A Bit of Finishing

Ta daah!

Finished! Here's a picture of it next to my hand, so you get some idea of how teeny-tiny it is:

I was going to do a picture of my hand next to a penny or something so you could get some idea of the size of my hand, but I thought no, that's mental. Anyhoo, I think I'm going to do a wee pile of these bad boys and send them off to charity. I was going to try and get the stupid cat to wear it, but he was all 'you are out of your mind if you think I'm wearing that'. He is very selfish. 

It's very good to finish something though, I've been very smug about it. I got into a bit of a trance with it, and just shuffled around bleary-eyed going 'MUST. FINISH. FINISH. FINISH. FINISH.' I was trying to neaten up the collar when the window cleaner came to the door and made me lose count. Oh, I was FURIOUS. Although in retrospect, I did feel a bit sorry for him. It cannot be pleasant to be greeted at a door by a glaring pajama-clad lady with an afro and mad eyebrows, brandishing a knitting needle. Especially when that lady is hissing 'Do YOU KNOW how many STITCHES are on HERE? Me neither, THANKS TO YOU! WHAT DO YOU WANT? WHAT WINDOWS? I'VE NOT EVEN GOT ANY WINDOWS!' But we're probably friends again. I wonder if he needs a jumper knitted? Hmm.

Today I had some folk round to the crib, chillaxin' an that, and someone brought through my fabric stash for a rake. And I was shamed, SHAMED, for how much l'oeufly fabric I've got just sitting around. So I decided to do a bit of fabric-y making too:

and ended up with:

unt a close-up:

...but it's still not quite right. I'm going to have a fiddle with it and see if I can't neaten it up a smidge. I'm still very new to sewing and I don't seem to be getting any better at it. And I HATE that. I don't want to learn stuff, I want to be immediately good at it. So every time the thread knots or the fabric bunches, or the bobbin runs out, I throw a massive tantrum and phone Len in tears.

It's not a very relaxing hobby, this one.

Finish ALL the things?

Hello chaps. It might surprise you to learn that I am not a particularly organised person. It's partly because I like STUFF and partly because of my criminally short attention span. So, I look at my massive pile of STUFF and think, Right! I iz organises! I iz puttin' that THERE! I iz now putting that thing THERE! I iz now bored, and am wandering off in search of something else to do.

And this short attention span sadly is reflected in the making. So I come home from a lovely day shopping and I'm all 'Husband! Look at this mad fabric! I'm going to make an apron with it and put it on ebay and it'll sell for a million pounds and then we'll be RICH and then we can give up working for evah! But first, I'm going to wander over here for a bit and play with the cat.' So, as a result, I've got a stash of fabric that would make John Lewis HIMSELF weep. And also, loads of unfinished knitting hiding behind things. And, even though I've got a hundred million appropriate knitting holders, for some reason I always put my knitting in plastic carrier bags. So, as I type this, there's a massive accessorize bag behind the cuddler which is hiding Husband's unfinished jumper.

See, I had this brilliant idea of knitting husband a jumper because I'd knitted LOADS of baby jumpers for friends and I thought, oh Husband would just LOVE a jumper made by the delicate hands of his magnificent wife. So I bought all the wool - lovely, Sirdar, tweedy-type, blue and gray, goes very well with the eyes of Husband - and a easy pattern, and new pins and got STARTED! And at first I was all 'CLACKITY-CLACK oh KNITTY KNITTY taptaptaptap happy happy lalalala, knitting away...' and then I realised I'd been knitting for A THOUSAND YEARS and the jumper was barely even three inches of stocking-stitch. And THAT is when I realised that Husband is much, much bigger than the average child. He's properly a GIANT compared to the average baby. So logically, his jumper will take much, much longer to knit. And I started to resent him for it. I would be all knitting away, glaring at Husband every so often and thinking 'Look at him, sitting there, probably growing BY THE SECOND and I've got to knit this huge stupid GIGANTIC jumper that'll take a MILLION YEARS. Probably the SLEEVES will take A HUNDRED YEARS each and he won't even LIKE it by then.' And Husband would look up at me and blow me a kiss and I would smile tightly back at him. And then I stopped knitting it, and hid it behind the cuddler. It's probably a bit dusty by now, actually.

Anyway, that was a massive diversion but here is THE POINT. I have made a pledge to finish the things before starting the new things. I thought I'd start with a jumper that I had promised to a friend's baby. The baby will be three in January, so the jumper will be much, much too small. But! I thought, I'll crack into that. So I was looking for it, and instead found a million other unfinished things including a teeny tiny jumper that I'd started when I was round vistin' Len and Roy. I was all bored and sloping round their house, and I said to Len 'I've forgotten my knitting, and that's what I'd like to do just now' and she was all 'I've got spare wool and an easy baby pattern if you fancy that?' and I was all 'HELZ TO THE YEZ LEN GOODMAN!' so I started it. And then I got home and abandoned it. And then I found it and STARTED IT AGAIN. And I'm nearly done. Here's how it looked when I found it:

And here's how it looks now:

GETTING THERE! Don't ask me what I'm going to do with it, I have no idea. Sometimes hospitals need things for premature babies, don't they? I might send it to them although they might send it back because it's a bit wonky. I'll think about it.

P.S. Husband just came up behind me and pointed at the screen (quite accusingly, I thought) and said 'Yes! I remember that jumper! Get it finished!' I probably will never, ever finish that jumper so I just pretended to be French until he went away. Which worked, actually. 

P.P.S. I think I've broken the Curse of the Unlucky Pajoojes. Nothing bad happened when I wore them, and nothing bad has happened since. Phew!

Holidayz! Woop woop!

Finally, finally made it to the end of term and let me tell you Chinas, I didn't think it was ever going to come. Now, people don't realise but Hairy Librar-ys don't get the same hollybags as teachers, so I have to work next week and a week in August but apart from that I'm offffffffffffff for a lovely FUNF weeks! Yaas!

Husband is working a lot of this weekend so I've grasped the opperchancity to visit the 'rents. And it is MAGNIFISAUR, let me tell you! Len and Roy live in the middle of nowhere, so it's all trees and air and squirrels and SILENCE. I actually grew up here but I've forgotten what it's like so every so often I go 'LOOK! There's a SQUIRREL! I LOVE IT!' and everyone sighs and looks at me pityingly.

Their nearest town is Helensburgh, which is on the West Coast of Scotvegas. Helensburgh is a proper seaside town, you should totally come for a visit. Only in Helensburger can you try the best ice cream in the entire universe (and I make it my business to know) courtesy of Dinos. They make it with condensed milk (I think?) and it is so good that me and Husband once fell out because he took a lick of mine when I wasn't looking AND HE'D ALREADY FINISHED HIS. I'm still furious thinking about it, actually. Also in Helensburgh is the recently opened Wee Kelpie, selling gourmet fish 'n chips. Today I had monkfish with homemade tarter sauce, here's a picture to make your pipes water:

So good, soooo good. And after we'd eaten it, me and Sister went to the wool shop and I got a new project:

...which I will be continuing with later, accompanied by my good friend MISTER RIOJA:

Oh yes! Good times! There's a new fabric shop opened in Helensburgh, and I so wish I'd been able to get a picture of it but I didn't want the owner to think I was a weirdo. But it's lovely, it's teeny tiny and crammed FULL OF STUFF, so obviously I felt right at home. And I got new fabric and binding but I've not taken a picture of it yet so you'll have to wait until next time. Oh, I do like to build the tension on the ol' blog!

Right so I've talked a lot on here about Len and how good at making she is. Len is also an exceptionally modest person and does not like to go on and on about what she's been uptae. We're very similar, in that respect (false). Anyhoo, she's agreed to let me showcase her most recent project. BEHOLD!

It's made from Michael Miller fabric and I WANT it. I WANT IT! I want it so much, I'm genuinely considering getting married again so I can use it. It's so, so lovely and perfect for Weddinging Around, which you do a lot of when you're getting married. I've been telling her for ages, she needs to get them up on Etsy because I'm certain people would buy them but she won't have it. She's just handed me a glass of the hooch, what a nice lady she is! Good old Len Goodman. But isn't the bag just MAGNIFICENT?

So chaps, I'm off to enjoy the sound of the rain bouncing off the ground, get stuck into my knitting and have a good old hearty slurp of the vino. I hope you have a lovely evening too!

About Me

I've had a really busy week this week and have done none of the making, so I have nothing to say about anything. Recently I was having a conversation with a friendly work-mate and she asked me 'what do you even write about on your blog?' and I took a deep breath, opened my mouth and...my mind went blank. Then my subconscious kicked in and to fill the now-awkward silence I suddenly yelled 'STUFF!!!!' right into her face. She looked a little startled, as was I.

But, all respect to her, she carried on: 'So do you have personal details on there?' and again, my mind left me and I bellowed 'NOPE!!' It was at that point that she shuffled off, probably to find someone normal to talk to.

So I thought I'd tell you more about myself. Be a bit more personal, if you like. You probably won't like it, but try to be brave. Strap yourselves in chaps, it's going to be a bumpy ride.

Name: Baroness Eilidhbelle Sittingonher-Bumbaleerie IV

Age: Mental or physical? Mental: thirteen. Physical: around eighty-five. But in birth years, twenty-six gaaaah!

Appearance: Ginormous face. Mad minging-brown curly hair. More eyebrows than the average person. Slow in gait. A tad cross-eyed. Here's a photo:

NOTE: Husband looks really grumpy in this photo because we'd just come out of Steptoe's Yard and he was still mulling over parting with his hard-earned Scottish Drachma just to keep me, HIS WIFE, happy. Rude. Also, I look blind but I am not.

Profession: Librarian. Yep, I'm a fully qualified hairy library-y. And I work in a school. There is nothing else I can say to make this more exciting. No, wait, I've thought of something: Catwoman was a Librarian. So, in conclusion, I am DEFINITELY Catwoman (FACT).

Pets: Two cats, a stupid one and an unfriendly one. Here's a photo of the unfriendly one being forced to sit on my knee:

He looks like he's being tortured even though I brushed his fur for ages and lured him on with treats. He only likes Husband, and only then it's because he knows Husband doesn't like him. Awkward and annoying. Although he does look exactly like a snow leopard, and he walks like one, which is cool. Also, he's not scared of foxes. But he is scared of pumpkins. Cats are rubbish.

Family: Len, Roy, Sister and Brother. Gran, Grandad, Aunt, Aunt, Aunt, Aunt, Aunt, Aunt, Uncle, Cousin x25.

I can't think of anything else that you might like to know so I'm going to end this post with an anecdote about my life.

Bumbaleerie Mansions is situated on a lovely quiet street that just so happens to be a short cut to the local school. Recently I was doing some gardening (drinking in the garden) when some hooded youths walked by and flicked an empty Haribo wrapper into my hedge. I work in a school, so I know how to speak to the young.

'Yoo hoo! Homie!' I called 'You've WELL dropped your empty sweets bag into my crib. I'm totes 'down' with you dudes 'chilling' whilst 'roamin' past my gaff, but pleaz put your rubbish into de binz, word?' They looked at me in total amazement, probably not used to post-teens such as myself having such a confident grip on street vernacular. One of the youths began to approach me, so I held out my hand in case he wanted to 'fist-bump' to secure our alliance. He did not.

'I'm terribly sorry, Miss, I didn't realise I'd dropped it. I'll put it in the bin immediately. Lovely garden!' he smiled at me kindly and I beamed back. We're proper mates now.

I told Husband about this later and he said mildly 'That's nice dear.' but he's WELL 'jel' that he doesn't have someone watching his back in the hood.

A Well-Spent Jubilee Weekend

The Jubilee weekend has been lovely, and I've used my time very, very wisely (<---- not true). I finally bit the bullet and got a proper pair of running shoes and took them for a spin tonight - they worked well, but so they should for the money I spent on them. It is soul destroying having to buy shoes you don't even like when you could have spent them money on shoes you would really, really have liked...BUT no more shin-splints, so that's a good thing. Have you ever bought running shoes? It's mortifying, they make you go on a treadmill to 'try them out' (WRONG, it's so they can laugh at you) although the nice man serving me didn't ask me to do that, I think because of the mournful look I gave the treadmill when he pointed at it. Or maybe it was because I shook my fist at it, I dunno. Either way, I came out with a horrible shiny pair of stupid-face running shoes and no more leg cramps.

I got another very exciting bundle through in the post: CRUSHED WALNUT SHELLS to make pin cushions AND they sharpen your pins too! Isn't that cool?

ANSWER: No actually, not cool at all. The stupid crushed stupid walnut shells went EVERYWHERE, and it turns out you need a LOT of walnut shells to fill a bird-shaped pin cushions AND it's really difficult to get it so stuffed that it feels nice so MINE feels like a half-empty bean bag. Not happy, not happy one little bit. Very furious actually, because I had to hoover my sewing room and I hate hoovering. But then I did something nice:

It's the first of my vintage pinnies, after my dressmaking lesson from Len. The binding should actually be lace but lace is a whole lot of trouble, and I said to Husband, Sister, Len, Roy, the big cat, the stupid cat, myself and the lady in the co-op: Why make it hard for yourself? And they all agreed, stick with the binding. So I did. I was in two minds whether or not to tidy up a bit before I took this picture, but then I thought nah, it looks rustic, plus it's very bohemian to be a total mink. I still have to gather the top (of the apron) and put the band on, and do the ties BUT it's nearly there. It's lovely to make aprons, I would highly recommend it. Today I also dug my front garden and planted loads of Hydrangeas (I think my new favourite flower) and Lavender (I think my new favourite smell) and I am pleased with the finished product:

 It'll look just peachy when they all grow a bit. I've also got a heap of sweet peas growing up one end of the garden but my neighbour was outside and I didn't want him thinking I was taking pictures of him (or, now that I think about it, my garden. It's a bit strange to take pictures of your garden isn't it?) This was not a relaxing afternoon's work by the way. First, the garden was absolutely COATED in weeds. Imagine all the weeds you've ever seen in your whole life. Now imagine that they are heading to the Jubilee celebrations in London with ninety-million of their closest friends. Now times that by eight-four, and THAT'S how bad my garden was. Phew, that's hard maths isn't it? I should have just taken a before picture. Never mind.

Second in the not-relaxing list:  I had to keep bending over....and I was wearing a tunic and leggings....and two wee boys passed sniggering....and I'm CERTAIN they were laughing at my bumbaleerie. That thought haunted me all afternoon.

Third: I hate spiders. I hate them with the fire of a thousand splendid suns. And they know it. Every time I venture outside they prick up their ears (?), gather a lynch mob and scuttle out going 'GET HER, GET THE CURLY ONE, GET HER!'and I have to run away shrieking.

But today, I have a message for them.

GOOD LUCK GETTING ME NOW STUPID-FACE SPIDERS, COZ ONE HAS NEW RUNNING SNEAKS!

MyFriendsNephewsQuilt

MyFriendsNephewsQuilt is finished! Here it is, in all its glory:

 It started life as this:

and then, as you know, I changed my mind about the starry one and replaced it with more red. I cut out a pile of 4x4 inch squares and moved them all around until I was happy with the layout. This took AGES, ages and ages because I wanted to get it just right. I asked Husband if he preferred the stripes better next to the planes or the spots. He said 'Hrgfyfy', which I took to mean 'Everything you do is wonderful! You're the light of my life! You're a creative GENIUS!' It is much nicer if I change what husband says as he's saying it. So, if he says 'I've been painting the shed and I think with a bit of careful planning, we could put some guttering around the outside to stop the water leaking in', I hear 'Look! A RAINBOW!' so I just look for a rainbow until he's finished talking. He does the same to me, whenever I say 'Husband! I've decided that the best way to create bias binding is to gently iron the folds in place, and then and only then, go MENTAL with the iron to get the creases sharpy sharpy sharp sharp. Good idea heyhey?!' he hears 'My dear, I was researching interest rates online and I think that we could seriously reduce how much we pay per month on the mortgage. C'mere, I've drawn up a spreadsheet and pie chart to fully illustrate this information'. Marriage is all about communication.

Anyway, after the squares were cut and laid out the way I wanted them, I stitched them in rows:

 and then stitched the rows together:

then I put a floating boarder on:

then the outer boarder. Then I pinned it, which I always think it the dangerous-looking part of quilting. It looks a bit mental:

then quilted it in diagonal lines. THEN put the edging on, then cut away all the loose threads and voila! Done! I really hope the nephew in the name 'myfriendsnephewsquilt' likes it, and WRECKS it. I like the idea that he will eventually show it to his grandchildren and it'll be all wrecked and mank because he loved it so much when he was wee.

*wipes away a tear* So that's myfriendsnephewsquilt, and it is DONE! So Eilidhbelle, I hear you ask, what's next in the pipeline? What creative sparks are tearing through the ol' cranium at the mo? Haha! you'll just have to wait and see! But I will say THIS:  I'm waiting for another package....

I also had my first dressmaking lesson this week, thanks to Len Goodman* and treated myself to a proper pair of fabric scissors. So my very first apron is underway and I'll be blogging about it once it's finished. I really love it, I think it might turn into another addiction. Probably not addicted to enough stuff anyway, in my opinion. Husband just read this over my shoulder and laughed out loud. We've been watching a programme called Britain's Worst Hoarders about people who keep everything, piles and piles and masses of STUFF and just have little tunnels in their house through it all. And Husband and I agreed that I would DEFINITELY be one of them, if given free reign. I keep everything and I love STUFF. We've been drinking a lot of the new Innocent fruit juice recently and the bottles are very cool, and I have to force myself to put them in with the recycling. Because, Husband says, what would you ever do with fifteen empty juice bottles? And I nod miserably and put them in the bin, but really I'm thinking 'But I could build a RAFT! I could tie them together and float somewhere! I could fill them with water and put flowers in them! My home is not complete without minging empty juice bottles filled with gradually decomposing flowers! Wouldn't that be lovely?!'

I love the Royal Mail (sometimes)

I don't want to give the impression that I'm always buying stuff, but it just so happens that recently I've gone flippin' mental with Paypal and bought ALL THE THINGS! Brace yourself.

Are you braced?

Feast your eyes on THIS:

You tell me if that is not the most beautiful fabric you have ever seen in your entire trouble and strife! Isn't it wonderful?! It's a Michael Miller what I bought from Etsy, and it is going to maybe bayby turn into one of these bad boys:

also from Etsy. It probably won't though, I think that fabric is too nice to cut. Is it just me who has this problem? Anyhoo, I've never made anything from a proper pattern before, but Len Goodman (my mum) (not her real name (obviously), see explanation below*) said she'd show me. Len is a proper maker - she's made loads of stuff and most weddings in the entire, gigantic extended Bumbaleerie family have at least one Len Goodman original on show, usually a bridesmaid dress.

*Len Goodman's real name is Eileen, but she gets called Leenie. I started calling my parents by their first names for a hilarious laugh but it turns out that it's really difficult to go back once you've started doing that.I was texting her a rude picture one day and predictive text changed 'Leen' to 'Len'. And I was quite literally over the moon to have a new nickname for her. (ASIDE: I thought I'd invented the name myself but it turns out he's some kind of dancing judge. Whod've thunkit?)

Similarly, we were playing that game with my Dad when you work out your 'adult entertainment name' by putting your first pet's name with your mother's maiden name. My sister introduced my parents to this game and said it was to get their 'stage name' but I put them right as I am the daughter that DOESN'T lie to them, and that makes me their FAVOURITE. Turns out my dad's first dog was called..........wait for it........ ROY! ROY PRATT! True story. So he gets called Roy now, which I think you'll agree is a marvellous name.

People say I must be unbearable to live with, but I'm not sure why.

Anyway, anyway, anyway. One last parcel that I've been waiting AGES and AGES for is this:

Stamps! Stamps that I am turning into artwork! OoooooooOOOooooooh! I do like a good stamp.


And that's all today's news. Glad to say Farewell to Monday though. Why is it ALWAYS Monday and NEVER Friday? Someone should look into that.