Gracious Knits- Back to the Future

Over the past year I've collected quite a lot of 80s knitting patterns, to the point where I've banned myself from buying any more, as I only have one lifetime and I'd like to do more with it than knit.
Having said that, this book appeared for me under the Christmas tree last year:

Aaaamazing!

 

 

After soaking up every page of 80s goodness I settled on an interesting pattern that uses up oddments (I have sacks of oddments) for a friend's birthday present.

 

 

 If you want to know how it feels to have Joseph's Coat of Many Colours going round in your head for 3 months, the answer is- not great.

 

 

 

The whole time I was making it I couldn't decide if it was just too insane looking, but I think the colours make it work.

 

 

I hadn't done anything like fair isle style knitting before, and I think I did pretty well with the zigzags, I twisted the yarns in so there's no tugging. 

 

 

Anyway, I enjoyed looking at it so I thought you might too.

 



 

The Scattered Remains of Something Broken

In one of the many charity shops in the city centre -one of those charities that have enough money to give its shops the surface impression of a vintage boutique, an austerity chic for the less privileged- Leah was browsing the bookcases. She was there because she preferred old books to new books, she liked anthologies of poetry annotated by the previous owner, reaching the point of a novel where the spine was at its most broken, and finding improvised bookmarks made of detritus from someone else’s life. She was also there because half of her paycheque every month went on her rent. That’s cost of living in one of the richest areas of the country when you aren’t rich, and Leah wasn’t about to give up reading.

The classics section was always her first port of call, as years of general consensus tended to assure quality, she was not about to waste good time and money on something badly written. On this occasion she picked up a couple of Fitzgerald novellas, a hefty tome by Dickens and brick of Dostoyevsky. She handed over two hours’ pay.

Bumbling Craft- Mother's Day DIY

 

 

Microwaveable Scented Neck Cushion

 

Materials:

 

A fat quarter of printed 100% cotton fabric

 

Around 500 grams of oats

 

One pair of large (size 7+) clean socks, with no holes.

 

One small bottle of oil scent such as lavender or lemongrass.

 

Sewing kit.

 

Method:

 

Take a container like a plastic tub or shoe box and empty oats into it.

 

Sprinkle oats sparingly with some of the scented oil.

 

Using hands or a scoop and funnel, stuff socks with roughly equal amount of oats. (Make sure to hold over box to avoid spills.)

 

Tuck the top of one sock into the other and make sure both feet are pointing downwards, sew flat across this join.

 

Push desired amount of oats into ankle sections of socks, which will cover the back of the neck, and sew diagonally across heel to front of foot on both socks so that oats do not drift from this section.

 

Distribute rest of oats evenly inside feet and sew across at several points to ensure there are oats in all sections.

 

Lay the fabric out wrong-side up and place socks along one edge, it should be an ideal size to fit along edge with a couple of cms either side.

 

Using a ruler and a pencil mark 3 or 4 cm on the inside edge of the end of the feet and beginning of the feet.

 

Using these marks and the ruler you should be able to draw a rectangle with the centre of the fat quarter marking one edge.

 

Fold fabric down this centre line and cut along lines. This should leave you with a large rectangle of fabric with a smaller rectangle cut from the centre.

 

Take the large piece of fabric folded wrong-side out and sew up short edges.

 

Turn right side out and place the sock cushion inside. Sew up long edge using hidden stitch.

 

The result should be something like this:

 

 

 

When microwaving this cushion make sure to heat in short bursts of around 30 seconds for a couple of minutes and keep an eye on it at all times just in case.

 

If giving as a gift include the oil bottle so they can top up the scent when it fades.

 

 





Bumbling Poetry No.12

The clavicle bone, rarely pinned up,

Is the most beautiful part of the body.

Right at the point where it nudges into

The straight line of the shoulder, and less so

Where it makes a shallow cup, to quench the

Heart- a noble role for the bow of some

Great Instrument.

Bumbling Poetry No. 11

A woman near us fell down the stairs. She
Had a black eye for some time. We were glum
About it, desperate to help it heal.
I wanted to say; I fell down the stairs-
Once, but they weren’t my stairs. I didn’t have
To live with them. And although I can’t pass by
That house without feeling my steps get
Heavier, warily eyeing even
The curb- I know it’s not the same. I could
Get her the number of a bungalow,
But so could she. I’m sure she has good
Reasons, for staying put, I’m sure I would
See the difficulty in moving, if-
I had asked. I don’t want to have only
Offered tea and smiled at the bruised face
Of a woman, to find she was later one
Of two that week to die, falling down the stairs-
But what can you do?

Bumbling vintage finds No. 4

I was visiting Rochester recently and perusing one of the second hand bookshops the town is blessed with when I found a big box full of old postcards, some of them over a hundred years old. It seems that back when getting your picture taken was still a luxury people would have them printed as postcards and send them to loved ones. So quite a few of the postcards had handwriting on the back by the people featured in the picture.

 

I only let myself look though a tiny section of the box and then these were whittled down from a shortlist, it was hard, I felt like I was rejecting the importance of the personal histories of the ones I left behind. I'm sure someone else will pick them up.

'22/7/10
Dear alf,
the photo I promised. It looks as though I am waiting for you, doesn't it
I felt like the only pebble on the beach.
Love from,
Rose'

'I must ve looked angry, but I thought I was looking cheerful
or rather I tried to, if not it would have been a picture.
You can burn it if you don't like it.
H.J.B'

'To the sweetest girl in the world
Dont Worry.
This is us in August.
Love, Charlie.'

Bumbling Poetry No. 10

I wrote this a good few months ago, currently clawing my way out of a rut.

Take Care

An old watermill in large grounds, dark wood
Down into its workings. Drama of the crashing
Force of water, jarred by meandering middle-
Classes. A small boy, barely a walk-and-talker
Determined to make it unaided, each step
The height of his whole leg, clinging to
Floor with milk fingers. His father
Cautious, watches below.
Beside himself, the boy
Squeals
'Careful, Daddy, Careful! Don't fall.'

We're both headed for the water, as after all,
It's going somewhere. A look to each other
For solid reflections, to replace the murky silt.
'I've decided- I'm going to take care of you.'
Not urgent, or whim, a long mulled line.
You had me by the shoulders, grave,
With that frown. It was as sweet
And aching to me as the child,
Years before,
Crying
'Careful, Daddy! Don't fall.'