I had a grand day, and am very tired. I doubt very much whether either my strength or my husband’s ever-fragile patience will last until I get to Woolly Wormhead's class on Saturday, but I will certainly be at the market tomorrow, planning to spend big bucks.
Carol Feller’s class on gradient yarns was first-rate. The essence of it was, that you’ve got to think ahead. She drew our attention to various devices, designs, stitch patterns. She is working on a book about gradient yarns, due later this year. She was talking mostly about those wonderful little packs of yarn, like mine from the Pigeon Roof, although due recognition was given to gradients self-assembled from stash and also to yarns like the Knit Circus ones which do the job all in one yarn.
I would judge the EYF to be a roaring success. We went around the table at the beginning saying who we were and where from and what we wanted to achieve with gradient yarns. I think I was the only one from Edinburgh. Several Americans, several continentals, one woman from Singapore; the most exotic of all, to my mind, was the woman from Ardnamurchan.
At the end Feller asked us what we now wanted to do with gradient yarns and I was tempted to say that I might attempt her capelet from IK. Which is perfectly true. But I was afraid that I was mistaken and that it might have been designed by somebody else (it wasn’t). And it would have been a terribly teacher’s-pet thing to say. But I shall explore the possibility tomorrow, amongst the packs of gradient yarns.
The great thing, of course, was being out in the real world amongst flesh-and-blood knitters. It was utterly exhilarating. I hope the EYF organizers have the strength and patience to go on with this. They’re on to a winner, but it must be enormously hard work.
Poor Perdita is in heat again – we’ll have to face up to the dreadful operation soon. We shut her in the kitchen last night, as she is too restless to be a bed-cat just at the moment. And guess what – she caught a mouse. We haven’t seen one for, literally, years. Perdita has been telling us recently that they are about, doing a sort of Banquo’s-ghost act as she stared at places from which, indeed, they have darted out in the past.
But there it was, this morning. Very small, even for a mouse. She was delighted with it.