Thursday, 27 April 2017

The Sock Notebook Rides Again


So I have my Traveller's Notebook. I also have this:


If you've been dropping by here for a while you might recognise it as my sock notebook. No? You're right: it hasn't seen a lot of action lately. I made my first entries almost two years ago - I ordered wool for my first ever pair of socks on St. Patrick's Day 2015 (or so the notebook says) - and started recording my progress not long after.

Then, for a bit, I was knitting faster than I could write: the notebook couldn't keep up and I began tucking ball bands and snips of yarn inside, in the hope I'd get back to it. Last week I knocked my notebook off the shelf and, yes, of course, all my carefully curated but completely unattached ephemera fluttered to the floor, all wild and free. So I decided to catch up.

This page


records a big moment in the life of a hand knitted sock: its first hole. When a shop bought sock wears through, we bin it (unless we're a student who works on the who is going to see my feet principle. Maybe your mother? When you come home for the holidays? Let's park that thought and move on..) But it's not so easy to turn your back on hand made. Clearly I had to learn how to darn.

And this page


makes a not of my contribution to Winwick Mum's Sock Line last summer. I think she'll be running it again this year, so I need to remember to leave myself time in the old knitting schedule. Schedule? Sounds like I have a plan. Maybe there's a small one, incorporating a phone photography class in a knitting shop. I'll say that again because it's a magical combination. A phone photography class in a knitting shop. I'm looking forward to it very much. There will be wool, new wool, so I'd better get going on pinning down the details of what I've already used. Just one more sock related note before I go. Pablo Neruda, I recently discovered, wrote a beautiful poem about a pair of hand knitted socks. You can find Ode to my Socks here

"and what is good is doubly good
when it is a matter of two socks
made of wool in winter.."

18 comments:

Patio Postcards said...

Thanks for such a lovely post & while I am not a knitter, I certainly enjoy your tales of such. For someone in your circle that has holes in their socks, maybe just the beginning because the rage here in Canada seems for men not to wear socks at all with shoes; winter included! A phone photography class in a knitting shop. This sounds most interesting; please share all the tidbits you pick up.

Susan said...

What a fabulous way to combine two hobbies!

Melissa said...

OH, I'm so glad you took time to catch up with this great book documenting your sock-knitting journey!! And, yes, that class sounds magical - photography & a knitting shop - ENJOY!

Jane said...

sounds like a great class!

Ladkyis said...

If you are going to darn your lovely knitted socks then you need an egg. I just happen to have exactly the right thing. My ex mother-in-law seemed to collect them and when my ex husband died my/our children had to clear his flat and they found tins of scissors and knitting needles and darning eggs. They stacked them all up and brought them to me because "You know people to give this cr*p to Mum, and it all belonged to Nanny S and it serves her right if you give it all away"
I will wrap one up and send it to you as long as you don't mind its provenance.

Winwick Mum said...

What a fabulous poem - and fabulous socks! Thank you so much for being part of the Yarndale Sock Line last year - did you see where your socks went to? There's a list on this page here: http://winwickmum.blogspot.co.uk/p/yarndale-sock-line-destinations-2016.html The Yarndale Sock Line will be part of Yarndale again this year, so if you'd like to join in again then I know your socks will be very much appreciated xx

Sandra said...

Now that's an amazing class

Karen said...

Your creative talent with the notebook is as evident as your expertise with those knitting needles! I love seeing examples of both.

Fiona@Staring at the Sea said...

And of course you have the perfect matching yarn with which to darn. My girl had a lovely pair of fairisle gloves, which she wore to death. My Mum was happy to darn them but finding the right wool proved impossible. Scrapiana, who is a mending marvel, was talking about the merits of various differently shaped darning mushrooms on IG the other night.

Jennifer Shaw said...

I love getting peeks into the sock journal. It is so beautiful! Knocking it off the shelf accidentally was meant to be. So happy that you got back to it. That class sounds interesting.

Mitra Pratt said...

oh happy knitting! I do love your posts!

alexa said...

Such lovely sunny pages - I am much appreciating your fresh Spring-like photography and pretty bouquets as I look at the grey outside. That class sounds fascinating - do keep us posted, and you might meet like-minded people :). Off to find Neruda's poem!

Barbara Eads said...

I'm seeing shops that are craft specialties offering more than one option. I think it's how they can pay the rent. On a trip through New England, I was looking for one of the few remaining scrapbook stores in the country. There was one there that was scrapbooking on one side and quilting on the other. I'm glad to see it. little by little, our specialty stores are disappearing.

debs14 said...

phone photography and a wool shop? Sounds like a marriage made in heaven! Do keep us updated.

Maggie said...

Should you want any socks to practice your darning on just let me know.

alexandra s.m. said...

I love seeing new pages in your book Sian!
They are so perfectly pleasing and creative ;-)
Thanks!

Jo said...

It's great to see your sock notebook out again. That class sounds great, I can't wait to read all about it :)

Ruth said...

I love that the history of your socks from start to finish is recorded in that cute TN! I'd pretend to be a knitter in order to come with you to that class ...

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