Beatnik Beats

[With apologies to Jack Kerouac and other Beat types]

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked apart from some damn fine knitwear.

In the bar I told Dean, ‘Hell, man, I know very well you didn’t come to me only to want to become a knitter, and after all what do I really know about it except that you’ve got to stick to it with the energy of a benny addict, and that circular needles are probably easier on the wrists.’

I left behind a big half-finished shawl, folded back my comfortable home sheets for the last time early one morning, and left. I was on the road again, this time with a big, red cabled sweater to keep me company in planes, rattling trains, and pick-up trucks as I moved from place to place. Somewhere along the line I knew there’d be girls, visions, Estonian lace knitting, everything; somewhere along the line the purl would be handed to me.

I finished Beatnik in Santa Margherita, a little town by the sea way out west. Late at night, I dunked it in the kitchen sink, and hung it on the radiator, as there was no other way a great, thick thing like that was ever going to dry otherwise. The radiator branded a ridge across the neckband where I wedged it in place. I took some awkward selfies on a day too warm to wear it.

I dug the sweater. It's the kind of sweater that, even though you’re on the road alone and far from home with only five Euros and three stitch-markers in your pocket, will wrap itself around you, and make you warm: wool-warm and red-happy.

Vile Worm (or 'A Warning')

It happens. You’ve been knitting a few years, you think you know a thing or two about colour choice, about the particular qualities of different fibres, about the behaviour of stitch patterns. You know all about gauge, about swatching; you are familiar with the inner workings of Ravelry; you can cable without a cable needles like it ain’t no thang; you are so confident in your ability to matchmake a pattern and a yarn that you occasionally daydream about setting up an internet dating service for the two (‘more couples happily knit together than any other site!’). So you choose a hat pattern, choose two contrasting colours, choose to unfurl your knitting smugly on public transport.

If you recognise yourself in any of the above, then Reader, BEWARE, because if my example is anything to go by, your knitterly pride is heading for a nasty fall. These are the perfect set of circumstances for you to create a TERRIFYING CYBER-CARNIVAL-SPACE WORM HEAD-EATER!

AAAAAAAAARGH!!!

Now, I don’t mean to denigrate the pattern: the designer’s photos of the hat look perfectly lovely, and Saz’s version of it (ravlink) is beautiful, but my version of it sucks! Oh my goodness, I can’t remember the last time I created anything so vile.  The sturdy garter stitch means it doesn’t slouch down like you’d hope a beanie would, but stands straight up, for a cone-head effect (seen above); my colour choice, which I envisaged looking cool and urban, somehow turned out garish and childish: in short, it’s just a vortex of wrong. I acknowledge that the lack of slouch might get better with blocking, but I’m not going to block it. If Sci-Fi has taught me anything, it is that when a mad stripy space-worm tries to eat your head, you do not give it a scented bath and leave it to repose upon a towel, you DESTROY IT, screaming ‘DIE, VILE WORM, DIE!'.

So knitters, have a happy, but vigilant, Easter. Make sure that hubris does not creep into your stitches. Check yo selves before you wreck yo selves.

Kingscot Cardigan

I went on a riverside walk yesterday to see the Antony Gormley statues, pick some wild brambles, and take some photos of my finished (but still buttonless) Kingscot cardigan.

I am so utterly delighted with this new addition to my wardrobe, not least because it is the first sweater project I have finished since Audrey in Unst last November.

The design is a fine one, by knitting demi-god Norah Gaughan, with cables and bobbles inspired by gothic windows gently curving to shape the fronts, and rope-like cables snaking up the back. My one criticism is that it is supposed to be knit in many pieces - it even has you knit the button-bands separately then seam them to the body. I hate this kind of construction, so adapted the pattern to be entirely seamless apart from the shoulder seam (if you're interested in the technical details of that, I made quite comprehensive notes on my Ravelry project page).

The yarn is the smooth, soft Debbie Bliss Cashmerino DK in teal blue. This was, in fact, one of the first sweater's-worth of yarn I ever purchased, almost two years ago. I am now much more easily seduced by  hand-painted skeins, or small, independent producers, and I would be less likely to buy such a commercial yarn. I have to say, though, that it was a pleasure to work with (apart from the loosely-wound balls that fall apart as you knit from them), and produced an impressively even, snuggly fabric.

This yarn also featured in the stash pledge I made a year ago. I did break that pledge in that I bought more yarn, but actually haven't purchased any more in sweater quantities. I wonder if this is part of what has made me less enthusiastic about knitting jumpers and cardigans - that worthy but also ever so slightly dreary feeling of knitting from stash. Hmm... I appear to be justifying the buying of more yarn - this could end badly! [ETA: I've just realised this is a filthy lie - I did buy some yarn to make a cardigan and completely forgot about it! Probably a strong argument against buying more...]

I still have to decide on buttons for Kingscot - I may be asking your advice soon!