Guess the name of my hat

Good morning! This week I have news other than logistical matters from Yokes dispatch central (though I’ll return to these things in a moment). For example, we had our first snowfall . . .

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I do find that snow affords me a welcome shift in perspective on the winter months. The world of relentless grey becomes pleasingly crisp and white, and there is nothing like a good walk in the snow on a still, bright December day. Bruce is also very fond of snow

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. . so we have both enjoyed some decent walks this week. I’m also pleased to say that I finally found the time (and wherewithal) to do some knitting. I confess my knitting mojo has been somewhat lacking of late. This is always a slightly troubling state of affairs, but in this case I’ve just put it down to being very busy and rather tired – a little too tired for getting excited about new projects or thinking about charts and stitch counts. But this week I took a wee break, and over a couple of afternoons I charted and knitted up another lopi yoke (so speedy! so warm! I’ll show you soon!) Then yesterday I whipped up a hat that’s been brewing in the back of my mind for some time.

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This hat is based on my Epistrophy yoke, and the first person to correctly guess the name I’ve given to it will win a special prize! (I’m serious! Leave a comment! Give it a try!).

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Like the yoke, the hat is knitted in Toft Ulysses DK, and, as pleased as I am with the crown design, I suspect one of these fluffy alpaca pompoms will be being popped on top once its finished drying on the hat block.

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As these hastily snapped images of my workstation might suggest, it has been another busy week here at the logistics coalface, and I’ve spent the majority of my time processing and packing and shipping orders. In all respects, I’ve found the response to Yokes pretty overwhelming. It has made me really happy to hear of the book appearing in different locations around the world, and especially to read everyone’s kind reactions, which makes all the hard work this year worthwhile. Thankyou, everyone!

But soon I am going to take a proper break, so if you would like me to post you a copy of Yokes, please place your order in the shop before December 19th. Orders placed after this date will be shipped on January 6th.

The rest of today involves eating a pheasant and decorating a tree. I hope you are all enjoying your weekend too.

Don’t forget! Leave a comment and guess the name of my hat!

ETA – comments are now closed

I’ve got a lab in Kalamazoo

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Hiya! It is I, Bruce. Things have been a little strange and discombobulating around here recently. First a mountain of books and cardboard appeared, and suddenly Kate and Tom were completely preoccupied with foraging in this mountain. Then my friends Mel, Gordon, and Ivor came to visit, but unusually they were not interested in playing with me or with BALL but seemed to much prefer stuffing books in envelopes and generating curious noises from the mysterious beast known as Franking Machine. This has gone on for some time now, and while Kate messes around with all the books and envelopes she amuses herself by singing many songs. These songs generally concern the places to which the books are traveling. When an order comes in from Kalamazoo, Michigan, she loudly strikes up “I’ve got a gal in Kalamazoo” and I have also spent many hours listening to her howling “Take me back to Louisville, KY” and wailing along to “The Chattanooga Choo Choo”. Despite the (ahem) singular quality of Kate’s voice, these songs are actually rather jolly, and all I can say is that Louisville, Kalamazoo and Chattanooga really sound much more fun and much more interesting than Scotland, particularly when no-one will play with you because they are singing songs or doing unspeakable things to Franking Machine. So yesterday I decided I would get out of dodge and stow away to Kalamazoo. I popped on a couple of blue airmail stickers, crept into the van, and prepared for my transatlantic journey.

stowaway

Sadly, Tom caught me in my hiding place among the the mail crates and my plan was foiled. Curses! No Kalamazoo for me! But then an interesting thing happened. When I came back into the house there was no more cardboard! The book mountain had considerably diminished! Franking Machine was quiet! And Kate had finally stopped singing! I think I can safely say that things are getting back to normal. Perhaps I shall visit Kalamazoo another day.
See you soon love Bruce xx


Kate adds: phew – we are all caught up! If you placed an order for a book between 7th November and today I’m very happy to say that your package has shipped and will be with you very soon! Also, my singing is really not that bad . . .

Things of Human Interest

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Hiya! It is I, Bruce. Today I am here to tell you about an important difference between Dogs and Humans.

This is where I live.

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It is a good place and there are many things I like about it. My human companions also like this place. But although dogs and humans both can both like a place, it is not often for the same reason. This is one of the many curious but important differences between us.

For example, one of my favourite walks goes past these trees.

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I like these trees because they mark the entrance into Good Field, a location where maximum fun is to be had. But Kate likes these trees because they are dead and alive at the same time.

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Past these trees is Good Field – one of my all-time favourite spots. Whatever the weather, the grass of Good Field is always wet and the ground of Good Field is always squishy and soggy. In Good Field can often be found deer and hare who are fun to chase, and if the cows pass by, they kindly leave an interesting mess behind. In Winter the mud of Good Field grows deep and dank and in the Summer Good Field’s plants grow thick and high. Good Field is a place for bounding, for leaping, for getting wet and dirty, and for gingering oneself up with all kinds of funky smells. In all seasons of the year, then, it is an excellent place to be.

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Now, Kate does not like Good Field for its mud or for its interesting aroma. Nor does she seem particularly happy when she trips into the cow mess, or wades clumsily through the waist high grasses. In fact, the qualities I most admire about Good Field are things Kate merely tolerates, or on occasion actually seems irritated by. I have heard her mutter words such as “ballache” as she stumbles, is bitten by a horsefly, or, as today, gets muddy trousers after falling on her arse. So why on earth does Kate take me to Good Field if she herself does not enjoy the many delights it has to offer? The answer is, of course, that it contains Things of Human Interest.

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Good Field’s Things of Human Interest are these Old Stones.

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Now, I am hardly ever diverted by Things of Human Interest, and I have to say that these Old Stones strike me as rather commonplace. Certainly they carry no significance for a dog like me.

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And yet I am tolerant enough of human foibles to dutifully sit and pose.

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Dear dog comrades, the moral of this tale is to joyfully accompany your companions when they wish to visit Things of Human Interest. That way you are likely to spend time in really excellent places, like Good Field.

some Spring weather

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It is a lovely time of year, and, as the weather starts to change I am really appreciating our new situation. Our house is in the middle of the photo above – one of five properties on a small steading, situated at about 250m above sea level. In front of the steading, to the South, the land dips away to a small lochan. To the North, East and West, we are surrounded by hills and woods. After living in a city, when one steps outside, the space here sometimes feels immense to me, but because of our location, there is also the interesting sensation of being cradled in the landscape, a dip in the earth sheltered by a canopy of sky. Yesterday I took a walk around the loch with Bruce, and felt this very distinctly. The arc of this rainbow shifted round the landscape with me, curving over the steading and seeming to somehow illuminate it.

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On my daily walks I see the landscape slowly coming back to life. Birds sing in the early hours, daffodils have taken the place of the snowdrops, and last week I saw the first caterpillars and frogs of the year.

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Golden flowers are appearing on the gorse, the ultimate sign of a Scottish spring for me.

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The Spring weather has almost made up for the fact that I spent last week at home, with a poorly Bruce, rather than in Shetland, where I was, in fact, supposed to be.

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Worry not, friends of Bruce: he is doing fine. The cone is a wee bit tiresome for everyone, but his snout is healing, and we will be back at the vets this afternoon.

The Spring light has also given me a chance to photograph the steeked design I mentioned in my last post. It is a garment for a man, and will be released as part of a new collaboration with my good friend and colleague Jen Arnall-Culliford. I’m very much looking forward to telling you all about it next week! It is a time for new releases all round, in fact, as various things are due to arrive next Monday which I’ve been keeping under my hat for some months, but am very keen to show you. (Apologies for all of the mystery, but soon all will be revealed.)

Right, the sun has come out and it is time for another walk with Bruce. Enjoy your Monday, everyone!

a little snow

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Everything is relative: I am sure that those of you in North America, who have been shovelling the white stuff for months, will not be in the least excited to hear that it actually snowed, but here, where winter has been horribly dank and soggy thus far, it is an exceedingly welcome change. It is the cold, crisp, crunchy days that get me through the Winter: there have been far too few of them and I confess that the sight of this in the morning made me foolishly happy.

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Bruce is also in a good mood.

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I love to walk in the snow, and we spent a good couple of hours out there this morning in the silence, with no other folk in sight. Birds seemed everywhere, immediately spotted against the landscape’s white blanket. As well as the usual neighbourhood woodpecker and buzzards I saw an osprey by the loch and a hen harrier hovering above the snow-covered fields. The birds are pairing up: this cold snap has come late, and there are already signs of Spring.

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I wonder how the bulbs I planted will fare.

Well, its back to my desk. I have my first post-stroke driving lesson tomorrow – wish me luck!

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The life and death of Big Ball

hiya

Hiya! It is I, Bruce. This morning an extremely curious thing occurred, so I am here to tell you all about it.

The curious thing began with the appearance of the postie, who had a parcel for Tom. Inside the parcel was a box with this jolly person on the front of it.

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Intriguing! Apparently the box contained Big Ball, and Tom required Big Ball to perform tricks and throw shapes such as this

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These are quite impressive shapes, but, as I said to Tom, there are much better things to do with Big Ball, such as chase it, jump at it and chew it. (Prescient words, as we will see).

Oddly, the first thing to come out of box was not Big Ball at all but this Squashy Thing:

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Tom began squeezing at Squashy Thing. Then Squashy Thing started huffing and puffing and making strange whistling sounds. I became excited, and began to bark, and then was told to leave the room. Such is life.

But when I was permitted to return, guess what I discovered?

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BIG BALL!

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Big Ball was large, and rather vexing, and impossible to catch. Clearly the best thing to do was to corner the chuffer.

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Havoc ensued. It was mooted that I was playing with Big Ball too vigorously, and I was told to SIT.

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So Tom and I decided to go outside to play with Big Ball . . .

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. . .then I jumped happily at Big Ball and . . .

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Big Ball’s disappearance was sudden, loud, and mystifying. All that remained were a few woeful scraps, which it was clearly my duty to destroy.

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The appearance, and disappearance of things is one of life’s greatest mysteries. Who can say why the cold white stuff turns to water whenever I chew it? Why toys enter the evil beast called Washing Machine, and are never the same afterwards, or why Big Ball suddenly disappears? While I was musing on these important matters, Tom popped out for a while. When he returned, events took a rather sinister turn.

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Who is this imposter? And what have they done with Big Ball?

looking back

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2013 has been a very interesting year. For us, its main event was undoubtedly leaving Edinburgh, and moving out West!

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It would perhaps seem to be a massive change, moving from a busy city to a sleepy steading just off the West Highland Way. But I immediately felt at home, and the fact that this change did not seem radical at all, suggests to me how well our new surroundings suit us. I am certainly wading through much more mud and cow shit on my daily walks, and I fear my appearance has grown a wee bit more raggedy and bumpkin-like, but otherwise things go on as usual. With more space. Which is nice.

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2013 was a year of new contacts and collaborations.

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(Peerie Flooers on Ann Cleeves’ Shetland)

. . .with the BBC

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(Nepal Wrap)

. . .with Rowan

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(Shepherd Hoody)

. . .with Juniper Moon Farm

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. . . and, perhaps most excitingly for me, with Gawthorpe Textiles.

I have been exploring texture much more in my design work this year, and have really enjoyed using simple garment shapes to explore the potential of cables and lace.

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Catkin

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Braid Hills

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Port o’ Leith

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Firth o’Forth

But, as Autumn turned, I was bitten by the colourwork bug again, and now find myself once more on something of a colour kick.

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Tea Jenny

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First Footing

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Toatie Hottie

And perhaps most importantly on a personal post-stroke level, during the latter part of this year, I can say that I have finally begun to feel reasonably “well” on a pretty-much consistent basis. There have been far fewer bouts of debilitating fatigue, and no weird neurological incidents. I spent 6 weeks engaged in the demanding physical task of redecorating our new home with no ill effects, and I can now plan on working a full day, walking Bruce, and performing any necessary household chores: a level of “normal” activity which was completely unimaginable in the years immediately following my stroke. Part of this sensation of wellness is perhaps that I have finally adapted to my post-stroke self, and have a much better awareness of my limits (for example, I still need 10 hours sleep to function normally), but it is also important to point out that, almost four years after the event, I am still seeing significant improvements in my gait and strength on my weak side, as demonstrated in this recent swants leap.

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Thankyou all so much for stopping by, for reading and commenting, and for supporting my work in 2013.

Here’s to a grand new year for us all! Slainte and Happy Knitting!

wazznbruce

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