Beginnings and endings: a closer look at making a lace hat

I love knitting - I love leafing through magazines and books to plan what I’ll make next; I love going to yarn shops to choose wool, thinking about colours and textures, how something will feel and look; I love the act of knitting in hand, watching the fabric grow; I love learning new things to do with those two simple stitches that all knitting begins with. What I don’t love, however, are the beginnings and endings - casting on and sewing up.

Casting on should be fun. It’s the start of a new journey - it’s getting in the car that’s going to take you somewhere exciting. Or at least it should be. Not to me, though. To me it’s time consuming and dull. You spend all that time casting on and there’s hardly anything to show for it. Then you have to count all your stitches, which I do two or three times just to be sure. Possibly that’s overkill.

A question of cast-on
Really, however, there’s much more to casting on than I realised. First, I thought you just learned a cast-on technique and that was you set for life. I was wrong. When I learned to knit, using Debbie Stoller’s fantastic Stitch n Bitch: The Knitters’ Handbook, I followed her method for casting on. It’s called the long-tail cast on and while it looks quite complicated it really isn’t. It also makes a lovely, neat edge.

I used my usual long-tail method to begin my lace hat. And it turned out that this was a mistake. The technique simply doesn’t have enough stretch in it for a hat. It took two attempts to work this out, of course, which wasn’t helped by the fact that I was knitting so tightly I was actually hurting my hands.

A new method was called for, so I tried the knitted method. As the name suggests, this involves knitting into the stitch that’s on the needle and transferring the new stitch onto the left needle. The resulting edge is lot looser and stretchier than that produced by the long-tail method, but it’s not as neat or nice-looking.

I’m not going to attempt to explain how to do the two cast ons I used here, but if you want to give them a go, head over to YouTube and do a search - there are loads of tutorials.

Blockheads
I don’t really get blocking. I mean, I get what you do, obviously. That’s easy - pin out the knitted pieces, wet them and leave them to dry. But I’ve never really understood why. I’ve blocked all my pieces and none of them have looked any different afterwards.

Pre-blocking. I was going to give up on lace after seeing this.

But that was before I knitted lace. When I finished my hat, it actually looked a bit of a mess - holey, not lacy. Blocking is supposed to fix this, so I made sure I blocked properly. I pinned out that hat section by section, ensuring that each was fully stretched out, spritzed with water and left to dry. It took more than a week. But you know what? It was worth it. It’s now lacy, not holey.

Careful, section-by-section blocking. It took ages.

Sew, sew
I don’t know why I dislike the sewing part. But everyone does, right? This should be the exciting bit. The knitting is done, you’ve blocked all the pieces and now you’ve just got to sew them together before you can wear your new hat/jumper/shrug/whatever.

But before I go any further, a word on weaving in ends. One of the best pieces of advice I’ve been given on this is to weave in ends as you go, so that you don’t have an overwhelming number of them to sort out at the end. I even did this once, and it really does help. So have I done it since? Of course not! The moral there is listen to good advice and keep on following it.

But back to the sewing. My theory on why we hate the sewing up so much is that we’re all worried that our terrible sewing technique is going to ruin our beautiful knitting. So we put it off and put it off until it becomes A Big Thing.

Time to let you in on a secret: sewing can be undone. You know how you forgot that yarn over four rows back and you’ve got to back to fix it? Sewing is just the same! Cut the thread and unpick it - no harm done.

It might take a long time, you might not be the best sewer in the world, but the more you do it the better - and quicker - you’ll get. And before you know it, sewing will just be very little thing.

I always think I’m rubbish at sewing, so I avoid it. But you know what? I sewed that hat up in about an hour, and you can’t even see the seam.

And finally ...
Remember that ‘Break yarn, thread through rem sts, draw up and fasten off’ instruction was concerned about? It’s easy! I left a nice, long tail to make blocking easier, and then just used a crochet hook to thread the tail through each stitch and then let it drop off the end of the needle. The long tail ensures that the stitches won’t fall off the yarn during blocking.

Once the blocking was done, I pulled the thread tight and sewed a nice figure of eight to secure it, and then used the remaining yarn to sew up the hat.

Hat in use! Lace is my new favourite.

The frill of it

As you know I’m currently working on my first design project - adapting Candy, a pattern that featured in the May 2008 issue of Let’s Knit (it’s on Ravelry here, for those with an account).

The changes I’m making aren’t huge - a V neck rather than scoop, 4-ply yarn instead of double knit, changing the colour of the yarn at the stocking stitch part to match the accents around the hem, cuffs and neck, and putting in a frill at the hem and cuffs. But I think that’s enough for a first foray into design.

Taking the measure
Now, I’m usually a ‘chuck it all in and hope for the best’ kind of girl; a philosophy I apply to everything from packing to cooking. It’s always seen me good in the past. So I was rather surprised at my methodical approach to this design. I decided exactly where I want the hem to fall - a couple of inches below the waistband of my jeans - measured myself, knitted a tension square and measured the width of a top that was the right length to be sure of the size. Using all this information, I calculated exactly how many stitches I’d need.

Next, I wanted to make the hem looser than the ‘bodice’ as it were (the 2x2 rib). I thought I’d achieve this with a 3x3 rib. This meant that my stitches had to be divisible by two and three. Luckily 144 is and it’s very close to the number I’d found I needed. Time to start knitting.

It didn’t work. The 3x3 rib certainly wasn’t looser than the 2x2, if anything it was tighter(see Exhibit A below). This wasn’t going to work at all. So I took some spare acrylic and started experimenting. How about a 1x1 rib? No. How about casting on with bigger needles, knitting one row and changing to the smaller needles? Nearly, but not quite.

I was going to have to try something different. What would happen, I wondered, if I cast on several more stitches than I needed, knitted a row and then k2tog every fourth and fifth stitch? It worked. In fact, to make the frill even more, well, frilly, I cast on and knit the first row using big needles then changed to the small needles for the decrease row. Experimentation over, it was time to start again.

And we're off ...
Problem: I didn’t know how many stitches I’d need to cast on so that I’d end up with 144 after decreasing. Divide 144 by four and add the result, 36, to 144 seemed the right thing to do. I still don’t know why this is the right thing to do, but it really is because I counted the whole thing out on paper. To complicate things further, the cast on and first row had to be in colour 1 and the decrease row (and all following rows) were to be in colour 2. But after all the maths, remembering to change colours was easy.

Of course, it’s not all been plain sailing since then. Only last night, having done some 15cm of knitting, I found a mistake about halfway down. It wasn’t a huge mistake - a couple of places where I’d purled instead of knitted and then corrected myself. But I knew it was there, so it had to go. This meant ripping out 7.5cm of knitting, just to correct two wrongly purled stitches. Being a perfectionist isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

And that’s where I am at the moment: reknitting all those ripped out rows. Yes, it’ll take ages, but for me it’s worth it.

Exhibit A. Sorry for the quality of the photo - done at night on my lap.
But you can see the lack of frill.

Much better! Just look at the frill. Frilling! And other bad puns.

Knitting up north

It's taken months to get this far. No, really.

Holidays are great. I’ve just come back from a week 'oop north' and I’ve had a fabulous time. I knitted, wrote, ate, walked, read, drank wine and watched some birds.

On the knitting front I finished a hat that’s taken me far too long to complete (lace am hard), did some of a gorgeous red slouch and started out on my first ever design project. Well, I say design project, it’s more of a redesign. I’m taking a pattern I’ve made before and adapting it. I decided that would probably be the easiest way to get into designing my own knits. So far I haven’t managed to quite get things looking the way I want, so currently I’m testing out various techniques in order to work out how to get the hem right. At the moment stocking stitch on giant needles or attempting a frill are the front-runners. I’ll let you know how I get on.

But it’s the hat I’m really pleased with. This hat has been a nightmare knit. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve had to frog and redo it. Partly this is my own fault - I didn’t swatch and it turned out my tension was much, much too tight, and it soon became obvious that the hat wouldn’t fit round my head. In my defence, though, the tension square was in the complicated lace pattern, rather than a nice, sensible stocking stitch, and I just couldn’t work out how to count the damn thing!

I started again on bigger needles, much bigger needles. But I was still knitting very, very tight. So tight in fact that moving the yarn on the needles was actually hurting my fingers, and several times when arduously pushing stitches along needles I pushed too hard and the stitches popped of the end. That involved much swearing and dropped stitches, I can tell you.

So then I learned to knit continental. Sounds a bit dirty doesn’t it? Unfortunately it’s not. This has cured my too-tight knitting problem. Honestly, it’s fantastic - it’s practically impossible to work too tightly. Continental knitting is great and I highly recommend it. In fact I’ll probably blog about it in the very near future.

However, a new knitting style meant starting that hat again. You might be surprised to hear that I still didn’t do a tension square. But guess what? It worked anyway! The hat is knitted. It only took two false starts, not to mention the time I took it to the pub and talked/drank so much that I lost a stitch and had to undo the whole thing. Or the many unknittings that took place due to dropped stitches or missed yarn overs.

The knitting is indeed done, though, and I’m very proud. Now I’ve got to block it and do something that says ‘Break yarn, thread through rem sts, draw up and fasten off. Not entirely sure what that means but I’m sure I’ll work it out, and when I do I'll post photos of the completed piece.

Lace detail. I admit you can't really see it. You'll just have to wait till its blocked and off the needle.


The Slouch. More photos when it's done.

Bead queen

One of the best pieces of advice Emma gave us in the bead jewellery class was to practice what we'd learned sharpish, before we forgot it all, and so I had earmarked yesterday (Sunday 5 September) as my day for beading.

After the class I had bought everything I needed to make a 12-strand bracelet - hundreds of little beads, some thread and all the sterling silver fixings required. I gathered this all together, along with the pliers and clippers I'd bought from Buffy's Beads, and sat down at the kitchen table ready to start stringing.

First came the maths; I had to figure out how long the strands should be and many beads I needed for each strand. The first bit was easy: measure the circumference of my wrist. It's 5.5"; obviously I didn't want a skin-tight bracelet so decided the strands should be 7". To work out how many beads I'd need I strung an inch-long strand and counted. There were 14 beads, giving me 98 per 7" strand. So I counted 100 into little pots.

Everything you need to start beading!

To string each strand you need to cut a length of thread, tie a knot in one end and start sliding the beads on. The strands should be several inches longer than you want them to end up. It will become clear why next ...

It was all going swimmingly well until I got to the tying up bit. I tied all six strands together. And then realised I should have put the calotte on first. I had to cut the knot off; lucky my thread was so long. Mistakes aren't the only reason for extra thread, it makes all the knots easier. Crisis averted.

First six done, on to the next set.

But things were to get worse. The bracelet is made in two sets of six strands, each set is attached to a soldered ring and the rings are then attached to split rings, one of which is also attached to the clasp. The first set was perfect, not withstanding the knot problem. Then it happened. While tying the first knot on the second set, I let go of the ends. Beads went everywhere. I picked them up, threaded them back on and tied my knot. Phew.

Can you guess what comes next? That's right, things got even worse. When tying the second knot it's important to get the beads tightly packed, otherwise you can see the thread. I worked the beads down, pulled the thread tight, worked the beads down, and so on. It looked great. I tied my knot. But somehow it ended up in the wrong place - there was spare thread on three of my strands!

I tried undoing the knot. No joy. I tried easing it further down the thread. I had some success with this, but not enough. Three of my strands were just too long. But there was nothing more I could do, other than cut it all off, waste those sterling silver fixings and start again. In the end I decided to finish it off. This was my first ever solo attempt after all. In fact it looks OK. With all 12 strands afixed you can't actually see the three that went wrong.

It gets worse though: despite my careful measuring the bracelet is too long for me. The various rings and clasps added at least another inch to the bracelet and it just slides over my hand and falls off. Bugger. So if you know anyone with a 6.5" inch wrist and a liking for shiny purple things, let me know.

It's not all bad, though. I learned some important lessons, practised bracelet-making techniques and I've got plenty of beads left for another go.

The finished article. So who wants it? You can't see the mistake, honest.

A close-up of the beads.

The craft whore

Yep, that’s me, a craft whore. I love my knitting, but a glimpse of a shapely bauble or fine bead and my head is well and truly turned. How else can I explain the fact that just two days ago I was sitting in a basement learning how to make bead jewellery?

I hate to use a cliche, but there is no other way of describing The Bead Shop in Covent Garden other than as a treasure trove of beading materials. Two floors of the prettiest, shiniest glass, crystal, metal, wooden (I could go on) beads, as well as findings in base metals, sterling silver and gold-filled. It’s a stunning, and totally overwhelming, experience.

I’ve wanted to make and design my own beaded jewellery for a while now, but I had no idea where to start. So many beads, so many findings - I couldn’t even work out what to thread them on. And, unlike knitting, there seems to be very little in the way of beginners’ instruction books.

I had previously been to a class at Buffy’s Beads in Kingly Court. This was great fun and I took away with me two bracelets and two necklaces that I’d made myself. The problem was that I couldn’t work out how to apply what I’d learned there to anything else. Give me the same materials and I could happily make those same necklaces and bracelets, but anything else was beyond me, and those tempting arrays of shining beads were just as daunting.

This is where The Bead Shop class comes in. Instead of making a finished product, the idea is to practice techniques. We went through where and why to use thread or nylon-covered metal (called Tigertail) and the different sizes. Then we strung some beads, learning how to use different findings such as calottes and soldered rings. Crucially, the teacher Emma had brought along samples of her own jewellery to show us what we could make with the techniques she was teaching us.

The afternoon was taken up making single loops and wire wrapping; both techniques for attaching beads to each other or lengths of chain. Afterwards there was some time to buy some products, on which we got a 5% discount. Because Emma was there with her jewellery it was easy to buy the beads for something she had already made. I’ve got everything I need to make up a gorgeous 12-stranded bracelet. Then it’s just a case of making sure I keep practising everything I learned.

The classes aren’t cheap, but at £80 for a full day, including all tools and materials, they are good value, and certainly a lot of fun. They run on the third Sunday of the month. See Emma’s website for details. If you are interested in making your own jewellery I would definitely recommend booking in.


Jewellery samples. Sorry for the quality of the photo. It's taken inside, at night, with flash. This really is the best I could do.

Finally, a finished object!

I finished knitting my cable tunic some time ago. Getting on for a year in fact. Last week I admitted this shameful piece of information to my knitting group. They shouted at me and made me sit in the corner. So, in a bid to avoid such treatment this week, I've spent the last seven days sewing up.

It has been an easy process. I managed to half set in one sleeve before realising the wrong side was showing. Before this I couldn't decide which stitch would be best for each seam, so had to start each several times over until I'd decided which to use. In the end I went for fake grafting for the shoulder seams, which gives a nice invisible edge, and back stitch for all others. I tried mattress stitch, but it just wasn't working for me.

Of course these weren't the only problems. I also managed to stab myself under the thumbnail with a pin. It bled, but not on the knitting so it wasn't a disaster. And then Sherlock - my chosen entertainment for this job - disappeared from iPlayer.

I don't like sewing. I'm not very good at it, and it takes me ages. I'm not entirely pleased with all my seams, but I did notice a definite improvement as I went. My final sleeve seam is a delight.

Despite my many trials and setbacks, you'll be please to read that the job is done! Yep, all sewn up and ready to wear. It even fits (I was concerned it was going to turn out too small). But don't take my word for it - here are some photos!

Sweet charity

I’ve made three baby blankets over the past year, and now I’m knitting another. This one is different, though. At the same time, both more and less personal and important. Let me explain.

The previous blankets have all been for friends, people I care about. I will meet and get to know the babies that are currently snuggled up in blankets I’ve made. This makes me happy. The blanket I’m currently knitting, though, is for charity. Bliss provides vital care for sick and premature babies in the UK, as well as supporting parents of sick babies and providing information for health care professionals. This work is hugely important, and something that I wanted to support.

I don’t have children, so I can’t even imagine what it must be like to have a child so sick that you can’t even take it home. I learned something about that pain in a recent edition of Knitting. One of columnists wrote of her experiences with her very ill newly-born. It was heart rending; it inspired me to knit this blanket.

I’m just over half done now and I’m sure this won’t be the last charity blanket I knit. The thought that something I’ve made might provide comfort to a poorly baby and to the distraught parents of that baby, well that makes me happy too.

For more information about knitting for Bliss, please click here.