I really am not doing very well at the moment.

I have been trying to get a photo of the Twilight Mitts to make a point, but the light has not been very cooperative in these gloomy days. Still I think it shows. The one on the left is finished, and was knitted on five needles (Knitpicks Harmony sock needles) and the one on the right is nearly there, knitted in the flat on Addi Lace. It is not too clear, but you should be able to see that the untreated fabric is much more even on the flat one.

I find knitting colourwork in the round an incredible faff, and it has the effect of making me tense and twitchy - see the Tension Issues! In the flat it is almost as relaxing as stocking stitch. Well it is stocking stitch, just with an adjustment of the wrist angle to dictate which colour goes over the needle point. With the advantage that on the purl rows, I can see exactly what my floats are up to.

It is all unimportant now, since they are both finished, and you have to find the seaming to know which one was which, now that they have been given a wash and a pat as they dried.

Except it is not totally unimportant, since I know which one I enjoyed knitting the most, and the pleasure of working counts for so much.

At this point, I want to say THERE IS NO RIGHT AND WRONG IN KNITTING, JUST SO LONG AS WHAT YOU MAKE COMES OUT RIGHT. All the different techniques are fascinating, but there is no order of precendence, and when I knit, my hands know best what I should do. So do yours.

It's been a long time.

First I had the Flu jab. Then I had the -not flu - but I really have not been very well. USA election night it was clear that for me lying down was not going to be an option, so I got myself established with plenty of pillows and rugs, and a pair of election socks. Well, they are blue(ish) and the yarn is Cascade Heritage Hand Paints bought here, so I felt that was the best I was likely to do. As it was, I couldn't stay awake for long enough to see anything very significant, but at least I knew that I had "done my bit".



I have also been working on the other batch of Jaeger Extra Fine, using an adapted pattern.



I used the tubular cast on as it doesn't pull in quite as much as my usual thumb method. I am pleased with the fabric that is coming off the needles.

Knititch - I like that pattern, especially the shoulder shaping. It has a lot more twisted stitches that mine though - I am not sure I could manage that many, especially the purl ones! My dear old stitch pattern has just the knit stitches on the right side twisted and that is enough for me.

Callie - The situation about the school and Feast is one that we see in Cornwall quite a lot - it is really down to new residents failing to appreciate just how important our local traditions are! The poor Head of the school had only been there since last January, so she had never seen Feast, and didn't know what it was. However that didn't stop her thinking she could make a difference! I am hoping very hard that it was just a failure of judgement on her part - it is, however, entirely possible that somebody 'fed her a line' to see how she would respond, and thereby dropped her into the situation. the Cornish are independent minded people, but they can also be pretty underhand and treacherous - comes from centuries of being patronised by the English.

Mind you, these things don't just happen in Cornwall. My Husband remembers his Grandfather saying of some enthusiastic newcomers to the village in rural Berkshire "Been in the village five minutes, and already they think they can make water run uphill."

Brace yourselves: semi-political rant coming up!

This news item surely raised a splutter in this household. I was born and raised in this town. Does she actually know what Feast is. To be precise, it is the anniversary of the consecration of the church in 1336 (Did she know that date without having to look it up?- I did) In 1336, the consecration of a church required the presence of the bishop who had to come from Exeter. Travelling was not of the easiest, so he came in the middle of the summer. However the annual WEEK of celebrations was such that it imperrilled the harvest. So the townsfolk decided (democratically I am sure since that is a strong instinct in the Cornish) to move Feast (not The Feast, just Feast) to the Sunday nearest All Saints' Day (November 1st) So sometimes it falls in late October. Anyway, it is well placed to be incorporated into half term, and, whatever the education authorities may have said, that is when half term was.

A lot of Cornish towns and villages have Feasts, at different dates, but St. Just was always the Grandaddy of them all. Exiles will come home to visit the family when they would not for Christmas. The point of Feast Monday is - yes the hunt opening meet, but more important than that, just to be there in the two town squares, and meet up with the people you haven't seen for ages, and get up to date with all the news. My Father recalls it used to be said "You could walk across the square on the heads of the crowd" and although it was not quite so crowded in my younger days, it was noticeable in recent times that I have managed to get there, that the crowds were getting larger by the year. The whole point of it is to BE There, for the Church service on the Sunday, and the meetings on the Monday.

I wonder what the special school feast dinner was going to be. On the Monday it was always cold meat - the leftovers of the humungous joint of whatever (probably beef) which was cooked for the family on the Sunday, and eaten cold with boiled potatoes and pickles. people from outlying villages and hamlets, farmers and the like, would all come to a family member in the town for their dinner, in a constant stream, to be fed as they arrived. So many of them, that they could not all sit down together.

Now comes the bit where I show my paranoia. Some cultures are more equal than others in this multicultural society. I suggest that a newly appointed head teacher in a school that was in a (for example) predominately Jewish community would be unlikely to be so crass as to suggest that the children should not have the day off for Yom Kippur, that they should go to school where the canteen would prepare a special fast, and that they should have a special Yom Kippur assembly. That they should mark the day in the school's own way. I don't know what happens in such a situation, but it seems to me that any community's special day is a time when children should be with their families, in the community. And a school is not a community. It is a place that children go to get educated and is only a small part of any community.

And Feast is St. Just's culture, just as much as all the festivals, both solemn and fun, that our grand mixture of immigrants have brought with them. We should not forget the ones that were here all along, ESPECIALLY when they thrive and increase by the will of the locals, who go back beyond the days of schools.

The picture at the top of this post is Market Square on an ordinary day - picture taken by Cornwall Cam. Imagine, if you will, the space that is not buildings completely filled with people. It will be, on Feast Monday and the children will be there, because I hear that the Headteacher has backed down - well good, it has saved her the embarrassment of sitting in an empty school, thinking "Was it something I said?".

All done.

Another helping of winter warm. Jaeger Extra Fine DK so it has a lovely springy texture, and a sheen from the merino wool. I shall be using some of the leftovers to knit a hat now - the colour just happens to be a precise match for my younger daughter's new winter coat ( the one she bought in London).

That means I only have four projects on the go. I'm not sure if that is good or bad!

Heirloom

Sarah Pain
aged 9 years

Fragrant the rose is but it fades in time
The violet sweet but quickly past the prime
White lilies hang their heads and soon decay
And whiter snow in minutes melts away
Such and so withering are our early joys
Which time and sickness speedily destroy

June 1794

Sarah Pain is not quite a direct ancestor - she was the Aunt of one of my forbears.
In 1794.
Queen Victoria was not yet born.
The USA was eighteen years old.
Marie Antoinette was still alive (but in prison)

Restraint

For a trip to Ally Pally I think I have been remarkably modest in my purchases. Two skeins of Koigu - stash replenishment. One skein of hand painted laceweight from New Zealand - a firm called Touch Yarns which is about as good a name as you can get. Mind you, it was the colours that did it,which the photo hardly does justice to.

Plus a scrumptious shade card from an Aussie firm, and a few small bits of kit, is all there is to show for a bad case of sore feet.

Good day though, and lots of lovely talk with fellow makers. It is the talking to strangers that is the best part of days out like this: that and petting the yarn!

Happy diversion

I was going to tell you about last Monday, when, shopping successfully accomplished, we went to the National Gallery, and spent ages looking at those oh-so-familiar paintings which are so much more impressive in reality than reproduction. I was also going to mention how clean and bright London looked under an autumn-blue sky, with the buildings so well scrubbed, and the water sparkling in the Trafalgar Square fountains. How pleasant it was to be walking in St. James's Park, seeing the trained squirrels posing for all they were worth, and noting that Coots have quite the most repulsive feet of any bird I can think of. To see a duck with an improbably blue bill, and to come home and look it up; find that it is called a Ruddy Duck and think how I would have loved being able to say "ruddy" legitimately when I was a little girl!

I won't be telling you all this because the postman knocked, and delivered . . . .

It is impressive! I have to declare an interest - the author is my cousin, so I have to be predisposed to like it. But I would anyway. I would have no hesitation in giving it to a beginner, since the words and pictures demonstrate the techniques very effectively. There is stuff in there that I have never seen explained anywhere else (and if you look at what I have got around to putting on my Librarything list you will know that I have got a large collection of needlework books) The book itself is beautifully produced - the paper and binding feel good - I particularly like the covers - and the photos are clear and very helpful. I am holding in my hands the source of a lot of happy reading hours and something that will spark off a few fresh ideas of my own, I am sure!

Thanks Ruth: you did a grand job!

Done and dusted

All finished and off to it's new home! She likes it, and it will certainly keep her nice and warm in her chilly little flat. So thankyou to The Yarn Boutique for selling me the yarn - or, rather, for having such a fantastic selection of colours, and thankyou to Cascade, because it was an excellent knitting experience. And biggest thanks of all to the daughter who managed to find something for me to make for her.

By the way, I am now on Ravelry, as Jean from Cornwall, but don't expect to find anything much out my knitting for a while - I must now try and suss out how to get this sorted out as a finished object, so the learning is still very much in progress. Knitting is so much simpler to me!

Nearly there

Could have done with a bit more light on the subject but it is clear that all I have to do now is keep going until it is long enough, and since the owner will be home this weekend, she can tell me when I have gone far enough.

Vivienne - I don't think you will have any trouble with your unbacked buttons: yours is a much finer, firmer knitted fabric. I only felt that mine needed backing because this is worsted weight knitted on 6mm needles, and when I looked at it, and the buttons, I said "This is just too flollopy"

Ping!

Another bright idea!

The Cascade Cardi is coming along, and I had started to think about the buttons. The ones she chose have small holes, and this is worsted yarn. I shall have to sew them on with cotton. I didn't think that was going to do very well, unless I backed them with something. What have I got that will not show too much if the button band turns outward?


I have just felted my swatch. It is drying on the line. It will be quite large enough to cut out six little circles.

As I said: Ping!

Coming along nicely

The Cascade cardi is going well. Since it is a long garment, I decided to stop knitting the body once I got to the underarms, and do the sleeves next. Then I can gaily knit onwards, and make it as long as the yarn will allow. So far, she can have one and a half warm arms this winter! I am surprised just how far the yarn is going. (I nearly wrote 'stretching' - that was really not what I meant.)



I am also on something of a mission. Above is a large photographic print, dating from the late 19th-early 20th century. My parents bought it in the early 1960's, as part of a job lot at an auction sale when they went to buy something else entirely.That's the sort of thing they did! When Dad had put it in a frame, they took it to the village where it was taken, and asked the locals until somebody recognised the old fellow and told them who he was. In the course of my meanderings, I have now happened upon a book that was written by his Granddaughter, but it appears that neither the book nor his Granddaughter are around any more. The book is "Porthgwarra" and it was written by Christine Gendall. I would so love to be put in touch with a copy, and would be very grateful if anyone could help.

The reason I have always liked this picture so much is that the fisherman is wearing a beautiful guernsey. Back in my teens, when this picture was newly hung on the dining room wall, I used to look at it and think 'I could copy that sweater' - not "guernsey", because at that time I knew nothing of them - not even that they existed, let alone the specialised methods of construction. I still hope to do it, one of these days, and when I do, I will be able to count the stitches to write out the pattern. The print is so large and clear that even my elderly eyes can manage that!

No pictures

I didn't take my camera. The pictures in my head are good..

To London for I Knit day, and to see The Yarn Harlot. What a lady! In her quiet, self deprecating, wryly humorous way, she made a huge hall full of knitters realise that knitting is not a quaint girly pastime, but Important, Life Enhancing, and Life Affirming. Which we all knew anyway, but it is such a treat to hear it said in such a charming way.

I am glowing with the compliments on my Print o' the Wave stole, which I wore - it can only give you a high when a woman walks through the door of the venue, and comes straight up and says "What's the pattern, and where can I get it?".

I didn't buy a single gramme of yarn - but I brought home better things that didn't even need a bag to carry them in!

This is a knitting blog.

You could be forgiven for thinking that I had forgotten how to do it! But this is not so. There is quite a lot going on.First there is the Half Hap shawl, otherwise known as the purply heap. This has reached the stage of having completed the "centre" and the Old Shale border, and I have worked off the stitches so that there are loops all round for picking up to put on a narrow edging. I think I am going to have to reduce the number of loops on the curved edge, as there seem to be wildly too many - a bit of reading up needs to be done before I decide on that.

I have a semipair of socks. Araucania bought in Bungay. I am so impressed at how random the colours are - there is nothing in the colour distribution to tell you where the heel flap is. I do like yarns that stripe, or pool, or even swirl, but if you want true random, this is the one. Feels lovely as well.

More Aruacania. Who saw the Winter Twilight Mitts in Knitting Daily? I already had the orange sunsetty colour, and got the darkish green single colour from Get Knitted - I asked them to find me the most consistently dark skein, and they did me proud!


But everything else has been abandoned for this. A top-down, hooded cardi in Cascade 220 , all the way from sunny Californiay. This for the daughter that doesn't knit. I am trying to put on a bit of speed so that she gets it before the cold weather sets in. It is growing remarkably fast.

Rest in peace.

It is a strange feeling.

This time yesterday, I would have said that the MD80 plane that we flew on was comfortable and a pleasure to ride in. Now one has crashed, and a lot of people have died.

I am not so sanguine about the prospect of flying again. Perhaps I shall just stay at home and write letters.

Sorrow for those who's lives have been cut short. They didn't deserve to die, but they died. I didn't deserve to die, and I am alive.

As I said, it is a strange feeling.

What a trip!

What a long way to go to get stash! But when the yarn store is as good as this one, it doesn't seem like too much trouble. If you are ever in Lafayette CA, I commend it to you highly.

This is my sock yarn being wound - the smile was free, as was the great conversation. Of course, having had the yarn wound, I needed some needles to be able to knit on the plane.

I bought a set of the casein ones, since it seemed like a good idea to try them. Only one slight problem - they said size 2.5 which is what I use for socks. But I use 2.5mm and these were 2.5 US, which equates to 3.0mm. so my good work had to be frogged. Ah Well . . . it was an opportunity to try them out. They were disconcertingly bendy until I got used to that and then they were very pleasant to use. They are also excellent for use in low light situations provided you are using a darkish yarn. Which was handy when I couldn't sleep because the children-who-couldn't-stop-talking couldn't sleep either.


It really is as steep as it looks. What is more I managed to walk two blocks uphill. Just wait till I boast about that to my doctor!


You will have seen pictures of the cable cars, so here is one of the brake mechanism - looking straight through to the road. It really is as rudimentary as it looks, and you are dependant on the sheer muscular strength of the brakeman.


This is the light falling through the windows of Grace Cathedral. I don't know if the Californian sunshine is extra bright or the glass is more intensely coloured, but it is beautiful.


The flying was fascinating - to see a geography lesson rolling past beneath. Typical - I discover it just as we are all supposed to stop doing it to save the planet. Well I shall be able to say I have got family there when I get around to doing it again!

Just a very few words.

America was great. I would go back tomorrow (but right now I need to sleep).

The quilt was where I hoped it would be, ready to be loved. The yarn store was fabulous, and the Chinese meal in San Francisco's Chinatown was great.

Photos to come.

No more a secret.

I can let my secret project out in company.

Tomorrow I fly to San Francisco for my son's wedding reception. When I agreed to go, the two words 'quilt' and 'wedding' started linking up in my brain, and I realised that if I got a move on, I could finish my patchwork project and hand it over.

I have sent it on before me, and now that I know that it has arrived, and that she has seen it and approved, I can show it off.


Sadly I didn't have time to make it larger than single size, but I reckon that they can keep it on the sofa, for huddling under while watching scary movies.


I managed to find a rather nice heart print for the binding.


I had a large piece of Liberty Tana lawn in the cupboard which was just right for the backing.

I'm just a bit pleased with myself - no, I'm really unbearably smug!

Sewed a skirt

Some lovely crisp, quietly green linen, from the last consignment of fabric from the late, much lamented, Croft Mill.


Finally got to do something I have been wanting to do for ages - overedged the bottom, turned a tiny hem and anchored it with a decorative stitch. That's why I spent all that money on the new machine, last year.


I also used the quarter inch foot to do the seams, and then overedged. This meant I didn't have to trim the edges - I am not so good at cutting straight lines. Didn't it turn out neat? I am very pleased with the result.

Meet a couple of friends

I suppose I was about three. It will have been the spring of 1951, probably, since it says on the back that we were in the gardens of a local big house, famed for its rhododendrons. Her name is Sheila Teddy and she was made by my Mum. I am told that I had had an ordinary teddy, but she "disappeared" from my pram when I was about a year old. I had been parked outside a shop, the way it was done back then, and my Mother knew the name of the little girl who had been talking to me. She came from a family that one would NOT go to and ask to have ones toy back. So Sheila was made.


And she is still with me. My children loved her too! Her companion is even older. He is a nightdress case called Ankers. He was my Mother's and dates from the 1920's. He was originally called Angus, but much childish mispronunciation transmogrified him to Ankers. He too is bald from much love.

A sewing book

No pictures today, which doesn't mean I haven't taken any - I have been having a lovely time photographing my secret project, but since that is not for publication yet I will mention an interesting book I came across in the second hand bookshop this week.

"Needlework and Cutting Out" by Agnes Walker. This is a manual for teachers. It is also about the same vintage as "Educational Needlecraft" which I wrote about back in February, but oh, what a different approach. "Thimble Drill" ,"Needle Drill", and so forth through the lessons. And drill means exactly that - doing the actions on command, in unison. Boring plain sewing until the children (girls, although this is never mentioned, I think we can assume it) are able to do boring plain seams.

I would have been in big trouble - I could never use a thimble at school. I used to wonder why I found school sewing so hard to do, and got a nasty sore spot on my right ring finger. That is because they made me put the thimble on the finger I used to hold the needle, and I used the next one to push the needle through. Thank goodness my Mother never forced me to use a thimble, and just let me play with needles and thread, and find my own natural way of working. I learned so much more from just messing around and asking her when I wanted help than in all the school lessons. What is more, her way kept the love alive.

So it is an interesting book, and has a lot of patterns - shirts, drawers, combinations and pinafores, etc. That is enough to make it worth having, since it is fascinating how the cut of garments has changed over the years. But I am very glad I am not a little girl in 1907 - I would be learning to hate sewing, and the teacher would not think very much of my skills!

Nice bit of colour in the garden

Which is a kind of code for "not a lot to say" The Spanish Broom and the Yellow Loosestrife are looking good, and if screaming intense yellow is not your taste, there are some nice pale restrained Mallows.
The knitting continues, and I should soon be in a position to lay out the half-hap shawl and see if it looks as though it will ever be anything I could own up to!

Apart from that I am working on something that is not for publication until it is out of my hands, and I only have the photos left.

I have allowed myself to be persuaded to go to my son's wedding reception. The thing is, it is in San Francisco. I have never flown before. This is going to be one heck of a weekend. I just hope there is a good supply of long cold soft drinks, and maybe a yarn store adjacent. Meanwhile my head is swirling with things to plan and pack.

It made a lot of noise.

I know this is pretty impressionistic, but if you screw up your eyes you can see what it is.

I became aware of a lot of bird noise in the garden, and when I looked I saw three woodpeckers on the peanut feeders. By the time I had reached the window that I can poke the camera out of, Mum and Dad had flown, and there was just Junior Woodpecker left behind feeding. When I first looked, Mum was on the same feeder, and Junior was making a lot of noise, asking to be fed, and getting the occasional gesture with Mum's beak, as much as to say, feed yourself, you are a big boy now!

Yes I know this is right on the limits of what my little camera can accomplish, but it is still worth it, just to have a record!

Wip and Wildlife

First a photo to show where I had to drop a stitch and pick it back up again - I discovered that I had split the yarn and left a loop right down at the beginning. Ok so it was on the inside so only I would know that it was there, but this is such Perfect Yarn that it is making me raise my standards. And being such wonderful stuff, I have got away with the fix as you can see when you run your eye down from the marker.


The yarn is Jaegar Extrafine Merino and it is wonderful. The colour is fairly close to accurate on my monitor, and I am using the same old pattern as I used for the Matchmaker - something simple since this yarn doesn't want anything too complex, but that bit of texture makes the colour look even richer.

As for the wildlife - that little brown bird on the peanut feeder is moving oddly. That would be because the little brown bird is a little brown mouse. The peanut feeders hang from the little twigs of the apple tree, so the fact that the mouse was there was pretty impressive - it must have climbed the tree, and navigated it's way out to the end of the right twig, and then down. It deserved every bit of nourishment that it got! When it had finished, it jumped, and ran for cover into the long grass by the shed.

I should have seen that one coming.

My daughter Vivienne tagged me for a meme, so here goes (we Mothers know our duty)

1. What was I doing ten years ago?

I was trying very hard to recover from the worst year of my life. 1997 was BAD. I started that year with a coronary artery by-pass op, after having two heart attacks. The year ended with me needing one of the grafts to be re-done because it hadn't worked the first time.

The heart recovered remarkably well, but I was still struggling, and it took me until early 2000 to wonder if the pain and weakness were somehow connected with the statins that I was told were necessary to life. It is not good to have to go up the stairs on all fours. It is not good to be unable to knit due to the pain in one's hands and arms. It took another three years from stopping the drug to lose most of the symptoms, and it was a long time before I realised that the mental problems ( memory difficulties, and "losing" words) had been due to the statins. I had thought that it might be brain damage after the surgery, but, if it had been, it would not have resolved itself the way it did.

So it was a hard year, and frustrating, but in general I was heading in the right direction - back to life.

2. What are five things on my to-do list for today?

This.

Take a trip with my good friend from the (closed) Post Office. Lakeland here I come for some more anti-moth stuff.

Knit some. I am working on some of the Jaegar Superfine Merino (discontinued). I find it hard to express what a delicious piece of work this is. QUALITY YARN!!

Read some. I am reading "The Domestic Manners of Americans" by Fanny Trollope. She doesn't hold back from an honestly held opinion.

Watch birds. Our feeders are rarely deserted.

3. What snacks do I enjoy?

Parsnip crisps. Parsnip chips. Roast parsnips. Hell, just parsnips.
Kettle chips.
Nuts -today I prefer cashews and macadamias. This will surely change.
Chocolate. Today it would be Green and Black's Butterscotch. This too will assuredly change.

4. Where are some of the places I have lived?

St Just, in West Cornwall -born and raised there.
Reading, when I left home to train as a nurse. They still had trolley buses then. Did you hear the one about the driver who transferred from the buses - he forgot that he was attached to overhead cables, and pulled out to overtake . . . I believe he lost his job.
The nursing didn't work out, so I moved to Dorking, and worked as a lab technician. That was the year I took part in the Leith Hill Music Festival.
In the 70's we lived in Plymouth for five years. If it has to be a city, Plymouth is a very pleasant one to live in - or certainly was then.

5. If I were a billionaire, what things would I do?

I would have my home near the sea, where I could establish it's surroundings as some kind of nature reserve.

I would have dogs and horses (I would need some help with the looking after, so that would be a good excuse to overpay somebody for doing what they enjoyed.)

I would love to be able to set up something akin to "El Sistema" - because I believe that music can always make a difference.

There are bound to be masses of things I will think of as soon as I post this - ah well.

I genuinely can't think of anyone to tag for this - Vivienne has pinched all the names I would have thought of!

Something special

This is where we sat - under the lantern in Ely cathedral.

There she goes - the reason why. Vivienne said she has always wanted to walk among ancient buildings wearing full academic rig.


Her husband and younger sister were there as well. The degree is Master of Arts in Classical Studies, and the university is the Open University, which is what made it so special.

Ok so the youngsters do well, and deserve the applause they get when they graduate, but the people who graduated here were such a varied crew and represent such dedication and massive hours of self discipline in study that the honours are deserved in a whole other way.

Old people who have obviously had to wait until retirement to find time to study the thing that fascinated them.

Middle-aged people who have just realised that if they get the qualifications they can do the thing that they really wanted to do.

People with physical problems that now have it on record that the wonky body houses a fine mind.

Mums and Dads who had to give a wave to the small children watching them - what an excellent example to set to their children.

One little Miss had her moment - five minutes before the procession she got away. She ran to the dais, and looked back - Granny was coming. So she put one foot on the steps - Granny was getting nearer. Up she went onto the dais and ran across just fast enough to keep beyond Granny's reach, and smiled at her audience all the way. You could feel the draught as the whole audience sighed "Aaaah". For the record, there was no sound of her voice for the rest of the proceedings, so she must have behaved impeccably from then on.

Oh, and I finished a pair of socks.

Fruit on the sock tree.

At last I have finished the Jaywalker socks. I really like them, but I have to say that they didn't please me in the making. It is a good pattern, but not simple enough that I can knit mindlessly and read at the same time - which is what I reckon socks are for - for me at any rate. So it will be back to the boring ones, and have the interest in the yarn, for future socks.

Things are really pleasing me in the garden - this peony for instance.

And the Forget-me-nots.

And in somebody else's garden a Tamarisk. This one is for you Vivienne since you said you had not knowingly seen one in flower. I have loved them from before I had any idea what they looked like - just the name does it for me. I also forgot to say how good the Alexanders were looking all along the Norfolk roadside a couple of weeks ago.

Every change is marked by a biscuit.

Chocolate Viennese and Cornish Fairings. These are what I shall be taking to work this week, since it is the tradition in the place where I work to take biscuits when there is the slightest excuse, and if they are home made, so much the better.

For the past year I have been working a few hours a week in the sub-post office which is in the back of the bookshop/stationers/pharmacy where I had spent the last eight years plying my trade. The Post Office is being closed, despite it being a thriving , profitable and throughly convenient establishment, and in the face of loud and insistent complaints from the locals. Don't talk to me about "consultation" : that is just a euphemism for "We spit on you."

The little town is split into two halves by the railway, and a pretty steep hill. There is another Post Office in the other half of town, and that is the one beside the sorting office, and in a bigger building, so if they were determined that we should only have one, that was always going to be the one that they kept. Never mind the fact that a lot of the old people will find it difficult to get to, and that there are so many shops close to us, plus the Library and Health Centre just around the corner, on the flat.

The Post Office in general is supposed to be losing a lot of money - well in our town, both offices are making money for them, so where is the sense in closing a profitable concern? As things stood, we were effectively subsidising some of the rural ones which can never turn a profit, but are needed, nonetheless.

So I am going to be completely retired, along with a clutch of friends and workmates, and that is why the biscuits. I somehow think they are going to taste of sand and ashes.

A good week for endings.

This shirt has had a rather long gestation period. My friend had a holiday in Canada and brought the fabric back as a present. I have been looking at it often and been unable to make my mind up what to do. She has said, every so often, "Cut that material out yet?" Then I realised that it was the intensity of the colour that was worrying me, and that what it needed was something to offset that - white collar and cuffs perhaps? Yes, and it has turned out very well.
Then there is the green linen-mix sweater. As I predicted, I have had enough of it; never want to see it again; cannot imagine why I ever wanted to make such a useless garment. I do think that it has turned out a bit on the large side, but I can forsee that there will come a day in the winter when that is precisely what I want. And it is green - honest! Look here and you will see a picture that shows the colour much more accurately.

I have a sneaking suspicion that this post-finishing dislike of the work is rather akin to the small-time baby blues - not the full blown depression that is so cruel to many, but the little glitch of anti-climax that most new mums pass through - all that discomfort, pain and effort and what do I get - something else that just wants to be loved. So I will like the sweater/ baby/new house/man: just give me a few moments!