About Kate

Edinburgh-based writer and designer.

colour

These end-of-February days are rather grey and dreich. Here is some colour to brighten them . . .

Green



Red



Blue



The yarn is my new favourite stuff to knit with. (So soft! So richly saturated! You’ll hear more about it soon!)
The swatch is one of several I’ve been making for the “Steek Sandwich” workshop I shall be leading at This is Knit in April. (That’s steek, not steak)
The daffodil bulbs are on my window sill
The bowl is from Emma Bridgewater’s new Walk in the Park range. (My favourite Bridgewater design since ‘Blue Hen.’)
The hand-coloured prints are the work of the quite brilliant Suzanne Norris. I love Suzanne’s designs – precise, evocative – and I also love the thoughtful way she writes about process. These are from her Amateur Naturalist’s Specimen Collection and you can read about the process of creating them in three parts, beginning here.

rams return!

Last week, myself and the Rams and Yowes blanket, took a trip North.

The rams were returning to the place where they began . . .

. . . the Shetland wool from which they were knitted was sorted and graded here . . .

. . . and now they are home again.

If you have the good fortune to be near Lerwick, my blanket is on display at Jamieson & Smith HQ. If not, you could always get a kit to knit your own.

Meanwhile, I spent my days happily at the Shetland Archives, doing some work for the next issue of Textisles, which will be out next month. Surely there are few libraries that can boast a setting as lovely as this?

A piece of me is left in Shetland. I’ll be back soon.

alls well

Just a quick post to let you know that all is well around here. On Friday evening, while I was on a plane from Shetland to Edinburgh, Tom had been taken to hospital with appendicitis. He was in an awful lot of pain, so they fired him up with morphine, and kept him in overnight pending surgery. But some bouts of appendicitis resolve themselves without surgical intervention, and happily that is what seems to have happened to Tom. By yesterday lunchtime he was feeling much better, and congratulating himself on his resting heart rate which, at just 35 beats per minute, was remarked upon by the nurses (it is a runner’s thing). He is still a bit peaky, and in pain, and we are both rather tired, but otherwise all is well. Three cheers for Mel who came to the rescue and, in double-quick time, drove a moaning and groaning Tom to the Royal Infirmary!

a winner!

We have a randomly-selected winner in the Valentines giveaway! Congratulations to Claire P, whose theme tune of choice was from Jam & Jerusalem. There were so many theme tunes that I had forgotten about (Laverne & Shirley, Rentaghost) and many that I didn’t know at all (Hinnigan’s Island; Mr Rogers). Tom and I really enjoyed reading through your choices — so many gems in there (Triangle! and Charlotte’s remarks about Triangle!), but no one suggested the theme from Taxi, which, on reflection, is probably my favourite of all. (As a child, I loved Taxi and Cagney and Lacey, and found New York City in general Very Intriguing).

My other exciting news is that I am off to Shetland for a few days! See you soon!

album

I have a downstairs neighbour (also a knitter) who, in the course of her work, often comes across interesting objects. She sometimes brings these up to show me, and together we will enthuse over a gorgeous set of art-deco buttons or an ancient pair of butter-pats. The other day she brought up a very special object, which I thought you’d like to see.

It resembles a small bible, but it isn’t.

One clasp is broken, but the other is in fine shape. The pages are heavy, gilt-edged.

Shall we look inside?

On the first leaf is a print of a young and grieving Queen Victoria.

It is a photograph album. A typically Victorian repository of memory.

The style of the clasped book, and the particular settings of the cartes-de-visites dates it, I’d say, to the late 1860s.

But there are many types of studio portrait in here, from the 1850s to the 1890s.

This fragile-looking woman has a face that seems to recede from the camera. Her shawl is simple and heavy – perhaps the property of a photographer who requires some drapery to set this pale and light-boned figure off against the studio background.

I love the drape of the mantle over the crinoline; the detail around the skirt; the combination of the mantle’s internal pockets with the rather elaborate corded bag.

You can almost hear the rustle of her dark, heavy silks.

His beard-quiff combo is really quite extraordinary.

And I love the jewelery and piled hair of this woman of later era, who appears in the album several times.

To whose memories do these faces, long dead, belong?

Good Walk

Hiya! Remember me? My name is Bruce. Today I am telling you about a Good Walk. This Walk begins at the place called Blackford Hill.

This place has lots of grass. If you are lucky, the humans will stop to admire the thing that they call View . . .

. . . while you find a fine bristly stick, and prance with it.

Then the Walk gets even better, because it goes to the place called Hermitage. This place has mud and water and many, many sticks.

As usual, Kate was going far too slowly and stopping far too much to click-click with the camera.

She was also spouting the familiar human nonsense about how the light was changing, the birds were singing, and the gorse was coming into bloom &c.

Personally, I am not a fan of this gorse-stuff, as it is too bristly even for me to rummage in. Give me a stick any day.

Today I located many, many good sticks because of what is called “recent storms”. Here is an excellent example, but I was not allowed to tackle it.

Now, sometimes on a walk, I find a Nice Big Stick, and bring it home, where the humans feed it to the fire-beast. If only Kate had remembered that wheely-thing that she takes to the shops, I’m sure I could have helped to fill it up with these . .

Such a shame. But then later, by the water, we found the most exciting sticks of all. They call this thing ” Woodland Marimba”, but this means nothing to me. All I know is that when Tom hit these sticks, they sang a tune.

Singing sticks?

Singing sticks!

Shall I sing too?

Make them sing!

The more I sing, the more they sing!

They must be mine!

Kate seemed to find my singing very amusing for some reason.

But, predictably, I was not allowed to bring these mysterious and magical singing sticks home with me. Such is life.

See you soon! Love Bruce x

Renaissance Dyeing Giveaway

Would you like to win a kit to knit upyour own Hazelhurst? I’ll provide the pattern, and my friends at Renaissance Dyeing have kindly offered to give away two skeins of lovely worsted-spun organic Poll Dorset in shades ‘Ecru’ and ‘Carmine’ to one of my readers. All you have to do is leave a comment on this post telling me your favourite theme tune. (Here’s mine for today: it’s exciting and new). I’ll close the comments next Tuesday – February 14th. Someone is going to win themselves a tasty, woolly Valentines treat!

Because not all of you can win, Renaissance Dyeing are also offering a 7% discount on Hazelhurst yarn packs to all readers. All you have to do to claim the discount is to enter the coupon code “Ronnie” (as in Ronnie Hazelhurst, with a capital ‘R’) when checking out.

To close, I thought you might be amused by this outake from our photoshoot / walk last weekend. I really have no idea why I am looking so troubled / appalled . . . but Tom says this isn’t my natural expression, which I suppose is reassuring.

Good luck in the giveaway, everyone!

ETA: comments are now closed!

hazelhurst

So, I am imagining that some of you won’t have heard of Ronnie Hazelhurst – the meister of British light entertainment who has given his name to my new design? Tom and I are both children of the 1970s, and, for better or worse, the tunes of Ronnie Hazelhurst have featured largely in our lives. Hazelhurst composed the themes to Sorry, The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin, and Are you Being Served – neat little tunes tinged with characteristic melancholia – but he was also responsible for the atrocious ditties that introduced Blankety Blank, and Terry and June. Love them or loathe them, the problem with Hazelhurst’s theme tunes is that they have a tendency to get stuck in your head and stay there. In fact, I think that there is a whole special portion of Tom’s brain that is entirely devoted to Ronnie Hazelhurst – he often finds himself plagued with Hazelhurst earworms, which he then inflicts on me. (What? You don’t constantly whistle / hum / sing ’70s theme tunes while going about your household routines? Clearly it is just us, then?).

So what is the connection? Well, I found knitting and designing this scarf strangely reminscent of a Ronnie Hazelhurst theme tune – it is simple and memorable and I just couldn’t get it out of my head.

In a way, this infinity scarf marks the end (or the beginning, depending on how you look at it, ahem) of a train of thought I’ve been following through other recent designs, such as the Funchal Moebius or the Mucklemuff. I have found myself interested by the graphic potential of simple, colourwork tubes – and this is the simplest of all.

Knit as one long tube, on a small diameter circular needle, this scarf showcases a gridded check that is more often used as the background or filler to more complex colourwork designs, but which I think looks lovely on its own. The pattern is fixed in the head after less than one repeat, after which you can just work away while watching [Borgen] (insert name of your preferred well-written Danish drama) — you will never have to move your eyes from the screen or subtitles to the chart, and the scarf will quickly take shape in your hands. When your scarf reaches half the length you want it, simply pause in your knitting, reverse the order of shades on the chart, and continue onwards. At the end, you just graft the two ends together, and BINGO! You are now the proud owner of a graphically-pleasing infinity scarf that can be worn in several different ways.



Because I know you will ask me, I’ll tell you that the coat was a recent bargainous acquisition in the Toast sale – a good quality, herringbone tweed affair that I have simply jazzed up with some vintage buttons down the front . .

using a couple of different types at the cuffs and back tie . . .

. . . pleasing!

Like the Funchal Moebius, this finished scarf has a woven appearance – in this case reminiscent (to me at least) of old-fashioned gingham. This even-ness of appearance is of course due to the lovely Poll Dorset yarn from Renaissance Dyeing – shown here in shades Carmine and Ecru. The scarf uses just two skeins, with a yardage cushion to add a few repeats, if so desired.

Anyway, if you’d like to make your own infinity scarf, the Hazelhurst pattern is now up and available here or here. As with the Funchal Moebius, Andie at Renaissance Dyeing will be stocking kits for this pattern. She also has a special offer for those of you who are interested in purchasing yarn and pattern together in a kit – I’ll be back shortly to let you know the details.

In the meantime, thanks so much for your comments on the last post. A few things have been said to me in person recently that have rather hurt me. Your kind comments are the complete opposite of these inconsequential thoughtless remarks . . . and not for the first time, I feel lucky to have such wonderful readers. I take a lot strength and heart from your supportive words. Thankyou.
Anyway, I’m afraid I rather outdid it the other day with my walk / angry stomp, and have been feeling the consequences a little. I’ll be more chipper in a day or two. Till then . . .

at a loss

It is the second anniversary of my stroke. I had been preparing a post, but, disliking it, have left it half-written. Unusually, I find myself at a bit of a loss for words. I feel a little angry and a little glum today. I know that I am angry because of the many frustrations I still face (fatigue, hearing and mobility issues, seizures, the inability to plan ahead, the structuring of my entire existence around my sleep / rest requirements &c &c). But anger is pretty pointless, and I am not quite sure why I am glum. Life is really pretty good. Anyway, I must do what I usually do when I feel in a bit of a fug — namely — go for a walk. I think it might be a long one. I shall see you later.

Thanks so much for your comments about different knitting styles, which I am really enjoying reading.