gloves of love & lucky pigs

For this year's Christmas present swap, my dear friends L & A decided that we should (for creative and budgetary reasons) make the theme 'hand-made'. How fortunate that we are all creative and resourceful individuals ;)

As A is spending much time working to set up her exciting entrepreneurial venture Anna Mae, L and I thought it would only be appropriate to create presents which would tie in with this nicely.

To keep A's hands toasty while she serves up the tastiest, tenderest pulled pork with home-made BBQ sauce at her market stall, I felt that a pair of Andrea's Mitts were in order. Who says you can't look good and stay warm?

Here they are blocking out:


Seems to be a good fit..



Luckily A liked them very much, as we exchanged pressies in a Soho ice-cream shop - it was about -3 outside at the time, so that probably says a lot about our obsession with ice-cream..
L had out-done herself creating a little mascot for Anna Mae's in the form of a very cute fluffy piglet, complete with name tag which I felt was a touch of genius.

A, I hope you don't mind if I nick your photo?


In return we received the most enticing jar of flavour combinations I have seen for a long time:



Having just about made it home before ripping the lid off and sticking a finger in to try, I can say that it tastes amazing! A little blob of this awesomeness is all that's needed to transform my morning porridge from bland to yum. Who knew that salted caramel and rosemary worked together so well?!

In other Christmas gift-giving news.. My Secret Santa target at work happens to love pigs, especially small cute ones. How could I therefore not knit up a trio of Chichesters for her?


Happily she loved them, and I do hope that they will bring her a trough full of good luck for 2011!