A bunch of pictures of all the unfinished knitting projects I have. Because starting is so much more fun than finishing….
:: surface from knitty.
So far I really like the colour and the texture of this yarn. I have a feeling this one is going to turn out well.
Had to rip the sleeves out and start again – I forgot where I was up to and I was trying to be tricky and do both sleeves at once in the round which was becoming annoying.
:: Bex’s GLiB socks.
Not happy with the yarn. The colours are too complex to show off the nice stitch pattern. See how pretty the colours look on the foot? See what a dogs breakfast they look on the ankle? Meh.
:: tea cosy.
Not much to see yet. Just using up scrap yarn
I can’t remember when, where or why I started this. Hey ho…
For mr machenmachen’s last birthday, now postponed to his coming birthday. Or maybe the one after that. Lives in my drawer at work so I can work on it on the days when I actually get a lunch break. Not so much, lately.
:: long skinny green scarf
Which was going to be finished for spring last year and now might be finished for spring this year… or not.
19 April 2009
… is that you can then see what’s wrong, and you can see how much trouble it will be to fix it. And you know if you don’t fix it, you won’t wear it. Or you might occasionally forget what’s wrong with it and wear it, and whatever’s wrong will go wrong, usually in a way that will somehow be embarrassing. But you are too disheartened to fix it straight away. So the finished flawed object will sit in a dark cupboard, waiting for you. Sometimes for years. It will give you twinges of guilt every time you open the cupboard, because you loved it more when it wasn’t finished, but you don’t love it enough to fix it right now, this minute.
This is the finished Yellow Cherry (previously). The neckline is wonky, but I’m confident that can be fixed easily. The armholes are too long (the bits that should be in my armpits are about 2 inches below my armpits, so when ever I lift my arms, there are great folds of fabric around my shoulders, and the buttons pop open. The only way to fix this is to unpick the sleeves, unravel the upper body and re-knit it to a shorter armhole, and then unravel and re-knit the sleeves. And for now, I have no appetite to do this. Especially as it’s now truly autumn, getting cold, and I’m not going to be able to wear the damn thing again till November.
I should say, one thing went really really right with this project – I finally worked out how to do mattress stitch (for non-knitters – this is a way of joining knitted pieces together in a smooth, almost invisible seam). Actually, two things, I am very pleased with the colour combination of mustardy-yellow (Jo Sharp Soho Summer Cotton, in Freesia) and dirty rich purple on the buttons and ribbon.
16 April 2009
I’ve written before about my problems with finishing things. The second Trellick Tower skirt is a case in point. A few hours to cut out, a few hours to sew, two months to get around to doing the hem so it could be, y’know, actually worn on the body rather than left on a hanger. At least on the hanger you can see the secret pink lining.
Thanks to J for this photo.
12 April 2009
:: one-a-penny, two-a-penny
Hot cross buns! I used Delia Smith’s recipe and it worked beautifully. Yeasty spicy fruity buns with shiny sugar tops.
Sally and Kim gave me Delia Smith’s How to Cook for my 21st birthday, I suspect because I could only cook pasta and stir fry at the time and Sally was ready for some variety in her diet. My version of Delia’s now an endearing relic of the time before the foodie revolution, but by golly she’s still useful when you want something solid and old fashioned. No raspberry jus or avocado foams for Delia. She still puts ‘pizza’ in inverted commas and there’s not an Asian ingredient to be seen.
(I have this version of Delia, and the resemblence to Janette Howard is such that Mr Machen sometimes refers to Delia as Janette).
Happy easter/ostern/equinox/spring/autumn/whatever you celebrate this time of year.
9 April 2009
This little heffalump is intended for a friend’s baby arriving in a few months. But by then, I might well have formed such a deep attachment to his cute little feet, his sweet face, his fat little belly that I may not be able to give him away.
Pattern: Elijah by Ysolda Teague
Yarn: Cleckheaton Country 8 ply