The knitter apprentice and her fourth piece

I´m very thankful for that Erika and Anna, the master knitters of Sweden and England respectively, have inspired me to take up this fine needle work. Although it tires me out at periods, it s the only creative outlet I have, and for short bursts it can even make me forget how dire my situation is, but I won´t go in to that again today.

Last thing to finnish is my first cardigan. Most of it I made when we were in Denmark, but when I made an attempt at assembling the pieces back home I had to take up and re-do the front bits not just once, but about 4 times before they fitted on properly. I still think its a bit on the short side, but hope I can strech it out a little after I wash it.

Change of scenery

Time flies without me hardly noticing, and we´re almost half-way through the summer now. Even my dad has started his holiday, since the buses in the city centre are on strike (good time for mum to force him to build a new deck outside the front door), so the customary voyage south will commence tomorrow morning (the earlier the better unfortunately for me who have problems with sleep). With dad driving (or me when I was still fit enough) its a rough 12 hour day door to door, but since he has opted for the MC, its mum who´s at the wheel, and although she´s been down to Denmark on average twice per year for 56 years, she still navigates as though we were on a gravelroad to rural Mongolia.

So for once we´re spending the night in Helsingborg, partly because gran always has wanted to go to the summer show at Fredriksdalsteatern, and since its mums birthday in july, dad decided to get some tickets. Not that I think there is much of a point to give presents when it has to motivate a row 3 times per day. Since dad still thinks it kosher to leave presents a surprise and mum can´t handle not planning every hour of the forseable future, she asks over and over exactly what we do and when (although she keeps saying she wants it to be a surprise), until dad gets annoyed and hence the row.
I´m so sick of sitting listening to my parents, this whole holiday is going to be one long argument (it always is). Dad not wanting to do work on the house and then saying that he don´t want to be in Denmark anyway cuz he doesn´t understand the language (but he does want to go to all sorts of countries where they don´t speak swedish either). Mum wanting to work and never stop to do anything else. They are so wrong together, and I hate having to spend more time with them than a normal 20 something mingle with their folks (about 2 weeks per year).
But I´m gonna stick by my hammock, my ample stash of podcasts and as many literate hide-aways as possible.

And ofcourse I´m not going anywhere without a clear path of stich and purl enterprises now after having been contaminated by the knitting bug. I´ve always felt a surprise to how few cardigans I`ve owned every time I open the wardrobe, even though its pretty much all I wear, so there we have first base right there. Total yield will be narrated upon return.

Last crack with the needles was an attempt to introduce myself to the art of lace knitting. And although I doubt I have a great adeptness for this counting and skipping sort of thing, I can understand the vocation some people develop for it.

Take 3 - top

Another day has passed, as uneventful as all the previous. I still feel like in transit, who can accept that this is it? The summer is in full swing and I could be on my way to Mexico, at the Roskilde festival, or walking Hadrian´s wall. But I´m not. I move from the deckchair to the couch to the kitchen. Repeat.

I read a little, I knit a little, I feck about on the internet, I eat. Repeat.

Life goes by, without me, and I sometimes wonder if I´m used to it by now. I might be, or it might just be the cocktail in pill-form that dried up the tears.

The knitting has progressed, conveniently in time for my mother´s birthday, and some of the Danish yarn has been turned in to my very first top! I was proud for about 5 minutes, then started thinking about what to make next, and discovered to my horror that nice wool yarn for a sweater costs more than it does to buy the clothes in a shop! It annoys me that the Swedish Ebay, Tradera is crap and has hardly nothing on offer =(

Actually, Sweden still has lots to learn when it comes to selling things of the net and posting it. The point for most is to buy the stuff cheaper on-line since there is no actual store to maintain, meaning the costs can be cut. But then postage in this country is so bloody extortionate that it ends up being cheaper (and much faster) to get it directly from a shop anyway! Having dreadlocks I use a special schampoo I get from a company in the US. They have a few web shops in UK which I used to use, but now when I´m back in Sweden I though I´d find out if there was someone around here who sold it too, thinking that would save me a few bob. I did find a shop alright, but I was shocked when I did the maths! 2 bottles of shampoo + postage from UK would cost me 290 sek, and the same two bottles bought from a web shop based about 20 mins drive from the house, would with postage be 525 sek! Someone is in this to make a buck I tell ya!

Well I might just not bother and shave em all off. I know I´ve said that before, but even though I like em and have had them for 6 odd years they´re mostly in the way and take alot of maintenence. We´ll see

Knitting phase 3 and the spaniard

I woke up this morning without feeling like I got hit by a bus. Only people with ME can understand what a glorios window of relief that is. All I want is to get in the car and leave the house, visit someone or maybe walk in to a shop. But I´m terrified to do just that. What if I run out of steam while on the road, or what if I get through it alright, and then the next morning feel like being hit by a bus would be mild in comparison to the 15 carriage steam train that would sweep me in to conciousness (for the following 2 weeks).

So what will I do with my day of clear head and abillity to get up the stairs without trembling knees? Probably just have a shower and take the opportunity to wash my hair. Cook my poor over-worked mum a nice dinner maybe.

The knitting has moved in to the "prison" phase, i.e. sweater. Last night I had trouble holding my toothbrush cuz my fingers were arthritically stuck in various stitching terminology. Dunno really what will happen to the result in the end cuz when the recipe recommend something that seems like Greek to me, I simply ignore it and move on to the next set of instructions. But I admit it is sort of addictive, maybe I too will be one of those who knit to wrap lamp-posts or parking meters in the end (although I would have to do the domestic ME-friendly version instead and opt for kitchen chair-legs, the old TV antenna and bits of oven)...



My Spanish exposure project is also slowly progressing. I have decided to try and consume all the films by Pedro Almodóvar, and yesterday I saw Dark Habits (Entre Tinieblas) twice. Only in his films can the nuns raise tigers, take heroin and sew glittery costumes for the statue of the virgin. He seems to live in an alternative reality, and I mean that in a good way, no other director can tell a story with so much love and passion in situations that would make anyone else weep with despair. He certainly makes it easier to persevere with my Spanish and next I aim to get a hold of his first film Pepi, Luci, Bom and Other Girls on the Heap.

Its a hat!

Yes it was hard labour, but now I feel like a proud parent! Well honestly it wasn´t all that difficult, even though it was my first time making something round, "sock" style. And throughout the process I had the wool guru hot line on short dial. Although I confess that the revolutionary advantage was when I realised that we in fact had a fifth knittin needle, so I didn´t have to make do with only four (those who knit will know how awkward that can get)...

Now all I can do is wait till it gets below 10 degrees...

The knitter and her wool guru

The past few days I´ve actually been feeling half decent, meaning that I can expand my activities beyond just chewing, dreaming of showering, watching telly and listening to audio tapes (that period lasted so long my ears were getting sore). At present I´m living pretty far from everyone I know (not even counting those outside the country), so visits are unfortunately very far and few between. But yesterday my favourite Erika and Björn took their time to borrow a car and drive out here.
In my world Erika is to swedish textile crafts what the stream of new books are to a library. She consumes all known techniques, making like an internal conveyor belt and produce things like there is no tomorrow. Quite a long time ago I´ve been cheating a bit in knitting and quite alot in nålbindning, and lately I´ve sort of felt that it might be fun to take up some sort of creative activity. And when I have my very own wool guru at hand, whats better than giving knitting a go.

My gran´s sister down on a little island in Denmark has recently lost the battle against her own hoarding of crap and the town´s entire squatting cat maffia, and so has been forced to opt for an old folks home down the village. This means that my gran and mum (wearing face masks and near enough burning their clothers afterwards), this spring, tried to save the few pieces of family heirlooms that hadn´t already completely corroded under cat´s urin, feces, or manicurial needs. To get to the point of this rambling I arrive at the grandest solid wooden closet (built by my great grandfather), which at an early stage of the house´s decay had had its doors barricaded with various organic and non-organic matter. This matter had started from the floor and by unknown scientifical reactions grown high enough for the doors to remain shut solid for years of double figures. When my mum shoveled in to this (living?) mass, and opened the doors, she found the entire closet filled with high quality knitting, weaving and embrodery yarn, some of which we brought back to Stockholm.

I now feel it is my obligation to treat this premature inheritance to knitting needles and long evenings of cursing. So on yesterdays visit I left the weaving and embrodery yarns to Erika, and she lent me a "fool proof" but really nice book of knitting patterns. I started out straight away, but decided to opt for something small scale before I knew if my claims to once having known the basics of this art was in fact something I had dreamt.


And behold my new iPod cover! Not that I think I will want to be seen actually using it, the leather cover I already have looks in comparison to the knitted one like scallops next to Tesco value fish fingers (thats Coops blåvitt för svenskar). But hey, now I know I can go straight to prison (sweater) possibly not without passing go (hat).