One pair down, four to go.  It is at this stage that I wish I had given birth to dainty girls with size 4 feet.  Fortunately I have one pair to knit of that size, my Mothers, the rest vary from a mens 9 to a whopping great big 11 which happen to be extra wide as well.  Socks of this size tend to take me a good few days, I think there is about twenty hours in a pair, more if you happen to get side tracked by the film one is watching.

So why do I do it?  Because the joy of putting on a pair of hand knit socks, knit to your size, with a kitchenered toe (seamless) is one of life’s simple but greatest of pleasures, one you never knew you needed until you tried your first pair on. And as you squeal with delight as your toes explore the delights of the wool and the hitherto unknown space available to move and flex, you know there is no going back, socks will never be the same again.

Dad loves his socks.  He especially loves the brightly coloured ones on the days he has had to see his foot nurse, apparently they have a lovely conversation about them, the colours, the wool and the seamless nature of their construction is talked about and how beneficial it has been for old feet.

And when he saw new doctors for his poorly toe, one can imagine just how carefully he perused his collection of hand knit socks, to pick the perfect pair for maximum effect.  I wonder did he go for soft and comfortable or did the comedy in him lead him into picking the brightest stripey pair to get the most laughs.

But one thing can be sure,

they were all kitchenered with love and what more can a Father hope for from his daughter.

As with all things, the key to success is practise, practise, practise.  So when the opportunity to take part in a trouser pattern cutting class which was held in my home town came up I jumped at the chance.  I came trundling home, cat in tow, she did very well by the way, and spent a wonderful two days immersed in mathematical equations, paper, set squares, french curves, tape measures and sharp pencils.   I was attuned to the insights of the tutor and welcomed the opportunity to look through the books she was using.   And the best part, being able to relax and study and absorb, luxuries that are sometimes lost in the hurly burly of uni life.

It was worth it, I just have to draw up a pair for me now, which might be the ultimate challenge…

I’ve been meaning to start blogging about my foray into the world of meatless meals.  During my youth I was a vegetarian for about three years and truth be told one part of me would have liked to drift back into that way of eating, but the other part finds meat is yummy and fish in particular seems to make me feel better when my world is spinning around.  But what I have been doing is just dropping the odd meaty meal for one filled with beans and rice – or potatoes and cheese –  it depends on what the day has been like. It’s the August bank holiday today and of course it has rained heavily all day, more so than on an average bank holiday, where one can be certain that it will rain between the hours of 11a.m. and 4 p.m., just enough to take the shine off whatever one had planned.  Today has been a Noah’s Ark sort of rainy day, I am sure I could hear wood being sawn and nails being hammered in the distance as the rain drops grew heavier and heavier from morning until night. And it has grown colder, and as I gazed into my fridge full of lovely locally grown produce my eyes settled on these, which ordinarily would have been cooked and eaten with lots of butter in the sunshine.  But that wasn’t going to happen today.  Then my eyes settled on a nice big piece of ginger perched in the door of my fridge and an idea sprang into my mind. I prepared a generous two inch piece of ginger into julienes and started to saute that in a pan, then added about a pint of water and let it come to the boil whilst I slid my sharp knife down the corn to release the kernels. Then dropped the juicy kernals into the water, whilst popping a few raw escapees into my mouth, they were lovely and sweet.  I added a tablespoon of sugar, a scant level teaspoon of salt, a good shake of white pepper and half a pint of milk.  I let it cook for just a few minutes and then whizzed with with my hand food processor (the type that you pop into the pan to break the soup up)   I cracked a couple of eggs and added a little soy to it, I would have added sesame oil but I didn’t have any and stirred the egg mixture into the hot soup and watched as it formed that lovely eggy mixture so beloved of Chinese soups.  I found this recipe through Ken Hom many years ago, I haven’t read the original for years, so I don’t know how true it is, I just know it is delicious and I make it regularly.  I normally make it with chicken stock, but it is such a good soup that one can make it with water and not suffer unduly. And just within the space of ten minutes, you have this. A bowl of comforting, hearty, delicious soup, the perfect companion on a rainy bank holiday.

I think one used to be slightly judged if you loved anything that came from Ikea, well twenty odd years ago you were, how times have changed.  Now it has a following of which I am one who approve of how they manage to design reasonably priced furniture that, it has to be said, as soon as you get out of the price bracket of Billy the bookcase is starting to look quite good.  And whats more, the design, according to hubby who just built the last bookcase is a marvel to behold,  he told me in great detail how the bookcase, which is as sturdy as any pine creation made by hand, just clicked together.

But what I hadn’t bargained on was their eye for plants.

I bought this over a year ago.

An Orchid, a Phalaenopsis apparently.  It was cheap, less than a fiver, there were lots of colours to choose from and I chose this one for the deep velvet purple and that the stem with the flowers on had split into two, so double the blooms.  And then it flowered for ten months, it was amazing, it went on and on and on.  Just when you thought it was going to stop flowering, a few more flower buds would form and off it would go again.

So when it stopped flowering I popped it onto the kitchen window sill and it seemed to like that space too and promptly shot up a couple of flower spikes.  After two months of no flowers its in full bloom again.  I’ve not fed it, I’ve not done anything apart from not kill it. Its dried out plenty of times, but apparently they like that.

And the best part, its already sending out two more flower spikes.

Such a glorious plant, from Ikea, for less than a fiver.

Who’d have thought it.

Yes, yes, I know its August.

I know I did mention on my last post that I thought Summer may well be broken.  And perhaps that was a bit presumptuous,  but on further inspection I find myself wearing these to keep my tootsies warm as well as dragging a hand knit cardigan out of its summer resting place to put on.  Perhaps its the lack of hair, but I feel the shivers long before everyone else seems to.

I knit these along with another two pairs last year to go in my ‘new for me knitted socks pile’ – I’ve no idea what yarn they are, I don’t tend to keep track of sock yarns like I used to.  Its German, its probably Opal, 4ply,  I would have knitted them on a 60 stitch round with 2.5 mm needles with a heel flap design, a 15 row 2 by 2 rib and 60 row stocking stitch leg with a 48 row foot in between the instep and the toe.

And so it was it got me to thinking, I haven’t knit my family a pair of socks for two winters and I must try and remedy that this year, before the moans for new socks becomes ever more urgent.  We have discussed before that one should never give a person hand knit socks unless they truly love them and are willing to be their sock knitting slave for the rest of one’s natural born days.  At the moment I have five such people on my list, and I fight the good fight to prevent any more joining, its sometimes a tough struggle and people have been known to get grumpy when told the sock knitting list is closed, definitely closed, yep absolutely closed.

And so it was at three this morning, in the grips of the worst insomnia for quite a while, I sorted out piles of sock yarn, found needles and cast on a pair for my Dad’s Christmas box,  (he doesn’t read the blog)  and managed many rows of rib before drifting off.

And this evening I am swiftly heading for the turn of the heel.

This is a 68 stitch round with an 18 round 2 by 2 rib on 2.5mm needles in 4ply Regia Galaxy Jupiter 01555.   I’m really liking the way they are coming out and I know my Dad will love them, the colours are just so him and I know that he will love that I took the time to knit him a pair and his toes will be lovely and warm all winter just by wearing his collection of hand knit socks.

Toile enjoying her morning retrieve.  She’s definitely more dog than cat.  (excuse the heavy breathing, I sound awful)

This all started with her chasing a foam ball that we threw to the top of the stairs which she chased to the bottom and then she started to bring it back, this tiny dot of a kitten, sat at your feet with a ball carefully placed by them.  The first couple of times we were, ‘yeah right, thats just a bit of an accident’ but then we realised, that she knew what she wanted, and she wanted us to play.  So we have been trained by the cat, to throw and play fetch and a really good job she has done of it too.

In between the storms today I nipped out to pick a small posy of flowers – you can tell how warm it is, my paving slabs had already dried and I tiptoed in my bare feet to pick a few flowers to make a simple posy for my fireplace.  I don’t pick in the spring, I leave the flowers and buds in the garden and even in the middle of summer I love to see an abundance of flowers which picking them would all too quickly thin out.  But after the storm and feeling like the summer had broken I wanted to bring a little of the sunshine into my home, even for just a little while.

For a while now I have been crocheting a granny square blanket.   I fell in love with the pattern a long time ago and bought the book whilst browsing in John Lewis with my friend Diane.   I think she was slightly horrified at me wanting to do a simple granny square blanket, but it called to me so strongly I just knew it had to be mine.   And I bought the wool and slowly I have been making granny squares, all 130 of them.   They actually proved to be a bit of a godsend during the more stressful times at Uni, one could relax without having to think, it became my turn to rather like knitting socks did.

The pattern is called Granny Squares Throw by Marie Wallin in Rowan Purelife Home, crocheted in Rowan Renew on a 5 mm hook.  (I preferred the tension of a smaller hook)

When I had nearly finished the squares (I had 30 to go) I happened to come home and was able to go to my knitting group to ask them if they could decipher the instructions on how to join them, which they did and luckily I have been able to remember what I was taught.

So now I am joining them up and it is going very well.  The length of the blanket is going to be 6ft 6″ which even though it is on a smaller hook is longer than the pattern so I was right to trust my instincts, I’m not sure of the width just yet.

But there have been revelations.  Notably with my tension.

You see, being a newish crocheter, the first squares were very loose compared to the last squares.  And I hadn’t noticed this at all, because I had packed the squares away as they were finished, it was only on getting them all out together to spend an evening sewing in ends that I noticed.

That is quite a difference.

But hey, its a blanket, it will keep me warm and its part of the hand made nature of it all.  And hopefully it will all ease in together and after a while, it will all be forgotten whilst I snuggle on down with my hot water bottle of a cat purring on my chest, a steaming cup of milky hot chocolate at my side, icy gusts of wind rattling the letter box as Jack Frost dances past.

Or as to how a tiny dot of a cat can pester, pester, pester until I give in to her needs because she’s managed at least two licks and starting to get very determined.  We’ve never owned a cat with a sweet tooth before, the other day she was mugging me for some fudge that son no.2 had made and sent to me, she ate three cat sized pieces and would have eaten much more.