Tea Cosy Bun

There was pain, there was tears, there was swearing like a sailer. It took three people to unpick it: Rachel, Mum & Janis. Constant supervision, words of encouragement, soft words in those dark hours of knitting dispair when I thought I couldn't go on. But now at the end of this journey we are all a little stronger and wiser and can fully enjoy tea from a pot which looks like a giant bun. Because I was so shockingly bad at it, I am determined to dive right into another attempt which I will complete without aid. If ever there was a challenge, I feel this is it. May the force be with me.

Knitting part trois

I bought my first pair of knitting needles. This is a historic event. Then I began the epic tea cosy adventure. Rachel started me off with her crazy casting on using her thumb trick, my mother kept me going. I left home, got bak on the train and two rows later it all went wrong and I now I will have to wait two weeks until I go home again and someone can fix the mess I have made. Who would have thought Tea Cosy construction could be so tricky.

In the meantime it's back to crochet.

I taught Rachel what little I know of crochet at the weekend which took all of 5 minutes and the next day she showed me this.



I can't do that! How did this happen! She is a monster I tell you!

Feline Felt

Two cats. One using tailor' thick collar felt and a spotty back, one using Toby's felted jumper.

Jumper

Toby came round with a bag and handed it to me.

'I washed my brand new jumper and it came out five times smaller. I thought you might be able to make me something out of it'.

It's stripey, thick and felted perfectly. I spent a while on the bus thinking of what I could make and decided that in honour of the days when we lived together with Mo; his cat, I would make him a cat. I am making two that are slightly different to see which one is better.

Crochet

On a dark friday night in Sawf Lundan, Samara taught me the beginnings of crochet and the bear was born. I made him a scarf as his neck was so thin his head kept lolling. Behold! It is protobear, my first attempt.

Protobear likes smoking French cigarettes in dark bars on week nights whilst listening to Russian techno. He's a cosmopolitan kind of bear see. He's been writing an epic poem about bear tragedy for many years now but is too much of a critic to ever complete it. His paws are always cold and so he always wears his scarf.

Today I went out and bought hooks and wool to make him a friend. Bear two cometh.