More DNA knitting

I few weeks ago, I posted about a DNA-themed scarf I'd knitted for a friend of mine. As it was the seventh time I'd knitted that scarf, I took the opportunity to think less about the yarn and needles, but the social relationships the making and sharing the scarves and the pattern reflected. Here's another, different, DNA-themed piece. Again, I want to reflect on the social connections this pattern reflects, because I think it's important.

It’s a cardigan for a baby. The baby’s father is a science writer (another one) who is especially interested in genetics, so I used the cable pattern from June Oshiro's famous DNA scarf. It's a lovely pattern, with a lovely story behind it. In many ways, it inspired both my DNA illusion pattern (googledoc link) and the cosmic radiation scarf I made for my PhD supervisor. I've thought about knitting Oshiro's pattern many times, but just never got around to it.

The crafting of this cardigan reflects my friendship with the new baby’s parents, but it also reflects a sort of parasocial relationship with Oshiro (as in, I’ve never met her and doubt she knows who I am, but I feel as if I know her, as I know odd bits about her life through her blog). Beyond that, it reflects the relationship Oshiro had with a colleague who challenged her to design that scarf, over a decade ago now. Indeed, it reflects decades and decades of scientists connections with each other and broader popular culture. In many ways, the image of the double helix has become part of popular culture, or at least parts of public culture. That's one of the reasons so many people knit it. The book behind the cardigan in the photo is about this issue, and I guess my desire to knit the image reflects the fact I've studied this as a sociology undergraduate.

I used to work in the Science Museum, and would walk past the 1953 Watson and Crick model they have on display there a couple of time a day. So I have an odd set of personal and professional relationships with it too - ones that are different from the relationship a geneticist would have - and have seen people from all over the world stop and think through their relationships with the icon of the double helix as they stop by the exhibit too.

Back to that baby cardigan. It's actually a mash-up of two patterns, as I also used Elizabeth Zimmerman’s 'February baby cardigan' as the basic garment. Thus, it reflecting an older and broader set of connections to knitting communities, as well as, more personally, a connection to my friend Kirsty who gave me a book of Zimmerman patterns for my birthday a few years ago. In terms of my use of both patterns, crafting this piece also reflects various other social connections, of varying degrees of tangibility, throughout the online knitting community as I’ve tracked other uses of these two patterns.

Now I’m sharing it with you – and on ravelry – it reflects another set of connections, and opens itself to further possible ones too.

On the social nature of knitting

Here's a picture of my friend Ed wearing a DNA illusion scarf I've just knitted him. Ed's a prolific and highly respected science writer (he blogs at Not Exactly Rocket Science). He recently included me on a list of top science bloggers, and I joked that if he wanted me to knit him a scarf, he only need ask. I was serious too though. I appreciate the work Ed does, but I get to read it for free. Though he does get paid for much of his writing, he also puts a crazy amount of hours in. Knitting him a scarf was a way of saying thank you.

Illusion knitting is notoriously hard to photograph, so you might have to have a look at the video in this post to really get how the trick really works.  

As I've said before, DNA and illusion knitting seemed to be made for one another. The ladders of the striping pattern twist round those of the helix as purls and knit-stitches collect  to display a regular shape. I also like that you have know how to look at the scarf to really see the pattern. There's an "OH!" moment when you spot it. Symbolic of the science it reflects, the pattern isn't self-evident.

Presenting Ed with the scarf in the pub last night it was great watching other people respond to it too, and holding it up to the eyes to spot the illusion.

I think this DNA illusion pattern is the knitting project I'm most proud of. It's not so much the product (though I do like the way it looks) or the process of knitting it (though I do enjoy illusion knitting). Rather, it's the social connections that making this scarf has either reflected or helped create.

I'm currently reading a new book about the social dimension of craft - Making is Connecting - so I guess this is on my mind at the moment.

The first one I made was for an ex-geneticist friend, as leaving present for work. I'd only recently learned to knit. Flatmate Kirsty had adapted the alien illusion scarf for her brother, with a picture of Che Guevara. I thought I'd try something similar, and that a design reflecting the iconic double helix would work really well with the illusion pattern.

Then I made another for a scientist/ knitter friend in New York, and wrote up the pattern to share. Then more started popping up. I've had emails from all over the world about the pattern. I've knitted the design into some socks for a science-teacher friend for his birthday, then as a baby blanket for a cousin, and then again as a scarf for a friend when she finished her PhD. I finally made one for myself too. A journalist from UK Wired emailed me and it ended up being mentioned there and it featured on this post on science-knitting. I swear I once spotted someone on the street wearing one (I was on the top deck of the bus at the time so couldn't run up to her and check).

The project is ravelled here if you want to see details of yarn, needles and mods. The pattern is available or through googledocs, or via ravelry.

A "strawman" scarf

I don't know if you have ever heard the term "straw-man argument"? Loosely, it means arguments that are aimed at a problem that doesn't really exist. It's a classic debating technique. You make up an extreme version or caricature of your opponent's argument (the "straw-man") which is all the easier to knock apart.

So, the expression "but you're straw-manning me!" is a fair and useful term in some contexts (I have used it myself). It helps you point out and defend yourself against unfair criticism, and it helps you pass the rhetorical trick right back at your opponent as, by taking aim at the premise of their argument, it can be reasonably hard to think of a come back.

But the term can be overused. Sometimes what looks like a deliberately rhetorically constructed straw-man is simply a misunderstanding. It's accidental. In fact, it might even be the fault of the person claiming they've been straw-manned. If someone doesn't understand your position, maybe you didn't made yourself very clear in the first place?

Closing an argument with a call of "straw-man!" for a bit of oneupmanship in a debating chamber be all part of the fun, but if the aim is mutual understanding, I'm not convinced it's productive. I'd much prefer people took an interest in why they have been misunderstood/ are being misinterpreted. A lack of understanding can be a chance for everyone to learn: a chance to continue debate, not end it.

Having seen the term once too many one evening, I decided to exorcise my grumpiness the best way I know how: knitting.

I thought about knitting a small straw-coloured toy, like the voodoo doll I made in a moment of whimsical annoyance at the structures academic admin a few years back.

But a doll's pretty useless - as much of my annoyance with the term phrase was that it's not productive, it seemed a bit silly. So, instead, I made a small straw-coloured scarf with a man symbol embroidered at one end. The stitch pattern is from My So Called Scarf, which I thought brought out a straw-y texture (see ravelry project page for full details about yarn, etc).

I've now posted it to a friend who was at the receiving end of some particularly unhelpful "you're just straw-manning me" bit of rhetoric last year. Because debate should be about sharing with others, not keeping the prizes for yourself.

Time catching up

2011 is the year I turn 30. This isn't something I'm especially worried about. You can't work in a university (as I do), surrounded by all the hope and energy of youth, and have a problem with feeling older. If anything, I quite like the idea of growing towards wise old biddie status.

Still, I admit that on opening a new calendar on the 1st of Janurary and realising this really was the year I'd leave my 20s, I painted my fingernails with purple glitter and dug out some very old CDs.

Luckily, I have a host of friends who have recently passed through the big 3-0 to guide me on my way. I've already blogged about flatmate-Kirsty turning 30. Here are two scarves I made over the Christmas break for other recently-turned-30 friends.

First up, a scarf for my old university friend, Uslan. You'll have to excuse the slightly dodgy iphone pics - I left my camera at home on the only afternoon I had the scarves before I wrapped them up to give them away.

I've made a scarf for Uslan before (Exchequered, which is in Spring '06 Knitty) but that was about five years ago, so I offered a new one. We discussed size, shape and colour and after passing some example photos back and forth, this is the result: four skeins Colinette Point 5 knitted in brioche rib on giant 10mm needles (see ravelry project page). As Kirsty said about the yarn: it's as if Barbie was sick on a sheep.

The resulting scarf is also incredible long. A scarf to wrap yourself in and hide (or possibly just mask your wrinkles, not that Uslan has wrinkles, I'm sure).

Secondly, a small shawlette for Anne-Marie, who I was at university with and worked at the Science Museum with too. Anne-Marie was also my old flatmate before I lived with Kirsty: we had a teeny-tiny little flat by Mornington Crescent (amazing views over Euston Station).

The pattern is Haruni by Emily Ross. This is meant to be entirely lace, but I subbed chart A for a bit of plain knitting, because that’s what the cool kids do. However, rather than the stocking stitch most people seem to opt for, I went for garter stitch. I'm on a bit of a garter stitch kick at the moment. I used felted tweed, which is supposed to be a DK weight, but is nearer 4ply so it's quite small, but a pretty little shawlette nonetheless (ravelry project page).

FO: Woodland Capelet

A small shawl, knitted for flatmate-Kirsty as a Christmas present.

Kirsty always complains about her shoulders being cold, and wraps big scarves around herself as she sits at her desk to work. I thought this would help keep her shoulders warm, but also be elegant enough to wear out with a dress too. I wondered about bringing out some of the golds in the yarn with a bit of embellishment to glam it up a bit, but decided it was better to keep it plain. Kirsty can always add a broach.

The pattern is Woodland Capelet by Susan Mills. It was a fun knit. Unchallenging, but as I blogged yesterday, I've been so busy the last year, I couldn't really cope with anything difficult. It's all simple garter stitch, but the changes of the shoulder shaping and zigzaggy edge to stop you from getting bored.

I'm on a bit of a garter stitch kick at the moment, it as a sort of homespun sophistication (if we can even have "homespun sophistication". I think we can).

The yarn is a mix of recycled silk, cotton and rayon, which makes for a rather warm combination, despite not being obviously woolly.

Full details on the ravelry project page.

I also made a pair of green socks for Kirsty's partner, Anthony. Simple toe-up in basketweave stitch (see that project's ravelry page). I made him almost the exact same pair last year, but brown. As Kirsty says: Anthony likes brown, green and things he has already.

New Year, New Hat

So, I walked into a tree.

In my defense, it wasn't the trunk of the tree I walked into, just a bit of a branch. Also, it was snowing quite hard, and I had my eyes on the ground, checking for ice so I didn't slip.

It was on Clapham Common a bit before Christmas, and the point of this story is that I was so dazed from the cold branch hitting me in the face, not to mention checking my glasses weren't scratched, that I didn't realise my hat had fallen off. When I went back to look, it had gone.

I needed a new hat. I picked up a ball of kid classic and a 3.5mm circular needle. I cast on 4 stitches and started working in the round. I increased four stitches every other round until it was roughly wide enough, then worked a 4x4 rib until I'd nearly run out of yarn, and cast off.

Result: one pixie-point red hat, perfect for the Christmas holidays. Final finished piece of knitting for 2010. Ravelry project page.

Conclusion: New Year's Resolution number one is to stop walking into trees.

My New Year's Resolution number two is the more serious one: do less. I've been rushed off my feet all year. I've had so much work, I haven't left much time for many of my friends, time for myself, or even simple things like tidying my room, exercise, cooking properly or sleep. I've hardly had time for a weekend, let alone a holiday. I've gone from being one of the most organised people I know, to turning up late to meetings. I've also been late with a couple of projects, and rushed a few more. I hate that. "If it's worth doing, it's worth doing properly", and all that.

2010 was a lot of fun. I've made new friends and achieved things I've never thought possible, but I finished it absolutely exhausted. Next year: do less, but do it better and be happier. That said, looking at my diary for 2011 I have some really exciting things planned. I'm going to be writing and speaking about some amazing things, and visiting some fantastic places. I just need to keep it all under control.

Having finally taken some time off over the holiday season, I've taken time to knit a few Christmas presents and pieces for friends who have recently turned 30 (urgh, 2011 is the year I do too). Will post them all soon.

... and yes, my eyes are different colours.

Knitted Higgs

Last week, I knitted a Higgs Boson. I am more than aware that this is even more ridiculous than the "Rosalind" DNA illusion scarf. As least that scarf was (a) inspired by some ideas in the history and sociology of genetics (b) keeps my neck warm and toasty now the nights are drawing in. This is just blue lump (roughly 10cm wide) inspired by little more than a challenge on twitter and embroidery based on a google image search for "higgs boson". And anyway, it's really more a representation of the particle collisions working at the LHC in the search for the Higgs than the boson itself. And um... a very sketchy representation at that.

The reason for actually taking the time to bother to produce the thing was to provide a jokey prize for a competition run to encourage people to pre-order a Geek Calendar. The Geek Calendar project is, arguably, yet another ridiculous idea. Dreamed up in a pub one night, we joked that we could easily sell a calendar of nerds in aid of libel reform (quite a cause in several geeky corners of the UK). We laughed about it on twitter and got a huge response (it trended in London), thought why not and... um... a few months (and 15 photoshoots) later, we've sold several 100 on pre-orders alone already. You can see a tiny preview, but it's not even printed yet.

If I'm honest, I was already slightly sick of the self-conscious re-claiming of the word "geek" even before I started this project (positively retching at it now...). Still, I do think it's worth celebrating the various nerdish elements of contemporary life. People do specialist things. In detail. They get inspired and obsess. And they're cool. This has always been true, but I think it's more obvious today. We rely on detailed specialist knowledge more and more, and the internet has let us connect specialist interests more easily. Whether this is dedication to a cause, an over-achiever hobby or simply sharing a love of antique calculators, there's a lot of this geeking about. We rely on detailed specialist knowledge more and more, and the internet has let us connect specialist interests more easily. Crucially, this sense of specialism means there is no single definition of what a geek likes or does, there are multiple ways to get your geek on, as we all run down our own various rabbit holes. In many ways, knitting is a perfect example of this, the very niche area of science knitting, even more so.

Check out our flickr to see how much fun I've had at the photoshoots. You can pre-order a calendar now, or proper printed ones will be available from the end of October. If you want to read more about the problems of libel law in the UK, I can recommend this recent essay by Alan Rusbridger.

See also the ravelry project page for info, not that there is much more information there. Really: a blue ball, embroidered, stuffed and closed. That's it. The actual hunt for the Higgs is way more interesting.

Busy bees

A baby photo of me and my flatmate Kirsty. Yes, Kirsty who made the awesome Wonder Woman jumper that got Boing-ed. That Kirsty.

Our parents have known each other since they were teenagers, and I've known Kirsty since before I could speak. We've shared a flat together for six years now. We joke that when we do finally stop living together we'll never manage to disentangle our joint knitting needle collection. In truth, it'll be a lot more than just that.

She is a bit under a year older than me. Which means she's got to do most things first. She learnt to speak, learnt to walk and learnt to knit first. She went to university first, she left university first (something I'm still struggling to do). She was even Alice before me, as it's her middle name. And she turned 30 first too, yesterday to be precise. See her failing to blow out all the candles in one go.

On such a momentous occasion, I could bang on about what an amazing person Kirsty is, how much she has taught me, how much she means to me. But it's not really my style. Or hers. Or our relationship's. Or this blog's. Instead, I'll show you one of the birthday present I knitted for her and take some photos of her feet. 

Legwarmers, covered in bees. One hundred and eighty bees to be precise. Nine sets of bees, each containing ten bees.

They are based on Pinneguri's bumblebee socks, but legwarmer-ised (larger circumference, and no toe or heel). I also striped brown and yellow yarn, rather than use self-striping, and stuck to just the three colours. I think the amazing yellow yarn really makes them, it's Jitterbug in "Vincent's Apron".

The project is ravelled here which includes full details of yarn and needles and link to pattern.

It was part of a bee-themed collection of presents (largely inspired by the legwarmers, Kirsty has no special "thing" about bees, though obviously we all know bees are cool). This included sponsorship of a beehive, honey bath things, an actual pot of honey, and a bee-covered honey and chocolate cake.

Breezy Brighton

Here I am on Brighton beach, with my newly knitted socks. Full knitterly details like yarn, etc on ravelry, this post'll explain why I knitted them.

The bobbles running up each side are organised to represent the word "yakawow" in braille. Back in mid-April, the Times published an interview with controversial scientist, Baroness Greenfield. She'd said all a whole host or objectionable and/ or funny things in this interview, and people were chipping in with their favourite bits. "Crowd reading", if you will. Someone quipped "She's right abt 1 thing: we don't want "load of breezy people who go around saying yaka-wow". Cos that would be MENTAL". Another replied with "Yaka-wow must used more! Dunno its meaning but ace phrase".

They were clearly onto something. I logged into twitter a few hours later, after a very serious evening discussing the role of science communication in the developing world, to discover a @yakawow account was now following me. (I still don't know who is behind this account, though I have my suspicions). There were also tshirts for sale, a youtube video, various photoshopped images and facebook page.

It turned out Greenfield didn't coin a new term. It was a transcription error of "yuck and wow", a phrase Greenfield has often used to describe the way people act online, running quickly from one sensation to another. Greenfield is (in)famous for her concerns that computer games and social networking sites are damaging our brains, leading to short attention spans and an inability to empathise (e.g. see this news piece). This makes more sense than "yakawow", but Greenfield's views on computers is not without its critics (short version: all very well as an idea, but it lacks evidence).

The yakawow meme kept running. It was Boing-ed. Quick to celebrate the new word they had invented, the The Times wrote about it (see also this cartoon, from print version). The New York Times vocab blog picked it up and apparently it's in the latest edition of Wired, though I haven't see a copy yet.

One of my old students challenged me to knit yakawow. It had to be socks. Greenfield famously referred to twitter as "reminiscent of a small child saying "Look at me, look at me mummy! Now I've put my sock on. Now I've got my other sock on". I also thought the word would provide an opportunity to play with knitting braille, something I'd been thinking about trying for ages.

I worked three panels of the word, loosely reflecting the streams of code in the poster for the Matrix (a play on Greenfield's suggestion that computer mediated communication is somehow not real). I knitted them one at a time, rather than two-at-once-on-a-huge-circular to mirror Greenfield's point about people on twitter saying they'd put on one sock and then another. They were also from the bottom up: read something into that if you want, I can't be bothered to extend the symbolism any further.

When I wear these socks, I will wiggle my toes inside them and celebrate my belief that interacting online is not without its tangible consequences. Social media sites, not least knit blogging and ravelry, provide real relationships with real people doing real things. Imaginative and clever people who get together to collaboratively discover, develop, teach, learn, critique and create. As the Times' piece on yakawow concludes:

Baroness Greenfield, take note. These people’s brains haven’t atrophied yet. They have taken your interview and created a whole new universe. I think, therefore I yaka-wow.

Still, it can be nice to have a break from it all. Which is why although this photo was taken on Brighton beach on Monday, I didn't blog about it until today. I've been away from the internet, reading a book and knitting a legwarmer. I also took those socks off and went for a bit of a paddle.

FO: leaves scarf

Leaf scarf done. Or at least I call it a scarf, I think I’m might use it as bunting, it’s not the sort of thing I’d wear normally. It's a bit big for a necklace and too small for a scarf. That said, I don't really have much call for bunting either. It's finished anyway, even if I'm not sure what I'll do with it yet.

It was always more of a process knit rather than something produced for the final product. A nice easy project to take to knitting groups. I had a few balls of green yarn leftover from a sweater. I didn't want a green hat or a green scarf. I liked how grassy the yarn was. So I decided to knit some leaves.

It's really just icord with the odd leaf growing out of it. I kept knitting until I run out of yarn, adding new stems and leaves wherever looked appropriate. The leaves were easy to make, 2kfb, k, turn, sl1, k2. Then continue to increase either side of the center stitch every RS row until it was big enough, then a few plain rows, before decreasing back again (always slipping the first stitch of each row). I did a center decrease where you slip 2 sts at once, k1, then pass both slipped sts over at once. This helps make the "stem" of the leaf pop. Yes, there were a lot of ends to sew in, but I just did them as I was going rather than leaving them to the end of the project.

The result was a long vine of quite crumbled leaves. Most people I showed the WIP seemed to like this look. I did too, but I also really wanted to see what would happen if I blocked it, how (or if) I could re-shape the leaves. Above is a pre-blocking shot, below shows after. This "during" shot shows the leaves flattened out for a bit, but it didn't make much difference in the long run.

The above shot is also a "bunting" shot as opposed to one of me wearing it as a scarf, below. What do you think, bunting or scarf? (or something else?). All ideas gratefully crowd-sourced.

As ever, there are a few notes on the yarn and needles on the project's ravelry page (n.b. this is public ravelry link, you don't have to be logged it to see it. Ravelry project pages don't have to be exclusive any more, how cool is that?).

Owls (and Ibsen) Revisited

I finished my Aran-version of the Owls Sweater over a year ago (amongst the snow of Feb '09), but it was always a bit on the short side. I was over-cautious about yarn quantities and ended up with a slightly too small sweater (well, fitted, shall we say) and a whole ball left over.

I did wear it, just not as frequently as I'd like. Last week I took action: unpicked the cast-on edge, picked up the ribbing and added a few inches. The result is much more wearable (and afterall, we are all wearing our tops longer these days). If you look very closely, you can just about see where I picked up the stitches, but you do have to look carefully. Full notes on ravelry project page.


The building site/ roundabout in the background is the lovely Yorkshire city of Sheffield, which I visited at the weekend, mainly to see An Enemy of the People. Sheffield might seem a long way to travel from London to see a 19th century Norwegian play about the politics of sewage, but I do love that play. Ibsen has a reputation as grim. This is wrong, especially in terms of An Enemy. The ending is tragic, the final line especially so, but that's only because the build up is so full of joyous enthusiasm for life. It is also a classic study of science and society (Ibsen was a med student turned journalist before he was a dramatist), in many respects as relevant today as it was in the 1880's.

I first saw it in the late 1990s. It was at the National and Ian McKellen played the lead. I was an impressionable 17, and inspired. I ended up doing a big coursework essay on it, and er, devoting my entire life to studying/ researching/ teaching issues of science in society. So, it was with excitement but also a bit of trepidation that I went back. I wasn't disappointed: by the play, by the production or by the changes I could (Holden Caulfield style) track in myself. That's enough blather about literature though, I'll finish with a shot of my current WIP: a small and very easy project using some a few balls of leftover yarn.


It's really just icord with the odd leaf growing out of it. Yes, there are a load of ends to sew in, but I'm doing them as I go. It is inspired by a few projects I've seen around, but largely improvised. It should make a lightweight decorative scarf when its done (or maybe just slightly odd bunting). More details on ravelry project page.

Rosalind Scarf

Since designing my Rosalind DNA back in summer 2006, I've made six of the things. And given away each and every one of them, I decided it was high time I made one for me (plus it's been featured in WIRED. How can I not have my own version?). I've been talking about it for ages, but was inspired to finally cast on by some of my students, who are currently knitting the history of genetics.

The scarf employs a technique called illusion knitting (sometimes know as shadow knitting). When viewed straight on, it just looks like slightly wonky stripes. When viewed from the knitting's edge, however, this wonky-texture reveals itself as carefully placed bumps and gaps, and presents a hidden image. This is a picture taken while I'm wearing it, looking down my front, along the line of the pattern.




Illusion knitting is notoriously hard to either describe in words or photograph, so I've embedded a short video. There's another side-view shot at the bottom of this post, along with a picture showing the back of the scarf, where you can see a sort of fossil of the pattern. This is probably the best photo I've seen of this pattern though (i.e. not by me, and using a better contrasting set of yarns).




DNA and illusion knitting could be made for one another. Looking across the scarf, the ladders of the striping pattern twist round those of the helix as purls and knits start to bunch together to display a regular shape (at least for those initiated on how to look). The pattern's title is inspired by Rosalind Franklin (google it), and, because I thought a family reference would be appropriate, a cousin of mine.

I think my favourite illusion knitting pattern is the Cheshire Cat 'Wonderland' socks. I love illusion socks. Straight on, and it's just stripy, point your toes and the cat is revealed. With valentines soon upon us, I should probably mention the lovemeknot socks too.

The Rosalind pattern is available for download on ravelry - or through googledocs (though if you are a knitter and read blogs, er, why aren't you on ravelry?). Knit-geeks who want details of yarn, pattern mods and needles can also check the project's ravelry page.

Warming jumpers and balling yarn

Happy New Year. I'm sneaking in a quick blog post between start-of-term business and our impending house-move next weekend (no huge life-dramas: it's just that the land-lady's selling up and we're only moving a mile away, but moving is a hassle).

I thought I'd share a recent experience in balling some yarn of my mother's, in case the info is of any use to fellow knitters. Exhibit one: some pretty, but very tangled and very, very slippery yarn.

My mum bought it in Damascus (here). From my own experience with a lace-weight version of the same yarn, I predicted it would be a humongous pain to ball. Loads of tangles, and so slippy you leave it un-gripped for a millisecond and the ball falls to pieces (creating more tangles in the process). I warned her, and insisted she came round to use our swift and ball winder.

I was right about the tangles and slipperiness. About 1/8th of the way through we decided to ditch the idea of the ball-winder (it just slipped off it, you had to hold the ball in your hand the whole time...). We needed a bobbin which could readily be passed through un-doing knots. We looked around the table and spotted some rolls of parma violets I had lying around ready to be sent off to a friend who lives in the states.

They worked REALLY well. The thick pen-like shape was great for wrapping yarn around whilst keeping tight in your hand, as well as pointing through the knots. We then balled the yarn (by hand) from these bobbins and kept the balls secure with some tissue paper and rubber bands. It still took several hours: the finished knitting pieces from this yarn better be worth it!

If you don't know what these Parma Violets things are, they are UK-sweeties (candy if you really must), flavoured with violets. You either love or hate them. See a close up of the 'bobbin' here.

I'll finish with a couple of FO shots - pieces finished over the Christmas break, my last knitting of 2009.

It's the Wedgewood blouse from IW Knits Summer 2006 (but modified as a woolly jumper), and a super-simple top-down raglan cardigan. Ravelled here and here respectively. The yarn for both comes from aborted attempts at Demi (rav link). Which, using yarn from a first-day-of-the-sales trip to John Lewis, is my current WIP. I've modified to work it as a top-down raglan, but I'm a little worried I won't have enough yarn. Wish me luck.

tidings of comfort and joy

I knitted a hat. It took less than a week. Which is handy because it snowed. Yes, in London. Before Christmas. It settled and everything (Don't believe Hollywood London: most years we have no snow at all).

It's supposed to be Selbu Modern, but because my normally abnormally-super-loose gauge gets abnormally-super-tight as soon as I do colourwork, it's more of a Selbu beanie. Which is at least useful for wearing under my bicycle helmet in the cold. It's also slightly square at the top, but that's due to rubbish blocking (might re-block on a balloon or something). Details of yarn, etc on ravelry project page.

Mince pies! Made by Kirsty, not me. Though the flaky-lightness of the pastry is at least partly due to me. Tip from one of my students: use vodka instead of water in pastry. Works really well. The mince pies were for a small Christmas party we held this afternoon/evening. Both Lara and Felix had to cry off ill, but we still had a house full (including Emms) of merry-makers.

Above is a before shot, some chocolate fruit cake (from Feast. Sounds wrong, but really, really works) surrounded by a pile of pfeffernüsse (Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's recipe), and lights draped over our staircase in the background. We also had gingerbread, dundee cake, goblets of mulled wine and about a trillion other things. Very full now. Signs of the remains are below. Season's Greetings to you all.