Many photos of a pretty blanket in pretty places.

So Gilly challenged me to find seven places to photograph my Persian Sweetie Shop Blanket over seven days. Sadly this was not to be - life just wasn't going to cooperate, so instead may I present...

Persian Sweetie Shop Blanket - the photo shoot

Did you spot my glamorous assistants?

xx

Persian Sweetie Shop Blanket - the Ta Da!

Two and a half years.

 

Four pounds of yarn.

5476 square inches of stitchery*.

One of these.

Four of these.

Four of these.

Forty eight of these.

Seventy six of these.

One hundred and fifty six of these.

And Ta Da!!!!!

I love it!  I love love love it!





 

I made a king sized bed sized blanket.

 

Did I mention how much I love it?

Time to put on the summer weight duvet just so I can have it on my bed.

The details:
Pattern - my own,
Yarn - Annell Cotton 8 in colours 5, 12, 14, 19, 21, 22 , 32, 39, 42, 54, 79, and 80

You can see the planning and making of the Persian Sweetie Shop Blanket here...
Pretty colours
Some seeds and some stitches
Persian Sweetie Shop Blanket #1
Persian sweetie shop blanket #2 - Squaring the circle
Persian Sweetie shop Blanket #3
Hookie Therapy
Persian Sweetie Shop Blanket Progress
Around the World Blog Hop

And because Gilly suggested it, I will be toting my blanket around for the next week taking pics of it in unusual places... You have been warned.

xx

*For those that like to keep track of these things that's 2 inches bigger than planned in each direction: an extra 5%.

Nothing like a deadline to make me make...

Take one little girl's christening looming on the horizon,

 

dust off one of those ideas that languish at the back of my head,

Add a stitched flower here,

 and a button or three there,

a bit on the machine,

 

and a bit by hand...

 

 

And what do you know? Something exists that didn't before. 

 

Note to self: Must take time to make more often for it is good for the soul.

xx

A family that camps!

Oh dear me, I didn't mean to be away so long! Our pesky router decided not to bother and it took a while to persuade BT to send us a new one so we have been without reliable internet.

 

 

 

Before all that, we went away for a few days. We were trying out our new camping stuff -  seeing if we had everything we need and whether we could fit it all in the car. It was pretty rammed after we added pillows and blankets on top of this little lot. 

 

At the end of a weird and a slightly seedy campsite we found an idyllic spot, miles from anyone else.

We did some of this

 

and some of that

The Smalls love love loved the uncut meadow which was over their heads in places. 

 I was so pleased that I had packed this

And it was lovely to just sit and take in all this

A completely lovely way to spend a few days. Now off to plan the next one...

xx

Imposter Syndrome: Something of a revelation

I recently read this blog post by Morag Hastie. Morag and I first met when we were freshers at St Andrews University, a lifetime ago. We got to know each other pretty well when we both worked at the Royal Observatory Edinburgh, half a lifetime ago, and although we now live on different continents we keep in touch through the magic of the interweb. Morag has recently left the world of professional science to be a mother and is using her spare time to explore her other love, writing.  

 

In her post she describes how many professional scientists suffer from Imposter Syndrome: the feeling that their accomplishments and success are down to luck rather than talent, and that they are pretty lucky not to have been found out yet. She explores the idea that Imposter Syndrome might be prevalent in other professions, including successful writers.

Until I read Morag's post, I had no idea that Imposter Syndrome was a recognised thing. (It is on Wikipaedia - it must be real). I just assumed it was only me.

Interestingly, when I am working, I don't suffer from Imposter Syndrome. When I am gardening, sewing, crocheting, cooking...I am completely confident that these are all things I am ok at. Not fabulous perhaps, but competent and capable of looking stuff up or seeking advice when I reach the limit of my own knowledge and experience.

The place where I feel the Imposter Syndrome coming on is Being A Grownup. I can't quite believe that I have been allowed to be in charge of myself for all these years. I find it very hard to believe that I am allowed to have three beautiful Smalls of my very own, a house to live in and look after, finances to organise, decisions to make. In truth, there has always been a nagging feeling in the back of my mind that I might not in fact be doing it right, and that sooner or later, I will be found out.

The feeling comes and goes and is rarely at the forefront of my mind. But on those days when the Smalls are vile, the house is a revolting mess and I have forgotten half a dozen things (again) it is there nagging at me. On days when I have got loads done and feel in control, it manifests itself as a quiet disbelief.

But the thing is, I didn't really realise that it was there. I didn't really know why I felt so crappy on the bad days and somewhat disbelieving on the good ones. Reading Morag's post a couple of weeks ago has made me think. Now that I have a label for this thing in my head, and now that I know that other people also have it in their heads, all be it about other things, I have been taking notice of it. Examining it.

Looking back, I can pinpoint exactly the first time I became aware of it. It was shorty after Tall Girl was born and I was really struggling. I was dealing with being unable to breast feel this scrap of a thing that puked all the time and wouldn't sleep, but which I loved more that I knew it was possible to love anything. I couldn't believe that it was really happening to me. I had wanted to be a mummy for a long time, and been pretty confident that I would be good at it, and now it turned out to be harder than I had ever thought possible. But everyone else seemed to be doing ok, so I had better make sure I wasn't found out...

I definitely feel it whenever I have to deal with builders, plumbers, electricians. When I am up a ladder, sanding the cornice with the pva in my hair gently gluing me to the ceiling, I am confident that this is something I am fully qualified to do. But faced with a professional, I am sure they can see through me, see that my decisions about what needs doing are bad, and that I will have missed some crucial element of the job. I am happy that they know more than me (I wouldn't have called them if they didn't) but I feel like owning a crumbling Victorian town house and attempting to reverse that crumbling is something that should only be taken on by someone more knowledgeable, capable, well off (!) than me.

But do you know something? Since I have been able to name it, I have been able to recognise it for what it is, and dismiss it. I am 38 years old with a lovely husband (who shared joint responsibility for most of my decisions, good and bad), two academic degrees and three Smalls who know how to behave nicely (but choose not to sometimes). Of course I am capable of running my own life.

When Tall Girl was a toddler, she used to use a horrible whiney voice when she didn't get exactly as she pleased. It drove me to distraction until one day in a fit of genius, I took her over the road to the river which runs past our house, and together we took that whiney voice and threw it in the water. We watched it float away down stream and out to sea. Remarkably, no more whiney voice. Or not often. If it tried to creep back in we would put it in the bin.

So Imposter Syndrome, I've got the measure of you now and I know just where you belong.



Right, now that I have got that off my chest I am off to mix me some plaster and fix up my walls.

xx