Stash-busting knitted basket ...

If you're looking for something to use up some of the chunky wool in your yarn stash I've got the solution. This little basket eats yarn. I've made it using 4 strands of Hayfield Bonus Chunky, worked together on 15mm circular needles (80 cm cord) using the magic loop method. It's really easy, and with yarn of that combined thickness you can easily make it in under an hour from start to finish. My knitting tension averaged about 5 stitches x 10 rows on a 10 cm x 10 cm/ 4"x 4" swatch.

Just read on for the pattern:

12th October, 1582 ... the day that didn't happen ...

Now here's a random thought for you ... this date, the 12th day of October, the 285th day of the year - or 286th if we're having a leap year - didn't happen in Italy, Poland, Portugal or Spain in the year 1582.

Exeter Cathedral's 15th Century Clock

A busy week in October ...

It's been a bit manic over here at Talk-a-Lot Towers this week. I've been really busy with work, but I managed to sneak off on Wednesday for a look around the wonderful Knitting and Stitching Fair up at Alexandra Palace. I came home laden with goodies. There were so many irresistible yarns and yarn-related gizmos and books. It was amazing, and now I'm all fired up with a hundred ideas for projects that I'd love to get right down to making.

Rainy day roses ...

And one of the rainy day silver linings that I'm enjoying this morning is the excuse to save these glorious blossoms from the weather.

Aren't they marvellous?

I found them lying face down in a puddle on the terrace. The rain had weighed them down and they were kissing the floor. I wouldn't have had the heart to cut them otherwise, but now that I have I'm loving their wonderful scent as I work. Happy rainy days!

All the best for now,

Bonny x

It's a dog's life ...

I've cracked it! I've got the answer to the prickly problem of how to make friends if you move to a new neighbourhood. All you need is one of these:

The bewitching Ms. Witch ...

So how do you like Ms. Witch?

I cast her off yesterday, and then showed her to Emi when he came home from school, thinking that she would be of no great interest to a nine year old boy like him, but he immediately fell under her spell. I love her, he said. Can I have her? She can sit beside Swampy, and keep him company when I'm at school.

Now I should explain that Swampy is the latest addition to Emi’s growing menagerie. Swampy is a carnivore, aVenus Fly Trap plant, who hangs out on the mantelpiece in Emi's bedroom. We got Swampy a few weeks ago by way of a Sunday afternoon bribe for doing a heavy weekend of homework. And every day since then Emi has been very conscientious about giving Swampy a drink. The plant label told us that he liked to live in swamps – hence the name, and the zealous watering regime.

Anyway I digress: back to Ms. Witch. She’s made using Worsted weight yarn. I’ve used Sublime Extra Fine Merino Worsted, which is a truly lovely yarn to work with: really soft with little tendency to split. I chose autumnal colours to match the season: Wicker (061) for the skin tones, Jet Black (013) for the black bits, Mole (056) for her brown hair and Marmalade (478) for the pumpkin orange bits.

When I’m making toys I like to use smaller needles than they recommend for the yarn in order to get a nice tightly woven knit. To my way of thinking it wouldn’t look good if we were able to see Ms Witch’s stuffing through her dress. For this weight of yarn you’d normally use 4.5 mm needles, but I chose to use 3 mm needles to get the desired result. This produced a tension of 25 stitches x 30 rows for a 10cm x 10 cm/ 4" x 4" swatch.

If you’d like to make her, she’s pretty straightforward. Just read on for the pattern.

Hello October ...

We've been cooped up for far too long, the Wonderdog and I. I've been crazy busy with work for several days now, tied to my computer and unable to go outside and enjoy this lovely late summer/ early autumn weather. Sadly the weathermen are telling us that after today we're in for a change, so we seized the initiative this morning and headed out into the elements to embrace the season.

Michaelmas Day, the Feast of Saint Michael and all the Angels ...

Happy Michaelmas Day!

The face that launched a thousand reprimands ...

The other day I was doing some research in the Basilica of Sant Feliu in Girona when this face stopped me in my tracks. She seemed to be looking straight at me, and she didn't seem too pleased with what she saw ... .

Crockpot apple butter ...

My house smells wonderful at the moment. If I could bottle this aroma and sell it as the essence of autumn I think I'd make a fortune. Jo Malone would definitely be interested ... .

I've been busy with my crockpot making apple butter, and the waft of spiced apple is everywhere. Emi came home from swim club and remarked on it before I'd even got the front door open ... .

And happily the product of all this industry tastes as good as it smells. I think apple butter is a Dutch or an Amish invention, and it's really worth trying. You can use it like jam on toast or muffins. It works beautifully as an applesauce substitute with pork or cold cuts, and you could also serve it as an accompaniment to some nice strong cheese.

The secret to making this delicious apple butter is to cook the apples very slowly over a low heat without letting them burn. So you see the crockpot is the ultimate gizmo to spare you toil and trouble. If you've got one, you'd have to be crazy not to use it.

Anyway just read on for my recipe.

A casual jumper inspired by the beach ...

If you're in the market for a super fast, super easy project that you could complete over a weekend, then this is it! And if you wanted to make it even easier and even more straightforward you could stick to just one colour and save all that messing around with different colours and darning in of loose ends that comes with stripes.

I've made it for my favourite sassy eleven year-old, who's about 4'11", thin as a pencil and a bit of a tomboy. It's got a short body length that's designed to skim the top of her jeans and, with a white T underneath, it should look relaxed and casual.

The quiet of the cloister ...

In the heart of the ancient Cathedral of Santa Maria sits a beautiful cloister. It's a quiet place, hidden away from the bustle of the outside world, making it a perfect spot for peaceful contemplation - just so long as a bus-load of tourists isn't in the vicinity. Luckily, the morning I stopped by, I pretty much had it to myself. Sitting in a quiet corner, admiring the way the shadows played across the ancient tombstones that line the floor it would have been easy to convince myself that I'd slipped through time into another age. 

The Cloisters, Girona Cathedral

Pressing late summer flowers ...

The weather here in London has been a little bit glorious these past few days. Sadly it's not set to last into the weekend, so we'd best make the most of it while it's here. The Wonder Dog and I decamp to the garden when the sun shines. We set up shop on the terrace just outside the kitchen where we spread out our work in the shade of a parasol and enjoy the good times.

Yesterday morning it was so lovely that I was inspired to chase around for the last of the summer flowers to press. There's not a lot happening in my little back garden right now. We've been away all summer and it's looking a bit lacklustre and neglected, but I still managed to find a few colourful blooms to add colour to some handmade cards.

Here they are:

The Apple Harvest ...

Last weekend we had a go at picking some apples - as you can see! The weather was glorious on Sunday, and we all mucked in.

If there's one thing that makes my heart sing at the end of summer it's the apple harvest. We usually have loads of apples. Our trees are heritage varieties from Devon, where the emphasis is on working apples for cider or cooking, rather than sweet dessert types.

The Dalí Theatre Museum, Figueres ...

The other day we took young Emi up to the Dalí museum in Figueres. He's only nine, but I thought he might get a kick out of the way the great Surrealist Master liked to depict the world around him.

I'd expected young Emi to find Dalí fun, and he did, but he also found some of his work deeply creepy (his exact words). He loved the funky museum, however, without any qualification. It's a great big boisterous building that poses all sorts of questions with its design elements that are guaranteed to have you wondering what Dalí was on about. In short, the museum in Figueres is as much a work of art as anything that it houses. Its ... well, it's like no other building I've ever visited.

Great Motorway Drive-by sights ... Carcassonne

 Most of the motorway miles I notch up tend to be drab and boring. Motorways are all about getting there fast with little to see along the way, but every now and then they snake past something sensational that makes me want to exit at the next junction to go off and investigate. Of course, this motorway proximity probably doesn't help the ambience of the place in question. I mean three lanes of traffic battering along in either direction won't enhance the chorus of the wild birds or add a whole lot of sweetness to the air.

The other day I was bustling along down the A61 that runs from Toulouse to Narbonne when I saw this loom large on the near horizon:

It was Carcassonne, the beautiful walled city of the Cathars.

As luck would have it, I was in the passenger seat with my window down and my camera to hand. Normally all the wonderful things appear on Mr B's side of the car when my camera is in the boot and all the windows are hermetically sealed against the rain.

And so I was able to spend a happy 30 seconds snapping away as though my life depended on it.

I'm not sure what the other motorists thought, but who cares when you've got something so sensational passing you by on the near-side.

Usually we rely heavily on in-flight entertainment (my legendary lasts-from-Belfast-to-Barcelona playlist and the loop of endless Scooby Doo movies for the troops in the back) to make our motorway miles go quickly, but this was one occasion when we were happy to slow right down and enjoy the scenery.

All the best for now,

Bonny x

The end- of- summer blues ...

We've got a bad case of the end-of-summer blues out here in sunny Sant Feliu de Guíxols. It's all about to end tomorrow when we return to London for the start of the new school term. And none of us is looking forward to the transition. Emi's back at school again on Thursday. The weather forecast for London is less than stellar, so we'll be back to living indoors again, and to all our old routines within a matter of hours of arriving.

As the journey home beckons I can't help but think about another family ... .

Down on the beach there's a sailing school run by an inspirational couple. They've got a young family but that hasn't stopped them living the dream. During the European summer they're here, earning a living doing something they love. But, come the end of September, they pack everything away - all the little one-man dinghies, kayaks, windsurfers. Then they jump on their yacht and sail south to a little corner of the Caribbean where they open another sailing school for the winter.

Their children, who are home-schooled, are fluent in Catalan, Spanish and English and seem to be up to speed with everything else too. Moreover, having spent their lives around lots of other people who've come from the four corners of the Earth for sailing lessons with their mum and dad, they've got loads of social confidence.

I'm a rubbish sailor, and I'm sure I'd die of sea-sickness on the journey, but there's a part of me that envies them their lifestyles and admires their courage in choosing the path they've chosen. I think it was no less of a thinker than Confucius who said: do what you love and you'll never have to work a day in your life. And this couple appear to be the living embodiment of that philosophy.

So on those cold, grey winter days that lie ahead I'll think of them following the sunshine and doing what they really want to do, and I'll try to draw inspiration from their example.

All the best for now,

Bonny x

The sewing bee ...

Isn't it a lovely thing to be able to take your work out-of-doors? Especially on a nice sunny day it seems wrong to stay inside when all the world is bright and cheerful and the sky is a heavenly blue above.

The other morning I came upon this rather unusual sewing bee, all bent over their labour in the bright Catalan sunshine. They were busy mending their nets with huge needles and big balls of nylon thread. Some individuals in the group were very practised, their needles flying in and out, and back and forth, like automated bobbins in a machine.

And, as is the case with any group of friends when they're working on a shared endeavour, they chatted amiably as they sewed, looking up occasionally to see how their neighbours were getting on or how they'd reacted to the last wisecrack that had sent a gentle ripple of laughter floating out to sea.

And then I noticed that I wasn't the only spectator. This chap was standing at a discrete distance from the group keeping a careful eye out for anything tasty that might tumble out of the folds.

Luckily for him the harbour cat was elsewhere - probably terrorising some unsuspecting tourists who thought the harbour would make a scenic background for a few selfies. The harbour cat is an animal that you mess with at your peril - hence the absence of photographs of him on my blog. I've never had the courage to stand still and take his picture when he's launching himself at us like a furry orange missile with his fangs bared and his claws unsheathed.

All the best for now,

Bonny x

Boys ...

Today I spent the day with Emi and one of his best friends. We played tennis, we went swimming and after lunch we did some rock pooling. Everyone wore their flip flops, which made clambering over the rocks a  bit difficult. Duh! I should have known better. It must have been the heat that was melting my brain and leaving me incapable of making rational decisions ... . I mean I'm normally quite good at keeping all the children in my care alive and in one piece.

Then, just as we were struggling over a particularly large boulder and I was feeling less than up to the task, I saw these boys doing this:

Moonlit Sant Feliu de Guíxols ...

Tonight there's a party in town. It's La Nit en Blanc, when nobody goes to bed, and everyone's out and about, meeting and greeting and partying like summer's never going to end.

Emi and I took the Wonder Dog for his after-dinner stroll along the waterfront. It was a perfect night with scarcely a breath of wind, lit up by a huge round moon that hung low in the sky. Everyone was out. Laughter and music from other people's parties drifted through the air. The lights from the village danced across the waves as we walked along the breakwater.

Emi told me about a story that he wants to write. It had the sort of labyrinthine plot that appeals to nine year old boys who desperately want to bring dinosaurs back to life, and then mix them up with some aliens and a spot of extraterrestrial exploring. I'm sure I didn't follow it all, but with the special magic of the moonlight on the water it was hard to concentrate on the details. I think I said Really? and That's interesting enough times to convince him that I was listening attentively even though my gaze never left that wonderful August moon.

All the best for now,

Bonny x

Harbour tails ...

The Wonder Dog has a nemesis down at the harbour these days. He's a great big ginger tom cat, and he takes no prisoners. When he sees us he comes racing out of the shadows hissing and fussing and squaring up for a fight. The Wonder Dog, who is more of a lover than a fighter, hides behind my legs and tries very hard to be invisible. I do a funny little sideways shuffle to work my way around the ferocious feline without getting my legs shredded or my dog massacred in the process. I'm guessing that this particular moggy's got a good supply of dinner in the form of left-over fish, and he's not about to start sharing it with anyone any time soon ... .

We trot on trying hard to look like we're not bothered. Although the truth is that I'm always a bit too shaken by the mad cat experience to take a photo of him. I mean he's really scary. It's a pity as he'd make a very fine photo with his back arched, his fur standing on end, and his lips drawn back to give us a clear view of his razor sharp teeth. But it's like he's possessed or something, and, as I can't predict how he'll behave, I always chose the safer option and hurry on past him to the relative safety of the inner harbour. 

By the time we reach the life-savers' cottage on the top of the hill we've recovered our composure. It's a sweet little building. These days it operates as a museum about life-saving along the Costa. Here in Sant Feliu they used to make buoyancy aids from the local cork. They'd fashion them into great cumbersome jackets that would have helped keep people up, but must have made it almost impossible for them to move through the water in the direction of their rescuers. 

We normally meet a standard schnauzer up there these mornings, who's a great deal friendlier than the ginger tom. He makes the Wonder Dog look like his Mini Me.

Well, I'll be schnauzered!

The cottage was built by the Shipwreck Rescue Association back in 1897 as a place of shelter for anyone who was shipwrecked off the coast of Sant Feliu. 

Local men volunteered their time, taking turns to do their bit to help those in distress. Being a sea-faring village the focus here has always been on the seaward, rather than the landward horizon. Everyone would have been able to empathise with the plight of those in trouble and would have held a sincere wish that, should their situations ever be reversed, someone would come to their aid too.

The cottage sits on a small cliff at the mouth of the old harbour, so the folk up there would have enjoyed a good view of everything that was taking place round about.

Back in the old days the fishing boats would have been landed on the beach, where they would have sat waiting for their next expedition. These days the beach looks very different.

And, thankfully, we still have a few lifeguards around.

All the best for now,

Bonny x

So what's the story?

This chap greeted me on my way home on Monday evening. I was walking back from the Convent of Sant Daniel, just outside the city walls of Girona when I spied him, towering large on the side of a building and looking for all the world as though he was suffering from the mother of all hangovers.

On reflection though, I think he's been dancing a Sardana, the traditional dance of Catalonia that originated in this part of Empordá. He's certainly dressed for the part. It's danced in a circle with everyone holdings hands, and my guess is it's all left him feeling a little bit dizzy ... .

All the best for now,

Bonny x