Tuesday, 5 January 2010

Ten things









  • I love the bright white-blue January sunshine. So cleansing and uplifting after the dark, sluggish fug of Christmas.
  • Hard to believe that vast amounts of snow is headed our way. Again.
  • Is it really? Or is it just the BBC weather forecast being neurotic again?  For a wonderful article on the pessimism of the BBC weather forecasts, see here.
  • But if it does snow, the children will get to use these snow pans I bought from Muddy Puddles, just too late for the last lot of snow.
  • Our new car has an outside temperature reader.  I love it and spend all of the journey to school exclaiming at how the temperature is still -1 outside!
  • The children are very bored with this, but I am not.
  • I cooked a rabbit stew at the weekend, and it was delicious.
  • I have black salsify in my veg box this week and I only know one black salsify recipe.
  • Rabbit and black salsify in the same week is quite impressive I think.
  • G doesn't like this cold, clear winter weather as much as I do.


Saturday, 2 January 2010

A handmade Christmas

I managed to sew almost all the Christmas presents I gave to my family this year.  A handmade Christmas felt good and very much in the spirit of these frugal, crafting times.  It also felt very good to reduce, though admittedly only slightly, my scarily tall pile of beautiful and unused fabrics.  Now there's some room I can buy more!  Very frugal.

I made these stationery wraps for my mother, my sister and my sister-in-law.  The pattern is a free one on Amanda Blake Soule's site - she calls it a gratitude wrap. I was appropriately grateful for the pattern.  It was straightforward and the end result looks lovely.



The wrap holds a small moleskine cahier, a packet of postcards, or other 6x4" notecards, and a book of stamps.



I made great use of the reinforcing stitch on my new machine.  Each stitch is sewn three times, making for a very strong line of stitching.  Perfect for defined folds like these.





I bought some great cards from Etsy to go in the wraps.  These knitting ones for my Mum were from Local Gringos - she has an Etsy shop full of fine and quirky knitterobilia.



I also made an adapted version of the stationery wrap for a good friend, with just two pockets - one for pencils and another for a bigger notebook.  But then I posted it without photographing it, so there is no proof of my creativity with that one. 

Next were some cushions for my niece and two nephews.  My niece, Alex, who is six, got my favourite cushion - the one I would have most liked to keep for myself!




I think this daisy fabric is so pretty, and a field of flowers would definitely have some butterflies in it.  Did you spot the secret pocket?  After making O's cushion last autumn, I decided that all cushions for small children need secret pockets in them.  And of course secret pockets need small, secret things to go in them. 

Alex got two tiny felt matryoshka dolls to hide in her cushion pocket.  Unrelated to a field full of daisies and butterflies I know, but I was in love with these little Russian dollies.  Originally I planned to make her a felt butterfly to go in the pocket, but when I made the matryoshka, their sleeping faces suggested night-time friends to me, and in they went instead.





The pattern for these matryoshka comes from Felties by Nelly Pailloux - a really lovely book full of small, quick, felt projects.

Will, who is three, had a bird cushion.  With a not-so-secret bird pocket, and a felt bird to go inside.  I hope he likes birds.



And baby brother, Ben, who is just two months old, got a cushion made from the most tactile, soft, cloud covered flannel fabric imaginable.  Ben is a happy, cuddly sort of baby, so I'm sure he will appreciate this snuggly cushion.  He didn't get a secret pocket, but did get his name embroidered on the air balloon basket instead.



For my brother and my brother-in-law I made some coasters, like the one I made for Mum when she was recuperating from her operation.






My mother-in-law's present was not a surprise.  She had asked me to make her a jewellery roll, incorporating the colour purple, and with some antique lace she had inherited.  Frankly I was terrified.  It has confirmed that I would be no good making commissions for a living - it is far too stressful.  But although it cost me many weeks of angst (which design? how to use the lace? purple - how?), I was very pleased indeed with the end result.



I decided on a simple, pocketed design in the end - a little like a knitting needle roll or a crayon roll, but with shorter, fatter pockets.  In the picture above you can see the three pockets (and the velvet ribbon for a tie - yet to be sewn on), and the picture below shows the beautiful vintage lace in more detail.  The lace was very old, very precious, very fragile, and extremely worrying to work with!



And below is another picture (after so much fretting, this jewellery roll had MANY photos taken of it once it was finished).  You can see the lace peeking out, even when the top is folded over.  I sewed the ribbon onto one side so the whole thing can be rolled up and secured with a bow.



And finally, on my last, quiet sewing day alone (the final day of term), I made G and the children house trousers or pyjama pants (you can read my discussion of what to call them here).



G's were made from some William Morris fabric (and in the picture above you can see my masking tape temporary labels saying 'front' and 'back', 'left' and 'right' - it's very difficult to tell with these trousers until you sew the label in).  The children's were made from some Amy Butler fabric.  I think I love C's acid blue ones the most.



The children's are made from Simplicity pattern 3669 and G's are the pyjama pants pattern from Weekend Sewing by Heather Ross

Next Christmas I'll throw in a soft white t-shirt with each pair to make a complete lounging about outfit.  For more inspiration on handmade pyjama pants from wonderfully eccentric fabrics have a look here and here.  It seems to be an American Christmas tradition that I was not aware of.

I really should have made myself some as well for the full Von Trapp family, weird trousers look, but I ran out of time.  I think that was enough sewing.  Even for me.

Friday, 1 January 2010

Knitting in the New Year



The start of the new year will be celebrated by me spending an entire day in my pyjamas, knitting.  First some pale blue bootees for a new nephew who was due to be born on Christmas Day but who has held on long enough to be a January baby at the start of a new decade. Surely he'll be here any day now?

Then I'm going to start me some socks with this lovely German sock yarn that I bought at a shop in Royston, Hertfordshire in a spare few hours before a friend's wedding last August.



I never like to waste a yarn buying opportunity.

I pretty much ended last year knitting as well.  I finished a hat for C right before New Year's Eve.  He wanted a hat with earflaps so I made him the Roman Earflap Hat by Minty Fresh on Ravelry.




I love the way the hat looks, but it has come up smaller than I wanted, so next time I would make it bigger.  There will be a next time, I want to make it without the earflaps for G.  Just look at the shaping on the crown - so beautiful!



C moaned a bit about the hole in the top, but stopped quickly when I pulled a face at him.  Next time I will pull the yarn tighter before weaving the ends in, but I think part of the reason the hole ended up that size is that I had to really stretch the hat when blocking it to make it fit.  I don't particularly care - I just love the way it looks.

C has bought himself a skateboard with his Christmas money, hence the skater-chic earflap hat. I am apprehensive about the possible broken wrists and skinned shins that are heading his way. Life was harder but simpler ten years ago when he fitted items as small as these knitted bootees.


Saturday, 26 December 2009

Where I was 2009

This is my annual round up of where my feet have taken me over the past twelve months. You can compare my footsteps in 2009 with previous years here and here.

It has been a good year, and quite a momentous one now that I look back at it.

I started the year, as I always do, working long, difficult hours at the bank for the whole of January putting together the financial year end.

Walking to work, January 2009

But nine months later I left work - happily - and January 2010 will not be anything like the previous twelve Januaries for me at all. I am looking forward to it. I don't know what 2010 will bring for me work-wise, but I have a few plans that I want to try. And I rather like not knowing how that part of my life will change. I like mysteries!

Leaving my office in the City for the last time. September 7th 2009.

My feet went on holiday a few times this year. We spent a week in the Isle of Wight in February for G's birthday where we walked along cliff tops and shorelines and blew away the last of the winter cobwebs.

Scrambling over rocks, Isle of Wight, February 2009
We went to France at the beginning of the summer holidays. We travelled by train and had a week in Paris and then a week in the South, staying with Mum & Dad.
G and me, outside Notre Dame, watching the children leap about in the sandpits on our first evening in Paris. July 2009.


An afternoon by myself at the Musee d'Orsay, looking at all my favourite Renoir paintings, July 2009.


In the Jardins de Luxembourg, Paris, with a good book, July 2009.


Hiding indoors from the midday heat, with my knitting. Tarn-et-Garonne, August 2009.


Watching my mother teach O to swim, Tarn-et-Garonne, August 2009.

And in September I grabbed myself a last minute bargain and whisked the children off to Aldeburgh in Suffolk for the final week of the summer holidays. We ate lots of fish and chips, I taught C to row on Thorpeness Mere, we caught loads of crabs, and we sat on the beaches and looked out to sea.


The best fish & chips in the world, Aldeburgh beach, September 2009.

We sneaked in a couple of camping trips as well. We went here in April, here in May and here in June.

The orchard campsite, Suffolk, April 2009.


Ashurst Campsite, the New Forest, May 2009.

Holidays are exciting, fun and refill us with enthusiasm - particularly camping holidays. But real life continues in between those high days and holidays. There are quiet, substantial moments of relaxation and happiness to be found in the most mundane of places.

One of the nicest aspects of not working is being able picking up the children from school every day. Here we are in October, in the garden of the local community centre, before O's ballet lesson.

Wanstead House, October 2009.

Long family walks are good for the soul, and a reliable and cheap day out when houshold finances have to be tightened. When we knew I was going to be leaving work, G and I bought ourselves a season ticket to Kew Gardens. Within just three trips it had paid for itself and it is now saving us money each time we go. I never tire of that place. It changes so dramatically with each season, and amazingly it is vast enough that I am still discovering parts of it for the first time with each new visit.

C and I making long shadows in Epping Forest, January 2009.

All of us in the Temperate House at Kew, March 2009.

Bare feet and daisies near the Pagoda at Kew, August 2009.

I taught myself to knit in 2009, and in April I went on a short six week course where I learnt how to use dpns and knit socks.

First sock finished! May 2009.

There were days out with friends throughout the year. In August, Miss Moss Stitch and I discovered the Horniman Museum.


C and T doing sudoku on the tube, August 2009.

There was a great deal of happy family news this year. In April my little sister married her soldier amongst the cherry blossom, in October we said hello to a new nephew, and a couple of weeks later my mother had a much needed hip replacement operation.


New nephew, Ben, October 2009. Photo by my sister-in-law.

And now here I am, about to start a new year and a new folder of photos. I never make New Year's resolutions, but I do have plans and ideas. I will keep you posted!

Sunshine in St Paul's Cathedral churchyard, September 2009.

Snow in London, December 2009.

A very happy New Year to you all.

Tuesday, 22 December 2009

Driving Home for Christmas

I thought for a while there that we wouldn't make it out of London.

video

But happily, the snow turned to slush overnight and the ice was cleared on the motorways just in time. The children and I made it to Oxford today where we saw:


  • one Great Grandma, recently arrived in the temperate south from the deep, deep snow of North Yorkshire.

  • three favourite cousins
  • one of whom is now smiling and cooing and even more captivating than when I last saw him

  • marzipan topped mince pies from Betty's Tearooms, which my brother declared to be the best mince pies he had ever eaten. They had come down south with Great Grandma the day before. There is nothing quite like a mince pie from Yorkshire to make me feel Christmassy.
  • an extremely sprightly Granny with no sticks and a big grin on her face. Who cooked lunch for ten and made me forget she had a full hip replacement operation just six weeks ago. "Wean yourself off the sticks," her consultant told her last week. So she tossed them aside.

There was only one thing to listen to as I purred up the motorway to Oxford to see them all. Perfect.

Friday, 18 December 2009

Podcast love

With so much Christmas sewing lately, I have been listening to a great many podcasts. I can hear them now that I have a fancy new, quiet machine!

What are my favourites on the iPod at the moment?
  • Americana on Radio 4. Well, for someone who got her degree in American Studies, this is a must-have. A wonderful, insightful, view of what is going on in America each week - from the beautiful buildings full of politicians in Washington DC to the small town world of middle America. Excellent.
  • Desert Island Discs on Radio 4. I LOVE this programme and have been wanting it to come out as a podcast for so long. Finally. All they need to do now is bring out I'm Sorry I Haven't A Clue on podcast and my Radio 4 life will be complete. This week's castaway was Lord Coe, who is bringing the Olympics to my part of London in two and a half years time. He seems to know what he is talking about.
  • The Archers. This is not a new podcast - and I am not a new fan, but it is now podcast as a weekly omnibus edition as well as the daily 12 minute episodes, which may suit some poeple better. The story lines at the moment are excellent - Jazzer and Fallon...will they or won't they? (yes! go on Fallon!) Annette - how could she be so stoopid? and will the Grundy boys come to blows over the Christmas turkeys? Good stuff.
  • The Moth. A brilliantly simple podcast from America: true stories told live and without notes in front of an audience. Each episode is short (usually under 15 minutes) and quirky.
  • Another fantastic podcast from Radio 4 is Great Lives, hosted by Matthew Parris. Matthew Parris is a thoughtful, insightful presenter who discusses with his guest the life of a famous person who has been a great influence on the guest. It is a fabulously eclectic podcast; so far this month I've heard Paul Daniels talking about Harry Houdini, John Major on Rudyard Kipling and Kate Humble on the apartheid activist Miriam Makeba.
  • And there are of course many other old favourites: Woman's Hour, This American Life, Excess Baggage, Saturday Live and Guardian Books.

There's an enormous amount of Radio 4 in there. Maybe I should branch out a little. Do you have any suggestions?

Here are some of the Christmas presents I have been sewing. They are for someone who doesn't have a computer so I think it may be safe to show them off.

They are three simple lavender sachets, made with some leftover fabric scraps. Lavender sachets are something you could whip up very easily without a tutorial (sew pouch, stuff with lavender, close gap), but this tutorial from Checkout Girl really caught my imagination. I didn't do the applique because I was running out of time, but I did follow her suggestions on the size of the sachets and the fancy top stitching.

They are lovely. I am very pleased with them.



And what makes them even more special is that the lavender I stuffed them with came from a big bunch that Mum picked for me from her garden in France last summer. I have been drying the bunch carefully in my big jam pan (hanging from the ceiling in my kitchen) since August, and it now smells astonishingly powerful. If I had more lavender I'd be sewing these sachets for everyone I know (or maybe keeping them greedily for myself - they smell so good). I am going to see if I can pursuade Mum to plant a whole bed of lavender in France, that I can then harvest for sachets each year!

Friday, 11 December 2009

Friday night in the kitchen

At this time of year, just ten days before the solstice, it is dark by the time we get home from school. The kitchen is dim, but warm. It is a good place to be on a Friday night. Discussing maths with C, listening to O and her friend cackling with laughter as they play goodness knows what upstairs, and waiting for the sound of G's key in the front door.

C and I drink cups of tea as he does his homework. He rattles through his maths, as usual, and we're both glad that he only has to learn a poem for literacy.


There are two pans on the stove. I am cooking two suppers tonight. Pasta and meatballs for the children, nice and early because O has her friend over. Then later, when I've taken her friend home, G and I will have very spicy spinach and tomatoes with baked eggs, scooped out of bowls with chunks of hot bread.


The rest of my pans hang from an old drying rack on the kitchen ceiling. The jam pan is stuffed with two paper bags of lavender from France, drying out ready to be made into lavender sachets.


Our fridge is adorned with so much paper that we've no need for a noticeboard. There are:
  • vouchers for a triathlon shop,
  • a family calendar,
  • magnetic scissors,
  • a notepad,
  • tickets to see the Cuban ballet next April,
  • charts of swim times,
  • a packet of star stickers,
  • a party invitation,
  • school dinner menus.


Everything is fairly allocated between magnets. If I put just one ill-considered piece of paper in the wrong place, everything begins to slither slowly towards the floor.

The bread machine is on, as it is most days. I love the thud, thud as it kneads the bread. I'll be staying up late tonight as I am making wholemeal bread on a five hour setting, and I forgot to start it until I heard the pips on the radio for the 6 o'clock news.


On the wall, between the bread machine and the toaster, is stuck the little slip of paper that C wrote just after he started school. I smile at it when I'm waiting for the toast to pop in the mornings.


And there tucked in carefully between the salt pig and the ras-el-hanout (I love that spice so much that I'm stockpiling it) sit G and I. Preserved forever as we were on New Year's eve 1998. In a pub in Surbiton, after a few beers, basking in each other's company.

The weekend starts here.