well, that was fun

Looks promising, doesn't he. Lying there, bathed in cool, clean water, dappled in sunlight, good pec definition, the requisite six pack. Growing impercebtibly, with only tiny little glistening air bubbles drifting to the surface every now and then.

And after a week (I even gave him longer than the suggested 72 hours - maybe he is a bit of a late developer), look at him now. Some Da Vinci man, he. Now is the time to insert all your standard anti-man jokes, cos this, my friends is as good as it gets.


But I promise, if you come back soon, that there will be actual fibre content. Real, live, actual things made of knit, and things that could one day be made of knit, once I stop laughing hysterically.

goodie bag

Don't you love it when you get things? When your stash has started to reach the epic proportions, when trading is not only possible, but necessary, and so you swap something that seemed like a good colour at the time, but probably isn't, for some pretty Fyberspates sock yarn, so that your feet can dance like foxgloves, and at some point in your future you can imagine coming over all Jemima Puddle-Duck. Many thanks, Blueadt, for the swap.

Don't you love it when you get things? When you know that your latest cardigan needs a something, and you have a feeling that that something might just be a brooch of some kind. But you don't want anything hard, angular, pointy, instead you think something soft and dream-like, something inspired by star-gazy reverie, by moon-struck wondering and night-sky wandering. And it just so happens that Hello Mango, has the perfect little hand-spun hand-made crocheted flower, as inspired by the Horsehead Nebula. Many thanks, Hello Mango, for the brooch.

Don't you love it when you get things? When you are working on a gansey, but you've been playing with the size, and need to remember that you've added bits, and to pattern accordingly, and could do with some deeply funky stitchmarkers, to help you remember. And then, because they say you've been helpful, you get given the most envy-creating little set of four (wave them in front of a teenage knitter, and watch their eyes grow wide with desire), of long, dangly, they look all dangerous and spiky but are touchable squeezable soft squadgy rubber stitchmarkers in pink and black, which work just perfectly. Many thanks, Piglottie, for the stitchmarkers.

And don't you just love it, when you unpack your little man, prop him up for size, and prepare him for his bath. My friends, he is starting to grow.

grow your own

Too hot (delicate English flower, here), brain in meltdown, can't remember names, things that need doing, or to take house keys with me when leaving the house. But when friends bring you back gifts from Canada, action is required. So I'm going to stick his feet in water, and cuddle up. Good, non?

woolfest part last - the people

For La (the closest I have ever knowingly come to someone reenacting, but he needs better socks)

Happiness is infectious

Sharing

Concentration

Concentration

Concentration (how can she not look to her left?)

"I am woman ...

hear me roar."

Woolfest is run by Woolclip - a cooperative of farming women and craftswomen based in Cumbria. See you 29th-30th June, 2007.

Photos by Puplet, cropping by Susoolu

woolfest part 3 - the things

colour

pure inspiration

more colour

magic

feeling the felt pig

eat me

I wish I could - one day I will

Photos by Puplet, cropping by Susoolu

woolfest part 2 - the animals

For Jen

Privacy please, we're nekkid

I can't do a thing with my horns today

You come in here and say that

(whispering) You've got some hay in your hair

I want to be a rug

Make sure you've got my best side

I won't attempt animal identification - but I do know that among the selection are some Wensleydale, an Angora Goat (who would not stop posing), and an Alpaca. And if you click on them, they should get bigger.

Photos by Puplet, cropped by Susoolu

woolfest part 1

Ah, Woolfest 2006. So, the practicalities. I drove 360 miles. I went, with blueadt and Puplet. I met Piglottie and Ruth woolly wormhead (and some others, I am sure). I looked, I fondled, I had a shopping list, I talked, I ate, I bought. I even wore a new cardi - but not the one I was never going to finish in time, because I need to rework the sleeves (sorry Carrie K!), but the habu kit finally badly blocked and sewn up so it looks nothing like it is meant to look, but it is still a finished object. I took a camera, but absolutely no pictures (I'll just steal puplet's when he isn't looking.) And I came away saying how did I miss that, and that, and that. And why didn't I ask this, and talk to them, and see those. And the shopping list might have been forgotten, and other things found instead. And I spent the day after feeling hungover (was it the sun, the driving, or the heady aroma of lanolin and sheep bottoms that sent me over the edge?).

And Ruth is wonderful, and her knitting is so very beautiful and even and fondle-able, and even if she can't remember where she has put her phone, her knitting goes away just so (sweetly, she didn't thwack me for mis-folding the Hat in progress, just calmly unpacked it and put it away properly - such a perfectionist!). And I would have mugged her for her new Hitchhiker, but a) I don't know the first thing about spinning; and b) she looked so very, very happy with her (yes, the wheel appears to have found its gender, but is still unnamed), that I couldn't have been so mean.

But you want to see what was bought. Well, there were books, and needles, and chibis (yippee, a pink one, and seethrough one, to match the green), and I wanted to find presents, but didn't find anything just right, so I was selfish and it is all for me, me, me. And of course, the yarn. Cones from The Natural Fibre Company, in grey, greyer, and white (as it turns out, all from Sue Blacker's own sheep) - labelled as DK, without yardage but much, and I have no idea yet what to do with it. A skein of Jacob grey-brown chunky from Garthenor Organic Pure Wool, which will be the swatch for the 'at home' winter cable cardigan. And the Jamieson and Smith. I hear the Shetland accent, I see the pretty, pretty colours, and a rainbow haze comes down, the card comes out, and I am lost.


I am lost in a maelstrom, and the lace is still there, in my heart, but my fingers are delirious with the thought of fair isle (by the way, more colours underneath).

More to come - aren't festivals great for giving you something to post about. Meanwhile, I must find steal some space from the great yarn void, and re-order the stash.

For those of you who haven't been to Woolfest, do go, it is such fun. And for those of you who went, didn't you have such fun!