
There’s nothing quite like social crafting. You sit yourself down in a new group, get your craft kit out and instantly you’re asked what you’re making, is there a pattern, or is it your own, oh and what’s the yarn? Then allsorts of topics just flow, you join in as little, or as much as you want and before you know it you’ve drunk your coffee, crocheted a small pile of circles and two hours have vanished!
This week I’ve gone to two crafty meet ups, one leading to the other, and topics have ranged from Jeremy Clarkson‘s new pub, his finding of knickers on the site, dogging (!) Rashes under boobs, muslin cloth, block deodorants, traffic issues, local festivals, roadworks, politics, ID, living in Yorkshire, the north and south of England a personal comparison, air fryers, gin, husbands reluctantly making their own lunch: “But what will I have?!” (mentioned by the older women, the younger were slightly agog. How about: “Anything you fancy making darling?”) and much, much more. Craft is probably about 3% of the range of topics covered. There is always much laughter.
When I first started visiting yarn groups, maybe 12 years ago, crocheters were in the minority. There might be me and perhaps one other, unless I felt I needed to bow to the general trend and took knitting. The morning after an evening spent in a pub or cafe I would realise my knitting was always a complete mess, because I couldn’t concentrate on any kind of pattern, chat and sip coffee or alcohol at the same time. Naïvely I once took some lace knitting to a meet up in Oxford. Never again! I find crochet much more free flowing.
At the first craft group I went to this week seven were crocheting, three knitting and one was sewing up some knitting. At the second I would say it was about the same; more were crocheting than knitting of the fifteen. Unfortunately the one who was sewing up on Tuesday came to the other group as well and was re-sewing because she had made a mistake. But it looked like a gorgeous little jumper in variegated shades of green. It will be perfect when it’s finally done.


You see we’ve had a bit more summer this week. I snapped these photos on a 3 mile loop of field paths one evening.
As we were halfway through the walk chatting away I suddenly realised there was quite a loud noise in the field behind. Peeping through a gap in the hedge I saw a combine harvester was cutting the meadow grasses to make hay. It’s been much better, drier weather lately. At last!

It’s the first time I’ve grown mangetout and I can’t believe how many I’m picking every day. I hate to say it, it sounds a little miserable, but I’m getting a bit fed up of eating them now! I didn’t realise they would produce so many. Our lovely neighbour watered our garden when we were on holiday and so I took her some. It’s time to pass them around I think!

The peas are ready and absolutely delicious. We had roast chicken and lots of summer veg on Sunday, the peas were sweet and beautiful. They only took one minute to steam, along with homegrown cavolo nero and mange-tout.
The beetroot are nearly ready to pick as well.
As for book talk this week I’m still listening to Lessons in Chemistry by Bonnie Garmus, it’s making me laugh out loud now. I’m also listening to

Threads of Life: A History of the World Through the Eye of a Needle by Clare Hunter. This was mentioned on another blog recently and I thought I’d give the audiobook a try. It’s on Spotify premium. It’s really interesting so far and I like the Scottish narrator a lot. I recognise Siobhan Redmond’s voice from a medical drama I used to watch on TV.

I’m reading an advance copy of Jenny Colgan’s new book Close Knit, which has knitting and quite a funny knitting circle (more social crafting!) up in the highlands of Scotland. It’s out here very soon.
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What have you been up to in the last week? Making? Reading? Growing anything? Any good recommendations for TV? Tell me a few things please!





































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































Refreshing walks relieve head pressure and get the body moving. I score myself out of 10 some days and never failed to return feeling an 8/10. 




















































































Poor osteospermum (aka African Daisy, so my friend Jill tells me) nearly drowned in all the rain so came inside to dry off. Poor thing was flourishing and flowering a second time – go me, the deadheading Queen! – but started to look bedraggled and as if it was going to wither. I don’t blame it to be honest. I was starting to feel the same way. 


















































One: I can’t tell you how good it is to have made something. From beginning to end in about 10 days. Yes!












You might have to look at these for a minute to work out what they are. Clever eh? Saw in an Antiques Centre

























Sparkly and sumptuous, Waddesdon Manor always looks beautifully dressed at Christmas. The garden light trails and the Christmas fair were the best ever this year too
A finished thing? Yes!!!!























Nala the cockapoo, one of the salon dogs relaxing on the hair-wash chair. She’s either resting her head on your knee asking for love, or curled up on a chair. It’s clearly a hard life. Cora her Goldendoodle half-sister is often asleep by the front door, waiting for the postman who always brings treats. They are probably part of the reason why I’m so much more comfortable around dogs. I like my hairdressers a lot, so it wasn’t a difficult choice between leaving because of the dogs, or staying and getting used to them. This year I’ve patted them both once. This might not seem impressive, but believe me it is! 































































It’s now week four of no crafting. I feel so frustrated at not being able to sit quietly to focus on making something for a few minutes. I didn’t realise how often I do that when I’m at a loose end, or when I feel I need a spot of calming or relaxed activity. I’m also missing my social crafting time, as it’s pointless really to go to a knit group and just sit. It’s genuinely surprised me how truly unproductive I feel too. I’ve crocheted (knit, sewed and generally fiddled around with new crafts) for years now. It’s a habit that’s been hard to consciously break. It’s only one aspect of life I know, and hardly a life or death situation, but as regular crocheters or knitters know it’s an important part of day to day life, for all sorts of reasons. The other thing is that after losing my mojo a little, I was suddenly raring to make all the things. 











I tried a bit of crochet one day this week, but decided it’s not a good idea if it causes discomfort.






This week I added to my garter stitch blanket. I like the look of the navy with the lavender a lot. As I did another 6 rows (250 stitches each) I reflected on how much I’m enjoying knitting. It’s as meditative as crochet when easy, good to have two hands in motion, I like the feel and look of the fabric.
I’ve also added a few more colour blocks to my patchwork blanket. Also satisfying once I get into a rhythm, but a bit boring to contemplate doing masses of linen stitch which is why this has been very slow in the making. I much prefer the swoop and flow of trebles to doubles.


A host of golden daffodils. They’re probably all dried and crinkly now. I’m glad I saw them looking so lush.
So in the last week and a half I’ve knitted; ‘that’ sock, the garter stitch blanket and finished my lace cowl using chunky needles, crocheted and done the other craft which requires very fine motor skills. And my point? My hands hurt. My arms hurt. My elbows are stiff. The side of my hands are tingling. (I should probably not be typing this, but dictating.) That is a big warning sign isn’t it? I think I might have done too much knitting with the chunky 5mm needles, the lace pattern required lots of different manipulative movements and then there were hours of sock knitting. I’ve been disciplined at only doing one set of repeats max with the cowl, but got carried away one day with the sock. I unravelled and reknitted for far too long. In all these years of crocheting I’ve never experienced this, I’m in a sulk with knitting. Stupid chunky needles, stupid tiny circulars, stupid lace, stupid sock. I think this means a total ban on craft for a month. I’ve put a note that I can try again on 19th May….unless they feel magically better sooner. Sniff.







After all that snow and minus temperatures it’s amazing to see the snowdrops again. Aren’t they resilient? I guess the clue is in the name. Can you see the pink and yellow flowers on the right? I think they’re primula.






Cooking : the above to eat with potatoes, petit pois and kale


Regents Park croci


Icicles on the water features at Waterperry Gardens shop








Celebrating: the busy garden birdlife, since I’ve been typing I’ve seen: a Robin, multiple Blue Tits, a Coal Tit, a couple of Great Tits, a male Blackbird and the female Chaffinch is back
My hook is still moss stitching away, gradually adding more sections to the third strip of my blanket. I’m not sure about you, but I finding I seem to be inadvertently taking part in a slow crafting movement. This may, or may not exist, but it’s definitely a thing in my house. I honestly goggle at all the ‘It’s finished!’ posts on Instagram some days. I wonder if they’re not telling us that it’s just been a case of darning a few ends, or sewing up a seam, on a pile of long ago started makes? Whatever. I do not feel any compunction at all to compete, but I do enjoy looking at all the makes.
On Friday afternoon I went to the Members’ Preview Day of the V&A’s new exhibition
Afterwards walking through Hyde Park, back to Oxford Street to meet a friend for dinner, I saw so many lovely snowdrops. They are so delicate and as the 
Many crows…
And this cheeky pigeon, who only moved at the last moment as I inched closer and closer.
What an unexpectedly agricultural scene! There was a huge fairground set up in the park over Christmas, called Winter Wonderland (otherwise known as ‘be aware and hold on to your purse, while gaping at the exorbitant prices’.) So I imagine this is the process of flattening and fertilising the area before it’s re-turfed.

An eye-catching memorial for
Now I’ve only got 3 more teeth left to knit of my Hitchhiker, so hurray! Nearly done (again) and then I can start something else. Recently I’ve decided that having one crochet and one knitted thing on the go is good. I don’t really want any more than that at one time. It’s handy to have a choice, especially for knit night when it’s chatty and I need to concentrate. Something you can do without lots of looking is good too, as it’s not well lit in the pub at this time of year. Have I said all that recently in another post? Sorry if I’m repeating myself.



The joins make me think of those foam play mats we have for blocking.
I’ve spent a bit of time playing with my yarn leftovers and planning out my next strip of moss stitch (aka linen and granite) blocks. I thought it might be easier than trying to do it in the pub at Knit & Sip, in the semi dark. We ended up not meeting anyway this week, but no matter; it’s quite nice to have a plan. The fewer brain cells used during the evening, the better I find. It’s not my brightest time. Nor is very early in the morning. My optimum time seems to be between 10-3pm! This isn’t new either. I’ve always been the same. Are you at your best in the morning, evening or middle of the day?






I popped in to see Mum with some Butternut & Sweet Potato soup yesterday. I’d made a huge pan-full, but as I’m the only one who eats BNS or SP I thought it would be good to share, or I’d never want to eat it again after litres of the stuff. Barty was savaging a ball he was given for Christmas. He is funny; as I’ve said I don’t think he was given balls to play with when he was a kitten, so he doesn’t play ping pong like other cats we’ve had. I’ve tried to model batting it back and forth with my 
I just started reading 





Noticing: how cold the wind chill factor is today
Hearing: Someone wailing/singing along to Don’t Leave Me This Way by The Communards
Just before Sewing Club ended for the year another sewer told me she couldn’t see the point of wasting time and energy on making bottle bags; as they wouldn’t be appreciated for the amount of effort that goes into making them. Well, happily I’m glad to report that definitely wasn’t the case. I gave them to members of my family who sew and who totally got the point. They made my (Christmas) day by saying how impressed they were with the quality of the sewing etc etc. Every year we pass around card gift bags and bottle bags, saved from previous Christmases, and last year a few lamented that they had to buy new bags. The horror! I knew that these would be used again and again. It will be quite fun seeing them reappear. Am I revealing my sad nerdiness? Ah well! They’re fully lined with contrast fabric and reversible. Now perhaps I need to make Birthday bottle bags…
We all seemed to arrive at Mum’s with presents for Barty the powder puff tail. My cousin and my nieces all did and I took him a set of jingle mice. But this one was the clear winner: my friend and her dog George sent him a crocheted pillow filled with catnip (bought in Asda, it’s fab.) After I took this photo he got a bit manic. It was so funny to see this laid back ‘I can sleep for England’ young cat so excited. The pillow is already all tatty and with ends sticking out!
It was so lovely to see this ornament again when we decorated the tree on 23rd. I remembered that one of my nieces bought it for me last year, with her pocket money.
My Dry October turned into Dry November and Dry December (bar 3 occasions where I’d finished in November but then decided to carry on.) All I really fancied was a glass of champagne and so on Christmas Eve I had my first drink in weeks. And my second. And on Christmas morning felt so very ropey that in the middle of drying my hair had to turn off the drier, sit on the bed and take deep breaths! Oh this was not the plan! How pathetic. Seeing a line of just-filled glasses on Christmas morning I apologised to my brother and declined one. During the toast I tasted a sip from Someone’s glass, just to try, and decided it was really rather nice, that perhaps that old chestnut, the hair of the dog thing would be worth a try. My brother said it was the fastest turn around he’s ever seen! I stuck to a single glass all day and it did the trick marvellously. I had another glass on Boxing Day evening with family too. There is a champagne diet, apparently good for weight loss (perhaps not for the liver.) Maybe that will be the one for me in January?
On Boxing Day morning we were so glad to see a crisp and bright morning. We headed out for some exercise. It was a great walk, albeit 7 1/2 miles, not the planned 5. I think it was a combination of a lot of chatter, passing a big group of walkers at a crucial moment and wishing them a Good Morning that meant we missed the intended turning. We ended up in open countryside surrounded by grazing sheep. I turned to my iPhone for our location and saw on a satellite map that we had walked in the opposite direction and were approaching an unexplored village in the west. Oh well, new public footpaths have been discovered and it was a great yomp. Very good for walking off some of the mince pies and Christmas pudding.
We took ourselves off to the sales on Wednesday and popped into a new-to-me coffee shop, where we sat on wooden boxes and spooned our Demerara from a communal jar with a wooden spoon. How very hipster!









Last night I chose my border colours and sat down to start the tricky first row. I don’t think I want to crochet through the end posts again, yes it’s less gappy than working around, but it means you’re in danger of pushing out some of your darned ends. Phooey! It’s also damned tricky to do. That made me pack up my Hitchhiker knitting to take to Knit Group instead; as I didn’t think the light would be good enough to see, or the company would want to hear my groans and sighs.
A. also brought along this gorgeous crochet shawl that she’s made for one of her young daughters. Apparently the yarn was cheap stuff and on offer in the local wool shop, but it feels luxuriously soft. Privately I thought it would rather suit me when I wear my smart black woollen coat and could imagine shimmering into a carol service, but sadly it was popped into a bag on the floor across from me. No stealing. Rats!
Next there’s J’s
And P’s is currently a tea-pot cosy making machine, I can’t say anything much about it (secret squirrel) but it is making me want to try crocodile stitch. I’ve never been particularly keen on the stitch, now I wonder if it was the items I’ve seen made with it. P makes everything look good. The other knitted cosy is sooo special that I’m not dwelling on it, as it makes me feel knitty-knotty inferior! Yes, she does have a drink problem.
I posted a pic of my Hitchhiker scarf the other day on Instagram. Click on the pink camera on the sidebar if you want to see how it’s getting on. After Winnie’s Wave Blanket that’s the next thing I need to finish for Christmas, for my Mum. Then the world is my oyster. Anyone who types the words ‘sock’ or ‘garter stitch blanket’ will be blocked. I mean it!













This is what I’ve always called a kitchen sink post; since it feels like everything’s included except the sink.













Mum’s dahlias. Perfection.

















































I also got another fix of the seaside, albeit courtesy of the North sea. It is not, it has to be said, as pretty as the Atlantic sea which surrounds West Cornwall, but it is good to walk along to Sutton. I certainly felt I needed to walk at least 5 miles! We walked 8 by the end of the day.
My cousin hosts several BBQs from early summer to mid-autumn for family and different groups of friends. We try to go to one, or maybe two, each year. They’re always good fun, with everybody mucking in. The informal rule is that every time you go to and from the cottage, across the tiny lane to her field, you take something. I have to admit that the (huge) glass of champagne I had on arrival went straight to my head, so the only thing I initially managed to take across was another glass of champagne! But if this was hash-tag land I’d probably be typing #winwin.








































































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