Flibbertygibbet

Whatcha been up to?

Culture with Abi

I didn't say 'high culture' as of course 'high camp' is more normally associated with the Wizard.   The production  has attracted a little controversy,  and I can't say I disagree with a lot of the criticisms but yes, the dog is great and more seriously it's worth going for the music alone which is utterly spellbinding.

Baking cupcakes with friends.  Finding Laura Marling's marrow and being bemused at and amused by Les Savy Favs at Field Day.  Sadly missing other lovely people's social occasions, from knitting operas to engagement parties.  Doing London Walks with my uncle and old colleagues, catching up on gossip - gossip was quality; walk was sadly not as interesting as previous outings. Plotting my first quilt for me; and starting to think about baby presents for the entire kindergarten class that's arriving Nov-Jan.  Eating really well and doing a ton of exercise.  Intending to blog more.  Preparing to buy lots of things from here for my new pursuit this autumn. Being excited about my new local, a resurrected pub which looks very promising.  Planning for Green Man.  Obsessively checking the weather forecast to see whether I need these.  Probably  more useful than ruby slippers.

Being made {{extremely happy}} by:

Thank you so much Kirsty, you immensely talented woman.

And by Dan Hillier:

 

Oh I do like to be...

beside the seaside, in a uncommonly blue-skied Whitby, for a dear friend's wedding.  An extremely stylish, personal, thoughtful day.

Her perfect pillbox hat was created especially for her by a wonderful milliner called Jessie Clifford.  The dress came from a vintage fair and she was stunned to get it for a bargain price (£40 I think) and it was fabulous - princess line ivory satin, and she was completely tickled by the pockets.  Utility designer wear. 

The reception took place in a semi-ruined castle in the middle of the moors.  I've never been so struck by colours in nature before but driving there through vast swathes of heather made me want to rush home and buy lots of Kidsilk aura in what I will now think of as Yorkshire colours.

The next day there was time to be a tourist, with a new friend I met at the bride's hen-day.  We were the two bold divorcees together and it was wonderful to have a partner in crime.  Also substantially cheaper to be able to share a room and fun to travel together.  You get a lot of knitting done on a four hour coach and train trip - more on that later.

And the trains there and back even ran on time.  Apart from perhaps this one:

There has been a little crafting...

The Clapotis in Debbie Bliss Pure Silk.  Cross one Christmas present off the list.  I've gone back to the angora one and it's coming along nicely.

Had a fit today with the kitchen fitter (I thought he was coming to the flat, he thought I was coming to the office) and I've pretty much decided to go down the Ikea route.  Helen gave me a good recommendation but I think I can't afford the designer options.  But I am feeling quite optimistic about the plans...it's off to Ikea for me on Saturday morning. Wish me luck...

 

For Emile

A little more modern than some of the other quilts I've done but I'm really pleased with it.  Lots and lots going on at Flib Towers, all pretty much good news - more on that later.  Definitely by Friday, I'm slightly sworn to secrecy on some of it....

Wallpaper*

So this weekend (it's a Bank Holiday here) I'm doing lots of 'flat' things.  Getting in there with the kitchen fitter on Saturday.  Researching on Sunday.  Going back with some surveyor friends on Monday. 

If my surveyor friends can't see anything too horrendous, then things may truck along quick quickly.  In fact, even if they do pick up on anything, my intention is to say "Fine, X is falling apart and it's going to cost me £Y to get it fixed, so I'll take that off the purchase price".  The owner, before flouncing off on holidays somewhere, thought that all she'd need to do was sign a few random pieces of paper and the flat would be sold.  Not quite so simple.  But my wonderful amazing solicitor hasn't let them away with a thing.  If things pan out, I'll be exchanging contracts next week, and completing the following week.  MPH just has to get the next load of cash to me so that I've got the deposit waiting. 

On the day I complete, I intend to instruct the kitchen with the people Claire recommended who seem great.  It's going to have to be a masterpiece of design as I've two dinner services, three teasets, most of the Le Creuset range and a Selfridge's showroom's worth of appliances to fit in there.

As frequently happens, this house-moving lark is stressing me out.  I had a big argument with my brother last night on the phone which hasn't happened for about twenty years.  It was trivial and has blown over but shows how nutso I am at the moment.

This Sunday I'm going to go looking for design ideas - for wallpapers (thinking Nina Campbell Birdcage Walk for the hall) and also need to find frosted paper or decals of some sort for the kitchen windows.  Where would you send me in London?  What are your favourite decorating blogs and where do your design ideas come from?

*and who's going to help me hang it?

It's been a while

So just to recap a little, class....

It's been such a long time since I blogged.  All went well with Shaun the Sheep and the rest of the knitterly stuff for the Camden Green Fair.  It was really hot and Lucy baked the world's best brownies and we had a good laugh.  We may even have taught a few people to knit. 

International Knit in Public Day was on the 9th of June and we ambled along to Trafalgar Square to watch the security guards try to get all heavy with the guys from I Knit London - hilarious. 

Though we did agree that of everyone there, ironically,  Craig was definitely the person in possession of the most dangerous needles (the huge ones from Wool n Boat, he was using them to knit a curtain).  It was fun, until we decided that us three little white girls were getting burned to cinders despite the Factor 25 so we went to the National Portrait Gallery's cafe for lunch.  Or in the case of myself and Helen, for starters as we ended up having pad thai later. 

And on Sunday we went along to the Spitalfields City Farm, to the Sheep and Wool fair, where Claire was running knitting workshops.  On the way home, I stopped in to see Zoe - who made this bag - who has a stall at the Backyard Market.  She has lovely things and I think she's there for a few more Sundays - go and see.  (and if you need any other reason, I think these people are usually there too).

Now there's something else I need to tell you is, isn't there.... um.... oh yeah. Heh heh.
New York was everything I was hoping, as ever.  Now I'm sleepy and heading to bed to deal with the jet lag.  Once I clear some of the shopping off it....

More tomorrow.

Hey, if you're still waiting for swap packages, will you let me know?

Ups and downs and ups and down

Yesterday I was bouncy-bouncy jubilant as there were three pieces of good news to report:

a:    that I had booked my trip to New York and Washington
b:    that my decree nisi was due today
c:    that my offer on flat V had been accepted

Today I am a little closer to ground level because

a:    trip is still happening and even better, P is going to be there to play one night as well, but I'm relying on money from
b:    the settlement, which it now turns out is nowhere near my bank account.  I'm furious with XH and his frankly cretinous solicitors.  Mind you, they are all useless bastards.  Sorry, that's just been my experience to date.  They've sent back none of the paperwork which XH says was filed weeks ago and have not replied to chasers from my equally bloody useless representation
c:  there is now a potential problem with my mortgage lender, in that I can't prove last year's income because I haven't filed a tax return yet (it's due but not for another couple of months I think).  It's a bit more difficult to get a self-cert mortgage, plus it's ex-local authority in East London so a lot of lenders are sniffy.  I wish they would pull their heads out of their arses.  Just how many of them have tried to get on to the property ladder recently?  You're looking at £250k for a one bed that isn't ex-local, assuming you can get hold of one. It's incredibly infuriating.

So I'm now on the hunt for an accountant.  My dad would guarantee a mortgage but he's based in another country so that might not work either.  It's a lot to think about.  Please cross your fingers for me that this isn't going to be a stumbling block.  I feel that little flat is destined to be mine.  I just have to keep hoping that. 

And to take my mind off things, Dad's birthday socks are going well.

PS SWAP PEOPLE due to my present crapness, I did manage to buy my fabrics for my partners but I don't have them packaged up yet.  In the spirit of 'it's my party and I'll cry if I want to,' I'm extending all the deadlines by a week.  So get those packages in the post by the 22nd! 

Sveden, you woz robbed

I had a long debrief with my mum this morning about the Eurovision.  We both agreed (as was the consensus last night when I watched it with P, F and C, that Ireland deserved to come last - oh the shame - and that Sweden was robbed.  Watch them and I challenge you to not walk around humming 'Love Grows Where My Rosemary Goes' all day.

I went to the London group sewing Meet Up yesterday.  Zoe, who runs it, is great and we had a mutual bag envy thing going on - so we traded!  One of my Dirty Weekend bags in pink for this beauty:

It's lined with pink gingham, then the chihuahua is stencilled on to a vintage sheet and then she sewed clear vinyl over it.  It rocks!  And it will be perfect for carrying socks to the last days of Tuesday knitting group - as I'm hoping to start working soon, Foyles may be a luxury I have to relinquish soon.  I started socks at the Dove the other day, for my Dad's birthday, in a Lana Grossa colourway that I've now decided is too girly, so it's been removed off the needles to four safety pins and I'm going for something browner.  More Daddyish.

After the Dove, and before Eurovision, C and I went back to Flat W.  Did I mention my offer was accepted?  When we left the agent, I already had a good idea of C's views, as I'd overheard one side of her phone conversation in the car as I was making small talk with the agent, when her hubby was asking what she had thought... we got out of the car and I immediately said 'So you didn't like it then?'  She explained that firstly she didn't think it was well-finished, and pointed out many things I hadn't noticed, and I'd already seen a few, and then came out with the clincher:

"I don't think it's very you".

And that's the key, really, isn't it?  I'm not blank white walls, glossy white kitchen, windowless bathroom: hell, I'm not ground floor.  I am mismatched dining room chairs, cake stands and tea-sets, flowery cushions on squishy sofas with stuffing hanging out.* 

I think I have to admit that I'm slightly more chaos than order.  Perhaps I'd been veering towards a classic trap that women exiting a long-term relationship frequently fall prey to - it's the over-riding desire to get out, out quickly. And was tempted by the first place I saw, which ticked some boxes but had just as many cons and pros. As C said of it: 'that was a ready-meal kitchen'.  The ultimate insult.

So the mogs will have to get used to a balcony rather than the run of a couple of gardens - so goes it.  So I'll have to get my renovation hat (overalls?) on again.  So be it.  C and I are going to see Flat V together tomorrow evening if I can get an appointment, so she can use her x-reay vision on it.  I fear that by tomorrow I'll be seeing more with my heart than my head, the classic trap.  Ironically Flat W was totally a head decision - it just would have been the wrong one. 
Of course it all has to go well and then I'd have to get Flat V for the right price - having done my research, it's on for far, far too much. I walked around there again today, and it felt right. But no getting excited about new kitchens and rugs and lampshades until we get a few stages further on.  Then we can start on about movers and packing and freshly painted white walls.

*For what I aspire to, see the profile on Emily Chalmers in this month's Elle Decoration.  When I is growed up.

PS if you're in the swap, you should have had an email today with your partners' details...

Just which flavour of crazy are you?

Warning - long, long, long post.

Initially this post was mainly to confess how I woke up on Sunday morning and hit the cat across the head.

Well, the night before it was just too much effort to persuade [bad] Shrimp to come out from under the bed when it was time to sleep, so I gave up and left the door open, figuring that she'd sneak out in the night.  Which she did, but of course she could also saunter back in when she felt it was breakfast time the next morning.  Early the next morning.  The current fun game is to pounce on anything that either moves, or shows itself under the (very light summer) duvet and so she kept attacking my feet - you know it's hard to stay still and ignore razor sharp claws for any length of time even if you empirically believe that lack of attention should make her stop.  Eventually I gave in, and dramatically swept the covers back across the king-sized bed to get up.  In the process, I walloped the other poor mog, who'd also crept in but who was peacefully snoozing alongside me on the bed and scared the crap out of myself in the process.  Poor Twiglet. 

But a couple of things have got me a little worried, or a little peeved, or confused.  Or something.

It's mainly wondering how I got to be the incarnation of Crazy Aunt Purl's forthcoming book - "Drunk, Divorced and Covered in Cat Hair: The true life misadventures of a thirty-something who learned to knit after he split".   God I cannot wait to read it. I already know it's going to make me laugh and cry, very very much. 

Lovely Ting said something one day about how it's cute that my blog is all about my cats (she almost undoubtedly didn't say precisely that, but that was what I heard) and that made me think:

- Oh. 
I may be becoming a crazy cat lady.

And then I thought:

- But isn't it a bit early for that? 

and settled back on the sofa, flanked by a cat or two, with my knitting, or more recently, crochet* to watch some tv.

You see, I'm getting very into Grey's Anatomy.  Loving it.  McDreamy, McSteamy, George, the whole lot.  But I must take issue with something that peturbed me greatly.  In the two eps that aired tonight, Meredith is having yet another crisis and so she takes up knitting. Or rather Izzie is knitting something she claims she's going to substitute for Meredith's crap efforts - but Meredith is supposedly knitting a sweater on enormous broomstick needles which looks to actually be a large piece of stocking stitch - a scarf, perhaps - but the point is, the point is, the point is that Meredith takes up knitting because she's becoming celibate after repeatedly screwing up with men.  She's sitting in the bar and the barman tells her she has to stop knitting because she's scaring off the customers.  Then the nurse at McVet's asks her how she's getting on with learning to knit, and when did she give up men.  She's basically knitting to avoid, and indeed distance herself from, any male attention.  Because men stay away from psycho knitter ladies.  Particularly ones with cats.

Now I know that's crazy talk.  But a lightbulb went off in my head.  I realised I may be knitting myself a divorce.  And a security cordon.  I've been thinking a lot about the amount of crafting I've been doing and how important it has been to me over the past turbulent months.  It's been a relief (or, as I mistyped, a "relife") to be able to take time to knit, crochet, dressmake, create, keep my mind and hands occupied and have a tangible object at the end of it.  If I'd been working, while I'd have had a different focus (and also some financial security), I think I might not have handled things 'so well' because I don't know if I would have had anything that I could have literally picked up and said 'Yes, I made this' I have talents.  I can do things. Subtext - I can get through this.  I can sort myself and this mess out.

I've admitted before that crafting has been how I've been keeping myself semi-sane up to now (can you tell that serenity may be about to disappear?) mainly because I've met a lot of wonderful knitterly people and it's been a lifeline, it and the people it's introduced me to have become a regular part of my social life.  Somehow it feels like it's almost cheating because none of these people know XH.  A new life, new start.  That's another reason why I love London - it's big enough to reinvent yourself without even changing your postcode.  I can tell these people I've had a crap time or the divorce is getting me down or whatever, and people are simply sympathetic.  There's no 'poor XH.  We feel for him too." It's unconditional. The support is just for me. Nobody asks 'Are you at fault at all?'

Am I immersing myself in crafts to avoid the real world of job-hunting and house-hunting and no-more-Tuesdays-at-Foyles, doing a Meredith and trying to maintain a distance from reality? (Apparently the world out there has men in it too, I'm not sure whether I'm more afraid of men or work.  Men at work.  Working with men.  Not working. No men.  Meeting a new man.)

And then there's the blog too.  A non-knitter, non-blogger friend asked me with that slightly wary look, 'Why do you have a blog?'  and of course the answer is 'It's cheaper than therapy".  I am very grateful to all the wonderful people (the friends from the real world, and the 'imaginary friends' from the virtual world) who have encouraged and supported,  cajoled and pacified me, sent care packages and come out for cocktails. It's been a whole different life for me in the past year but I'm glad to have 'met' new people who've made it that much more interesting - even if some times I wonder 'Why would you care about what I'm saying on this blog? Doesn't my whining drive you mad?  Do you think I'm funny or just in need of medication? Actually, is there anyone out there at all?  Oh god, am I blathering into empty cyberspace??'  I've been thinking about this a lot because of an email I got the other day. I've done a couple of interviews lately, one for an American newspaper's St Patrick's Day edition about Irish crafters, and I was interviewed for a piece in the Guardian about refashioning clothes and dressmaking.  Then I had a rather unexpected request:  if XH and I would like to be in one of the broadsheet supplements, in a feature where two people who have separated both give their side of the story.  I have to admit that I was flattered that I'd been asked, as they are "always looking for interesting and articulate subjects' but I realised that I wasn't interested in having my story told in that way, and I wondered who would want to bare their souls like that and what their motivation would be.

Then I thought about it a little more and realised that while I'm not 100% open, I do talk about this sort of thing on the blog without much caution.  I might not say it in  person to a friend but ironically I'm happy to stick it up here and let it exist as a sort of adjunct to my existence.  A very open secret.  It's like purging your soul to a diary, but crisp white paper , much as I love it, doesn't give you constructive feedback.  There have been a few posts recently in blogland about reading, commenting and lurking.  I'd like to say thanks, again, to everyone who comes to visit here.  Please leave a comment because I'd love to know who you are.  I'm going to make an effort to reply to all my comments - been a bit slow at this recently - and I'd encourage you to leave comments on blogs when you read them - because it's important to make those connections.  For both the reader and the author.

I'll be out of blogland for a while, not expecting to have internet access when I'm in Ireland.  Attending a wedding, seeing some people I haven't seen since my own wedding, gulp.  Gearing myself up for the househunt and the job hunt.  The crunch time really has come.  No more hiding behing the yarn, changes are inevitable.  The decree nisi is due any day now. I'll look forward to seeing what you though of this rambling epistle when I return!  Well done for getting this far...

* I caved and started over. Longer, no mistakes (so far) and up to 'gift' standard.  What was I thinking with the first one?? It's barely a scarf!  It's being ripped. The second one might become a lap rug for me if I've got enough yarn left over.  I love Cotton Angora, btw.

My kind of day

Actually, it didn't start off so well.  I intended to go to the London Sewing meet up over in west London for an hour or so before retreating back east for a knitting afternoon.  Or crochet, in my case.  Before I left the house I pressed and turned under the hem on the Liberty silk dress from the last post, so that I could hem it at the meet up.  Left the house, jumped on the tube, got as far as Tower Hill, and thought:

"Shit.
Did I unplug the iron?"*

I called my neighbour to ask her to pop in but she was out ferrying a plethora of small children to social appointments, so I had to abort the mission and come home.  With an extra hour or so to kill I finally got around to making my Tie One On Apron for this month.  Both Jennifer and Anna were kind enough to send me some rickrack when I bemoaned its lack of availability here (in interesting colours and widths).  So here it is:

It's on Dolly and  pinned a little crooked but you get the idea, I'm pleased with it.  The theme was rickrack so it's around the bottom and peeping out from the pocket (because an apron without a pocket is pointless though on reflection the pocket doesn't actually have to be big enough to fit a cookbook in).  It's made from a thrifted pillowcase and some pink cotton from the stash.

Now I just need an excuse to do some baking.  Magnolia cupcakes and pistachio macaroons and cherry biscuits and oh god I better stop myself now.

Then it was off to Broadway Market, for pints of chips and more rippling, with   four very lovely ladies.   Just like Claire, right now I'm all about the crochet, and the rippling in particular.  It won't be ready to bring to the wedding next week, but that's ok.  At this stage I've started it twice,

and at now 45" (these are different colours so it's not that your computer screen needs adjusting, top is the first blanket and below is the current one).  I'm still not sure it's wide enough but I don't feel like starting it a third time. It might get a big border instead.  I've worked out that the ripples take up so much of the foundation chain that you've got to chain about a third more than you think you need.

So soon I'll have to start temping or working properly in a grown-up job, god forbid, but at the moment I'm making the most of the last days of my freedom.  That has also included a couple of cinema trips this week with Jen - and as she pointed out, we saw two Chinese films. 

Curse of the Golden Flower was great.  It's a little like Eastenders in fluoro colours, because it has all the intrigue, back-stabbing and general human misery of a soap but it's extravagantly beautiful.  It was slightly frustrating when the subtitles disappeared - literally at the dramatic climax - but we figured it out.  The costumes are divine.  It's relatively slow-moving but I was caught up in the sheer spectacle of it all.  What I know about Chinese history could fit on the head of a pin, but the film illuminated how tradition and a sense of order and propriety dominated then  - even when life is collapsing for all the main characters, as part of the Emperor's family - their lives were rigid, bound by strict codes and therefore when the emotions come to the fore in the film it's all the more powerful.

Which, in some ways, was similar to The Painted Veil. Someone (Ting?) volunteered that the title of the film alludes to people revealing their true selves. Yes, again the costumes (Kitty Fane's tea dresses - covet... fawn... and the parasols!!) were just fabulous, especially as I fancy myself in a cotton tea dress more than the Empress's huge robes.
I actually found it very moving - when the tide turns and the emotional current changes, it's very powerful.  So much so that I didn't mind Naomi Rubber Face Watts.  And yes, Edward Norton is stoic and dashing and just rather swoonsome. Go and see it.

So else got the Liberty 15% discount voucher (online, when they registered with the new site) that has no date, and no 'can only be used once' stipulation on it, and said 'hooray'?  Who has managed to use it?  I was pretty peeved that they wouldn't accept it the other day.  They seem to have omitted some of the terms and conditions on it but have just decided not to take it in the shop.  Doesn't seem fair really...

* yes

Stash-busting

It's New Look 6588 but I decided I wasn't going to do the casing and put in four lines of elastic (mainly because I am a lazy cow, but also because I didn't think it would actually be that comfortable or attractive), so I used shirring elastic to gather it instead and sewed the gathered skirt straight to the bodice. I also learned a bit more about working with diagonals, ahem. 
The pattern has a lot of ease in it so next time I make it (possibly tomorrow) I'd cut out a smaller size and not gather it so much.  I like the fact that it's quite 'swingy' but I'm slightly worried I'll be asked when I'm due...

Dolly was really useful - sometimes I just don't get what the pattern instructions say so I literally pinned it all out on her, and was able to work it all out.  Still wouldn't let anyone look inside it, mind you.

The lovely Abi came over and helped me with the measurements so I could pad Dolly out.  However I seem to have overpadded her (clothes that fit me are too tight on her),  so I need to have another go at her.  But still an excellent purchase.

I went into Broadwick Silks to get some lining to make a slipdress for under this.  I'm going to make another sheer overdress too, so went for a lilac colour to double up, one slip for two dresses.  Cheating, I know.  One of the very lovely girls working there overheard me buying this fabric and immediately piped up 'Is this for the wedding?' as she'd remembered me buying some silk there for Simplicity 6375 the other day.  Damn, I felt like I'd been caught with my hand in the sweetie jar.  Guess I had been.

PS I told friends the other day that I wasn't going to buy anything for my stash, and then went out the next day and somehow came home with eight metres.  Um, but this was in my stash, so technically I only acquired six metres - right?