Annus novus

Well, here we go into a New Year. Yes, I know I'm a little behind time. Bite me. I've been busy.

I've just bought a new car. I'm not saying any more until it is sitting on my driveway with the keys and the logbook in my hot, sticky little mitts, just in case I jinx it in some evil and unforeseen way.

The Macgregor jumper is progressing, a little slowly at the moment as I have had a nasty dose of stockinetteboredom, so we're stalled at the raglan shaping for the front. Once that's done its one sleeve to do then the dreaded seaming, for which I will need a large glass of white Grenache and a 500g bar of Dairy Milk. Oh, and possibly my Mum.

I've been in the workshop, working on the Super-Secret Project, i.e. stuff for Etsy. No pics yet, unfired clay is rather uninspiring in appearance and I don't want to put y'all off before I've even begun. I'm keen not to use the blog as a rampant advertising tool, but I'll probably be all excited and want to show you pictures and things before I list them. I've lots of other ideas too, but some of them require a sewing machine which I am sadly lacking at the moment, unless I can avail myself of my Granny's Singer.

What else has been happening? I've cast on for a lapghan, on 4mm needles. Ahem. I think it's a reaction to the jumper which is on 8mm pins. I'm also getting this urge to knit tiny things. No, not those sort of little things. Honestly. Like the Harlot's little leaves, or those tiny jumpers everyone was on about for Xmas decorations. Weird. I also desperately want to knit a sweater in sock yarn. I think I have had some sort of terrible allergic reaction to big needles.

Anything else? (my 31st year seems to be the one where the Senior Moments are starting to kick in big time.) Oh yes.

I also had a lovely letter from the Mission to Seafarers, acknowledging receipt of the hats and scarves I sent them. Bless, it quite made my day that they go to the trouble of writing and thanking you, just for a few woollies. So if there are any Mission people out there, thank you. I had the warm fuzzies for the rest of the evening, and once I've finished the *!^@$*£$%! sweater I'll see if I can knock out some more goodies.

I think that's all for now. I'll try ans post up some progress pics soon, but if you're, like, desperate for an update, firstly get a life, and secondly, my Ravelry is up-to-date. (One thing I have managed to achieve!)

Oh, and there's no proper New Year resolutions here. I can't be arsed with resolutions as a general rule, but they do seem awfully popular in blogland, so here's a token gesture. I'll try and blog more and expand the readership a bit, hows about that?

I cannot believe I missed this.

The TARDIS was in Stafford. I am so gutted that I missed it. Thanks to Chris and Dave for telling me about it, you b@stards... :-)
I may not have mentioned this, but I have a serious Dr. Who obsession. I love it with a passion that is almost holy. Always have, right back to when I was tiny and hiding behind a cushion at the sight of the Cybermen. Daleks never bothered me, as all you had to do was run down some stairs and they were stuffed. This was in the good old days. I grew up knowing that Daleks could not get me, as long as there were stairs.

In the very last series, pre-Russell T. Davies and Chris Eccleston and BBC Wales, Sylvester McCoy was the Doctor. And in one story-arc, the name of which escapes me now (Remembrance of the Daleks? - bear with me, I'm having one of those days) the Daleks stage a comeback, taking over people's minds and hiding out in a school. Ace is running away from them, and runs up stairs, knowing, like me, that they can't follow her.

What do they do? The bloody thing flies. It takes off and levitates gently up the stairs. I was utterly horrified. Devastated. One of the basic foundations of my life crumbled before my very eyes. Daleks can bloody well fly. Probably only a truly dedicated Dr. Who fan can fully understand the total horror of this, which reduced me to an abject, gibbering wreck. I was about 12 or 13 years old, and I was scarred for life.

Onto more usual subject-matter. I have been Ravelling, which has not been such a ridiculous time-stealer as I feared. In fact, it's rather nice, like having a really big knitting book to hand with lots of lovely pictures. I have joined up to some groups, unusual for me as I'm not much of a "joiner" normally. I even found a Runrig group. My joy knew no bounds. For those who have no idea of what I'm talking about, Runrig are a Scottish folk-rock (for want of a better term) band who kick some serious ass. They also sing part of the time in Scots Gaelic, which is possibly the most lovely language I've ever heard. Can't understand a word of it, but that's not the point.

I've also been potting. I went to a sale at Potclays at the weekend, part of the Stoke Ceramics Festival. Nothing like some new toys to inspire a rush of creativity. I just caught up on some glazing, and gave some thought about where I go next with clay. I've got some ideas, but none are formed enough yet to really discuss. I need to let them stew a bit more I think.

Finally I notice, courtesy of my counter, that I do actually get some visitors!
* waves to the readers *

Please leave a comment, even if it's only to say hello, it's nice for me to know there's someone out there...