Tír Chonaill

Woolfest is just a fortnight away! I am pleased to say I am mostly prepared (hoping to hear about the whereabouts of the last of my stock today, fingers crossed). I’ve produced two new designs to launch as kits at the event (with yarn and project bags), and sent the patterns off to my printers yesterday. As it really isn’t long till they are published, I thought I’d show you a few photographs in advance. So here’s the first design: it is a Donegal wrap or throw, and I’ve called it Tír Chonaill.

The wrap is knitted in “Soft Donegal” – the same lovely Irish yarn I used for the Bláithín designs. As well as the fresh, Spring-like shades I used for the cardigans, there are a number of deep jewel-like shades in the Donegal Yarns palette that really speak to each other, and which I wanted to bring together. The throw mingles three of these rich shades against a creamy báinín background.

The palette and pattern were inspired by Medieval tapestries. And the name of the design also has historic associations: Tír Chonaill was the name of the last independent Gaelic sovereignty in Ireland: a kingdom which, until the Flight of the Earls in 1607, covered most of what later became County Donegal.

The finished design is about 3 feet square – just right for a wrap or lap blanket – though the tiled repeats mean that it is easily customised for those who would prefer a smaller pram blanket, or a larger throw. It is knit in the round, steeked and finished using similar techniques as those used on the Bláithín cardigans. And the pattern is surprisingly simple to knit — because the yarn is worsted-weight, and the background shades are never carried over long distances, the throw works up quickly, and would be fine for someone reasonably new to colourwork. You can see the steek-sandwich and i-cord edging here:

One of the things I really like about this sort of tiled design is the way that the repeat creates different lines of visual continuity. This only works over a reasonably large area – so this is an ideal design for this particular repeat.

The rich tweedy colours – which really speak to, and blend with, each other – add to this sense of continuity as well.

We took these photographs at St Anthony’s Chapel, just down the road in Holyrood Park. When I’m there, I always think of the ascent of Arthur’s Seat in James Hogg’s Confessions of a Justified Sinner.

Unfortunately, it was too cloudy for brockenspectres when we took these photographs. But even when there are teenagers and tourist buddies about (it is a popular spot) I always find the atmosphere around the chapel just a wee bit eerie.

. . . an atmosphere which was only added to by a little wind and rain.

There were also several canny rooks knocking about the ruins of the chapel, but none of them wanted to participate in our wuthering photoshoot, unfortunately.

So, if you like this design, I’ll have it available in kit form at Woolfest! The pattern now has its own ravelry page, and printed and digital copies of the pattern will also be available shortly after the launch. I may be able to offer some kits as well, depending on the level of interest.

rams and yowes

Hmmm . . . do I spy . . . some sheep?

. . . . many sheep?

. . . and many rams?

120 yowes and 48 rams?!!

Yes! It’s the rams and yowes lap blanket!

In case you were wondering, yowe means ewe in Shetland dialect and, just like the sheepheid design from which it emerged, the rams and yowes blanket is a celebration of the many-hued variety of Shetland sheep. The blanket uses all 9 natural shades of Jamieson & Smith Supreme jumper weight, and it is very simple to make: the body of the blanket is first knit up as a steeked, colourwork tube. When the colourwork is complete, the steek is cut, and stitches are picked up for the garter stitch edging. Increases and decreases create mitred corners, which fold to the back of the work, creating a neat facing inside which the steek is completely hidden. If you have never steeked before, this would be a good first project to try out the technique.

Here is the facing from the back with the steek hidden inside. To my mind, there are few things more lovely than graded shades of natural Shetland worked in garter stitch. So very pleasing!

Can you tell that I am stupidly happy with this design?

I love the way that the 120 yowes, worked in the graded Shetland shades, give the effect of a massive, ever-receding flock, and the rams lend a graphic, carpet-like aspect to the blanket’s centre

The finished blanket measures 3 feet square. It is just the right size for draping over your knees, or the back of the sofa, and can also be worn as a very cosy wrap or shawl.


The rams and yowes pattern has been expertly test-knitted by my friend Sarah (thankyou, Sarah!). If you’d like to make your own, the pattern is now up and available here, or here.

And in case you are wondering about my hand wear – yes, those are a pair of Muckle Mitts that I whipped up yesterday from a lovely free pattern – a new year’s treat from (who else?) Mary Jane Mucklestone – go and download yourself a copy!

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Here’s a quick pic of the finished blanket:

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In the end I tied it — theres no batting to move around inside it and the test quilting I did looked completely pants on top of the pattern of the fabric, which is already quite busy. It looks better lying flat though, it has to be said. It is tied in the corners of each square with dark red wool, resembles a futon from the back, and is very, very cosy!

£1.50

Don’t get me wrong, I love our flat, but did I mention that it is berloody freezing? There is one source of heat in the living room, and we have the cooker in the kitchen, but everywhere else is baltic. In winter we wander around the place wrapped up like woolly mammoths. I have been tempted on a few recent occasions to get out our RAB mountaineering sleeping bags. These are guaranteed ‘safe’ to minus five, so will probably do the trick.

I have been buried under a pile of marking for several days and have been rewarding myself between scripts by making a patchwork blanket to warm us and the bedroom up.

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A few months ago I visited Hinnigans in Selkirk and bought several offcuts of thick woollen fabric. As I understand it, these are waste lengths, produced when the makers are testing different patterns and colourways on the looms. I bought three lengths — bluish, pinkish, and brown — all about a foot wide. Out of these I’ve enough fabric to patch together a blanket six foot square. Here it is partly pinned and partly pieced together.

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I am going to attach a back to the blanket (a burgundy coloured old cotton sheet), quilt the top (in a basic geometric fashion, following the diagonals) and edge it with bias binding. The wool is very thick and warm and already has a quilt-like squashiness which means no batting is required. Each of the long lengths of wool cost me 50p, so, with the recycled backing and the notions from stash, the materials cost £1.50 in total, which really isn’t bad. The fabric reminds me of the Welsh tapestry capes one so often sees in charity shops. Well, I often see them anyway — most usually in lurid 1970s shades of bright green and orange. The colours of the patchwork are a bit less lurid, but the dense quality of the wool is equally pleasing. While I love the fabric, there is little to say about the simple design, and the less said about the execution the better (!), but I shall post a finished picture when the whole hybrid patchwork-quilt-blanket is completed at the end of the week.

In other news, I am veritably basking in internetniceness, having been tagged with one of these by four lovely fellow bloggers.
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I would have tagged Alice and Kirsty meself, had I got in first: they are both enviably talented crafters with two very distinctive creative styles, and they also write uberblogs chock full of wit and smartness. Leslie and Mick’s blogs are new to me, but their tag has given me the opportunity to discover them. Many of the blogs I read regularly are, on the surface, very different from each other but, thinking about it today, they do have one thing in common — and that is a particular, often idiosyncratic, aesthetic that colours everything they do. This aesthetic can be something I identify with on a personal level, as is the case with Estyn, who has an incredible eye for the chance lovelines of the everyday, or Helen, a talented knitter who also takes beautiful, evocative pictures of the landscape of the Borders and Assynt. But there are also bloggers that inspire me because their culture and creative practice is very different to my own. Flor and Lene come into this category. While I have never met Ashley I sort of feel I know her very well because of the warmth of her writing, as well as the lovely things she makes and an, um ‘real life’ intellectual connection. There is an artist’s intelligence apparent in all that Kristen, Felix and Jennifer do, and finally, Jude is endlessly inspiring on all counts. Indeed, hers is less a blog than a lived poetics of making.

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