Knit night with Julia

I was a bit confused when Gail told me she'd volunteered to help her friend Julia by being a "guinea pig". 

Turns out it's nothing to do with pet rodents. Julia, who you will remember designs knitting patterns (among her many talents), is preparing a workshop showing folk how to knit and sew a cute 'wee house' key ring, and Gail had volunteered to take part in dry run on Saturday evening.

Gosh it's an intense business this knitting lark. I kindly made my tummy available so the humans could take a break from 'knit one purl one' and give me a comforting tickle every now and then. I am thinking Julia might do well to find a pup who could offer this service when she runs her workshops for real. 

After an hour and a half, Gail had finally mastered something called 'duplicate stitch' (don't ask), the wee house had gained doors and windows, and I was developing a close relationship with Julia's furry slippers.

Another half hour and Gail's 'wee house' was complete (we won't worry ourselves here about the slightly wonky chimney), the knitters were celebrating with a glass of red wine, and as I dozed fitfully under the table my mind wandered back to earlier in the day when I had summited the modest Torridon peak Sgurr na Bana Mhoraire.

I expect some of you would like to know where you can buy the pattern for the 'wee house'.  You are probably encouraged by the fact that, under Julia's patient guidance, Gail did not make a complete hash of it and you are rightly thinking "how hard can it be?"

Well I'm pleased to report that you can find the 'wee house' key ring and many other lovely knitting patterns designed by Julia if you click here.

Decisions in Torridon

Last weekend Gail and I visited our cottage in Torridon. On the basis of a weather forecast on Thursday, promising heavy rain and gale force winds for the next few days, we nearly stayed in Aberdeen, but I'm pleased to report that Gail decided to ignore the best advice of the Met Office and head west anyway.

You can however understand why I decided not to go for a paddle in the normally calm waters of Loch Torridon on Friday afternoon.

On Saturday the wind had died down and I was most alarmed to overhear Gail and her neighbour Julia discussing whether they might go sea kayaking the next day, rather than taking me for a walk.

Thankfully sense prevailed and they decided on a Sunday morning ramble around the Shieldaig peninsula. At the spot where the pathway divides, we opted to take the right hand trail, thus an anti-clockwise circuit.

It wasn't a fast walk, and there were many 'posing for treats' stops.

Some of the posing locations required careful negotiation of the rocky shoreline. I just point this out so you are aware of the considerable effort that sometimes lies behind the production of my blog.

After a while, it occurred to me to add variety to the photo opportunities by changing the colour of my lower limbs. In areas of peat bog, the colour change thing is not the exclusive preserve of the chameleon. (OK, so we don't have chameleons in NW Scotland, but you get my drift I'm sure...)

Most unreasonably, before we returned to the village of Shieldaig and a bar lunch in the Tigh an Eilean Hotel, Gail decided my paws needed a thorough wash in a clear but very chilly stream.

I would like here to point out to Julia (who is nice, on the whole) that one does NOT appreciate being photographed at moments so disadvantageous to one's dignity!

The cold bath was the first of two poor decisions on Gail's part, the second being that she refused to give me a single morsel of her fish and chip lunch, and I was made to lie quietly beside the table while Gail and Julia munched away, and pretend to be happy with the occasional pat on the head from other passing customers.

PS Some readers may not already know that Julia has a beautiful blog called Hand Knitted Things. Fans of knitting, or Torridon scenery, or sheep, will love her latest post (click here).

Thank you Sheep

So it was my first visit to the Torridon cottage for, like, ages, and I hastened over to my Shetland sheep neighbours to show them my new jumper and to thank them for providing the wool.

To be honest, they didn’t seem that interested or impressed, although gauging the expression on the face of a sheep is perhaps not the easiest thing.

Then,  I spotted these wee fellows hiding behind their mum, and learned that they were only a few hours old.

Gosh, have you ever felt in danger of being out-cuted? Gail was all ooh and aah and look at the little lambykins.

Being of a more practical bent, I was already planning a colour scheme for next year’s sweater.

PS In case you are thinking, Bertie, now Spring has arrived perhaps you might be a little too warm in that woolly sweater, I would like to point out that on Sunday morning when I woke up there was a sprinkling of SNOW on the grass in our cottage garden...