• Merry wives bbc 1

    I recently signed up for a free online course at FutureLearn called "Shakespeare and His World", presented by renowned Shakespearean professor Jonathan Bate, taking a cultural (Elizabethan) theme and examining a particular play that illuminates it.  This is not actually the first FutureLearn course I signed up for — I started the "Literature of the English Country House" and "England in the time of King Richard III" but although they were both interesting, I was having trouble finding the time to do even one of them, let alone two nearly simultaneously, and so I regret to say that I haven't yet finished either of them.

    But Shakespeare — but Shakespeare and Jonathan Bate! — well!  So here are some potted reviews of the productions I'm watching as we discuss them.

    After the introductory week, the second week was "Shakespeare and Stratford", with the focus play being, perhaps unsurprisingly "The Merry Wives of Windsor", since despite being nominally set in Windsor, it is very much small-town England of the time.  I watched two productions, as it happened, both that the public library had, first a production from 1980 with Gloria Grahame as Mistress Page.  It was, I'm afraid, a not especially good production, though that was perhaps more the fault of the sound man and the costume designer and the cameraman than the actors.  Despite being touted as being "Staged as seen in the 16th century" Grahame wore a gown in the style of at least a hundred years later, though everyone else was more-or-less 16th century.  More irritating was the fact that the actors' mikes picked up every movement of their bodies, so it was a lot like the scenes in "Singin' in the Rain" where Lena's pearls drown out her dialogue.  Grahame acquitted herself tolerably well with the Shakespearean prose, though she still carried herself as an indelibly 20th century woman.

    I had seen the 1982 BBC production of "Merry Wives" when it was first broadcast, and I'm pretty sure I fell asleep halfway through, but I must say it improved with age.  Prunella Scales and Judy Davis play Mistress Page and Mistress Ford respectively — Davis's very modern lipstick was a bit jarring, but Scales could do this kind of role in her sleep.  Ben Kingsley was alarmingly manic as Master Ford, but then Ford is supposed to be madly jealous; Richard Griffiths seemed surprisingly bland as Falstaff.  (Actually, it was also fun to play spot-the-actor, as there were quite a number of familiar faces, from Nigel Terry to Elizabeth Spriggs and Alan Bennett.)  The costumes were excellent, and I admired the set as well, which is supposed to have been based on Hall's Croft.

    Dream 2

    For "The Birth of Theatre" in the third week, the play was "A Midsummer Night's Dream", and I watched the 1996 Adrian Noble production currently on Netflix.  This was kind of weird.  I liked the framing of the play as a little boy's dream — he hides under a table during Theseus's and Hippolyta's first scene, and so on — but it doesn't seem to hold up when we are asked to believe that he's still dreaming this when the "translated" Bottom (Desmond Barrit) and Titania (Lindsay Duncan) go at it, and pretty obviously.  The fairies were quite Seussian.  The slapstick was good — I especially liked the multiple doors when the four young lovers are wandering in the forest — but, hmm, I'm still waiting for a really good filmed version.

    Branagh henry v

    This week is "The World at War" and "Henry V".  My library has a number of productions, but Kenneth Branagh's was the only one I brought home.  A cracking production — first-rate acting, great production values, and a real sense of the both the grit and glory of war.

  • 3291

    Okay, so it was two different socks, not one pair.  My self-congratulation is tempered with annoyance at my losing not one but both sets of notes as to the modifications that I made in transit, so that now I must re-create my own work.  Sigh.

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    The first was sock 1 of my "Baltic Sea" toe-up Charades, with an only partly-successful attempt to avoid the tight cast-off by working the rib top-down and grafting it to the leg (!).  The photo is also only partly-successful in capturing the color and general air of the sock, which is actually quite pleasing — I'm afraid I am less and less happy with the Canon PowerShot.

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    The second is sock 1 of a gussetted-foot school sock using the foot part of the "Barnim-Style Stocking" by Anne DesMoines in the Spring 2014 issue of "Knitting Traditions".  I was using yarn from my stash, so didn't have enough to make the full-length stockings — hence the "school sock" designation.  Apparently this foot is very like something that Elizabeth Zimmermann came up with on her own, I mean without knowing that there was the historical sock in existence — pretty clever — though it seems she didn't use it much after that.  I can't think why, as it's quite comfortable.

    Gosh, it's difficult to take a photo of the bottom of your own foot!

    In other news, I just got from the library The Miniaturist by Jessie Burton — was wondering not long ago atal if there are any novels about dolls' houses, and here one is.  It's an imagining of the newly-married Petronella Oortman and the mystery surrounding the cabinet house her rich merchant husband gives her — the book is inspired, obviously, by the real house, which is now at the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam.  I've not gotten very far into the book yet, but here are some pictures of the house, and a 1710 painting of it by Jacob Appel — all of the images are from the Rijksmuseum except the painting, which is from the Dutch Wikipedia.  The museum dates the house c.1686-c.1710, so the painting is I assume what the house looked like a little before Petronella's death at the age of sixty in 1716.

    Oortman rijksmuseum

      Dollhouse_of_Petronella_Ortman_by_Jacob_Appel

    Oortman 5

    The "state" kitchen, with its display of blue-and-white china, and the humbler working kitchen.

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    The "tapestry room".

    Oortman 1

    The reception room, and hall.

    Oortman 2

    The lying-in room, for the mother and newly-born baby to receive visitors; this room was a common feature of Dutch dolls' houses of the period.

    Oortman 4

    The maids' room, with linens hanging from the rods on the ceiling.  Apparently the little room at the center is a peat loft — for storing, and keeping dry, I suppose?

    Oortman 3

    The bedroom.

  • Mitts 1

    I finished these Sunday evening — finally, it felt, though it didn't take me that long relatively speaking.  It's only that I finished the first mitt in two days, then took a month and a half to finish the second one, not for lack of interest, but because I kept making stupid counting (or not counting) mistakes and had to rip it out more than once, so that I put off knitting for days on end.

    The pattern is the Hidden Gusset mitts by Mone Dräger, available free at Knitty.  The yarn is a skein of Colinette Jitterbug in Velvet Plum, which as I've said was previously a pair of socks that was a little too big, so I ripped them out and recycled the yarn.  It's a gorgeous color and feels wonderful to knit with, but I don't think I will ever use this yarn for socks again, as they felted alarmingly quickly, after only one or two wearings.  (Yes, all of the three pairs of socks I've made with Jitterbug have done this.)  Luckily I was able to pull out even the slightly-felted bits with little trouble, and they show in the reknitted piece only if you know what you're looking for.

    (The color is a little washed-out in the photos, but I noticed that the camera picks up reds better against a white or dark bluish background than it does against the golden-brown of my wood floors.  The Velvet Plum has a bit more blue in its purple than these photos would suggest.)

    Mitts 5

    The mitt doesn't cling to my wrist as much as I like, but perhaps this is partly because the Jitterbug is slightly heavier than the one recommended in the pattern, so that mine came out a little larger — the ones in the Knitty photos look a bit stretched on the wearer, which would of course make them more snug.  At least my watch won't show as much as it does under more closely-fitting mitts — does she or doesn't she?

    Mitts 6

    I didn't especially like the little ridge that runs up alongside the traveling stitches, which is from the increase used in the original pattern, so I used the usual M1L and M1R.  I also, just because it amused me, made the traveling stitches twist as well, by working a K2tog tbl on the left side, and on the right side a rather complicated sequence of slipping 2 and twisting the second of that pair of stitches, then knitting them together — I guess because of the twisted stitch's tendency to cheat to the right, these traveling stitches aren't as pronounced therefore, as the ones in the original, but as I say it amused me.  Such is life.

    Mitts 2

  • I've been watching the magnificent "The Roosevelts" series on PBS this week — was tempted just now to say "the magnificent Eleanor Roosevelt".  She was well-known as a knitter, though perhaps characteristically, she knitted not fancy things but useful ones, such as socks or scarves or pullovers for her family, as well as wartime knitting for servicemen, and knitting to her was something one did to fill otherwise idle time.

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    Mrs. Roosevelt knitting in the Memory Room of the Governor’s Mansion in New York, 1932, from the Hudson Valley Almanac Weekly.

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    "First Lady of the Land, First Lady of the Air", an advertising poster promoting the safety of airplane travel, from the Smithsonian (with a blog post about the poster here).

    Er knitting

    I must say that I especially like the family snaps of Eleanor knitting, such as here on the beach somewhere.

    Eleanor roosevelt knitting 1914

    An image from the FDR Presidential Library, of Eleanor knitting, ca.1914.

    Eleanor-Roosevelt

    The famous photo of Mrs. Roosevelt knitting on the plane during a tour of the United States in 1937, in a photo by Thomas D. Mcavoy of LIFE Magazine.

    Eleanor-roosevelt-knitting-underwood-archives

    Eleanor Roosevelt knitting at the Associated Country Women Of The World's exhibit at their triennial convention, Washington, D.C. June 2, 1936, from the Underwood Archives.

    Here is a link to the Knitty article from Franklin Habit, containing an interview with Mary Ann Colopy, seasonal park ranger at the Roosevelt/Vanderbilt National Historic Site in Hyde Park, as well as a pattern for mittens written down by Mrs. Roosevelt.

  • Score

    British blue

    "British Blue" Bluefaced Leicester wool by Erika Knight, three 25g balls of "Steve" (sky-blue), two balls each of "Milk" (cream) and "Fawn", and one of "Mouse" (grey), at Tuesday Morning yesterday for half-price.  Not bad.  What should I make with it?

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    I am suffering at the moment from a recurrent bout of DKS — Distracted Knitter Syndrome. As with malaria, the knitter with DKS can be distraction-free for months, even years at a time, and then without warning, and with other projects already on the needles, she casts on for a new project.

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    This is the Hidden Gusset mitt by Mone Dräger, from the latest issue of Knitty.  I recently recycled a skein of Collinette's Jitterbug in "Velvet Plum", a truly gorgeous color that for some time has been a pair of Jaywalker socks just too big to wear comfortably.  I let them sit in the back of my sock yarn drawer, then not long ago put my hand on them while searching for something else, and thought, "gosh, that yarn is pretty!" and that because they felted noticeably in just the two or three times I wore the socks, mitts would be a better idea than my original plan of a smaller pair of Jaywalkers.

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    I confess I've had some trouble with this pattern, but maybe it's just me.  It's been unpleasantly hot for most of the summer, and added to that things have been a little chaotic what with the girls both being in new-to-them schools this year, and the new schedules for both — so, yeah, I haven't been the sharpest knife in the box lately.  I couldn't quite understand the three-markers bit, so I've just moved the offending stitch over to the fourth needle and start my rounds on the first one as usual.  I also thought that the increases looked a little muddy, so I redid mine with a simple M1L and M1R — this didn't work quite as well as I had hoped, but there it is.  The color is still gorgeous!

  • School supplies

    Hurray!  School starts next week!  Maybe I'll actually manage find the time to post on my blog!

    Well, I can't blame it all on being busy, though that's a big part of it.  The weather has been so awful and hot and humid that when we're not running around to tennis camp and Girl Scout service projects and clarinet lessons and whatnot, we collapse in sodden little heaps on the floor in front of the nearest fan.

    So what have I done this summer?

    Socks

    I picked up a long-neglected pair of socks, and thought I was doing really well, but set it down one day and promptly forgot all about it.  Love the yarn, though — Shepherd Sock in "Baltic Sea," alternating strands on every other row so that it absolutely will not flash or pool.

    Blocks

    I made a set of puzzle blocks for No.16, to instructions in Christiane Berridge's Victorian Dolls' House Projects.  Mine aren't quite as successful as they might have been, because although I love the Rackham illustrations, the detail in them at this scale tends to get lost.  I tried to pick simpler ones I thought would reduce well, but there it is.  Anne Shirley is just getting started with Rapunzel, it looks like, but she's got a block wrong at the top.

    1930s blouse

    I read Miss Buncle's Book, and chose for my "Knitting with D.E. Stevenson" virtual knitalong, this pretty 1930s jumper from Dee's etsy shop nostalgiarules — it's perhaps a little more Elizabeth Wade than Barbara Buncle, with the frivolous ties! but I can see her wearing this while lunching with Mr. Abbott.

    Rackets

    Laura decided that she wanted to go out for tennis in her upcoming freshman year in high school, so she's been taking lessons at the local tennis center.  She's had really only a month to prepare — after never having played tennis at all bar lobbing a few balls around with a friend — so she was a bit dismayed when the high school's tennis camp started and she began to realize how much farther ahead most of the other kids are, but good for her, she's sticking with it.  We had borrowed a racket until she decided whether or not she was really interested, but bought a fairly-new used one on consignment at the tennis center, just at the same time that Grandpa dug out his old rackets from the basement.  Grandpa's basement is tidier than most people's houses, certainly ours, so the rackets are in great shape for being thirty or forty years old, but isn't it interesting to see how much they've changed over the years?!

    Goodwill

    I took the girls on a tour of the big Goodwill facility in Santa Ana, as part of the Good Turn for Goodwill service project that is new here in Orange County.  It was really amazing — I had no idea of the sheer scale of it.  What a great opportunity for the girls to see what a service project really can do for their community — not only how their donations get resold or recycled, but that the people working there, the ones that smiled at us and said hello every time we passed, are some of the ones that Goodwill is actually helping, right there, right now.

  • Mehen Game

    Mehen

    The theme of our Girl Scout day camp this year is Ancient Egypt, which has got Julia and me especially interested.  I've been thinking for a long time about making a senet board, but when I saw this mehen game somewhere recently, I thought, "Oh, we could make one for day camp!"  Those girls who were tired of playing Dollar, Dollar — and thankfully, there were some — really enjoyed playing mehen instead.

    "Mehen" means "coiled one" and refers to the snake deity who coils protectively around the sun-god Ra on his journey through the night, and the name is also given to this game, for obvious reasons.  Like senet, many boards but not the rules have survived, and so there are many different theories about how it was played.

    We made our game out of Sculpey polymer clay one afternoon last week.  This version is loosely based on the instructions in Philip Steele's book Ancient Egypt.  We used 2 1-lb blocks of terracotta-colored clay, and a 2-oz package each of gold, yellow, blue, and silver.  We rolled the clay into a ball and flattened it out using a large dowel for a rolling pin, until it made a large circle about 3/8-in/1cm thick, then scored the "snake" outline.  (I decided not to make the little handle-like projection that some boards have, since that would be vulnerable to breakage.)  The tokens are made with 2g each of two colors, gold and yellow for one set, and silver and blue for the other, and 4g each of the two colors for the larger "lion" token.  After the Sculpey was baked, we were supposed to rub diluted green paint on the board, so that the lines would stand out, but haven't done that yet.

    You will also need a die or counting sticks to play.

    Mehen 1

    This is how you play:

    Start all of your counters on the board before advancing any of the other pieces.  A throw of 2 ends your turn (it was 1 in the rules I based our game on, but we couldn't resist the snake eyes, of course!).  When you approach the center, you must throw the exact number needed to land there.  Once at the center, turn your token over for its return journey.  When your first token gets back to the start, your lion (the single larger piece) can begin.  The lion moves the same way as the other tokens, but on its return journey, it can "devour" any of your opponent's players in its way.  The winner is the player whose lion has devoured the most tokens.

  • 2762

    I have finally finished (sort of) this quilt, which is the “Medallion Variation” by Louisana Pettway Bendolph, from one of the Gee’s Bend series of kits from Windham Fabrics.  I had a lot of trouble with the fabrics in this kit, from when I started it in July 2012 and picked it up again in June 2013.  I also had trouble with pretty much everything else except the piecing, which was great fun — but I am coming to the conclusion that I am not much of a quilter, because the only thing I really like is putting the pieces together.

    The backing is a dark purple Kona Cotton, of which I apparently did not buy enough, because when I picked it up again after a year or so, backed and partly-quilted but not bound, there was no fabric to do any edging at all, and I didn’t have enough time before my personally-set deadline to order another piece of the Kona Cotton, so I bought something as similar as possible from Jo-Ann’s, slightly lighter in both weight and color.  Luckily, you wouldn’t know from the front, since a Kona Cotton binding wouldn’t have matched the Windham fabrics either.

    I say “sort of finished” because I started to machine-quilt it, in a geometric meander along each of the pieces, with no experience other than a previous stitch-in-the-ditch quilt.  This was not particularly successful, unfortunately, more due to my lack of skill and chronic tension problems with my machine, than to the idea of a geometric meander itself — which when it worked, worked very well.  I think the first few times I made the lines too close together, as the later ones just feel better to the hand; I also couldn’t seem to get the machine’s tension the same from one block to the next, so that some looked fine from both sides, more looked wonky, and some looked absolutely awful.  I got so frustrated that David said, “Honey, just do it like you did the Girl Scout quilt,” whereupon I glared at him, and realized that he was probably right.  I stitched all of the pieces along their seams, picked out the worst of the first attempts at the meander, and left the others for perhaps a future day, either picking-out or re-doing.

    The only change I made to the design was to rearrange the center blocks a bit, as I thought the original was a little busy towards the top —

    Gees medallion variation

    though I can’t think now why I didn’t switch the two on the left as well.

    I don’t think I will ever buy fabrics from Windham again, even though I generally like the hand-dyed look — the fading in some cases was I thought far too much, despite their assurance that the colors would not bleed after a few washings, and are more “bright and appealing” afterwards.  Sometimes I wonder if “slight imperfections” isn’t often a euphemism for “flawed” or at the least “carelessness”.

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    But despite all of the grief this quilt gave me, I actually like it a lot now that it’s done.  I like the cheerful colors — even though they aren’t as bright as they started out — and the bold, dynamic shapes.  And here it is in action at last! at Girl Scout day camp this week —

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  • 2776

    Here is another miniature carpet, called "Elizabethan Squares"; like the Long Flowers Panel, it is from Sandra Whitehead's book Celtic, Medieval and Tudor Wall Hangings in 1/12 Scale Needlepoint, but with three major modifications, one Whitehead's suggestion and the others mine.  I wanted a carpet instead of a wall hanging, since it isn't for my Tudor-house-to-be (because they didn't have carpets on the floors at that period), so I added in another pattern repeat at one end to make it longer, and I used Whitehead's alternative color scheme instead of the original pinks and creams.  The other modification was to work it in cross stitch instead of tent, as I generally feel that single-stitch diagonal lines in tent stitch always look a bit off to me, unsymmetrical, whereas in cross stitch they look the same whether they are heading upwards or downwards — the strong black diagonal lines in this seemed to want more symmetry to my eye.

    I made only one permanent mistake on the chart, on some of the 0 shapes inside the squares, but by the time I noticed it, it became a design element (!).

    The fringe is a side-by-side Turkish knot one — I used the chart in Meik and Ian McNaughton's Making Miniature Oriental Rugs & Carpets, which is essentially the same as the side-by-side knots here.

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    On 28-count Monaco, this carpet as modified works up to a finished size of 4 3/8 x 3 inches (11 x 7.5 cm), not counting the fringe.

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    I wasn't quite as successful with the long-legged cross-stitch edging this time — I don't know why.  Maybe just because the white canvas stands out more between the navy threads?

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    I also tried something different with the hem, using mitered corners instead of folded ones.  Not sure if this is the best way of going about it, but I really love mitered corners, so I just get a kick out of it.  They didn't fold quite as well as I would have liked, but the Turkish knot edging needed a little bit of cheating on the turn to lie flat, and I suppose that canvas isn't as helpful as something lighter would be.

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    I enjoyed working this carpet very much — the original colorway is very pretty, but the stronger blue-and-ginger really speaks to me.

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