Shawl thing

I have a confession: I’m a little bit tired today. You see, I stayed up till gone 1am to get my Ishbel shawl finished. We’ve all done it - just a few rows to the end, so you might as well carry on. But when those rows are around 300 stitches long, it takes a tad longer than you might hope. But at least it’s done.

This really is a project that will benefit from blocking. At the moment it doesn’t look that great. The lace is all bunched up, rather than light and airy, which a good blocking will sort right out. I'm pleased with it though, and I've decided I really do love knitting lace.

The finished shawl. It will be much bigger and much lacier when blocked.

Lace detail. It will look much better when blocked.

Easy stocking stitch centre section.

The drugs do work

For those who don't know, in July 2007 I was diagnosed with severe depression. I was signed off work and prescribed Citalopram. I knew nothing about this drug other than what my GP told me: it's a selected seratonin re-uptake inhibitor or SSRI, the same family of drugs as Prozac. A scary thought - I've read Prozac Nation.

Severe depression means that it was bad. I hadn't just thought about killing myself, I'd planned how I'd do it. So when I say that Citalopram saved my life I'm not being melodramatic.

Citalopram, an SSRI. Photo by Fimpelman (commons.wikimedia.org).

Mental illness is not well understood in the UK. And depression is one of the most prevalent and least understood. (Along with alcoholism, but that's a whole different story.) I kept my depression hidden from most people at the beginning, telling only a select few, most of whom were very supportive. Even my own father thought I should have been able to just myself out of it, that it was a matter of choice.

My boyfriend of the time didn't really get it either. He tried, but there were days when I could barely get out of bed and he would get home filled with silent resentment that I hadn't done the housework. It's difficult to explain to someone who hasn't experienced it just how exhausting even the tiniest things can be. At times just sitting up in bed was completely draining.

Citalopram gave me my life back. But it also cut me off from myself. It was like being two separate entities. The human being who went to work, paid bills, was a productive and useful member of society. I'm deliberately avoiding words like machine and automaton here, because it wasn't mechanical. It was organic, autonomous. It just wasn't informed by that other part of me, the feeling, creative part that in my depression had become my enemy.

I couldn't write. I couldn't create. I was studying for an MA at the time and after four days stating at a blank page I had to come off the drugs in order to write an essay. My brain went haywire. I felt dizzy and spaced out, but my 5,000 word essay was written in a matter of days. It probably goes without saying that I did this without my doctor's knowledge.

But the worst thing for me, as a wannabe novelist, was that I couldn't write fiction. The words just weren't there anymore. For as long as I can remember I've written fiction. It's part of who I am. My brain was forever coming up with new ideas for novels, stories, plots, subplots, characters, even a screenplay once, and I got huge pleasure from making these real through words. And suddenly I couldn't do it anymore. That part of my brain was no longer accessible. I hated it. Right from the beginning I wanted to get off Citalopram.

It’s taken four and a half years of slowly decreasing my dosage, with a few setbacks, notably last January when things got really dark again, but a few weeks ago I stopped taking Citalopram. So far it’s been fine.

Life is certainly harder without Citalopram. Being on it is like being in a bubble that protects you from life’s sharp edges. It’s like having a nice comforting barrier between you and what’s happening to you. Life without Citalopram is more raw, more real. Emotions are more vivid. Sometimes I find myself crying for no reason, the final episode of the latest series of Being Human was a total blub-fest. But there are also moments of joy, just at the wonderousness of life. And I’m writing again. Short stories, two whole chapters of a children’s fantasy novel, and of course this blog post. 

I've gone on quite a bit, so as a reward for getting to the end, here's a cute picture of a cat. Own photo.

Crucial cases

I’m designing again. Crochet this time. I was inspired by the fact that I have lots of circular needles. I used to be scared of circs, then I used them and I’ve never looked back. You can have way more stitches, the weight of your work is on your lap rather than your wrists, and there are no ends to catch in your sleeves (or is that just me?). What’s not to like?

Well, there’s the problem of identifying the needle size once you’ve taken it out of the packet. You can use a size gauge, but who wants to bother with one of those? And where do you keep your circs without getting them all tangled up or lost?

These were the problems I was considering when I came up with the Hanging Circular Needle Case. Not the snappiest of names, I know, but at least you know what you’re getting. It’s a simple enough concept. A long piece of crocheted fabric in three panels: double crochet, fan lace pattern and double crochet shaped to come to a point. It’ll fold in three, secured with either a button or hook and eye. I’ll line it with fabric that shows through the lace pattern and sew on some ribbon to hang it up with.

The first panel, nearly done.

Rib tickler

A lot of design, at least the way I do it, is trial and error. When I first started the needle case I was positive I wanted a rib effect on the double crochet panels. I achieved this by crocheting through the back loop only. The resulting fabric looked lovely. But then it occurred to me that it would also be very stretchy, and that this would make it rather difficult to sew the lining on. Hmm.

I’d done 10cm by the time I made this realisation. There was no choice but to undo the whole thing. I’ve redone it now, with just a plain ol’ double crochet. It ain’t as pretty, but it works, and it was much quicker than the dc tbl. Yeah, now I’m thinking that I’d be on the lace panel by now if I’d started off with dc.

A close up. A very poor one - you try taking a good close up inside at night. No? Thought not.

Changing names

A while ago I changed my blog and Twitter name from Idoru Knits to knitting etc. I thought the latter sounded more serious, more grown up. I was wrong. I want my old name back.

Designer label
There is a reason for this. I’m not just being fickle - not entirely anyway. I want to design things. I want to produce the things I design under my own label. And I want that label to be Idoru Knits. Even though there’ll be crocheted items too. Maybe even some sewn ones if I ever get brave enough to use my sewing machine.

Recently I’ve been busily designing lots of things - a jumper, a wrist warmer, a t-shirt, headbands and flowers. I’m going to write up the patterns and try to sell them, and then make up lots of the smaller items and sell those too. I’m going to set up a Folksy shop when I’ve got something to put in it.

I’m not expecting to make my millions through this little design project. A bit of pocket money would be nice, but mostly this is a creative outlet. I’ve really enjoyed the few pieces that I’ve already designed, working out how make a frill on the bottom and cuffs of my jumper, the climbing vine pattern on my t-shirt, figuring out size and fit. It’s been a lot of fun. Long may it continue - under my new name, of course ...

My new headbands.

Damn and blast

I was at one of my knitting groups last night (3 August). This is usually a very pleasant experience. And indeed it was, complete with cake, tea and a cat. However, this particular evening was marred somewhat by the unfortunate discovery that I’d made a sodding mistake in my baby cardie.

I’d nearly finished the yoke, which meant that just the collar, button bands and sewing up was left to do. Excellent, I thought. So I did a quick count of the stitches. Wrong number. And whatever I did to fix it didn’t work. Turns out I’d cast off the wrong number of stitches on the armhole shaping on both sleeves and the back. Bugger.

I had to undo the whole yoke and sort out the cast off stitches. And then count the stitches to make sure I had the right amount this time. Moral of this story? Always count first!

You can actually see how much I've had to unravel.

Creating crochet flowers

I want to set up my own design label. There, I said it. That’s why I’ve been adapting jumpers and designing t-shirts. It’s also why I spent much of the weekend just gone (30-31 July) making up crochet flowers. I’ve invented seven, of differing sizes and designs. They’re pretty quick and easy to make and they can be made in different colour combinations and joined together to make new and exciting flowers.

There are two points to this. First, I’m going to write the patterns down and then hopefully sell them. The plan is to give one pattern away, but if you want all seven - along with instructions on how to make them in different weight yarns - then you have to cough up. It won’t be much - maybe £2.50 for all seven patterns. I don’t think that’s too much is it?

The second point is to make loads of these things and then sell them at craft fairs. They’re very cute, and when made in pretty colours or fluffy yarns (as oppose to my horrible purple practice yarn), they’re sure to look lovely. They’re versatile too - use them as embellishments, put them in your hair, secure them to a pin to make a flower brooch. I’ve got some lovely alpaca leftovers that are sure to look gorgeous ...

Knitting for baby

One of my best friends is pregnant. This is fantastic news - they had been trying for months before they got the good news, and I know they will be fantastic parents. Notwithstanding some of the names the prospective father has suggested …

Anyway, for me this means the chance to try my hand at knitting baby clothes. And as luck would have it, just as I was finishing up my lacy t-shirt (designed by me, don’t you know), Knitting magazine showed up in the post box complete with a pattern for a lovely, simple baby cardie.

All five pieces had to be threaded onto the circ. Preferably without dropping any stitches.

Substitute
As a Debbie Bliss pattern, it calls for Ms Bliss’s Baby Cashmerino. But I’m all for supporting local businesses, so I went along to my friend’s SoSusie Yarns stall at Archway market. She doesn’t stock Debbie Bliss, so I had to for something else. Baby Rooster is 100% merino, machine washable and soft as the fur on a kitten’s nose. It’s cheaper than Baby Cashmerino and comes out at the same tension. It’s also lovely to knit with. In short, buy some. From SoSusie.

Now the wonderful thing about baby knits is just how quick they are to make. I did one of the cardie fronts in a couple of hours at a knitting group. Amazing! I started the cardie at the beginning of this month (July) and I’ve already nearly finished. And that includes putting it aside for about a week because I simply couldn’t understand how the yoke worked.

Panic!
Yeah, that yoke. I was convinced there was a mistake in the pattern. I’d happily (and correctly) made all the separate pieces - back, two fronts, two sleeves - up to the armhole shaping and then transferred all the stitches to a holder. Next it was time to transfer them all back to the needles. There were 188 of them - I bought a circular. Then it was time to knit the yoke, decreasing all the time to the collar.

Sounds simple, and it is. But I just couldn’t see how the armholes would be made. I looked on Ravelry, I looked in the next two issues of the magazine, I looked on the magazine’s forum, I searched the whole internet. Nothing. It took a very clever knitting Badger to explain it to me. It works. But I’m not sure why.

It’s not important. I’m racing through the yoke now, and it’s surely only a matter of days till the cardie is finished. And in plenty of time for baby’s birth.

Close up - see how even those stitches are? I put that down to the yarn. And my own greatness, of course.