All well. My Personal Trainer came this morning, and as always I feel the better for her visit, and as always am resolved to keep going with the exercises.

Just as I always resolve, after an Italian lesson, to get cracking with the homework right away. So here I am, as so often, on the eve of another Italian lesson, with everything to be done.

Thank you for all the book tips. I finished my latest thriller today, and have downloaded and embarked upon Virginia Wolff’s “A Room of One’s Own”. It’s very good. She is quietly indignant at the way Oxford treated women a hundred years ago. What would she have thought of transsexuals in women’s changing rooms?

Hat, I don’t know that I’ve ever heard of Sebastian Barry, and have made a note in a place where it won’t be overlooked. Kirsten, I can’t find “End of All Days” on Amazon. Is that Barry again?  And I’m sure I’ve never read “Cousin Phyllis” so I’ll look forward to that as our February RAL. But I mustn’t forget “The Lottery” in the excitement. Archie came to lunch today, for haggis and neeps (it’s Burns’ birthday). He’s something of an expert on horror fiction, and says that “The Lottery” has been surpassed. I’m doubtful.

Knitting

I’m moving forward well with the Stronachlachar. The second set of increase-and-then-nine-rows has been done. The third increase row is next.

Kate Davies’ new yarn is “out” – it looks beautiful. It’s an Aran-weight mixture of “Peruvian highland wool”, whatever that is, and alpaca. I am slightly surprised that Scottish sheep don’t feature. I’m sure she would’uv had them in there if she could’uv.

Today is Greek Helen’s 56^th birthday, and she is feeling rather elderly. We all (= me, Helen, Archie, Archie’s brother Fergus) went out to a newish French-ish restaurant nearby, where we ate rather splendidly. It is called Le Roi Fou, which I find difficult to pronounce. 

This is something that has changed since I was young – or else is a transatlantic difference: that one can go to a superb restaurant, at least at lunch time, without having to worry too much about one’s clothes or table manners. Or perhaps it’s just that one acquires a certain self-confidence with one’s years.

Kirsten, thank you for the link to the Penguin Reading Challenge (comment yesterday). I’ve signed up, and from the first suggestions offered, I think I’ll go for Virginia Wolff. I’ve had a Shirley Jackson session fairly recently – but I’m not at all sure that I’ve ever re-read The Lottery since I first read it in the New Yorker. I remember, I think, sitting in the car in the Main Street of Allenhurst, NJ, waiting for my mother, reading it and scarcely believing my eyes. Maybe I'd better attempt that again, as well.

I did well yesterday evening, listening to the VK podcast and knitting in the kitchen. I’ve now done the second increase row in the Stronachlachar, and am making good progress with the second set of nine rows. No more tonight, though. Fine dining has left me very tired. For those unfamiliar with the pattern, unobtrusive increases begin at the underarm point, to form cap sleeves.

Ron, thank you for your comment. Stephen West’s “I’ll be right back” & “I left the front door open” are indeed very useful for remembering how to do M1r and M1l respectively. The very best tip I ever took on board, however, came from Margaret Stove’s own lips, and is the fact that the stitch the needle enters first winds up on top, in any decrease. I’ve said it here before, but it bears repeating.

I’m a bit further forward with the Stronachlachar. There’s a lot of counting involved at this stage. I’ve done one increase row. I’m now doing nine straight rows. Then I must repeat that combination twice more. And keep track of where I am on the pattern chart. Not impossible, but not to be done when half-asleep.

Ann, thank you for the tip about VK’s new podcast. They had, indeed, sent me an email about it, but I guess I thought it was beyond me. (I don’t even know how to work Instagram.) But inspired by you, and after going down a couple of blind allies, I think I have persuaded my iPad to play it for me. I’ll try, later this evening. With knitting in hand.

Tamar, your point is a very good one, that huddling in the kitchen watching cookery videos is usually a substitute for something specific that one ought to be doing. I don’t think so, in my case, though. I’m now so old that there’s nothing specific to do – or if there is, I’m not going to do it.

And Mary Lou, I’m delighted that you remember that “Dorian Gray” movie – but could it be the same one? I was only 12, when I saw mine in ’44 or ’45. You’re surely much younger.

Kirsten, do please send me the link to the Penguin challenge if you can find it. I’d be happy to join you with Mrs Gaskell next month. My husband and I always read aloud for a while at bedtime. We covered a lot of ground, in 60 years, including more than one Gaskell long ago. She’s very good. You choose; I’ll follow. And do persevere with “Dorian”. It’s not terribly long. It does get livelier at the end. Like me, you’ll feel pleased with yourself. I do agree, that he needed something to do. As Jennyanydots felt about the mice.

(Our great discovery, during those 60 years, is that “Ulysses” is meant to be read aloud. My heart sank when my husband suggested it as our next, but it proved to be sensational. Like many of us, I had tried and failed to get to the end in my youth.)

Oh, Kirsten, can I team up with you in a RAL?  What is your February classic going to be? Do you belong to an actual or a virtual reading group? Or choose your classics yourself? Dorian Gray is an interesting choice. I can’t remember what put me on to him.

Most of today’s Pointless knitting was devoted to administration – sliding the front stitches one way, putting the back stitches on waste yarn, making a start on knitting back and forth, doing the first increase row. I was grateful again for Stephen West’s mnemonics in his Craftsy class, for m1r and m1l: I left the front door open; I’ll be right back.

A resolution for a better life: I keep wasting my post-blogging time in the evening. I sit in the kitchen, reading my book on my Kindle and, when that palls, watching cookery videos on YouTube. “Huddle” isn’t quite the right word. I just get too tired to stand up and feed the cats and go to bed.

I think the solution might be more podcasts, more Neil MacGregor, even. And bring the knitting into the kitchen.

When I do finally go to bed, we all three sleep together these days. When Perdita was a kitten and young cat, she slept with me. There was a period when I moved out of the bedroom and slept on a camp bed in the hall, where I would be close enough to hear my husband if he needed me in the night. (The spare room is too far away – this flat is rather like a railway carriage.)

And Perdita came along. It was uncomfortable for both of us, but the gesture of solidarity was much appreciated.

When Paradox joined us, after my husband's death, she took over as the Bed Cat. I don’t know where Perdita went. I was sorry about it. But since the recent New Year, she has come back. Paradox continues to sleep on her folded blanket at the foot of the bed. Perdita curls up next to me. I get up often in the night to pee, and it is awkward trying to re-insert myself without disturbing her. But worth it, to have her there. When I put out my hand to stroke her, she bites me. She has always been a disagreeable cat. That’s why I love her.

I’ve reached the underarm of the Stronachlachar. I may even begin it, this evening, if I have the oomph to stay out of bed.

I think you have solved the Desert Island Knitting Book problem, Julie, with your kind suggestion of rowing out to us from time to time under cover of darkness, with a change of book. In that case I think I’ll start with Debbie New’s “Unexpected Knitting”.

Greek Helen was in Tunisia last week, looking at mosaics. She had a wonderful time. She came to see me this morning with a telephone-ful of wonderful pictures.

I have been reading a lot of late. At the beginning of the year I started keeping a list of Books Completed. I am surprised at how long it is already. I could spend the time more profitably knitting. But knitting is harder.

Today I finished “The Portrait of Dorian Gray”. I’m sure I’ve never read it before. (I remember what must have been a very unmemorable movie – 1944 or ’45.) Some of the book sparkles with Wilde-ism’s, much is turgid purple prose. Passages about how London society shrinks from Dorian because of his crimes, unspecified in the book, made me wonder whether it was written after Wilde’s fatal run-in with the Marquess of Queensberry – but no, Dorian came first.

The mots aren’t as good as in The Importance of Being Ernest, which it also precedes, but there are some. “I can’t help detesting my relations. I suppose it comes from the fact that we can’t stand other people having the same faults as ourselves.”

And, towards the end, the same speaker to a still youthful-looking and beautiful Dorian, “You have changed, of course, but not in appearance. I wish you would tell me your secret. To get back my youth I would do anything in the world, except take exercise, get up early, or be respectable.”

I’m glad to have stuck it out to the end, but now I think I’m owed another thriller.

Even less to report – I’m still ½” short of the Stronachlachar underarm. I did wind and join in a new skein, at least.

Tamar, that’s a wonderful tidbit about Mary Thomas’ publisher not letting her include her sources!

Somewhere she says – I’d better try to find the passage – that there are only 10 (or was it a dozen?) Shetland lace patterns, which she names. It would be interesting indeed to have her source for that one.

Kate Davies’ new club is in action – a sweater which doesn’t stir me, and a most attractive hat. We had a long blog post today about repetition, which she is in favour of, but it was uncharacteristically tedious, I thought, and didn’t seem to lead up to a new knitting pattern as I kept hoping.

I have been inactive today, and feel the worse for it. Tomorrow life starts anew – TGIM has long been my motto.

Poor Annie Modesitt has at last posted a blog entry.  That's a good sign in itself, I hope. She's having a terrible time, despite her actual treatment for cancer having finished a month or so ago (I think). 

As so often, these days, there’s nothing to report. I haven’t even done any more knitting. I had an Italian lesson this morning, and as usual it flattened me. We are struggling through the sequence of moods and tenses in indirect speech. Then the supermarket, then a long nap with my dear cats.

Thank you for all your helpful suggestions about our desert island. This is a difficult one indeed. I would hate to leave Sharon Miller’s “Heirloom Knitting” behind. But that restricts one to lace. Or what about Debbie New’s “Unexpected Knitting”? – that would keep one making interesting discoveries for quite a while. Cat, I agree that a Japanese stitch dictionary has a lot to recommend it.

As for yarn, it sounds as if we can agree on J&S jumper weight. I like your idea, Cat, that one could un-ply it to create lace-weight.

Mary Lou, Mary Thomas’ books were an important stride forward for me, too. It was from her that I learned how to catch the unused yarn in two-colour knitting in all four situations: when you want to catch the left-hand yarn when knitting with the right hand; or the right-hand yarn when knitting with the left. And so forth, for the two manoeuvres needed when purling. This discovery came at a crucial moment for me, when I was getting interested in Fair Isle.

But I wouldn’t take her to the island.  I can’t stand those cartoons.

As I said yesterday, thank goodness it’s a decision we don’t have to make.

Non-knit

The Duke of Edinburgh has had a new Range Rover delivered, and has been spotted driving about in it. There’s something to be said for being impossibly rich.

Shandy and Southern Gal and Beth, I do absolutely agree with you in admiration for Mrs May. Don’t forget that she’s got Type One diabetes to manage – no joke of a disease, requiring constant attention. It would be more than embarrassing to have a hypoglycemic episode on the floor of the House. 

Little to report, but that little, good.

I woke up feeling so droopy that I wondered whether I should cancel my personal trainer’s visit. But I didn’t, and it was the right decision. I felt much better after being made to move, and am determined to keep movement going.

The Stronachlachar is 1” short of the underarm shapings. I should also finish the fourth skein of yarn tomorrow. It’s all go.

And the Duke of Edinburgh seems to be OK. I was afraid he would die of shock during the night. I was glad to hear that the police breathalysed both drivers (both were clear). The policeman will have a story for the rest of his life – “Just blow here, Sir”. It sounds as if the villain was the Low Winter Sun which can make driving (and, sometimes, walking) such a nightmare this time of year. It gets better after Groundhog Day.

Jim Arnall-Culliford has an interesting blog post, imagining himself on Desert Island Disks. What if you had to pick one knitting book and one yarn to take along? He would choose the Knitter’s Almanac (EZ). Not so I. My yarn would be MadTosh DK – I’m assuming I would have permanent access to the entire range. But that would mean no lace knitting… Thank goodness it won’t really happen, but it’s fun to go on thinking about what book I would take. It’s easy enough to form a short list, very difficult to narrow it down to one.

I’m sorry, again, to have left you in the lurch. There’s nothing much wrong here except a lack of sprightliness. I have done a bit of knitting, but not enough that it’s worth measuring the Stronachlachar again. Tomorrow, perhaps. My personal trainer is coming back tomorrow and I have warned her that she will have to start again from the beginning.

But guess what? I got a New Yorker in today’s post!

As for British politics, Gilbert got it right, as usual:

   When in that House MP’s divide,

      If they’ve a brain and cerebellum too,

   They’ve got to leave that brain outside

      And vote just as their leaders tell ‘em to.

   But then the prospect of a lot

      Of dull MP’s, in close proximity,

   All thinking for themselves, is what

      No man can face with equanimity.

And that’s exactly where we are at the moment.

The only knitting news I can think of is that Brooklyn Tweed’s “Winter 19” lookbook is out. Goodness, they’re good. I think I’ve mentioned that they’ll be here at the Edinburgh Yarn Festival again this year. Two years ago, it was Jared himself.

I hope the Duke of Edinburgh is OK. He is a great inspiration to the elderly.

I’m sorry for yesterday’s absence. I’m not very sprightly, just now.

Judy has provided the definitive link to the solution of the turnip-swede-rutabaga question. In which it appears that rutabagas are swedes, just as you say, Mary Lou. I am sustaining myself these days with a succession of delicious home-made vegetable soups. Perhaps I will include a swede in the next one.

I’ve done some knitting, while watching endless television discussions of our political crisis. For once in a millennium, one might wish for a written constitution. Be that as it may, I have finished four pattern repeats on the Stronachlachar, equalling 14 inches. The target is 16, for the underarm, where some interesting shaping begins.

Non-knit

Here’s a gloomy little item, of dubious relevance.

There was a story in the paper last week about a very distinguished BBC reporter, Martin Bell, who tripped over a suitcase not long ago in the Gatwick railway station as he was returning home from a cruise, and landed on his face and actually broke his skull. He is now retired, but appreciably  younger than I am. The NHS has patched him together very nicely indeed.

That might have been me, in Reggio Calabria. I suppose the difference is that Martin Bell, with the suitcase in front of him, had nowhere to go except onto his face. Whereas I just tripped over some unevenness in the pavement, with unobstructed space in front, and was able to make a three-point landing (face, left forearm, left knee).

Still, it shows why it’s a good idea to take out travel insurance.

I’m sorry about yesterday – I wasn’t entirely well. Perhaps the second half of the “back end” malaise? At any rate, a brief, violent diarrhoea, and a general misery all day. There was nothing in the previous day’s food consumption which could explain it.  No knitting at all, since I was last here – and this evening, again, must be devoted to Italian homework.

I can’t help with the interesting swede/turnip/rutabaga discussion. I think I have always vaguely assumed that the small round white things called “turnips” – not all that common, in supermarkets in Scotland – would grow up to be the big orange things called “swedes”. Especially because when one speaks of “neeps” here, as in “neeps and tatties”, one means a delicious mash made from swedes. Burns Night is nearly upon us, and that is an essential feature, up there with the haggis.

I don’t know what a rutabaga is. My mother was not an adventurous cook. No doubt Google could straighten all this out, if I applied myself.

I wasn’t entirely comatose yesterday. Wandering around the internet in the evening, I discovered that the Shetland Museum has recently embarked on the “Lace Project”. It sounds very exciting, and the prospect of a publication at the end makes it even more so.

I’ve had an email from the New Yorker about the digital delights available to me “as a print subscriber”. But still no magazine.

Eleven and ½ inches of the 16 needed for the Stronachlachar underarm have now been done. I thought my industrious application would have taken me a bit further than that. I have wound the fourth skein and joined it in – that’s something.

Thank you for your help, as ever. Pascoag Girl, I can’t find “Restoration” over here, but I found it with ease at Lacis. As before, the thing is to finish Stronachlachar, see where we are in the calendar, and present the bride with the choices, if any.

Non-knit

Shandy and Kirsten, I once left my sons behind in Kirkmichael with nothing to eat, I’ve forgotten why. They sensibly enough went into the adjacent field and helped themselves to some of the swedes which had been put out for the sheep.

Tonight’s food programme is by Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall, who can be entertaining. Tom Kerridge was pretty dull last night.

Mary Lou, my New Yorker subscription has expired, I don’t quite understand why. I renewed it on-line before Christmas. All went smoothly, except that I haven’t started getting any issues yet. I get a daily update from them, and I saw that article about the Greek alphabet there. Interesting, indeed.

Little to report. The Stronachlachar is 10 ½ inches,  carelessly measured on the kitchen table. I need 16, to qualify for the underarm shaping. I’ve finished the third pattern repeat, and have nearly finished the third of seven skeins.

I wouldn’t quite call it a resolution, but I think perhaps if I huddle in the kitchen watching Netflix on my iPad, I can knit at the same time. When I try to watch television in the sitting room in the evening, the needles tend to drop from my nerveless fingers. Perhaps the chair is too comfortable.

I also mean to read slightly more serious books, fewer “yellows” as we call them in Italian. I read a lot. I have embarked on “Enthusiasm” (church history) by R.A. Knox, which is a flesh and blood book from my own shelves; and “The Egoist” on the iPad (it was free).

We shall see.

Thank you, as ever, for your help with my various problems. I think maybe “Rock Island” will do as it stands, at least to offer to Jenna. It’s a good size. And thank you, Mary Lou, for “Orvus Paste”. It’s available here, and I am interested to see that it is used for whitening horses.

And Helen (anon) – what you say about “candidatus” awakens dim memories of my own long-forgotten education. I actually saw the apparatus for suspending a newly-knit shawl over burning sulphur when I went to Shetland with Kristie and Kath that happy time.  But how, exactly, was the necessary whiteness for “candidatus” achieved? I doubt if the answer would help much with Hellie’s shawl.

Now I’m going to go watch a cookery programme, while I knit. My husband abhorred the genre, and often said that he regarded cookery programmes as pornography. Tonight it’s Tom Kerridge, teaching people how to cook from scratch.

A bit forrader. The overhead light in the kitchen – where I spend a lot of time huddling – went out on Saturday. Archie came round to help, and in the process of extracting the dead bulb, pulled it apart, so that the metal sleeve remained in the socket. Today my very dear electrician came and put things right. So I can huddle again.

But I mustn’t. If I am to offer Jenna the option of a small lace shawl of her own for her wedding in July, I must get on briskly with the Stronachlachar. You’re right, Marion, that it is Jared’s Rock Island that I am thinking of. (You must start your Rosemary Shawl at once – you’ll love it once you get going.) I have been wondering whether I could make it a bit fancier, with another lace motif instead of all that garter stitch at the end; or whether I could plan a small triangular shawl of my own from scratch.

Would Liz Lovick’s “Exploring Shawl Shapes” help? I’ve got a couple of her books, but not that one.

I could buy Jared’s pattern and use it as a template.

Meanwhile, Mary Lou, please follow up your thought about the stuff that might whiten Hellie’s shawl. Or I could Google it myself.

Sarah, when I embarked on Sharon Miller’s “Princess” shawl, I didn’t have a bride in mind, or indeed in prospect. I would highly recommend just plunging in. If you are still around to see someone wear it, think how pleased you will be! And if not, think how they will all remember you on that happy day!

Perhaps a bit stronger today.

I thought this might be the morning when my new cleaning woman would reappear, after the prolonged hols, so I lept out of bed and did a lot in the kitchen so as not to embarrass myself. It turns out she’ll be here on Wednesday.

Here at last is the promised picture:

The instruction is to knit 16 inches straight, then divide for the underarm. I must have passed halfway. I’ll measure tomorrow. I’m terribly pleased with it.

Brooklyn Tweed – indeed, Jared himself – offers a nice little lacy shoulder shawl which I think I will suggest for this year’s bride, if I finish Stronachlachar in anything like January. The wedding is in July. At present, she is planning to wear the one I knit for Hellie. I’ve now got it for re-blocking. It looks a bit yellow. They did something with sulphur on Shetland in the old days, but I don’t think I want to embark on that.

The Brooklyn Tweed shawl wouldn’t be nearly so big or grand, but it would be hers, and the edging, at least, is fancy.

Another day of very considerable weakness. What’s the matter with me?

Our niece came and fetched me this morning and we drove back through the quiet Sunday city to an early Mass at the University chapel where Christina (niece’s daughter) and Manaba were married in September. Very nice indeed.

Julie, thank you for the tip about Ardkinglas on Youtube. Here’s a link, but once you’re there you’ll find several offerings, including one about the arboretum. It’s famous.

No, Mary Lou. The “big house” does weddings, but our wedding – Hellie and Matt, three? years ago, -- was in Alexander and Ketki’s own garden, half a mile away.

The house at Ardkinglas was built by Andrew Noble in the early years of the 20^th century – in 18 months. It seems fantastic. It wasn’t a family home, just a shooting lodge and a summer place. He had four sons. The elder two didn’t want to take on the responsibility, so the estate passed to the third son, grandfather of the author of the book I am reading on the subject. Lady Gainford of kilt hose fame was the daughter of one of the elder two sons.

It is unsettling to think of the amount of wealth involved. The current generation seems quite well endowed. Here in Edinburgh, I am acquainted with two great-grandchildren of Andrew Carnegie. They are not particularly well-off, except by their own endeavours – but their great-grandfather’s name is known around the world. We have a Carnegie library at Oberlin. I think there may be a moral to be drawn there.

Some rehearsals for the D-Day landings were staged at Ardkinglas. Churchill and the King came along. The book isn’t indexed, and I can’t find the passage – someone or other was disappointed in the King. A rather small man, and he wasn’t wearing a crown. Churchill threw away a cigar butt which was treasured locally (perhaps still is) and the place where it landed is still known as “Churchill’s cigar  bay”.

I didn’t do any knitting at all today.

Not much of a day. Italian lessons always leave me gasping, but I think perhaps I’m not back up to full strength since last week’s misfortune, as well. You are absolutely right, Chloe, that Italians are wonderfully tolerant of one’s fumbling attempts to speak their language, as long as they can make any sense at all of what one is saying. I will have to work hard on my verbs for next week. Today we just talked.

“intossicazione alimentare” turns out to be right, for food poisoning. A scallop is “cappa santa”.

Further progress with Stronachlachar, but, alas! still no picture. I agree, Mary Lou, that with lots of stitches and complicated crosses, a cable needle is a handy instrument. One of my pleasures, at this time of year – a delicious time, now that the festivities are over and the light has been returning for a whole fortnight – is to plan the next Calcutta Cup knitting. (It won’t be needed for a while.)

Next time, it is to be some wonderful Gaughan-esque cables. Much remains to be thought out, including the name of the recipient. Rachel is loyal to Scotland, but she lives in a nest of passionate English rugby supporters. Joe, this year’s bridegroom, actually works for the English Rugby Union at Twickenham. James and Helen and their families are totally indifferent.

And I’m glad to hear, Mary Lou, that you know Lady Gainford’s book about kilt hose. One or both of the pairs you see my sons wearing in that picture in the sidebar, derive from her work. I am delighted to discover my own connection to her, under the seven-degrees-of-separation rule. (Alexander knows the author of the “Ardkinglas” book, indeed is acknowledged in it; Lady Gainford must have been the author’s second cousin once removed, or something like that.)

Thank you very much for your advice. I took it. Thanks especially to you, Hat, who wrote so quickly. I decided as soon as I read your message that I would take a taxi to the dr’s office this morning (=Spend the Kids’ Inheritance) and I slept the better for having decided.

They were very crowded. Our practice has “open access” – if you turn up before 10 a.m., any week day, and are prepared to sit, you can see a doctor. I don’t see how other practices manage without. The girl sitting next to me had a cough which certainly couldn’t have waited until she could get a normal appointment. A day in a&e would have been her only alternative.

I had a timed appt with a nurse for the taking of bloods, and wasn’t there long.

Here’s a knitting tidbit connected with my end-of-year holiday: Alexander and Ketki gave me a book called “Ardkinglas” about the estate on which they live. It is not without interest. The author is the great-granddaughter of the enormously rich late Victorian who bought the estate and built the house. And another member of the family is Lady Gainford, the author of that little book about kilt hose which the Schoolhouse Press still sells.

I didn’t take a picture of Stronachlachar; sorry about that. I hope I will tomorrow. It progresses well. Being able to cross stitches without a cable needle is especially useful in a dr’s waiting room.

Tonight’s non-knit problem is that I have an Italian lesson scheduled for tomorrow morning (via Skype, from Rome). I must work out how to explain in Italian – that will be as good as a lesson – that I have had food poisoning and am still not quite back to my (feeble) norm and haven’t done my homework. I will send an email to that effect this evening, so that Federica will be prepared.

Thank you for your kind messages. I’ve missed you, too.

Here’s a Calcutta Cup picture for you. James, on the right, is wearing his father’s new vest. Thomas, on the left – they’re both alarmingly tall – wears the ’06 sweater which his father has by now outgrown. 

There is also Kirsty Miles’ Christening shawl – James’ and Cathy’s daughter  -- into which a lacy Cup was incorporated in 2000. The match was a draw in 2010. I knit a hat with half the Cup on it, but it got lost. Alexander has a picture of it. I was surprised to see that it incorporated rather a good pom-pom. I’m generally rather anti pom-pom.

I’m getting on splendidly with the Stronachlachar. The yarn – Kate Davies’ Buachaille in Macallum – is perfect winter knitting, a warm, embracing, winey red. Despite her recent severe blog post, I simply cast on using the suggested needle sizes. It’s looking good.

The stitch qualifies, I think, as Bavarian travelling stitch, although not acknowledged as such. I did a class in that subject at Camp Stitches ’99 with Candace Strick – a very happy memory, although I never used the stitch until now.

I can’t remember how Candace had us doing the crosses (always one over one), although I’m pretty sure she didn’t use a cable needle. KD prescribes a cable needle, and I started off with one but soon tired of it. I found I had Donna Druchunas’ travelling stitch class in my Craftsy stash – she prefers to switch the stitches on the needle first, and then knit them. I have pretty well mastered that trick by now. The yarn is rather gently plyed and splitting a stitch is something of a danger, but otherwise all is going well. I’ve finished two of seven skeins, and have done two of goodness-knows-how-many pattern repeats.

I’ll try to take a picture tomorrow.

Non-knit

I have an appt tomorrow morning to have bloods taken, and am in a proper old-lady stew about it. Can I find a parking place? Do I have enough change for a parking meter? Can I master paying-by-telephone, if not? I must face up to the modern world.

Tom Lehrer’s “Werner von Braun” is not really relevant to today’s news, but it amused me, nevertheless, to listen to it again.

I’m sorry for the protracted silence. Happy New Year, all round. Mine was a good holiday, but I'm not sorry it’s all over.

I spent Christmas day with Greek Helen and her family -- they live very near here. David did the cooking, and did it very well. The next day Alexander and Ketki came to get me and the cats, and we all went to Loch Fyne. He was wearing his new Calcutta Cup vest and while he was carrying bags and cats out to the car – they travel with a fair amount of paraphernalia – someone stopped him to admire it. He explained about the Calcutta Cup and said that his mother had knit it.

“Is your mother from Shetland?” the stranger asked.

Paradox was in heat when we left. This was her big chance to meet her furry Lochinvar. Not a bit of it. The horror of the experience drove all thoughts of sex from her head. She spent the entire time under the duvet, not eating or drinking. The first evening she was even hyperventilating – at least, breathing very fast. Perdita was somewhat bolder. She joined the party in the kitchen, watched the birds and the red squirrels on the feeder just outside the window, even ate a bit.

On Friday I had an unfortunate encounter with a scallop during a pub lunch. I should have known better. I have had trouble with frozen seafood before, and could expect nothing else for a pub lunch in the “back end” of the year, even on the shore of Loch Fyne. The result was a very uncomfortable night, followed by a day of total prostration, under the duvet with Paradox.

This made our homeward journey difficult, as the party was dispersing and everyone had somewhere to be before the New Year. In the end, Rachel and Ed made a detour to drive us here on their way to London.  That drive is enough of an ordeal, done directly. But all went well. Rachel and Ed got home in good time. The cats lept out of their carriers and reverted at once to their everyday selves, appetite and all.

I have recovered nearly all of my former strength, such as it was.

I have knitting news, including good progress with the Stronachlachar – and a wonderful picture. I’ll leave that until tomorrow. It’s good to be back.

I didn’t really intend to plunge us into silence so abruptly – I think, however, that this would be a good place to pause. I’ll see you in the New Year – speriamo.

I’m ready to do the decreases at the top of the second stripey hat. I can assure you that the cable cast-on curls just as much as the long-tail, if not more. But I’ll block them both somehow, and cast on the Stronachlachar before Christmas. Something to look forward to.

I haven’t sent Christmas cards this year, nor have I done much else of a seasonal nature – but when I get a card from someone whose email address I know, I have been writing substantial messages to them, and getting replies, which is very gratifying.

That day when we went to Greek Helen’s studio open day, I tried to ask Manaba what Christmas was like, south of the equator. I didn’t learn much – but he’s a man, and I don’t think Christmas weighs quite so heavily on men. Cat, what can you tell us?

I am encouraged, I think, by the discovery of the old Shetland practice, referenced here recently, of observing Tulya’s E’en, seven days before the solstice, when you have to start taking precautions against Trows. We’re in that period now. Surely that means that the end is in sight?

A happy solstice to all, and I hope 2019 brings you all you might hope of it. See you soon.

Hellie has sent me some wonderful pictures from her recent visit, but I can’t figure out how to download them. I click left, I click right, and lots of options appear, but not that one. I’ll go on working on it.

I have knit onwards. I’m about halfway through the slouch part of the second stripey hat – there follow 16 rounds of crown decreases, but those go fast. So I’m well on target. I think the cable cast-on is better, although not perfect, curl-wise.

More Italian homework tonight. This will have to be the last lesson of ’18. It was interesting the other day when my new Romanian cleaning woman was introduced. Greek Helen was here, and Daniella, also Romanian, my current, beloved, cleaning woman who is leaving to have a baby. Helen and Daniella speak to each other in Greek. Really speak. Not like me in Italian, fumbling for each phrase. The new one has excellent English.

Mary Lou, I envy you, having seen the trunk show which included “Foldlines”, and I’m terribly glad that you like it. I don’t think there’s anything you can do to help – although I thank you for the offer. Brooklyn Tweed patterns are so utterly detailed that I don’t think there’s anything else to be said.

Non-knit

I watched “Zelig” again not long ago. The odd thing is how much younger my father has become, since it first came out.

Kate Davies has posted a blog post about her considerable achievements in ’18. Saleswoman she may be, but she won’t sell me on Nicola Sturgeon. I am like a grumpy ‘30’s Republican, grumbling about “that man in the White House”.

Not much progress, but a little. I’m 10 rows or so into the second stripey hat. I’m trying to keep the yarns in alphabetical order, because some of them appear a second time, and they can be difficult to find. That plan involves remembering the alphabet, which isn’t always easy. It’s too early to say whether the cable cast-on is going to prevent curl.

I haven’t done anything about blocking the first stripey hat.

Kate Davies has posted an interesting essay on her blog about “getting gauge”. I must say I prefer the modern approach, where you swatch to get the fabric you like, and then do the maths. But KD's take-off-point is her new "Heids" book, and maybe that doesn’t work so well for hats.

And it won’t work very well for “Foldlines” where the size of the individual squares determines the size of the whole. I’ve done one. It’s too big. I’ll try again with a smaller needle. But if that doesn’t work either, I’ll consider both as to which fabric I prefer, and then see what mathematics might achieve.

Ella Gordon has written about her newly-designed Yule Mitts, including a most interesting link to this article about how these dark days were observed in the Shetland of yore – the pivotal day was not Christmas, not the New Year, but the solstice itself. This coming Sunday is Tulya’s E’en, seven days before the solstice – that’s when we have to start watching out for Trows (=trolls??). And from then on until New Year’s Day, no work is to be done – and that includes knitting!

Recognition

SamKD, your story beats this one, but still – my parents divorced (painfully) after 20 years or so of marriage. My father has a bit part in Woody Allen’s “Zelig”, in which he plays himself, a retired newspaperman reminiscing about the 30’s, improvising his own lines. He appears only very briefly, but he does appear twice, and he is utterly himself. My mother saw the movie and didn’t recognise him.

Well, here we are. They’ve all gone away. We had a good time. The little girls, two of my three great-granddaughters, are unspeakably delightful. I didn’t take any pictures, but other people did, and I hope I’ll have some to show you soon. It was odd to have the frequent conversational references to “grandmother” refer to Rachel – who is brilliant in that role.

I tidied up the socks and gave them to Rachel. And Alexander and Ketki came over to see his sisters and his cousins (no aunts) and went away in the Calcutta Cup vest – so that’s two end-of-year FO’s. And today I finished knitting the stripey hat, although it remains to be seen how easy it will be to block out that tendency of the lower edge to curl.

I already can’t remember why I bought two stripey-hat-kits, but I did, and I went straight on to cast on the second – there’s still time to finish it before Christmas. (I’m not really doing Christmas this year, but there’s no getting away from its presence.) This time I persevered with the cable cast-on. I didn’t recognise the interesting-sounding variation you mentioned in your comments: I hope to explore that avenue before it is forgotten. And I hope I’ll knit a stripe or two on the second hat while watching this evening’s political news.

And on top of all this, the package has arrived from Kate Davies with the yarn for the Stronachlachar – needless to say, it’s the right colour, and very tempting. It will be a great inducement to get the second stripey hat out of the way as soon as possible.

Non-knit

I feel I ought to have something to say about the political situation, but I don’t. It’s bizarre. A few days ago I watched a video of a talk given recently in Baltimore by a man I knew well at Oberlin – he and I were successive editors of the Oberlin Review and indeed, for a while, co-editors. He went on to a distinguished career in journalism.

His talk was about Britain Today, and he is well-informed although I don’t think I gleaned any illuminating insights. The disconcerting thing was that I didn’t recognise him, even sitting there watching for half an hour or so.  

Nothing to report.

I forgot all about Kate Davies’ club launch yesterday, until 8 p.m., three hours after the crucial moment. (What was I doing?) The expensive version was all sold out by then. I signed up for the lesser one, which is much more suitable for me anyway. She’s a brilliant saleswoman.

Italian went fairly well this morning, Skype-wise, but was, as always,  a tremendous mental strain. Archie came to lunch (“Tagliata” from “Nigelissima”) which was soothing. Then after my nap, Helen and David – he’s here from Thessaloniki for the weekend, as often – turned up and that was pleasant, too. But no knitting. And tomorrow I must prepare for Monday’s invasion. Helen will come and help in the afternoon, not that there’s much to do except worry.

Tomorrow launches a pretty fraught week, what with relatives and a dr’s appt and new spectacles at the oculist’s shop and a new cleaning woman who will replace beloved Daniela when she leaves soon to wait for her baby. Even with all that, not nearly as fraught as Theresa May’s week is going to be. I wish her well.

I have come to a mini-skein I don’t have, for the stripey hat. If they were threaded on a leather thong, like last time, I would know for sure that it was missing to begin with. This way, I strongly suspect it was mislaid by the furry Rumpelstiltskins who sometimes come to help in the night. There are various available work-arounds. No panic. 

The lower edge is curling badly. One can only hope that blocking will help. The instructions asked for a cable cast-on but I found I wasn’t enjoying that and reverted to the good old long-tail. Now I learn from KD’s “Heids” that the cable cast-on is employed specifically to avoid curling. Live and learn. Learn and forget, more likely, in my case.

The new VK tuned up today, and is a winner, in my opinion. I’m keen on brioche anyway, and it’s a major feature of this issue. I hadn’t known that Nancy Marchant actually unvented increasing and decreasing in mid-brioche, allowing it to swirl. I’ve got a substantial Koigu stash, if the moths haven’t eaten it away from below. Could I divide it into light and dark and knit Unjung Yun’s wrap?

I’m also very keen on Norah Gaughan’s cardigan (no surprise there) although I think I would liven up the colour a bit.

And there’s much else, and interesting articles. I hadn’t known that textiles were such a bone of contention between the American colonies and the crown.

Non-knit

As I was last Friday, I am confronted with an early Italian lesson tomorrow. I think instead of doing much homework tonight, I will work on how-to-explain, in Italian, that I am wearing temporary glasses while the lenses (including the one badly scratched when I fell in Reggio Calabria) are replaced in my proper ones, and reading isn’t easy. Lots of useful vocabulary in the explanation, not to mention moods and tenses.

If Wikipedia is right, Tom Lehrer is still alive, only five years older than I am. Back in ’54, he was grown-up and I was only Jean. That’s good news, anyway.

Not much knitting – a few more rows on the stripey hat.

I’m enormously grateful for all your kind comments on the Calcutta Cup vest. I don’t think I’m going to block it, in the full crawling-about-on-the-floor sense of the word. The fit is so good, that I’ll try first to see what can be achieved with a damp tea-towel and a cautious steam iron.

Long ago, Ketki posted what must have been the image above to Instagram or some such, and the Scottish Rugby Union responded by saying, do let us know when the vest is finished. I’m sure she’ll follow that up. We have at hand all the knitting I’ve done on this theme since 2000 except for 2010 which was a draw: I knit a hat for Alexander and Ketki’s elder son that time, shewing half the Cup: but he lost it. A photograph exists.

I entertain occasional mild elderly daydreams of being photographed with Chris Paterson or Greig Laidlaw and Alexander in the vest, but on the whole, as with any other FO, I’m just looking forward to the future. The Stronachlachar package isn’t here yet. Rachel said it was a good thing Scotland won while I was still able to knit such a thing – an uncomfortable reminder of the nearness of the grave, but she’s right.

A draw would require some thought, should it happen in 2019. It would be a substantial moral victory, since it would happen in London; and it would mean that the Cup would stay in Edinburgh for another year. It won’t happen, but it’s worth thinking about.

When I come to add up the achievements of ’18, as I will soon, high among them will be the facts that I met the Duke of Palma, the model for “Tancred” in “Il Gattopardo”; and that I’ve seen the Calcutta Cup.

Non-knit

I’m delighted to learn that so many remember Tom Lehrer. I heard him sing in the flesh, in the winter of ’53-’54, when I was with some Oberlin friends in NYC. Indeed, until that evening, I had never heard of him. I’ve been a fan ever since. I’ve had “Wernher von Braun” playing in my head all day. “That’s not my department, says Wernher von Braun”.

Howzat!? As they say on the cricket field:

Perfect fit. Gregor Townsend’s triumph (Scotland’s newish coach), and mine as well.

Kate Davies’ “Heids” is here, full of good things. And I’ve read her blog post about the new club. I agree, Southern Gal, that the price of the fancy subscription is daunting. Also, I still have all the colours of Milarrochy Tweed from last year’s club, in their special bag, so it would be extravagant to sign up for them again. “Heids” is of course ideal for their employment. But I’m tempted…

Mary Lou, I do like your knit bud’s hat

We’ve all got a couple of days to think about it. I like the notion of the Guide to Creativity which is called “Do Nothing” – but we get that with either subscription.

Non-knit

Greek Helen came around this afternoon, full of gloom about global warming. I don’t think I am capable of worrying about it as much as she does, having survived those years of worrying about nuclear annihilation. That could happen at any moment (still could). I was heavily pregnant with her, the week of the Cuban Missile Crisis. Global warming advances slowly, and ours is a most ingenious species.

I told her to find Tom Lehrer on Youtube, and listen to “We’ll All Go Together When We Go”, to understand that fear. I also recommended “Werner von Braun” and “National Brotherhood Week”. He was (is) a funny man.

Today’s ordeal was an eye appt., at the extreme outer edge of my walking-range and also just at the time when I like to sink into bed for a nap. But I did it, and even got back in time for a brief snooze before Pointless. When I fell in Reggio Calabria, the left lens flew out of my glasses and was seriously scratched. I hope I will be able to retain it as a souvenir. It’s plastic, thank goodness.

Knitting-time was happily devoted to the stripey hat. I’m slightly more than halfway through the initial, slouch section. What follows are the crown decreases. It is ideal solstice knitting, as I thought.

I must get Rachel’s socks moved from the WIP section to FO. The toes have been kitchener’d – all I have to do is to tidy the cast-on ends, and turn the socks inside out to make sure no horrors lurk within. She is coming up next week, with her daughter Hellie (everybody is named Helen around here) and her daughter Orla. Now it turns out that Thomas, Rachel’s elder son and my eldest grandchild, is coming too, with his daughter Juliet. I will have to take to my bed for the duration.

KD says that the “Heid” book has been dispatched – good news. She has posted a long blog entry about a journal which will be part of next year’s club. It sounds attractive, but I can’t think how it could fit into my life. I’m not a designer. I don’t have ideas.

It’s time to begin thinking about the page in Lotus Organizer on which I list my hopes for the year to come. I don’t seem to have done it last year – the first gap in a long while. This time it will be Stronachlachar and Foldlines and, if we win the Calcutta Cup, some splendid Gaughan cables, probably for one of Alexander and Ketki’s sons. We won’t win, because the match is in London and we never win there, so I don’t need to plan the sweater in too much detail.

Full speed ahead.

I’ve finished the Calcutta Cup vest, except for blocking. I was tempted to do that this afternoon, in the hopes of having it dry and ready for Alexander if he comes on Wednesday. But it would be foolish to block before a try-on, in case the size needs tweaking. He says, a propos the weekend FT, that nobody in Cairndow will know whether it’s cool or not.

And I’ve cast on a stripey hat, which is clearly going to be compulsive knitting of the just-one-more-stripe variety. Last time -- ?two years ago – the mini-skeins were all threaded on a leather thong. I sort of liked that. This time, they are bunched like a bouquet of flowers. This has the advantage that, once you’ve found the one you want, you can pull it out and off you go. With the thong, you had to keep threading them off and then threading them back again.

I emailed the Kate Davies shop yesterday about my desire to buy a Stronachlachar kit in the Macallum colourway. I had a very prompt reply – late on a Sunday afternoon – from Melanie, who said to go ahead and order and then to email her and she would mark my order to be Macallum and not the colour I had ordered. I did that this morning – asking for “Highland Coo” which wouldn’t be a total disaster – and she acknowledged my email promptly, again, saying that I’ll get Macallum. That’s service, if it works.

Today is my sister’s birthday. She’s almost as old as I am (although much stronger), and catching up fast. Happy Birthday, Helen.

I am sorry about yesterday’s silence. Manaba and I much enjoyed the Open Day at Helen’s studio, but the experience involved a lot of upstairs-downstairs both indoors and out, and I was flattened thereafter. I think Archie must be right that I am continuing to lose strength.

I have finished knitting the Calcutta Cup vest, and am now diligently employed on tidying it up within. You may have noticed that nothing was done for those steeks except for clipping them open. I am confident, as I’ve said, about the tendency of proper Shetland yarn to stick to itself, but am nevertheless overcasting the cut edges and tucking them in. Slow work, but I’m nearly finished. They certainly look much tidier this way, and are possibly more secure.

Neither Kate Davies nor Andrea would be satisfied with such an expedient, I feel sure.

That still leaves a million loose ends, where colours were joined and abandoned. I hope to have the tidying finished by Wednesday, when I may see Alexander again and we might have a try-on before I go on to blocking.

The Weekend Financial Times – my only newspaper, these days – often has a supplement called “How To Spend It”. It is hard to believe that a certain element of tongue-in-cheek isn’t involved in its production, but it is undoubtedly a splendid and stylish display of expensive things for rich people to buy.

Today’s issue is about clothes, and includes an article about “Fair Isle” for men, which is apparently “cool” this season. I would confidently toss Alexander’s vest onto a pile with the Balenciagas and Ralph Polo Laurens illustrated. But he won’t want to appear “cool”.

I have been toying with the idea of going straight on to KD’s Stronachlachar, and find to my horror that her “West Highland Way” (where the pattern is) is not where it belongs on the shelf. I can’t buy a kit from her website because the yarn-colour I want doesn’t seem to be on offer in a kit, although there’s plenty of it on the “yarn” page. But I can buy the pattern separately; that’s something.

And meanwhile, I’ve got stripey hats to knit.