Gracious knits - Mind. Page. Yarn.

A while ago I promised to let you in on what I was doing with all of my lovely graph paper. I am nowhere near having a finished product ready yet, but here is a peek at a prototype.

This is the first draft of my 'Storm in a Teacup' design, there are parts which need tweaking, like the cup handle,  but I think it works pretty well, considering it came from my shambles of a brain. 
Designing for intarsia knitting is a lot of fun, and I would encourage anyone to give it a go, just keep it simple and remember to use different shapes for different colours. Once you get into it, the inside of your head will begin to look as pixelated as an 80's video game, which, trust me, is a great thing.

Look Mum, all fingers and thumbs. (Bumbling Poetry No.7)

Expressing love for one’s mother is not the most earth-shattering revelation is it? Well sometimes, even if something is obvious, the way in which it is said can hold as much worth as the sentiment.

This, for example, shows you some of the ways my mum cares for me:

Left to right- a note, the book that came with it, my kindle, and the cosy my mum knitted for it.

I wrote this poem a while ago, after we cleared the jungle that came with the house. I have no idea how many of these memories are based on reality, studying developmental psychology, I learnt how misplaced the clarity and resonance of childhood memories can be, however it’s all true for me. 

 

I fell backwards today, calloused fingers

Pushed into damp earth, anchoring stringy

Mint to terracotta, texture recalled

A hot day but a brother, too small to

Rough and tumble. I liked the garden centre

Because it had fish and garish figures

Of cherubs and lions. In my mind’s eye

It was always pansies, bags of cement

And compost. At home, we knelt at elbows

In boys’ jeans, there were no make-up lessons,

You showed instead how to create and tend.

Fidgeting beside calm competence, Free

Vibrant gems from polystyrene cells, Surround

The snap dragons with cheeky fans, yellow

Tongues protruding from every velvet face.

I stayed out for the magic tricks: there was

A nervous plant that fled from touch, I whispered

The same lullabies you sang to sooth me,

Reassured at finding a fear at least

As bad as mine. There were horrors out there

Too, Squealing at a caterpillar set

Upon by ants, you gravely supplied me

An emergency twig. Together, saving

A tiny life from the swarm. You patiently

Tended all wounds; Winded, doing gymnastics

On the trampette, Angry allergies to

Most things bright and beautiful, I loved the

Poor, put-upon rabbit so hard, that she

Furrowed my chest. Facing a new and empty

World behind my house, still with the fear and

Allergies, At least I know to get dirt underneath

My fingernails. Bedding and tucking-in

Precious threads to you. A spell to stop the ebb.

 

Happy mother’s day everyone, just when you thought this blog couldn’t get any more twee.

Bumbling Poetry No.6: Poetry Pulpit

I don't have a very good camera I'm afraid so the quality isn't great. I think it represents the mood quite well though. You'll note I have a lisp, believe me I find it much more irritating than you ever could.

Here's the poem in written form if, like me, you have an aversion to watching videos on blogs (and the word 'vlog'- it sounds like a slimy alien home world).

Lengua Materna

                              So known to me, like resting clasped hands, grazing thumbs.

                              We nod with raised eyebrows and smirk glances, private

                              Lean-tos in our ink and card fortress, bespoke

                              Noteboard moat of shared points, and tangent strings.

                              What hope for intruders? While they are reading

                              Pages from the vial on the pigeon’s leg,

                              We’re deciphering markings on its breast.

                              Perdóneme esta injusticia, él es mi hermano.

                              No sé como no ser extraño.

I read a set of ten poems and it all went down well as far as I could tell. I was surprised by how much people reacted to my more light-hearted pieces, so I think I'll write more of those. My friends did a great job of physically and emotionally holding me upright until it was time to go on, I was quite a state, and people who couldn't make it were just as supportive, so all my love goes to you all.

Because it is my name.

Put a pin in it.

There are a lot of very exciting things coming up that have meant I've been neglecting this here blog. I'm deeply sorry. This will change soon.
One week from today I will be performing a set at Poetry Pulpit at Leftbank in Bristol. This is a great/terrifying opportunity to show off what I've been doing with myself for a year and have other people validate it, and, by extension- my existence.
As a result I haven't had much else on my mind and my anxiety was getting the better of me, but then I finally settled on my next big knitting project since the birthday cardigan, and for once, it's something for myself.

My friend sent me this vintage pattern a while ago, and finally starting work on it has turned a lot of my anxiety into excitement.
I am far from the first person to note the therapeutic benefits of knitting, in fact there is a health and well being research group, Stitchlinks (site here), who exist purely to help people with physical and psychological issues through this craft. It was founded by a physiotherapist, not a psychologist, but from an academic standpoint the points they make seem sound, and from a personal perspective I find it helps to see steady work predictably resulting in a finished product that seems bigger than the sum of tiny actions.