I’ve been ooohing and aaaahing over Knitted Bears gorgeous quilts for quite a few months and have always been very pleased when she updates with a new quilt or patchwork dog. It reminded me when I used to sew when the boys were young, making either something to sell for the school Christmas fair, or waistcoats or jazzy summer shorts.

And that is as far as it had gone.

Until very recently, when I was in my LYS who does a fabulous array of materials for clothing, ranging from materials for winter coats to gorgeous silk skirts and where I spotted some fat quarters. Well they called to me, they did, in a very loud voice. Some might say that you could even see them waving. And I felt sad, because I didn’t know how to play with them.

And as with all things and my addictive personality, once inside my head the thoughts of these fat quarters wouldn’t leave me alone and just as this was happening to me, Knitted Bear started to talk about her next gorgeous quilt.

It was just too much to bear. (no pun intended!)

And so I booked myself onto the next available course that was suitable for me at Quilter’s Den, “9 patch for beginners”.

I chose my materials from there, I think they are gorgeous and they remind me of autumn, allotments, fires, the smell of wood smoke and leaves composting.

1st 9 patch, not too bad for a 1st attempt.

2nd 9 patch, I loved making the triangles.

3rd 9 patch, I wasn’t too impressed with this patch, it seemed a lot of work for very little effect. (and its a bit shabby I think)

4th 9 patch. I love, love, love the pattern on this patch. We had one hour to go and were just working from a photograph, I really wanted to finish my patches so I worked as fast as I could. Amazingly even though I could see tiny errors appearing as I worked, this patch seems the most accurate of them all.

All four together, don’t they look fab.

I’m going to make them into a cushion cover just as soon as –

I manage to purchase a 1/4” foot for my sewing machine.
I learn how to make a cushion cover
I learn how to make binding.
I learn how to quilt.

Its all doable. 🙂

Once upon a time in a land far, far away there lived a coven of friendly witches. Rather than cast spells to harm people, because they were friendly witches, they used to cast spells with fleece from sheep and on special occasions goats and even camels were tickled under their chin until they gave up a small amount of their coat. You could always tell when a witch was deep in thought and casting a spell because of the twitch of her needles or the purr of her spinning wheel.

And before you could say “Abra Cadabra Fish and Chips!” there would magically appear a beautiful garment to keep a loved one warm. The other witches would gather around the witch that had cast such a fabulous spell to murmur approval at just how soft and warm the garment was and how much it would be loved and then with a contented sigh the witches would go back to casting magical spells of their own.

One day a young and beautiful black cat called Smokey came into their coven and said to the witches who were all sat quietly casting spells and generally have a rather nice time, “I have a message from afar” , the witches stopped casting their spells and listened, keen to hear what Smokey the talking cat was going to say. “Soon, but not too soon, there will be a baby born to my mistress and I know that her hearts desire would be to wrap her baby up in the most beautiful, softest, knit in the most beautiful colours blanket, I have heard about your magic spells, can you help me make this possible”

Well, the witches almost let out a collective scream of glee..

You see even though they liked to cast spells individually, there was nothing better in all the world than when the witches all cast a spell together, it was even better than cheese on toast and a piping hot mug of cream of tomato soup after a cold and frosty walk. It really was the most magical of moments to cast spells together, the witches were so very happy that they immediately set to work.

The witches met for breakfast several days later after they had spent all of the previous days and most of the nights casting spells, you could tell that they were doing this because of the delightful sound of the click of the needles. Although you couldn’t hear Minerva’s needles as she had taken to using bamboo so they were very quiet, but occasionally and if you listened hard enough you could just make out her strange incantations of her very own spell, “M1, YO2, SSK, K5, P4,” and so on. You knew Minerva was concocting some sort of deliciousness when her spells became as complex as this.

Eagerly the witches placed the shapes they had knitted on the table and began to sew the blanket together. It was going to be such a beautiful blanket and the witches were giddy with excitement. But every time they sewed two of the shapes together “Poof” they disappeared. The first time this happened, the witches were flabbergasted. They stood back from the table not knowing what to do, they knew not what strong magic this was.

After a strong cup of tea and a chocolate biscuit the witches decided that they would change the thread and needle that they were using to sew the shapes together with. That would surely get rid of this strange magic that had settled into their coven.

Having changed needle and thread they started to work again. And just when they had nearly finished sewing two shapes together “Poof” they too disappeared. This was strange magic indeed. Every time the witches tried to sew two pieces together they disappeared. It became a blanket of their imagination, an imaginary blanket.

Together they decided they would need to consult with Sir Lancelot who was a very friendly lion who had been known to help the witches in times of need. “What shall we do?” they asked him, “We have made an imaginary blanket, is there such a thing as an imaginary blanket? because we seem to have made one.”

Sir Lancelot was very wise, he told the witches that sometimes and he had only known this to happen once or even twice, that the power of this particular spell that had been cast upon this blanket could wear off within one whole year. That the witches must think often and with love about this blanket because that was the only way that this spell could be broken and even if they did that every single day the power of this spell could prove too strong and the blanket would only ever be an imaginary blanket.

The witches were very sad. They had loved that blanket and now it had disappeared right before their noses. One whole year passed and even though the witches had thought about the blanket often and with love and sometimes nearly every day it remained an imaginary blanket. Smokey the talking cat was quite sad too as she had nothing to take home to wrap her mistresses beautiful baby son in.

Sir Lancelot could see how sad the witches were and although he was a wise old lion he could only cast small spells, they were beautiful spells but they could never match the magnificence of the witches spells he wanted to help.

And quietly and without any fuss he waved his magic wand and softly chanted

Make me a jacket
Bright and red
To keep me warm
From morning ’till bed.

And “Poof” a jacket appeared which was lovely and warm and so very, very soft and a most beautiful warm red which would suit the year old boy very nicely indeed.

There was one slight error, Sir Lancelot had included the word me in his poem so when the the jacket appeared it was Sir Lancelot that was wearing it! But we will forgive him that one slight error shall we.

The End.

Sir Lancelot has told me that this special jacket for a beautiful boy has been cast from Cashsoft Aran by Rowan, in colourway 10, it took five balls and was made with with a special spell from Debbie Bliss called Ribbed Baby Jacket and that he added an extra inch to the length of the body.

and with special thanks to Christine who went above and beyond the call of duty and beautifully sewed this jacket up for me – thanks Christine.

Its sometimes hard to tell.

Especially whilst lying in bed with a migraine.

On Tuesday son no.1 was helping to load up the broken dishwasher into a lorry, and cut his finger deeply.

Well it seemed deep to me.

When it was thrust under my nose whilst I was lying in bed. All I could see was bright, thick and rather too much of it blood. And the cut looked really deep.

And it wouldn’t stop bleeding, it was still bleeding some fifteen minutes later.

I dressed myself and then bandaged said son up before going off to the hospital so that they could look at it.

Now at this point I’m starting to doubt my sanity, because upright, I feel that it probably isn’t quite as bad as I thought it was when I was horizontal, but it is still deep and it is still bleeding and I’m in a quandary. Do I, say to my darling child, “don’t worry about it, it will be fine” and then when it turns green and drops off, blame myself for ever and a day. Or do I, carry on with my actions, and let the doctors have a look.

I’m afraid I took the cowards way out, and I’m so sorry for wasting the hospitals time and I’m sure the nurses were laughing about the paranoid mother with the 20 something year old son, (not in a nasty way, just a yep, we’ve seen the paranoid mothers before way) although I managed to redeem myself and Not go in with him to see the triage nurse. (although emotionally that was a struggle and if it had been our 17 yr old, I probably would have done)

And when son no.1, walked back to me, with a plaster on his finger, (and not the white, mends bones type plaster, the little pink strip you buy from a chemists type plaster) I knew and it was a painful lesson that I had probably made the wrong call.

Reality or illusion, its sometimes hard to tell.

as a post script, at least he’s updating his tetanus on Monday, as this is five years out of date. Every cloud as they say.

But it is fed and watered by God’s almighty hand,
He sends the snow in winter, the warmth to swell the grain
The breezes and the sunshine and soft refreshing rain.

All good gifts around us are sent from heav’n above,
Then thank the Lord, O thank the Lord,
For all his love.

I find this time of year bittersweet, its wonderful to be harvesting our crops after the hard work of the year, but frosty mornings are just around the corner, the nights are drawing in and I realise that winter will soon be upon us. Lets hope we all have a colourful autumn.

The allotment has much to offer at this time of year, we still have all the ingredients to make a colourful and tasty salad along with the first offerings of autumn vegetables for tasty soups or warming stews, the sort that nourish the soul as well as the body.

Sunday’s harvest.


I’m very pleased with my calabrese or as we call it in the shops broccoli. Its the first time I’ve grown this and they’ve done quite nicely. The taste was superb, every time I grow and then eat something I haven’t grown before I am always surprised just how much is lost in taste in the transporting and storing of shop bought vegetables.

The last of the peas, which I shelled at the plot. This is two rows worth of peas which was about 16ft long. They had just caught mildew so the pods were starting to go black, but inside my treasured peas were perfect. I shelled these with the sun on my back listening to the bees busy in their work, it was a blissful afternoon.

First of the swedes,

and the parsnips.

I sowed a couple of lines of beetroot a few weeks ago, hoping to catch just one last crop before the autumn. They have done really well, better than the spring or summer offerings.

and just a few toms, most of which will being cooked down and frozen for winter use.

We regularly fight the squirrels for our cob nuts. Its always a race to see who will get their first, this year we managed to save about a quarter of the nuts for ourselves. Last year we didn’t get any!!

Our pumpkins have done rather nicely, I love the colours of the Turks Turban. And a marrow, kindly donated by another plot holder.

And last but by no means least, our first eggs from the new chickens. They are small but perfectly formed and very tasty.

We have potatoes, shallots, garlic, onions and various dried beans in store along with pickles, chutneys and jams. All we need is a delivery of coal (smokeless fuel) and the chimney sweep to pop around and we will be set up for winter. I hope that squirrel remembers where he hid his nuts!

I have no idea if this is true but it pleases me greatly.

Gene Rodenberry was asked why he hired Patrick Stewart to play Jon Luc in Star Trek TNG. People said the dude is bald! Surely by the 24th century, there would be a cure for baldness?

And Gene Rodenberry replied, “By the 24th century, it won’t matter.”

I like that.

Pebbles.
03-01-94 to 25-09-09
15 years and nearly 10 months.
Lovely loyal terrier who will be sadly missed.

Today was a day filled with mixed emotions, firstly because it is a very sad day, one where we as a family had to say goodbye to a very faithful terrier. Our children can’t remember a time where this lovely bundle of fluff was not in their lives. Pebbles arrived at some point in March of 1994, a tiny bundle of Wheaten Cairn Terrier, which is why she was called Pebbles, Cairns are made of rocks and pebbles. Son no.2 was only two years old and they bonded immediately I never had the least of worries that there would ever be a problem with her, she was such a cutie who adored everyone.

I could witter on for a very long time about just how adorable she was, but I’ll just leave you with a couple of snaps.

We knew time was short and were in regular contact with our vet and decided that as long as we could keep her as pain free as is possible we would try to make her last summer an enjoyable one.

And the other overriding emotion has been that we knew she has had the ‘best’ of doggie lives, has been completely cossetted, has always had other dogs for company – which is important if your a dog, and has lived in a household filled with children, dogs, cats and chickens, so never a dull moment and along with that has always had lots of affection – Pebbles did enjoy a good ear rub.

But this week, well we knew, there was nothing we could do, she was in far too much pain, it was time to say goodbye.


Pebbles enjoying an evening in the summer.

A young Pebbles having just opened her Christmas present.

And my favourite photo of her, a powder puff, coming up the rear on a family walk over the fields at the back of Kenilworth castle.

Good night Pebbles, God bless.

Sound of tires squealing to a halt.

Car door slams shut.

Hurried footsteps on the path and a sharp rat a tat tat on the door, ‘Sorry Mum, can’t stop’ as these Emergency Socks and the poorly pair of socks from the previous post are thrust in her general direction.

Mother was quite lit up, and Father said, “Your a Bl**dy good knitter, you are Mandy”, my reply “Good grief Dad was that a compliment” (I can’t ever remember that happening before!) And he should know as his mother was an absolute whiz with the needles and kept them in rations with her knitting for payment.

Both were quite impressed with my mending skills, which pleased me greatly. Your never sure whether your work is up to standard so when its appreciated it does put a little spring in your step.

The emergency socks (and I do believe there is such a thing as a sock emergency – a little like a chocolate emergency except with socks, you know that you really Need, not Want, Need a new soft pair to caress your tootsies with) were my training aids for the knit club and I had hoped to stash them away for Christmas presents, but they were needed very much sooner than that.

I am particularly pleased with the matching toes.

The yarn is Schachenmayr nomotta Regia Design Line Kaffe Fassett colourway 4355 knit on 2.5 mm needles with a 60 stitch cast on.

and a little knitting for me.

These are Wollmeise 100 % superwash in Johannisbeer und Brennessel which means redcurrants and stinging nettles. I love this colourway its just so beautiful.

As I was speaking to my Mum on the telephone earlier in the week there was a comment from the rear (Dad)..

I heard in gleeful tones, “Tell her about the socks!”

“Oh Yes, My socks, they’ve got holes in” which was swiftly followed up by another comment from the rear about shoddy workmanship!

Pah,

I knew immediately which pair it was, I had not been knitting for very long and I’d chosen a double knit which was not sock yarn and was wound quite loosely, comfortable and cosy they were, but not hard wearing. Still, two years is not a bad innings and Mum had been wearing them with her Crocs which are notoriously hard on hand knit socks.

I visited today and they were laying in the conservatory ready for my perusal. I tried to persuade Mum to use the method favoured by Stephanie Pearl-McPhee which goes along the lines of open the bin and say “Darn It” as you drop them from a great height into it. But Mum looked quite wounded when I suggested that and then told me how she loved this particular pair of socks and how they were always her first choice to wear in the evenings with her pyjamas.

What is a daughter to do? – there was only one answer.

I brought them home whilst desperately trying to remember how Knitted Bear had recently mended a pair of socks that had also landed up in dire straits. I couldn’t find her blog post, which was beautifully written and included many photographs. So without any guidance, just a dim memory I started to work on them.

Firstly, a very poorly sock.

I picked up stitches, knit a few rows whilst picking up stitches from the outsides knit a few rows more, then picked up stitches at the other side of the hole and kitchenered them together. Then I sewed any parts of the sides down that needed it.

The end results.

I quite like them in a make do and mend hippy kind of way.

Just because I know what we knitters are like.

A peek at the wrong side.

Not too shabby, the patch is very soft and quite even in texture, making it quite comfortable to wear.

And just a little something to ease her pain.

I found out very recently that Heritage have open days in September, as Saturday was mostly tied up with a previous engagement we struggled to fit in a quick trip out, but fit it in we did. Here we have Baginton Castle or Bagot’s Castle, which was a revelation to me as I did not know we have another castle so very close to Kenilworth and Warwick’s Castles.

Quick bit of history, Bagot’s Castle was probably built about 1397 by Sir William Bagot, it was built on an earlier site of a motte castle around 1100-35. As you can see it is now just a pile of stones, yet within this there are just a couple of nice points.

The curve of the tower.

Spiral stairs, barely worn.

On Sunday we found ourselves at Garden Organic at Ryton. It has been one of those places that we have been meaning to visit for a while but has always been priced quite steeply to go into, which has put us off – almost the cost of a skein of sock yarn – each!

We looked over the allotment garden, it wasn’t a patch on ours, too much bare earth for my liking, not enough in the way of crops. Considering that we are experiencing quite a glut of produce at the moment and the only regular requirements from the supermarkets involve milk, tea and cleaning products, if you had taken a meal or two from their plot you would have had very little left.

But what they did have, which was seriously impressive were fruit trees. We are looking at fruit trees at the moment, especially peach, pear and apples. We were not disappointed.

Look at these beautiful pears on a bough, so perfect.

more of the same bough.

a tree’s worth!

even at the very top of the tree you can see just how productive this tree is. I had no idea that pear trees were so Huge! – I wonder how many bottles of perry you would get off one tree!

Which is why fruit trees are grown in this way on dwarf root stocks and trained into shapes that both give the blossom/fruit air to aid both pollination and protect again molds and mildews and, most importantly aid picking.

One particular way of growing fruit tree’s caught our attention. Just to add a little bit of background, we have been looking for a way to add fruit trees to our plot but without taking up any room. I’m laughing at myself as I write this, because that is my all time master plan, always to grow as much as possible without compromising anything else.

The other aspect to consider is that there are rules on fruit tree’s at the plot, they must be grown on a dwarf root stock and they must be a certain distance, (I forget the exact measurement) away from the boundary of your plot. Otherwise the roots would interfere with another persons enjoyment of their plot. So the plan to have a row of dwarf root stock fruit trees trained against a fence is a no, go. And at that point I have been stumped for an answer, I did not want to plant fruit trees in the middle of an area that is much better served producing vegetables. Having been reading about modern orchards recently, I knew I could pack in more fruit trees than you ever thought possible into a small area, so was seriously considering turning over a quarter of one plot just to fruit trees.

When this idea struck me full force between the eyes.

An archway of Pears!

Or Apples!

If I build archways where the gates are it answers all my problems on boundaries, space, and having more than one variety all at the same time. It is Genius! I just need to find a very cheap supplier of archways, as they always seem to cost an arm and a leg.

I correctly identified a Medlar, the only way to eat them is to let them gently rot to soften them or as the Victorians used to call it ‘bletted’ first. Strangely they are out of fashion these days.

The largest pot in the world.

On Sunday afternoon we wandered over to Guys Cliffe House, a ruin that I have always been fascinated by having often looked at its hauntingly beautiful outline from the comfort of the Saxon Mill. It is rarely open to the public so to find out it was included in Heritage open days was a real pleasure.

The history is fascinating if you fancy reading up on it. These are a few photographs of our day,

the entrance,

the ruins.


A ruined tower, followed by a peek inside.

the lift, – I wonder how nervous people were on using this contraption.

I was very amused by the fireplaces in the ruins of the tower which had four floors. How the first one seemed very old and plain, hewn from the rock that Guys Cliffe stands upon.

and then becoming brick, with the fireplace missing,

to reveal the next fireplace, which looked quite magnificent, still hanging in mid air. Sadly the next fireplace up was just too high to see properly.

All hewn from the rock, most probably by slaves.

Harris’s Cave, recently rediscovered by the Masons (who own the property) a month ago. You can quite clearly see the track of incredibly dense bamboo that has been chopped to the ground so that you can walk to it.

The cave Guy of Warwick made for himself and lived in for two years before his death.

Effigy of Guy of Warwick in the restored chapel, according to legend this was an accurate depiction of his height, he must have been quite a man.

The restored chapel is lovely, but to protect the Masons privacy I shall refrain from putting up photographs, they rent it out, it would make a wonderful location for a party – 25th wedding anniversary perhaps!!!

Having stayed up just a little too late last night, (2.30 a.m.!) drinking wine and playing Scrabble, hubby and I were not really fit for duties at the plot today. I’m calling it my swan song because as from Tuesday my drinking days will have to be seriously moderated due to starting Methotrexate for what has at long last (diagnosis has taken over two years, but then it is very rare for folk as young as I to have this) been diagnosed as Polymyalgia which according to my Rheumatologist could also be combined with two other factors.. (you know me, I’m never content with just a common cold!) Lets hope it works, because it would be nice to be pain free. I’ve been on steroids for a while and can look almost lady like when coming down the stairs first thing in the morning, rather than like a navvy with a belly full of rum, clutching the banister and walls for support.

Hubby went to pick our vegetables and came back slightly depressed. I could see he was a sad chap and asked what was wrong and he explained it was the end of the season, another year over, that he just felt sad.

Action was called for and we decided that a gentle stroll was needed with the emphasis on the gentle part of that sentence.

Although we live locally we had never been to see Hatton’s flight of locks. This flight is on the Grand Union Canal and has 21 locks in less than two miles. It was nice, it was relaxing, we had tea at the local cafe and gently strolled along the canal.

We also saw a HUGE dragonfly!!!

I’ve needed a little break from my brown cardigan. I love knitting my cardigan, it is gorgeous, but there was a part of me that just needed a little ‘something, something’ as a quick pick me up. I needed colour and the cravings for sock knitting had returned with a vengeance. There was only one choice it had to be Wollmeise – and when I opened up my Wollmeise stash this particular skein leapt out of the box and into my hands. I think its so beautiful, I would love another skein.

This is Wollmeise in colourway Johannisbeere & Brennnessel in 100% sock yarn, the translation of the name means red currant and stinging nettles. I think its divine, the colours in this skein are absolutely mesmerising.

Even just wound into a cake its a work of art.