Knitting now - colour work

I don’t know who is who is responsible for reminding me that I don’t like knitting colours, whoever they are they forgot.  I had been looking at the Rowan Bessie cowl kit for some time and eventually caved in, it’s definitely beautiful and seemed straight forward, no shaping, not a big project, what could go wrong.

Photo from Knit Rowan

Firstly the actual pattern.  To buy it separately costs £5 for download but I took the option of pattern and yarn as a bundle.  The yarn arrived without the pattern, I had to contact Rowan who then sent me a link to the download.  I asked MrFF to print this for me next time he had the printer on but unfortunately he produced a black and white copy, I said I’d try to work with that.

We didn’t have any way to enlarge the download so rather than go blind I ended up writing out my own interpretation of each row, a better person would have produced a spread sheet.  I did mention this do Rowan in my feedback, a colour print out of a decent scale on card would have been nice especially if you paid £5 for only the pattern, they didn’t respond.

So I’ve soldiered on.  It’s the kind of work that requires much concentration, impossible to watch tv or even speak while I am knitting. I am even getting cross writing about it.  There are 192 stitches to a row and some rows can take almost 30 minutes especially if I lose the plot as I often do.  I can be heard chanting to myself 3 orange, 2 green, 1 orange and so on not in a calming way.

On the bright side the yarn, Felted Tweed, is beautiful, the colours are gorgeous and I shall have enough yarn left over to knit an additional item that will be much less complicated.

The pressure is on to finish this project not just for my well being but we leave for Italy soon.  It’s not coming with us, I cannot face picking it up again a couple months later and I might like to wear it on the continent.

I would walk 100 miles

Since his ascent of Scafell Pike MrFF has been suffering pain in his calf, he is seeing the doctor next week as it isn’t improving.   So he’s been occupying his time with DIY, moving cables from the loft to sockets in the hall cupboard so we can connect to the fibre network already installed to outside our apartment door.  Our provider will make the final connection but not carry out the internal work.

This has involved emptying the contents of the hall cupboard into the hall, we endured this chaotic state for a week.

However it was quite a voyage of discovery for me.  I found a nice wool jacket I had forgotten about and also these

I bought these hand made trainers from the maker Norman Walsh in Bolton, among the fell running fraternity he was a legend.  I remember making a special journey and meeting the great man with his colleagues cobbling away in a small workshop, it was a delight.  I wore the shoes when MrFF and I took part in the 1982 Pilgrims 100, a long distance walking challenge event of 100 miles/160 kilometres from Guildford to Canterbury, to be completed within 48 hours.  Before the event I had tried to break in the shoes but by the time I completed 65 miles my feet were blistered.  Our friend who was supporting both us and her husband, he completed the optional 140 miles route, met us at the checkpoint where we got breakfast.  I told her my feet were so sore, she said she’d take a look. I lay on the ground, I have recollections she might have thrown me down, she quickly burst the blisters with a sterile needle, applied plasters, stuck my clean socks and spare trainers on my feet, relieved me of my overnight gear and told me to get on with it.  I completed the walk in less than 32.5 hours.  I have no idea why I kept these trainers, I wore them afterwards for shorter walks but looking at them now they had very little cushioning, my supportive friend couldn’t believe I still have them.  They went in the bin.

The hall is back to normal.

Fatal Crossing

Now the European athletics is finished we have been watching this Danish murder mystery.  It’s a brooding Scandi series showing beautiful Danish landscape and an investigative journalist with a wonderful wardrobe of chunky knitwear and heavy duty scarves.  It makes me want to knit more of both, I’ve already been looking at yarn and have a jumper pattern in mind. Watch this space. 

The film is in the Danish language with subtitles which usually I don’t like as they require concentration so there is no knitting while I view.  However it’s been worth it, we’ve both enjoyed the episodes so far. 

Oddly we were watching last week and for some reason MrFF decided to turn the volume up.  We both laughed when he realised what he’d done, he said he was brushing up on his Danish and it would soon be as good as his (almost non existent) Italian.  Thats about right. 

Another year another summit

You may recall that in August last year, his birthday month, MrFF took himself off to Wales to climb Mount Snowdon.  He stayed overnight at a youth hostel and came home with an awful cold, at least his hike was successful.

This year he decided to tackle Scafell Pike, the highest point in England, not so far away in The Lake District.  This time he booked himself into a decent hotel to enjoy after the climb so he left home at 6 am. I had a message at 9 am that he’d arrived safely and was just starting the walk.  I heard nothing all day, I expected a photo from the top or at least confirmation he’d made it, silence until around 7 pm when he messaged that he was back at the hotel and rushing for dinner.

It had been a hard day and he’d had to beg a lift from some other walkers back to his hotel as he couldn’t face another 1.5 miles of road walking after all the rocks and boulders.  However well rested next morning he could face a full English breakfast and spent a relaxing day in the Lakes, I got photos of both.

I think he found the walk quite a challenge, he’s been trying to conceal a slight limp since, so I am wondering if next year as he approaches 79 he plans to climb Ben Nevis.  The logistics of getting to the Scottish highlands and another day of stress for me might be too much, I’ll be almost 79 too.

Yorkshire Day

01 August is Yorkshire Day when those of us fortunate to be born and/or living in God’s own country celebrate everything that makes us who we are  

It also memorises the beginning on 1 August 1833 of the Slavery Abolition Act.  William Wilberforce, member of parliament for Yorkshire, had been instrumental in campaigning for emancipation, alongside other prominent Yorkshire abolitionists including Wilson Armistead and Richard Oastler.

In Ilkley, where we love to mark this event, this year we went so far as to make a weekend of it with The Grove where we have the bandstand and Betty’s tea rooms completely closed to traffic Saturday and Sunday.  There was food and drink, live music, family events, market stalls, Yorkshire flags everywhere.  Of course Yorkshire has a registered flag with the white rose of York and Ilkley has its own lady town cryer, we do things properly.

Thousands of visitors packed the streets in a friendly happy atmosphere.

The first three photos are from the internet, the last one my own 

High level horticulture

It is almost 12 years since we left Scotland and gave up the large organic garden we created. I often wonder what happened to the plants I sourced and listed in a notebook but really I don’t greatly miss the 3/4 acre heavily cultivated plot. 

Now I garden on the balcony off the lounge of our top floor apartment, it’s above the curved bay window.  Over the years I’ve added more and more plants.  MrFF did say the other day that looking after them was becoming a full time job but really it’s just watering in the hot weather, dead heading and a quick tidy, easy.  I always wanted a small but perfect garden. Now I have no excuse.

My plant repertoire has greatly changed. In Scotland I had a good collection of  hellebores, many rhododendron, species of primulas, trees and shrubs. Now I have summer bedding among the year round staples of ornamental grass and succulents, both the latter were new to me. Recently I’ve introduced scented geraniums and camomile to the lavender I already had to create an extra level of experience.

I really have nowhere to overwinter tender plants, it was a bonus this spring that a dahlia and a petunia reappeared.  I told MrFF he needs to invent a frost proof structure but really we have no space for such a thing so I have to accept that much as I love them some plants are dispensable.  Besides we do have a lovely local nursery within walking distance where I can restock and support local business. I could use fleece as protection but I also want the balcony to look attractive in winter.

It’s such a different experience shipping pots and bags of compost to the top floor,  our circular table is a storage box for such things, and repotting is a challenge often done at the kitchen sink.  

It’s a pleasure to be able to have such an undemanding garden and the time to sit out and enjoy it, but I always appreciate being in other peoples gardens and the effort they make to maintain them.   Of course I still get to do proper gardening and ruin my nails when we go to Italy, I haven’t quite given up on the hard labour yet.

Garden days

This week we spent a couple of nights staying with my brother and sister in law.  They live less than 2 hours drive away but we took a leisurely drive calling at an extensive and expensive plant nursery with a Michelin standard restaurant.  I treated myself and SIL to a scented geranium each.  We drove on to Helmsley where we hoped to lunch at the walled garden but it’s closed Tuesdays.   Instead we bought sandwiches and soft drinks and sat in the market square where MrFF admired the various motor bikes that stop there after riding over the moors. As he said they are all ridden by older and probably retired people, the machines far too costly for younger folk.

We didn’t do much at my brothers apart from talk a lot and eat a lot.  We watched the Tour de France and the football otherwise we were out in the lovely garden.  

My brother was up early each morning for strategic watering and I was happy to join him dead heading the many and varied containers they have.  

J

I particularly like this pig feeder in an area of the garden that reflects our farming heritage with old cart wheels and a vintage match plough, a skill for which my brother won many competitions and I and my parents spent many afternoons standing in a cold field usually on the windy wolds watching.

On the way home we stopped near York to visit and have lunch with friends.  They too have a beautiful garden, they are real plant people with collections of orchids,  carniverous plants and agapanthus.  They are also kind enough to home some of my more precious balcony and house plants when we are away including of course the Middleton lemons who have been repotted and are thriving.  

I was surprised but delighted to see how many plants had been away, I thought the balcony was going to be overcrowded so I left a skimmia for now.   In fact it looks just fine and our relaxing time away has convinced me that more is more.

And as if gardening and eating meals outdoors wasn’t summery enough back in Ilkley we had a brass band at the bandstand, a stall selling tea and home made cakes and an ice cream van. I love a proper English summer, I am so happy to be here.