Becoming a parody of oneself

Well now I know I'm old.

Do you know what there was, Aunty Kath? Susie Cooper. Cheap. (not the pic above)

Because I spent the afternoon wandering round an antique shop. It was huge! It was great! I shall go again. In fact I literally do not know what I was thinking not buying a huge west german lava vase for £28. When you look back at your life and regret things in the twilight of your years, I fear that may be one of the things I regret. In fact, if I ever drown, which is unlikely as I dare not go in a swimming pool in case my hair turns the water pink, I may be haunted by visions of postwar german pottery.

Slice of layer cake and I'm anybody's

And I had cake somewhere really nice. Why did no-one tell me there was a huge antiques warehouse in Ely with a lovely teashop right next door where you can actually get a seat on a bank holiday? Honestly, nobody ever tells me anything.

Oh good lord

Source: child-ren-of-the-sun.tumblr.com viaJoAnne on Pinterest

Pinterest again! They make these quotes up! I'm going to start doing it!

'Kittens are lovely!!!' - Josef Stalin.

Source: 25.media.tumblr.com viaJessica on Pinterest

And this one, what is this? How to be a stalker? Tickle her even when she says stop? (I'm pretty sure there are websites for that) - honestly any time I read a quote about relationships on Pinterest I feel about 103.

Source: sunshineandpearls.tumblr.com viaMadison on Pinterest

Yes, but is this person who's crazy about me going to tickle me even if I say stop? Because otherwise it doesn't count. Gosh, I wonder who it is. I do hope it isn't the window cleaner because I find him terribly unpredictable.

Source: favim.com viaSarah on Pinterest

You see, this is not true. I'm not a hugger. All I ask for in moments of crisis is a sympathetically raised eyebrow and a strong cup of coffee. I was once at a job (not my current one) and I looked annoyed about something and the person I was working for kind of cocked his head on one side patronisingly, looked at me, and said, 'do you need a hug?' and I was forced to laugh sarcastically, back away, and say, 'no. I really don't'. It was so awkward. Our relationship never recovered. I blame Pinterest, encouraging this sort of thing.

I'm just going to stop looking at it, honestly. It's like a car crash. I'm only on it for the quilts. I hope nobody starts patchworking ridiculous made-up sayings onto quilts otherwise that'll ruin the entire thing for me. I shall go and ring Dan, because, as Oscar Wilde said, the best thing to do when you have had an overdose of saccharine on Pinterest is to talk to someone more cynical than yourself. Or was it Marilyn Monroe? I can't quite remember...

Jolene! Deconstructed! Unplugged! And with a bonus cat!

Readers. A terrifying new development.

I thought you might like to hear what I sound like (I mean, why did I think that? I think because some of you are not from England and my accent might have the charm of novelty. Also because it would be like chatting), so, I have been looking into podcasting, and then I got distracted and I recorded a song. And because I have no shame I've made you a video and you can hear my deconstructed version of Jolene with my alternative lyrics, which I forget and get wrong in the second verse even though I wrote them and have got them printed out on a piece of A4 in front of me.

The only way I could get this to upload to Blogger was by making the mp3 into a video, so I had to google and fiddle about and engage with something called iMovie and honestly that's me done for one evening. Also, because I had to make a video, I had to put a picture on it, so I put this cat. I'd like you, while you're listening, to pretend this cat is called Jolene, because that would be appropriate, and will also distract you from my terrible guitar playing (it's meant to be minimalist! It's intentional. Honestly).

Look out for the bit where I really egregiously miss an H off a word. I don't know. You can take the woman out of Chesterfield...

(I know this is terrible, ok? It's just for fun! I'm sharing my new creative experiments! I shan't be backing pictures of Cambridge Cats with terrible guitar music as a career! Although, if any concept ought to go viral...)

From the depths of Hell-O!

When I was a teenager I was in the choir at school, and we provided the soundtrack to one of the drama class's productions of Dracula. We wore black and had masks and sat there singing. I have forgotten many things in my life - indeed last week I actually forgot the name of the person who was sitting next to me which was embarrassing as I was having to put it in a spreadsheet - but, for some reason, one of the songs we sang burned itself so comprehensively on my memory that I have never, ever, ever been able to forget it. I shall share with you the chorus:

Ghost ship, why do you come here?
Ghost ship, why do we feel fear?
Ghost ship, what do you bring us,
From the depths of Hell-O!

Well it has taken a while but now I have a possible answer apart from the obvious about what was being brought from the depths of Hell-O! It was probably a job lot of crochet cushions just like this:

There was a theme. It's yellow in the middle

Honestly, I am not dissing this pattern, because I have seen a million tasteful attractive ones on Ravelry, also I love the original (although I have just realised looking at it again it is quite a lot like mine!). I do think with Attic24 that whether you share her taste in colour or not (and I think I probably do), she really does have an eye for combining things so that they look coherent. I am not sure I have managed to entirely achieve the same with this cushion. When I finished it and held it up, Partner and I were both rendered temporarily speechless with horror.

As if it wasn't bad enough, I managed to cut a big chunk out of it while I was weaving the ends in. But it's alright! I codged something up!

Me: I have created something appalling.
Partner: God! What is that?
Me: It's a cushion.
Partner (shaking head): You and your bright colours. I'm just glad I'm colourblind.
Me (doubtfully): I could give it to someone.
Both pause.
Me: Someone I don't like very much.
Partner: Ha! Yes! You could give it to X! [My friend, X, is moving back to England and will be living near us. Partner doesn't like him. This is not a secret and will not be a shock to X if he reads this so don't worry about his feelings. I mean, you can, but I promise it is ok]. You could take it round and say, here, X. I've brought some colour into your life.
Me (looking at Partner disapprovingly): X doesn't want this cushion. It might grow on me.
We both look at it doubtfully.
Me: It might.

Because we have a ruffle theme in this post, here is a vintage 60s dress I bought recently for about £10 or so - very pretty on, although really made for someone with thinner arms than me - my arms are not unusual though so did they just have very thin arms in the 60s, like thin waists?

Well, it might. It's sitting behind me now, looking at me, and I swear it's so bright it's actually glowing. I feel like Sylvia Plath with her tulips. I'm thinking about colour combinations and how one might achieve something tasteful within the confines of the colours available in Stylecraft Special DK. Perhaps taste is underrated, though? I do think, for me, it is colour combination that makes or mars a project. When I look at finished pictures of throws and quilts, there are some colour combinations that I just can't get behind and that make things look pedestrian and old-fashioned (in a bad way). Of course, the people who make things in the colour schemes I don't like would probably feel equally strongly about the colour schemes I do like, because colour is such a subjective thing, linked to memory and emotion and all those things, just like scent is.

But Partner and I are (briefly) united on our interpretation of the semiotics of this cushion. Slightly bright. Perhaps time for me to move on from my 'lots of nice bright colours together' default colourway, although I'm not entirely sure how...

Yarnbombing

I was reading a discussion earlier about yarnbombing.

I walk past this every single day. Suddenly - flowers! Whence?

I imagine you all know what yarnbombing is but in case you don't (because not everyone who reads my blog is a fibre person. Dan reads it, for example, also occasionally Aunty Kath has a crack at it) I shall explain. Yarnbombers are the anarchists, the Banksies, the Emma Goldmans of wool. They strike in the night. One day you have a perfectly sensible avenue of lamp posts where I lurk trying not to look as if I am photographing the men coming out of the public toilets, the next day the lamp posts are adorned with wool in various permutations of double crochet and/ or garter stitch. It is like yarny graffiti. Sometimes it is an official art installation, sometimes it is just a wild outpouring of yarn and colour love, sometimes it is a random act of kindness (when the yarnbombing is something that people can take away). It is for fun. It is Art.

See, I think that looks cheerful

We have a Yarnbomber in Cambridge (it isn't me because I'm not quick enough, also I would never have got up that post). I like a bit of random yarn, but then, I like graffiti, and yes, I would be perfectly happy if someone came and yarnbombed my house (and if they could trim the rosebush back a bit while they were at it that would be brilliant). I was a bit surprised at the negative reactions in the discussion, many of which one might summarise thus: 'what a waste of yarn! It could have been used to knit hats for the homeless!'

I won't go into the whole I've Worked For Charities For Ten Years, Woman And Girl (although, I have: and let me assure you that I have sat in many, many, many management meetings and in not a single one has anybody said, oh my goodness the Government has disastrously changed policy/ the Council has cut our grant, we are facing disastrous lack of funding and consequent failure of delivery, ruin, and the inability to help our clients: for God's sake! Can no-one find us a job lot of hats handknitted in chunky pink acrylic because then we will be saved! - but, surely creations in yarn can be Art just like anything else.

I mean, you might think they shouldn't be draped anarchically over public items (I don't think that - like I say, I like graffiti, and yarn takes quite a bit less scrubbing off) - but, why is any form of expression a waste of time and yarn? I think it's Art, even if it's not always my taste, and I think Art is Important. It makes me want to go and knit a big woolly cosy for Reality Checkpoint or something but in reality that would take me until about 2016 so I shall go and eat something until the feeling passes.

The things you have to do. I think I must be developing superpowers

And quickly to say, thank you to Lucy who suggested I deal with my problem of static in our office by carrying about a big metal paperclip and using it to earth myself with. I have sourced a paperclip, which I clutch in my hot hand at all times and tap on the radiator before I need to touch something potentially problematic, like the biscuit tin

Look at that nylon carpet. Charging me up

And I am wearing my pole dancing shoes as my colleague googled and said she strongly suspected the rubber soles on my Ugg boots

I want you to know that for at least 5 minutes when I was 29 I regularly wore shoes a/ with heels b/ without a warm fleecy lining AND WITH TIGHTS!

And things are much better. I mean, everybody laughs at me, but, let them laugh, I can get in the biscuit tin again and last week someone had bought a job lot of custard creams. Custard creams! I mean can you imagine if I hadn't been able to get at the custard creams! So thank you Lucy as otherwise things could have been disastrous.

Am I being naïve about yarn bombing? I hate to be naïve...

Moving on

So. At this point last year, I was kind of expecting, at this point this year, to be on a train bound for the far north of Scotland wearing dark sunglasses and avoiding standing next to the cover of the Daily Mail so I wasn't recognised, hoping no blocks had been put on my credit card before I could put a deposit down on some windswept hut looking out to sea and start a new life far away from human society and the voluntary sector in particular. I'm not saying this was an entirely justified fear, but it wasn't that paranoid given stuff that had happened, and, most importantly, it's definitely where I thought I'd be, on a subconscious and an emotional level, and that's what I'd been thinking for a good, ooh, four years? And now I'm not. I'm not on Orkney/ similar. I'm sitting here with a cup of Yorkshire tea with unsweetened soymilk, listening to Partner clattering about grilling poppadums, and thinking about things.

I was trying so hard to look corporate. How did my hair end up fuchsia?

You see, I'm going to do a post that says, gosh, I'm lacking inspiration and I'm not much wanting to knit at the moment, what shall I do. But actually, now, I'm wondering if perhaps it's just a bit of a reaction to having been under a bit of stress for a few years - perhaps I just need a break? I don't know about you, but when I'm not feeling so creative, I beat myself up a bit. I set myself targets. I try to force myself to finish things I wasn't that interested in knitting to start with, like the massive drop-stitch laceweight scarf in Noro Sekku. True Fact: no-one's temporary knitting slump is ever cured by knitting Noro Sekku, which I believe to be a yarn spun by the Devil in Hell and wound into skeins by All His Little Minions. I'm not saying it isn't attractive when it's knitted up, because, it is, but, knitting it, oh my goodness, it's not for someone who's slightly out of love with the process, it really isn't. So I'm thinking that perhaps Mad Finishing Things mode isn't going to work. I've started a crochet cushion, which I'll show you when it's finished, and I'm interested that Eskimimi from Eskimimi Makes also had a similar reaction to a bit of a slump. Crochet! Crochet all the circles! (Although, Eskimimi had spun her yarn as well: mine's Stylecraft Special DK).

I just made marbled banana bread! Recipe here. Dead easy. Not sure I'll get it out of the tin though

Anyway. If you have a similar Guilt/ Try To Finish Things/ Fail/ More Guilt reaction to a bit of a craft slump and beat yourself up, like I do, do you ever ask yourself, what would your friends say? Because, they wouldn't say, you have failed to put in the proper hours on Noro Sekku, what a failure you are, like we say to ourselves. Mine would probably say, for Christ's sake, Susie, stop being so manic, you can buy a cushion/ scarf in John Lewis, shall we open some wine/ have a biscuit. However, if I were my own best friend in the best self-help book tradition, I would say, Susie, time for a crafting break. Do not give up on crafting, for, we know of old that, when you do that, you turn your creativity to unhelpful ends and start organising people or decorating the entire house and then regretting it: instead, go for the easy win. Craft small, enjoyable things. Try new ideas! Do not worry if you are not expanding your skill set, as I am not aware that anyone at any point was planning to make you submit a thesis on Radical Uses Of The Yarnover. Try to have fun. All is well, or, it is at least better than it would have been if you were sitting on your own on Orkney looking at a seagull and wondering where to buy tofu.

Like a rhinestone cowboy, riding out on a horse in a star-spangled ro-de-o

So I am thinking. I am crocheting away on my cushion. I am having a look round the classes on Craftsy, and I was particularly fascinated by one where you learn about buttercream (it's free! go and learn!). I have bought some epoxy clay and crystals, and I am going to see what I can unearth that I may wish to make pendants with. I am going to dig out my book on embroidery and see if I want to have a crack at a pillowcase. I am trying new things. And soon my knitting muse will come back and I will welcome her with open arms, like an old friend. But, in the meantime, I will meet new friends.

What do you do when your muse temporarily disappears?

Further thoughts on blogging, authenticity and The Twee Aesthetic

Well, thank you all for your really interesting comments on yesterday's blog post, which gave me lots to think about, and I'm thinking, thoughtfully (you see, that was cutesy wordplay! I'm as bad!).

OK, look, I made a start on the cushion although what I am going to do with that hole in the middle is anyone's guess

It's a difficult question. I think to be honest what Anonymous said sums up my problem with The Twee Aesthetic (TTA^tm):

There is no death, no corruption, no inequality of the sexes, no poverty, so nothing at all to get worked up over. Just tea cosies and blankets. Don’t their halos ever want to slip ever so slightly so they can sound off about one of these? I am left thinking the worst of them – perhaps they vote Ukip?

Because, as I'm sure I've bored on about before, I think I just fundamentally don't like the idea of craft/ domesticity as (mainly) retreat, and I have to say this is partly because there can be an element of economic privilege in craft blogging which is not admitted (I'm not saying I'm necessarily any better here). I mean, obviously craft is a retreat sometimes, everything can be, but I think at its best it's a way of meditating, creating, transmuting difficulties, growing, challenging, engaging with the world, having ideas (yes, I am this boring and earnest to live with ;-) ).

Watching a craftsy class this morning and just keeping a thoughtful weather eye on ebay. Jane looks scared here of the Possibilities Of Dye. As well she might

Funnily enough, I was just thinking that this morning while I was watching this Craftsy class (you remember they were something like 75% off a few weeks ago? I may have bought a couple... would you like reviews when I have watched them? I could do reviews). The instructor, Jane Dunnewold, started talking in the introduction all about how she had gone through a bankruptcy and a difficult divorce and how creating things had helped her through it, and it was so matter-of-fact and self-aware, it was wonderful, and I thought about how perhaps authenticity really is something we should strive for (in life and in blogs!). Not blogging about every little problem, perhaps, but being open about the hard bits of life and our opinions, I don't know.

The Foggy Knitter very helpfully left a link to a discussion on Karie Bookish's blog - this is the post where the discussion starts. You will see she links to a podcast - I had a listen (although I only got halfway through) - my feelings were similar to Karie's, although I additionally thought, tssk, bloody hell. I do think (from my wildly informed position having listened to half of a podcast), there is a difference between wanting to show a positive face on your blog/ making an effort to look for the cheerful things in life, and Being Positive Because You Must Always Promote Your Brand!!!. Indeed I think the concept of the personal brand can take some deconstruction, too. I don't think it's a bad thing - indeed lots of us do it to one degree or another (in a way once you have a blog name you have a brand). But - yes. As the very nice man who showed me the gargoyle on the side of the Lensfield Road church said to me, I'm clearly just a hippy at heart.

Just think, though - all of us who blog (come on, Anonymous ;-) ) without having aspirationally perfect families, lives, or unremitting cheerfulness, we're actually doing excellent things. We're challenging the dominant aesthetic. We're developing authentic voices! We're doing good! (Sorry: it's always a small step away from Pollyanna with me).

Anyway. Thank you again for your thoughtful comments, and I shall ponder further...