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?).

Easter Nests

My cousin Iain tweeted that he'd made some "Easter nests" the other night. Cue: wave of nostalgia for childhood Easter holidays covered in chocolate. For some reason I always associate these little piles of chocolate-coated breakfast cereal decorated with Mini-Eggs with my Aunt Susie (Iain's mum) so I guess she always made them. Our families would often see each other at some point around the Spring holidays. I'm the one with the long hair trying to be a scary lion.

I'd planned to bake brownies for my mum and little brother instead of giving them a chocolate egg each but, after reading Iain's tweet, decided Easter Nests were in order. You should use mashed up Shredded Wheat for nests because it looks the most stick-like. Nestle products aren't allowed in our flat, so I ended up using Co-op Bran Flakes instead. Much more fiber, plus fortified with iron (people who like magnets: follow that link). I also used plain rather than milk chocolate, which I melted with some golden syrup to sweeten and give a slight chew to the texture. The result are rather grown up Easter Nests, best eaten slowly over a cup of tea. Flatmate-Kirsty had a glass of milk with hers. They are strong and earthy, but very good.

I made a round of brownies for mum and Jim too. He'd only complain otherwise (apparently baking brownies is what big sisters are for, even when you're both speedily approaching 30).

I used this awesome recipe. They are also exceedingly chocolaty and best eaten in small quantities with a cup of tea, especially as I decreased the sugar quantity slightly to bring out the chocolate. Still, I dare say Mum and Jim will get through them. Kirsty beat me with the whole Easter baking though, because she fought with some slightly old yeast to make annoyingly perfect hot cross buns (everything Kirsty makes is annoyingly perfect).

Normal knit blogging will resume in a week or so. I've got an arm and a half to do on my top-down Demi and only about another half ball more to knit of the leaves scarf, so I hope I'll have an FO to show. You can also find more work related blogging from me here (including piece about a 1958 Girls-own chemistry set which featured a pink microscope).

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.