Hooray, hooray, what a wonderful day, for I have finished my Birthday Socks!
Actually I finished them a few days ago, but what with the miserable weather and everything going on, I didn't get round to photographing them. And what with the miserable Unbloggables going on, I didn't get round to blogging about socks, because really, I have too many things in my life to care about this month which is kind of making knitting accomplishments fade into the back files of my brain. And you can see how bright these socks are - that's some serious fading.
If there's something I'm supposed to be doing for you (writing or making or calling or fixing or whatever) and I haven't done it or I'm late with it, I'm honestly sorry. Odds are I haven't forgotten (Clare and Anne in particular, you are on the Whiteboard of Memory and I will get to it) but a reminder never hurts.
I have also finished and photographed the Top Seekrit Project. I will publish the pictures and the pattern (such as it is) in about a month, when the recipient has recipificated it. Suffice to say I am happy with it, and having a bit of an Umm-Ah about whether I should make another one for myself.
Showing posts with label socks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label socks. Show all posts
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Thursday, April 03, 2008
Misc
Lots of little things going on, but nothing I can make into a full-on blogpost.
The Tax Credits letter has been sent. So that doesn't need worrying about for a while again.
Steve passed his second exam with flying colours. There's two more to go.
Littlun is due to start at the kindergarten/reception type class at the school on Tuesday, doing half days, five days a week. However due to an administrative snarl-up, Pip won't know if he's doing mornings or afternoons until Monday.
Recycling has been properly introduced in this area. I am incredibly relieved - it was horrible not being able to do it any more after having really got into the habit back in Lowestoft. It's not exactly the same system as I was used to, but they've been really good about sending out the leaflets and whatnot.
What they're not so good at is dealing with queries. The helpline has been utterly swamped. According to the local paper, this is mostly by people who haven't read the leaflet with the list of collection dates, people who are complaining that the system is too complicated (let's put it this way: even I can understand it, so it can't be that hard), and people complaining that the bins are 'unsightly' so they don't want them at the front of their properties and won't give the bin-men access to the back. So, we took the path of least resistance and shelled out a whole £2.99 for a food-caddy from the supermarket rather than messing about to claim our free one.
I've totally slowed down on knitting the jumper because I have to write out longhand the row-by-row instructions for the shoulder shaping to make sure I've really understood it. The instructions in the pattern book are written to incorporate several sizes of one pattern. So for example an instruction might be written as "Cast off 2 (4, 6, 8, 10, 12) sts". If you are knitting the very small size, you cast off 2 sts. If you are knitting the biggest size, you cast off 12 sts. You see? But me, I'm medium-sized, and I keep forgetting which set of numbers I'm meant to be paying attention to and it drives me mad, so I write out the pattern instead.
The sock is coming along nicely. It is the second sock of the birthday pair, made of the stripy Regia Silk yarn I bought with my birthday money back in January. I've turned the heel and have about 10 more rows for the instep and then it's just round and round and round until I get to the toe decreases. Steve 'helpfully' offered that if I was stuck for what to knit next, he could always frog them for me so that I could do them all over again. I am pleased to report that I did NOT skewer him with a 2.5mm double pointed needle, but it was a close call.
And to round off, a Roomba Report. I still love it, I still think it's some of the best money I've ever spent, although I do regret spending the money and wouldn't have done if I'd known how things were going to pan out. But then I suppose that's the same for everyone. Anyway, yes, the Roomba, or "Bloop" as he is now affectionately known, is doing sterling work of keeping the carpets clean for me, but we did have a little incident the other day.
It involved a reel of black cotton that we are both quite sure was safely on a shelf before we pressed the button and closed the door. Perhaps the breeze from the door closing was what caused the reel to fall to the floor. Or perhaps Bloop bumped into the shelf a little bit hard. We don't know - after all, the point is, you don't have to be in the room while it's cleaning.
Thing is, if you're using a conventional vaccuum cleaner, then when you spot a cotton reel on the floor, you stop. You pick up the cotton reel and you place it somewhere safe. If the vaccuum cleaner has already sucked up the end, then you turn it off, untangle it, and only then do you attempt to continue cleaning. Not so for Bloop. He keeps going, and going, and going, and because of how he works, twisting and turning and moving all the time... eventually he had got the entire length of thread wound around his brushes, upon which, he sucked up the plastic reel as well, which finally jammed the brushes and caused him to make his "uh-oh" noise.
Black cotton thread wound tightly in a non-linear fashion onto black brushes. Oh boy. It wouldn't unwind at all. We had to try three different pairs of scissors to cut it all off without cutting the brushes themselves. It was a tricky job. But, even so, after maybe an hour of surgery, it was all sorted out and Bloop was able to do the whole room again, properly.
Steve has presented the incident as being further proof of Bloop's malevolent sentience. Not only does my robot want to join in the knitting, but he even knows better than to have a first try with any of my decent yarn.
The Tax Credits letter has been sent. So that doesn't need worrying about for a while again.
Steve passed his second exam with flying colours. There's two more to go.
Littlun is due to start at the kindergarten/reception type class at the school on Tuesday, doing half days, five days a week. However due to an administrative snarl-up, Pip won't know if he's doing mornings or afternoons until Monday.
Recycling has been properly introduced in this area. I am incredibly relieved - it was horrible not being able to do it any more after having really got into the habit back in Lowestoft. It's not exactly the same system as I was used to, but they've been really good about sending out the leaflets and whatnot.
What they're not so good at is dealing with queries. The helpline has been utterly swamped. According to the local paper, this is mostly by people who haven't read the leaflet with the list of collection dates, people who are complaining that the system is too complicated (let's put it this way: even I can understand it, so it can't be that hard), and people complaining that the bins are 'unsightly' so they don't want them at the front of their properties and won't give the bin-men access to the back. So, we took the path of least resistance and shelled out a whole £2.99 for a food-caddy from the supermarket rather than messing about to claim our free one.
I've totally slowed down on knitting the jumper because I have to write out longhand the row-by-row instructions for the shoulder shaping to make sure I've really understood it. The instructions in the pattern book are written to incorporate several sizes of one pattern. So for example an instruction might be written as "Cast off 2 (4, 6, 8, 10, 12) sts". If you are knitting the very small size, you cast off 2 sts. If you are knitting the biggest size, you cast off 12 sts. You see? But me, I'm medium-sized, and I keep forgetting which set of numbers I'm meant to be paying attention to and it drives me mad, so I write out the pattern instead.
The sock is coming along nicely. It is the second sock of the birthday pair, made of the stripy Regia Silk yarn I bought with my birthday money back in January. I've turned the heel and have about 10 more rows for the instep and then it's just round and round and round until I get to the toe decreases. Steve 'helpfully' offered that if I was stuck for what to knit next, he could always frog them for me so that I could do them all over again. I am pleased to report that I did NOT skewer him with a 2.5mm double pointed needle, but it was a close call.
And to round off, a Roomba Report. I still love it, I still think it's some of the best money I've ever spent, although I do regret spending the money and wouldn't have done if I'd known how things were going to pan out. But then I suppose that's the same for everyone. Anyway, yes, the Roomba, or "Bloop" as he is now affectionately known, is doing sterling work of keeping the carpets clean for me, but we did have a little incident the other day.
It involved a reel of black cotton that we are both quite sure was safely on a shelf before we pressed the button and closed the door. Perhaps the breeze from the door closing was what caused the reel to fall to the floor. Or perhaps Bloop bumped into the shelf a little bit hard. We don't know - after all, the point is, you don't have to be in the room while it's cleaning.
Thing is, if you're using a conventional vaccuum cleaner, then when you spot a cotton reel on the floor, you stop. You pick up the cotton reel and you place it somewhere safe. If the vaccuum cleaner has already sucked up the end, then you turn it off, untangle it, and only then do you attempt to continue cleaning. Not so for Bloop. He keeps going, and going, and going, and because of how he works, twisting and turning and moving all the time... eventually he had got the entire length of thread wound around his brushes, upon which, he sucked up the plastic reel as well, which finally jammed the brushes and caused him to make his "uh-oh" noise.
Black cotton thread wound tightly in a non-linear fashion onto black brushes. Oh boy. It wouldn't unwind at all. We had to try three different pairs of scissors to cut it all off without cutting the brushes themselves. It was a tricky job. But, even so, after maybe an hour of surgery, it was all sorted out and Bloop was able to do the whole room again, properly.
Steve has presented the incident as being further proof of Bloop's malevolent sentience. Not only does my robot want to join in the knitting, but he even knows better than to have a first try with any of my decent yarn.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Finished Item: Birthday Sock
Of course, socks traditionally come in pairs, and I have cast on Birthday Sock 2, but the way things are at the moment, even the completion of One Sock is enough to warrant celebratory feelings.
It's... not a good time. Several things, some bloggable, some not, are causing a certain amount of stress right now. A small taster...
I suspect that tomorrow I have to call the Tax Credits people and/or Royal Mail because of a problem with the paperwork I sent by Recorded Signed For post last week not being flagged as 'delivered' yet. This is going to be made more difficult by me being rather iller than usual at the moment. I suspect I have to make a doctor's appointment as it's getting to the "beyond a joke" point - without Steve, I would be well and truly stuffed by now. I'm worried that even with Steve's help I might end up having to take time off work if my health doesn't pick up again sharpish. I have to sort out some more stuff with the DWP as well.
You get the picture.
I also have to write up a feedback report for Access to Work. Well, I don't have to, which is why I haven't done it yet. But I've been asked to, and I feel like I should.
I need to get some serious praise in for my current adviser, who has been fabulous and got all sorts of things (the taxis, the squishing machine) sorted out pretty much next-day, and I want to say nice things about the scheme in general.
But I also really need to let them know about the problems I have encountered with the system, like the trouble I had getting onto the scheme, the attempts to make One Size Fit All, the catch-22 of not being able to apply for the scheme until you have a definite job offer, but the difficulty of negotiating for a job offer without knowing whether you're likely to get help from the scheme or not.
Actually, if anyone can think of some good phrases I could use, please do put them in the comments, because at the moment I'm having trouble properly saying things I want to say without (a) it coming out wrong and everyone looking confused, (b) half of it coming out before my brain goes off at a tangent and I fail to communicate my original point leaving everyone looking confused, or (c) it coming out right, but far too abrupt/rude/blunt and leaving everyone looking distinctly pissed off. I need all the help I can get.
The sock came out well though.
It's... not a good time. Several things, some bloggable, some not, are causing a certain amount of stress right now. A small taster...
I suspect that tomorrow I have to call the Tax Credits people and/or Royal Mail because of a problem with the paperwork I sent by Recorded Signed For post last week not being flagged as 'delivered' yet. This is going to be made more difficult by me being rather iller than usual at the moment. I suspect I have to make a doctor's appointment as it's getting to the "beyond a joke" point - without Steve, I would be well and truly stuffed by now. I'm worried that even with Steve's help I might end up having to take time off work if my health doesn't pick up again sharpish. I have to sort out some more stuff with the DWP as well.
You get the picture.
I also have to write up a feedback report for Access to Work. Well, I don't have to, which is why I haven't done it yet. But I've been asked to, and I feel like I should.
I need to get some serious praise in for my current adviser, who has been fabulous and got all sorts of things (the taxis, the squishing machine) sorted out pretty much next-day, and I want to say nice things about the scheme in general.
But I also really need to let them know about the problems I have encountered with the system, like the trouble I had getting onto the scheme, the attempts to make One Size Fit All, the catch-22 of not being able to apply for the scheme until you have a definite job offer, but the difficulty of negotiating for a job offer without knowing whether you're likely to get help from the scheme or not.
Actually, if anyone can think of some good phrases I could use, please do put them in the comments, because at the moment I'm having trouble properly saying things I want to say without (a) it coming out wrong and everyone looking confused, (b) half of it coming out before my brain goes off at a tangent and I fail to communicate my original point leaving everyone looking confused, or (c) it coming out right, but far too abrupt/rude/blunt and leaving everyone looking distinctly pissed off. I need all the help I can get.
The sock came out well though.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Crash
Oh, it's all gone horribly wrong.
The attempt at GET has been called off on account of (1) me not having a bloody clue what I'm doing (see comments, previous post), and (2) me ending up feeling like I'd been scraped off the sole of my own shoe (probably because, see 1 above). I think I'll settle for: as long as I get up every day and go to work when I'm supposed to, then I'm doing quite enough.
The Inland Revenue have been sent me a nasty letter. It's to do with my Working Tax Credits claim from 2003. You don't want to be bored to death by the details - suffice to say, I haven't claimed or received any money from them since I stopped work in 2005 (because, Working Tax Credits, duh), I hadn't heard from them since 2006, I thought everything was fine, I even have a letter from them saying that I owe them nothing and they owe me nothing... but now I have a bill for over £500, which, frankly, is more than a month's wages, and an accompanying letter threatening legal action and 'interest accruing daily until the balance is zero'. I fear this may take a lot of untangling.
Steve keeps injuring himself (mostly hurting his back or his leg) and I can't do anything to help. He's also studying really intensively, so by the time I crawl in from work, we're both shuffling about like the living dead - in body and in brain - to try and prepare a semi-nutritious evening meal between the two of us. It would be comical if either of us were brain-awake enough to appreciate it.
It's the end of January. 'Nuff said.
Even my yarny is causing problems - I started turning the heel on my sock and lo, halfway through the ball, a KNOT. And not just a tangle which with care and attention might be unpicked. No, this was a proper, two definite ends of yarn, tied together in a big ugly knot. Okay, so not the end of the world, I cut it off and then started knitting again as if with a second ball... but for pity's sake, this was supposed to be my birthday-treat, make-me-happy, pleasure-to-knit-with super-nice yarny!
Send positivity soon plz.
*Note for foreign readers: Working Tax Credits are a kind of UK welfare benefit that you get if you are in full-time work, but earning less than X amount. Various factors (including children, disability, hours worked, phase of the moon, consumption of cheese etc) are taken into account when figuring out (a) what that X amount should be for each person and (b) how much Tax Credit that person should be given. The system is hugely complicated and has lurched from one catastrophe to another since it began.
The attempt at GET has been called off on account of (1) me not having a bloody clue what I'm doing (see comments, previous post), and (2) me ending up feeling like I'd been scraped off the sole of my own shoe (probably because, see 1 above). I think I'll settle for: as long as I get up every day and go to work when I'm supposed to, then I'm doing quite enough.
The Inland Revenue have been sent me a nasty letter. It's to do with my Working Tax Credits claim from 2003. You don't want to be bored to death by the details - suffice to say, I haven't claimed or received any money from them since I stopped work in 2005 (because, Working Tax Credits, duh), I hadn't heard from them since 2006, I thought everything was fine, I even have a letter from them saying that I owe them nothing and they owe me nothing... but now I have a bill for over £500, which, frankly, is more than a month's wages, and an accompanying letter threatening legal action and 'interest accruing daily until the balance is zero'. I fear this may take a lot of untangling.
Steve keeps injuring himself (mostly hurting his back or his leg) and I can't do anything to help. He's also studying really intensively, so by the time I crawl in from work, we're both shuffling about like the living dead - in body and in brain - to try and prepare a semi-nutritious evening meal between the two of us. It would be comical if either of us were brain-awake enough to appreciate it.
It's the end of January. 'Nuff said.
Even my yarny is causing problems - I started turning the heel on my sock and lo, halfway through the ball, a KNOT. And not just a tangle which with care and attention might be unpicked. No, this was a proper, two definite ends of yarn, tied together in a big ugly knot. Okay, so not the end of the world, I cut it off and then started knitting again as if with a second ball... but for pity's sake, this was supposed to be my birthday-treat, make-me-happy, pleasure-to-knit-with super-nice yarny!
Send positivity soon plz.
*Note for foreign readers: Working Tax Credits are a kind of UK welfare benefit that you get if you are in full-time work, but earning less than X amount. Various factors (including children, disability, hours worked, phase of the moon, consumption of cheese etc) are taken into account when figuring out (a) what that X amount should be for each person and (b) how much Tax Credit that person should be given. The system is hugely complicated and has lurched from one catastrophe to another since it began.
Saturday, September 08, 2007
First Pair Of Socks
So, here we are, second sock completed.
In a wonderful piece of timing, the weather clouded over and got chilly just as I finished taking these photographs, so while I then got cold hands and nose, I did not get cold feetses because they were all happy in snuggly hand-knit socks.
I have to acknowledge that I didn't do these all by myself. There was much help deciphering instructions from internet people like Carie and also, Jiva did a row or two (can't remember) on sock #1 the night we went to the Cider Shed. But, I still have a great sense of personal achievement.
That is good, because really, I needed something to boost me today. Pip still hasn't got his car sorted, so I haven't seen him in quite a while, and phone conversations tend to get interrupted by the Littlun.
I have seen my mother, but she's rather preoccupied with my sister at the moment, who quit her job at the beginning of the week. I spent half an hour by the clock this morning hearing about how wonderful she is and how proud mum is of her. I don't dispute that my sister was capable of doing her job properly (working in a shoe shop) or that this is a good thing. I just don't think it's the best thing since the feeding of the five thousand, I feel that shoe-shop skills are a bit useless once you've quit your shoe-shop-job, and there's a limit to how much cheerleading about a Person Not Present I can listen to before I want to stab DPNs through my ears. Thirty minutes in one go was a bit much.
Okay, so there was a little teensy-weensy bit of me (only, like 85% or something) thinking "hey! Where's the parental pride in MY skills?" but it shouldn't come as a surprise to learn that I didn't actually have the guts to come out and say that.
And anyway, I have Socks.
In a wonderful piece of timing, the weather clouded over and got chilly just as I finished taking these photographs, so while I then got cold hands and nose, I did not get cold feetses because they were all happy in snuggly hand-knit socks.
I have to acknowledge that I didn't do these all by myself. There was much help deciphering instructions from internet people like Carie and also, Jiva did a row or two (can't remember) on sock #1 the night we went to the Cider Shed. But, I still have a great sense of personal achievement.
That is good, because really, I needed something to boost me today. Pip still hasn't got his car sorted, so I haven't seen him in quite a while, and phone conversations tend to get interrupted by the Littlun.
I have seen my mother, but she's rather preoccupied with my sister at the moment, who quit her job at the beginning of the week. I spent half an hour by the clock this morning hearing about how wonderful she is and how proud mum is of her. I don't dispute that my sister was capable of doing her job properly (working in a shoe shop) or that this is a good thing. I just don't think it's the best thing since the feeding of the five thousand, I feel that shoe-shop skills are a bit useless once you've quit your shoe-shop-job, and there's a limit to how much cheerleading about a Person Not Present I can listen to before I want to stab DPNs through my ears. Thirty minutes in one go was a bit much.
Okay, so there was a little teensy-weensy bit of me (only, like 85% or something) thinking "hey! Where's the parental pride in MY skills?" but it shouldn't come as a surprise to learn that I didn't actually have the guts to come out and say that.
And anyway, I have Socks.
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
As regular readers know, I have a neighbour, S, who has a drug problem. I'm calling it a problem because things like this happen. That's a problem. I don't consider telling you this to be a breach of confidentiality as she herself tells most people within thirty seconds of meeting them.
The thing is, S is a nice girl. I'm calling her a nice girl because of things like this. We have cups of tea and chats and occasionally go to the seafront for an ice cream together or something. I would go so far as to call her a friend, albeit not a friend I would lend £20.
S's habit and attendant mental health problems mean that she is classed as a disabled person by the benefits system and social services and as such she has help coming out of her ears - not just family and friends, but also plenty of money and more home-visiting social workers and community health workers and 24/7 helplines than you could shake a stick at. Then there's a plethora of voluntary and religious groups such as the Salvation Army offering her cooked meals, secondhand furnishings for her flat, company and friendship, and the salvation of her eternal soul. So the last thing she needs is me trying to "help" her, because really? Drop, meet ocean. Everyone she meets wants to "help" her.
But. She's my neighbour, she's a friend, and as such, I do worry about her sometimes. I want to make sure that I'm not saying stupid things or being counter-productive to her therapy. There's also been a couple of times when I've seen her and she's scared me - semi-conscious and white as a sheet, unable to open her eyes properly or speak in complete sentences. Is that what people usually look like when they've been using heroin, or is there a major problem? I don't so much want to know how to "help", as how to avert potential disaster and Not Cock Things Up. You understand where I'm coming from? It's sort of a case of, do I want to save her, get her back on her feet, look after her? No. But do I want to make her problems worse? No. Do I want her to die in front of me because I didn't know what to do or when to do it? Really not.
How would one find these things out? Well, I have the whole internet at my fingertips and I figured a good place to start would be NORCAS, the main drugs and alcohol charity in East Anglia. From the front page of their website (my emphasis):
"Our mission statement is 'To reduce the harm to individuals, and thereby to society at large, from the misuse of drugs and alcohol'. We are here to work with anyone experiencing problems with alcohol, drugs, tranquillisers or solvents, including families and carers."
Marvellous. I was a little disappointed that the website contained not much apart from a list of websites and the disclaimer "These websites may contain views which are not supported by NORCAS", but it did have contact details so I emailed asking for specific help. I outlined the situation and asked:
"I need to know at which point I should get worried or call for help, and who I should call; I need to know if I should be talking about it with her, or trying to keep conversations completely off it; I need to know how to make sure I'm not being counter-productive to [the rehab/therapy bunch]'s approach."
Today I finally got a reply.
"For your own information and to further support your friend, there are various organisations offering advice and information that can be found on the web and via telephone..."
So not you lot, then? And if I email them, will they just give me addresses for other people I can email? Talk about buck-passing. Your mission statement says you'll help, not just "signpost". So far you've given me no more help than Google.
"It would do no harm to encourage your friend to seek support from an agency such as NORCAS and if she is already doing so, supporting her in this. It may also be supportive for her to know that she can talk to you."
No. I don't want to be yet another counsellor. I want to know what tack I should take in order to not put my foot in it.
"If you are concerned about your friend at any time and believe that there is a need for medical intervention, I can only advise that you contact the ambulance service immediately."
Right. I'll also get the kettle on for Tom's colleagues so that they won't get too frustrated having been hauled out to tell me "this is what heroin users always look like, there's nothing wrong with her and nothing we can do, you are wasting our time."
Paul Allum of NORCAS, you are as much use as a chocolate teapot. I'm not sure why you get paid and I can only hope that the help your organisation offers the addicts themselves far exceeds the so-called help you've offered me.
Okay, so I'm not actually going to send that as a reply. But I'm tempted (and I kind of hope he googles himself and finds this). Any suggestions on a more polite response, or should I just leave it?
Oh, and a quick knitting update - I'm on the home stretch of the second sock and hope to have a finished pair within the week.
The thing is, S is a nice girl. I'm calling her a nice girl because of things like this. We have cups of tea and chats and occasionally go to the seafront for an ice cream together or something. I would go so far as to call her a friend, albeit not a friend I would lend £20.
S's habit and attendant mental health problems mean that she is classed as a disabled person by the benefits system and social services and as such she has help coming out of her ears - not just family and friends, but also plenty of money and more home-visiting social workers and community health workers and 24/7 helplines than you could shake a stick at. Then there's a plethora of voluntary and religious groups such as the Salvation Army offering her cooked meals, secondhand furnishings for her flat, company and friendship, and the salvation of her eternal soul. So the last thing she needs is me trying to "help" her, because really? Drop, meet ocean. Everyone she meets wants to "help" her.
But. She's my neighbour, she's a friend, and as such, I do worry about her sometimes. I want to make sure that I'm not saying stupid things or being counter-productive to her therapy. There's also been a couple of times when I've seen her and she's scared me - semi-conscious and white as a sheet, unable to open her eyes properly or speak in complete sentences. Is that what people usually look like when they've been using heroin, or is there a major problem? I don't so much want to know how to "help", as how to avert potential disaster and Not Cock Things Up. You understand where I'm coming from? It's sort of a case of, do I want to save her, get her back on her feet, look after her? No. But do I want to make her problems worse? No. Do I want her to die in front of me because I didn't know what to do or when to do it? Really not.
How would one find these things out? Well, I have the whole internet at my fingertips and I figured a good place to start would be NORCAS, the main drugs and alcohol charity in East Anglia. From the front page of their website (my emphasis):
"Our mission statement is 'To reduce the harm to individuals, and thereby to society at large, from the misuse of drugs and alcohol'. We are here to work with anyone experiencing problems with alcohol, drugs, tranquillisers or solvents, including families and carers."
Marvellous. I was a little disappointed that the website contained not much apart from a list of websites and the disclaimer "These websites may contain views which are not supported by NORCAS", but it did have contact details so I emailed asking for specific help. I outlined the situation and asked:
"I need to know at which point I should get worried or call for help, and who I should call; I need to know if I should be talking about it with her, or trying to keep conversations completely off it; I need to know how to make sure I'm not being counter-productive to [the rehab/therapy bunch]'s approach."
Today I finally got a reply.
"For your own information and to further support your friend, there are various organisations offering advice and information that can be found on the web and via telephone..."
So not you lot, then? And if I email them, will they just give me addresses for other people I can email? Talk about buck-passing. Your mission statement says you'll help, not just "signpost". So far you've given me no more help than Google.
"It would do no harm to encourage your friend to seek support from an agency such as NORCAS and if she is already doing so, supporting her in this. It may also be supportive for her to know that she can talk to you."
No. I don't want to be yet another counsellor. I want to know what tack I should take in order to not put my foot in it.
"If you are concerned about your friend at any time and believe that there is a need for medical intervention, I can only advise that you contact the ambulance service immediately."
Right. I'll also get the kettle on for Tom's colleagues so that they won't get too frustrated having been hauled out to tell me "this is what heroin users always look like, there's nothing wrong with her and nothing we can do, you are wasting our time."
Paul Allum of NORCAS, you are as much use as a chocolate teapot. I'm not sure why you get paid and I can only hope that the help your organisation offers the addicts themselves far exceeds the so-called help you've offered me.
Okay, so I'm not actually going to send that as a reply. But I'm tempted (and I kind of hope he googles himself and finds this). Any suggestions on a more polite response, or should I just leave it?
Oh, and a quick knitting update - I'm on the home stretch of the second sock and hope to have a finished pair within the week.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Hooray!
finished sock, a la la la la la la la la I finished a sock, I did it I did it I did it, wheeeeee!
Slightly happy about this.
Just a little.
This afternoon, I start the Second Sock.
Slightly happy about this.
Just a little.
This afternoon, I start the Second Sock.
Friday, August 17, 2007
Moron Moment
Yesterday, I made a very very stupid sock-related cock-up.
Flushed with success after having negotiated my way through the heel shaping, I picked up the stitches from the sides of the heel flap with no problem at all and forged ahead with the shaping of the instep.
And then I ballsed it up. And the mistake I made was so simple, so stupid, so... so bloody typical of me, that I'm still angry now.
The first row I was supposed to do was kind of complicated (by "I am Mary knitting in the round for the first time" standards). If I'd made a mistake on this row, I would not have minded. It would have been upsetting but not unexpected. So I paid as much attention as I could and very carefully dealt with the slips and decreases and stitch markers and so on. I counted like I was auditioning for Sesame Street and felt very pleased with myself. "Repeat these rows until X stitches remain" said my pattern. Marvellous, I thought, and steamed through another eight of these complicated rows before my brain finally realised what it was saying.
"Repeat these rows until X stitches remain"
"these rows"
Rows plural. I've been doing the same row, over and over again. I examined the pattern again, and nestling underneath all the gibber gibber ssk2tog hokey cokey and turn around, was the innocuous line:
"2nd Round: Knit."
Somehow, my enthusiastic brain had skipped this little instruction.
In non-knitter terms:
I should have gone complicated, plain, complicated, plain, complicated, plain, complicated, plain, etc.
Instead I went complicated, complicated, complicated, complicated, complicated, complicated, complicated, complica - oh BUGGER.
So I had to do this. Right back to where I was the night before.
Happily, I've picked up okay and am now back on the complicated/plain bit, having used up almost all of the wiggly wool. There's also been a bit more progress on the jumper for Littlun (which I would photograph, but it's dark blue stocking stitch, so there doesn't seem much point). I've just about finished the first ball of yarn, there's six more to go in total. So he may well get his jumper while he still fits it and in time for the cold weather.
Today Pip and I are taking Littlun for a haircut. Last time we did this, it was spur of the moment - we'd just had lunch and saw a hairdressers with no queue. Littlun was tired and had been sitting still for his lunch and wasn't sure what was going on, except he was sure he didn't like what was going on, and so he screamed himself sick - yep, screamed until he actually vomited all over the cape and the chair and the floor.
This time, we have a plan. We're going in the morning - so Littlun will be awake, happier, and we can bribe him with foods, rather than full, unbribable, and wanting his nap. Pip is making sure there's assorted treats, toys, and a drink in the bag, and we may try having the hairdresser cut Pip's hair first with Littlun on his lap, to show him it's not scary and Daddy likes it and what have you. Here's hoping.
Flushed with success after having negotiated my way through the heel shaping, I picked up the stitches from the sides of the heel flap with no problem at all and forged ahead with the shaping of the instep.
And then I ballsed it up. And the mistake I made was so simple, so stupid, so... so bloody typical of me, that I'm still angry now.
The first row I was supposed to do was kind of complicated (by "I am Mary knitting in the round for the first time" standards). If I'd made a mistake on this row, I would not have minded. It would have been upsetting but not unexpected. So I paid as much attention as I could and very carefully dealt with the slips and decreases and stitch markers and so on. I counted like I was auditioning for Sesame Street and felt very pleased with myself. "Repeat these rows until X stitches remain" said my pattern. Marvellous, I thought, and steamed through another eight of these complicated rows before my brain finally realised what it was saying.
"Repeat these rows until X stitches remain"
"these rows"
Rows plural. I've been doing the same row, over and over again. I examined the pattern again, and nestling underneath all the gibber gibber ssk2tog hokey cokey and turn around, was the innocuous line:
"2nd Round: Knit."
Somehow, my enthusiastic brain had skipped this little instruction.
In non-knitter terms:
I should have gone complicated, plain, complicated, plain, complicated, plain, complicated, plain, etc.
Instead I went complicated, complicated, complicated, complicated, complicated, complicated, complicated, complica - oh BUGGER.
So I had to do this. Right back to where I was the night before.
Happily, I've picked up okay and am now back on the complicated/plain bit, having used up almost all of the wiggly wool. There's also been a bit more progress on the jumper for Littlun (which I would photograph, but it's dark blue stocking stitch, so there doesn't seem much point). I've just about finished the first ball of yarn, there's six more to go in total. So he may well get his jumper while he still fits it and in time for the cold weather.
Today Pip and I are taking Littlun for a haircut. Last time we did this, it was spur of the moment - we'd just had lunch and saw a hairdressers with no queue. Littlun was tired and had been sitting still for his lunch and wasn't sure what was going on, except he was sure he didn't like what was going on, and so he screamed himself sick - yep, screamed until he actually vomited all over the cape and the chair and the floor.
This time, we have a plan. We're going in the morning - so Littlun will be awake, happier, and we can bribe him with foods, rather than full, unbribable, and wanting his nap. Pip is making sure there's assorted treats, toys, and a drink in the bag, and we may try having the hairdresser cut Pip's hair first with Littlun on his lap, to show him it's not scary and Daddy likes it and what have you. Here's hoping.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Help needed
This morning, I saw Carie's confirmation that I'd got the right idea for how to follow the instructions for the heel flap and verily I did rejoice, because Carie knows her sockage.
Alas, as my knitting speed increases, my sense of accomplishment becomes short-lived. It's taken less than a day to reach the end of that set of instructions and now I am perplexed.
The pattern does have a copyright bit on it, which I respect and I promise I am trying to not type out the whole thing in daily instalments on my blog. The trouble is that I have nobody in a 15-mile radius who I know who can do socks. The local yarn store is beyond rubbish. The nearest knitting group is Norwich (or, as I keep getting told everywhere I enquire, there is a cross-stitch group once a month in Beccles (ten miles from here and about 2 buses a year) which I might enjoy - however I doubt they know socks either). So I must ask internet peoples for help. But, in order for internet peoples to help me, internet peoples must know what it is I am actually trying to do.
Instructions are as follows:
1st Row: Slip first st, P16 (half stitches plus 2 on right needle), P2tog, P1, turn.
2nd Row: Slip first st, K5, ssk2tog, K1, turn.
3rd Row: Slip first st, P6, P2tog, P1, turn.
4th Row: Slip first st, K7, ssk2tog, K1, turn.
Continue in this way taking in one more stitch each row until all the heel flap stitches have been included.
Looking at the photo... Needle 1 is empty. Needle 2 has 30 sts on it. Needles 3 and 4 each have 15 sts on them. Total, 60 sts. If you click the photo, you'll go to it in my flickr stream where it is labelled with notes. Feel free to add to those notes.
I do not even begin to understand. Well, I understand "k" and "p" and "slip," and I even understand "P2tog" and "ssk2tog", more or less. But I can't seem to put it in any sort of context. Where do I start? Which needle? Which direction? How does one "include" the heel flap stitches? Does "heel flap stitches" mean the 30 sts on needle 2, or the stitches going down the sides of the heel flap, or the stitches on needles 3 and 4, or what?
The upside of all of this is that the jumper - the nice, simple, chunky yarn, chunky needles, small person sized jumper - is coming along nicely even if it does dye my hands blue.
edited 21/08/07 to add tags
Alas, as my knitting speed increases, my sense of accomplishment becomes short-lived. It's taken less than a day to reach the end of that set of instructions and now I am perplexed.
The pattern does have a copyright bit on it, which I respect and I promise I am trying to not type out the whole thing in daily instalments on my blog. The trouble is that I have nobody in a 15-mile radius who I know who can do socks. The local yarn store is beyond rubbish. The nearest knitting group is Norwich (or, as I keep getting told everywhere I enquire, there is a cross-stitch group once a month in Beccles (ten miles from here and about 2 buses a year) which I might enjoy - however I doubt they know socks either). So I must ask internet peoples for help. But, in order for internet peoples to help me, internet peoples must know what it is I am actually trying to do.
Instructions are as follows:
1st Row: Slip first st, P16 (half stitches plus 2 on right needle), P2tog, P1, turn.
2nd Row: Slip first st, K5, ssk2tog, K1, turn.
3rd Row: Slip first st, P6, P2tog, P1, turn.
4th Row: Slip first st, K7, ssk2tog, K1, turn.
Continue in this way taking in one more stitch each row until all the heel flap stitches have been included.
Looking at the photo... Needle 1 is empty. Needle 2 has 30 sts on it. Needles 3 and 4 each have 15 sts on them. Total, 60 sts. If you click the photo, you'll go to it in my flickr stream where it is labelled with notes. Feel free to add to those notes.
I do not even begin to understand. Well, I understand "k" and "p" and "slip," and I even understand "P2tog" and "ssk2tog", more or less. But I can't seem to put it in any sort of context. Where do I start? Which needle? Which direction? How does one "include" the heel flap stitches? Does "heel flap stitches" mean the 30 sts on needle 2, or the stitches going down the sides of the heel flap, or the stitches on needles 3 and 4, or what?
The upside of all of this is that the jumper - the nice, simple, chunky yarn, chunky needles, small person sized jumper - is coming along nicely even if it does dye my hands blue.
edited 21/08/07 to add tags
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Not what I've expected
After a lovely week, as detailed in my last post, I waved goodbye to Steve (gone home to do more studying) and spent Sunday afternoon sat on the front doorstep with my neighbour S (of mousey-fire fame) with a nice cool drink watching the carnival go by.
The carnival was headed by a fire engine. This caused a certain amount of embarassment on S's part. She has assured me it won't happen again.
It was a very strange carnival. There would be, for example, a samba band playing really upbeat, carnival-ey music, and a group of a dozen or so enthusiastic dancers in bright costumes with lots of feathers, jumping and clapping like they meant it, and then a decorated float with non-dancers giving it a good effort and having a good time... and then a trailer with a boring, unadorned logo on each side for a local business, no more than a mobile advertisement and not a very good one at that, followed by a half-arsed effort at a float with a bunch of people in almost-fancy-dress sitting on it chatting or worse yet, looking bored. In particular, the Lowestoft Sea Cadets were the most depressed, bored-looking, unhappy group of people I have ever laid eyes upon even outside of a carnival setting. But then, after the scowls and immobile people, would be another bunch who were enjoying it. I would go so far as to say it was a bipolar carnival. Very confusing.
By 5pm, the roads were reopened and the drizzle had started. I looked forward to having an early night, and then on Monday, getting things straightened out at the flat - you know, getting some food shopping done, doing some dishes, attending to Mt Laundry and the suchlike.
This sterling plan was knocked right off course when I woke up on Monday with what I can only describe as a violent stomach upset. At first it wasn't too awful. There have to be some bonuses to being long-term ill, and one of them is that you're used to feeling awful. So if you're having a good spell, and then get a little short-term illness, you can deal with the feeling-awful-ness easier than those around you, because it's not much worse than your usual kind of Bad Day, even if it does take a little longer to shake off.
By 11am, however, I was full-on sweating, shivering, and curled up on the sofa cuddling a big bowl. I was trying to have little sips of water to rehydrate, but it was an effort to keep them down. I wanted some painkillers, but keeping those inside me was out of the question. This was the point at which S turned up at my door. She'd not had a good night herself - she'd been at the hospital for reasons of her own - but as soon as she saw the state I was in, she started trying to look after me, making sure I had a drink, asking if I needed anything, offering to go to the shops, asking if I wanted her to hang about or if I'd rather be left to it. After a few minutes she went home, having promised to check on me again in the afternoon.
To be totally honest, I wasn't expecting her to come back in the afternoon. S often has trouble with what day it is and with remembering what she should be doing if it isn't written down. But she did. She even remembered that I'd had no cold drinks in the flat and had brought me a bottle of squash "in case you want something that isn't plain water". I think I owe her some chocolate.
After about 4pm I started to pick up a bit. I spent an hour eating a slice of toast and then, joy of joys, I had a painkiller. The next slice of toast took just half an hour, and then I microwaved some rice for dinner.
Today I'm very nearly back to normal. Well, normal by my standards. S came up again this afternoon and we were each relieved to see that the other was looking considerably better. I've done most of my washing-up and hopefully tomorrow I'll get some shopping done.
I've also done quite a lot of knitting today. I am very glad that I have the bits I need to work on the jumper for Littlun because I have run up against an obstacle with the sock. I'll consult mum on the matter tomorrow but I don't know if she can do socks or not... here's what's happening. I've gone round and round and round, 60sts divided between 3 needles, first ribbing, and then plain knit-every-round for the ankle part of the sock (so it looks the same as stocking stitch, knit a row, purl a row, on regular knitting needles). Ok? This is boring simple easy plain sock. Now: how do I do this next bit?
K15 and turn
If I've got this right, I start from my marker for "beginning of round", and knit 15 sts, and then, I turn my knitting around, so that the last stitch I completed, the 15th knit stitch I just did, is now in my left hand?)
1st Row: Slip first st, P29, turn (30sts on this needle) Slide other 30sts onto spare needles.
If I've got this right, this means that I should be looking at the 15 knit stitches I just did, and going back across them (as if I was doing back-and-forth knitting rather than round-and-round knitting). I should slip the first one and purl the next 14. I should then continue purling, onto the same needle, the next 15 stitches. The other 30 stitches, the ones I haven't done anything with, these get put onto the other needles to keep them safe while I'm buggering about with just these 30?
What do I do with my cute little marker that tells me where the beginning of the round is? Do I keep it where it is, or discard it, or put it somewhere else?
*sigh* I speak more Knittingese than I did six months ago, but really, I sometimes wonder if these patterns will ever cease to confuse the hell out of me.
The carnival was headed by a fire engine. This caused a certain amount of embarassment on S's part. She has assured me it won't happen again.
It was a very strange carnival. There would be, for example, a samba band playing really upbeat, carnival-ey music, and a group of a dozen or so enthusiastic dancers in bright costumes with lots of feathers, jumping and clapping like they meant it, and then a decorated float with non-dancers giving it a good effort and having a good time... and then a trailer with a boring, unadorned logo on each side for a local business, no more than a mobile advertisement and not a very good one at that, followed by a half-arsed effort at a float with a bunch of people in almost-fancy-dress sitting on it chatting or worse yet, looking bored. In particular, the Lowestoft Sea Cadets were the most depressed, bored-looking, unhappy group of people I have ever laid eyes upon even outside of a carnival setting. But then, after the scowls and immobile people, would be another bunch who were enjoying it. I would go so far as to say it was a bipolar carnival. Very confusing.
By 5pm, the roads were reopened and the drizzle had started. I looked forward to having an early night, and then on Monday, getting things straightened out at the flat - you know, getting some food shopping done, doing some dishes, attending to Mt Laundry and the suchlike.
This sterling plan was knocked right off course when I woke up on Monday with what I can only describe as a violent stomach upset. At first it wasn't too awful. There have to be some bonuses to being long-term ill, and one of them is that you're used to feeling awful. So if you're having a good spell, and then get a little short-term illness, you can deal with the feeling-awful-ness easier than those around you, because it's not much worse than your usual kind of Bad Day, even if it does take a little longer to shake off.
By 11am, however, I was full-on sweating, shivering, and curled up on the sofa cuddling a big bowl. I was trying to have little sips of water to rehydrate, but it was an effort to keep them down. I wanted some painkillers, but keeping those inside me was out of the question. This was the point at which S turned up at my door. She'd not had a good night herself - she'd been at the hospital for reasons of her own - but as soon as she saw the state I was in, she started trying to look after me, making sure I had a drink, asking if I needed anything, offering to go to the shops, asking if I wanted her to hang about or if I'd rather be left to it. After a few minutes she went home, having promised to check on me again in the afternoon.
To be totally honest, I wasn't expecting her to come back in the afternoon. S often has trouble with what day it is and with remembering what she should be doing if it isn't written down. But she did. She even remembered that I'd had no cold drinks in the flat and had brought me a bottle of squash "in case you want something that isn't plain water". I think I owe her some chocolate.
After about 4pm I started to pick up a bit. I spent an hour eating a slice of toast and then, joy of joys, I had a painkiller. The next slice of toast took just half an hour, and then I microwaved some rice for dinner.
Today I'm very nearly back to normal. Well, normal by my standards. S came up again this afternoon and we were each relieved to see that the other was looking considerably better. I've done most of my washing-up and hopefully tomorrow I'll get some shopping done.
I've also done quite a lot of knitting today. I am very glad that I have the bits I need to work on the jumper for Littlun because I have run up against an obstacle with the sock. I'll consult mum on the matter tomorrow but I don't know if she can do socks or not... here's what's happening. I've gone round and round and round, 60sts divided between 3 needles, first ribbing, and then plain knit-every-round for the ankle part of the sock (so it looks the same as stocking stitch, knit a row, purl a row, on regular knitting needles). Ok? This is boring simple easy plain sock. Now: how do I do this next bit?
K15 and turn
If I've got this right, I start from my marker for "beginning of round", and knit 15 sts, and then, I turn my knitting around, so that the last stitch I completed, the 15th knit stitch I just did, is now in my left hand?)
1st Row: Slip first st, P29, turn (30sts on this needle) Slide other 30sts onto spare needles.
If I've got this right, this means that I should be looking at the 15 knit stitches I just did, and going back across them (as if I was doing back-and-forth knitting rather than round-and-round knitting). I should slip the first one and purl the next 14. I should then continue purling, onto the same needle, the next 15 stitches. The other 30 stitches, the ones I haven't done anything with, these get put onto the other needles to keep them safe while I'm buggering about with just these 30?
What do I do with my cute little marker that tells me where the beginning of the round is? Do I keep it where it is, or discard it, or put it somewhere else?
*sigh* I speak more Knittingese than I did six months ago, but really, I sometimes wonder if these patterns will ever cease to confuse the hell out of me.
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