Fair Isle Cardigan for a little boy 9-12 months knitted while listening to the Test Match Special cricket commentary

Cardigan with Fair Isle Yoke 9-12 months from Debbie Bliss Baby Cashmerino (pub 2001) Fair Isle design taken from Mary Jane Mucklestone’s 200 Fair Isle Designs

This is the seventh cardigan I’ve made to the same – my favourite –  Debbie Bliss pattern (from Debbie Bliss Baby Cashmerino, pub. 2002) and it was just as enjoyable to knit the seventh time as it was the first. With the back and fronts knitted as one piece there’s little seam sewing and I love the way the yoke patterning appears with minimal need for counting stitches. As I like to see a nice deep patterned yoke  I started the Fair Isle patterning on the row immediately after picking up stitches on the back and front and continued patterning up to the row before beginning the rib for the neckband. The only other thing I did differently was to cast off the 13 stitches across the back (which the pattern tells you to leave on a stitch holder) because I prefer how it looks that way. Lovely purply-blue buttons come from Ray Stitch in Islington. I used to use mother-of-pearl but I find for baby knitwear the smooth edges of these buttons make them easier to get through the button holes, especially if the baby is lively.

Detail : Cardigan with Fair Isle Yoke 9-12 months from Debbie Bliss Baby Cashmerino (pub 2001) Fair Isle design taken from Mary Jane Mucklestone’s 200 Fair Isle Designs

Meanwhile my knitting pleasure has been boosted by the return of cricket to the air waves. As in previous summers, household tasks, shopping, walks and preparatory sewing are timed to fit around Test Match cricket commentary on the radio. I was brought up with a brother (7 years older)  at Nottingham Boys’ High School (a public school, i.e. a private fee-paying school, but he was a scholarship boy so we paid nothing) and as my mother worked one day a week, on a Saturday, in a shop selling wedding dresses (which job she loved)  I would go almost every Saturday in term time with my father to watch my brother play cricket in summer and rugby in winter, home and often away.

Detail showing back yoke: Cardigan with Fair Isle Yoke 9-12 months from Debbie Bliss Baby Cashmerino (pub 2001) Fair Isle design taken from Mary Jane Mucklestone’s 200 Fair Isle Designs

I came to enjoy both sports but the whole ambiance surrounding cricket was particularly enjoyable. As soon as we got to the ground I would leave my father with fellow fathers on the boundary while I enjoyed wandering round, looking at wild flowers (with I-Spy book to hand) sharing picnic blankets and snacks with the mothers and rolling down the invitingly steep slopes around the ground (so many sports grounds  seemed to have these slopes, though I’m not sure why.) Sometimes I’d sit and chat to the ground keeper’s very sophisticated daughters, the eldest of whom would arrange herself elegantly on a patch of grass, paying special attention to the fanning out of the full skirt of her lovely cotton summer dress. An eight year old at the time I seem to remember one of my favourite dresses was a piqué dress in pale lemon with ties knotted into bunny ears on each shoulder. Sweet, but not sophisticated.

Cardigan with Fair Isle Yoke 9-12 months from Debbie Bliss Baby Cashmerino (pub 2001) Fair Isle design taken from Mary Jane Mucklestone’s 200 Fair Isle Designs

There is a book to be written about the cricket pavilions of England and Nottingham High School’s was as good an introduction  to the genre as any. There’s often an Arts and Craft feeling about these buildings with lots of wooden balustrades, balconies, part glazed viewing spaces and cavernous interiors smelling of beeswax, linseed oil and freshly cut grass brought in on cricket boots. In those days the boys wore leather boots with metal spikes and when they all trouped into the pavilion for lunch or tea the noise of these studs on wooden floors was distinctive and strangely comforting to remember. (Spikes isn’t at all the right word to describe what appeared on the bottom of the boots as they were the size and shape of old fashioned thimbles and when removed from the boot looked I always used to think like those tall felted hats historically worn by Welsh women at their spinning.) On the day after matches much time would be spent removing earth and grass from the boots which would then be polished up with shoe whitener. Trousers must have been a devil to clean as they were wool-based flannels but I ashamed to say I can’t remember ever noticing my mother do this, not to mention complaining about it. Crimplene was the wonder fabric of the 1970s until we all realised it was utterly horrible, both to touch and look at, let alone to actually wear. Somehow, it survived in a niche position as the go to fabric for cricket trousers and though skidding in a grassy out field left burn marks in what was after all extruded plastic, it was largely indestructible, whether by boy or washing machine, so we mothers put up with it uncomplainingly and kept our hatred mostly silent. (I’ve just discovered Crimplene was launched in 1959 by modifying Terylene, which itself wasn’t so bad. Perhaps by the 1970s Crimplene had evolved into that particularly horrible knobbly coarse monster fabric of my memory.)

Up close, back yoke: Cardigan with Fair Isle Yoke 9-12 months from Debbie Bliss Baby Cashmerino (pub 2001) Fair Isle design taken from Mary Jane Mucklestone’s 200 Fair Isle Designs

The cricket teas were also a thing unto themselves and based heavily around sugar. Once lunch had been cleared away, out would come industrial sized tins of jam and multitudinous loaves of wax paper wrapped bread and a small team of helpers (of which I think I was one) would slap butter and jam on to an infinity of bread. As the tea interval loomed, water would be set to boil in oversized urns and giant metal tea pots heaved off shelves ready to do duty, the serried rows of study white earthenware tea cups and saucers neatly set out to await players and onlookers alike. Lines of trestle tables set with alternating plates of cakes and jam sandwiches stood as grand as for any feast in that brief quiet time between the end of frenetic preparation and the descent of the hordes. (No cans of  Coke, no cakes in wrappers.) There were just three foods I had no liking for at home – tea (from a teapot), jam sandwiches and potatoes. But put me in a cricket pavilion and a cup of tea and a jam sandwich tasted as good as anything I could think of!  The ground keeper’s wife was a wonderful warm, kindly woman with a ready smile and a real presence – rather like those farmer’s wives that appear in Enid Blyton’s Famous Five books who produce salad lunches, with thick slices of ham, bushy lettuce and garden new potatoes dripping in butter, almost out of nowhere just as our team of heroes stumble into the safety of the farm after a daring adventure seeing off gangs of criminals. (Associations are strong, I was probably reading such books at the time.)

Sample Fair Isle bands

I grew older but never lost my love of the game of cricket and it threaded through subsequent years like a knotted line of tinsel – sometimes as background, at other times almost taking over life. When I was young, summers were full of test cricket on the television (sometimes battling for air time with Wimbledon) and during winter I would often be found with a radio under the blankets listening to cricket commentary of Test Matches in Australia. My Oxford college, Lady Margaret Hall was right next to the University Parks and I would often snatch a bit of time to watch matches and especially to see Imran Khan (now President of Pakistan) in the field  who looked amazing as he came in to bowl with his thick, flowing black mane of hair. Once a visiting team included a young member of a family my brother had played cricket with at Nottingham High but I just wasn’t brave enough to seek him out and introduce myself.  My first boss, after university, was the Administrator of the Clarendon Laboratory in Oxford (from my office you could just see a bit of the university cricket pitch). He was a keen cricket fan and memorably had lost his sight standing on the steps of the pavilion at Lords as his retina detached. I once went with his wife to watch a test match from the women’s stand – in the days when women weren’t allowed to be members, let alone allowed in the pavilion.  Years later, my son played a lot of cricket, for his school, Latymer Upper, for the local club team, Turnham Green and for London Schools (with nets every Friday evening at Lords Indoor School), for whom he would regularly open the batting with (Sir) Alistair Cook (then also the side’s wicket keeper.)

Back of cardigan with Fair Isle Yoke 9-12 months from Debbie Bliss Baby Cashmerino (pub 2001) Fair Isle design taken from Mary Jane Mucklestone’s 200 Fair Isle Designs

And where else but from  Test Match Special would I discover Marmite have joined with Lynx to produce not only body lotion but deodorant! Canny product marketers had sent samples of both to Jonathan Agnew of TMS. The deodorant he pressed on another of the team to try, though with social distancing in place, no one was able to tell that he smelt any different! We were expecting the body lotion to be tested today but as biblical amounts of rain have fallen and are falling, cricket and body lotion testing are postponed until tomorrow, which the weather forecasters say should be better. There’s hope for an England win tomorrow, though with a full day lost to rain, that will take either luck or phenomenal skill. Here’s hoping for both!

Design 143 from Mary Jane Mucklestone’s ‘200 Fair Isle Designs’.

 

Debbie Bliss Baby Cashmerino (pub 2001)

 

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Embroidered waist band on a sundress and ‘Mrs America’ on television

Appliquéd and embroidered waistband on a cotton sundress (hand embroidered by Mary Addison)

Although life is very calm and sweetly paced with no real responsibilities to distract me, days go  by far too quickly and in spite of always having a needle (or two) in hand, only things not on my ever lengthening list get done. Last week I made 10  drawstring bags with appliqué names for daughters 1, 2 & 3, as two of them said how useful they were for packing –  things like balls of wool, knickers, hair combs, adapters, cables, chargers, etc. and, as it seemed unfair to just make bags for 2 of them, I threw in a couple for the third daughter as well.  It’s always feels good to use odd fabric pieces to make something useful and I find I get as much enjoyment from making things like this as I do from more complex or ornate projects. I must, however, have mentally pigeon holed the finished bags as utilitarian for I handed them over without a thought of taking photographs. In the midst of bag making, a dress from daughter No 2 arrived in the post with the request to make the waist band more interesting. Fortunately an idea for this came quickly and as appliqué provides colour more effectively when time is limited  than embroidery alone, this didn’t take too long. I did take the time to photograph the dress, although as I was about to push it into an envelope for posting I didn’t waste time ironing it first.

Detail of appliquéd and embroidered waistband on a cotton sundress (hand embroidered by Mary Addison)

Appliquéd and embroidered waistband on a cotton sundress (hand embroidered by Mary Addison)

Daughters 2 & 3 came from London to see us on Saturday, just for the day and we spent what turned out to be a sunny and hot  afternoon having lunch outside, chatting the hours away and enjoying going through a file of their brother’s school work which my husband had come across  in one of his filing cabinet drawers. We were very impressed by the boy’s neat hand writing and his animal pictures which seemed to decorate everything he wrote, whether relevant or not – but this was a child who early in life had declared he was going to be a herpetologist (one who studies amphibians and reptiles), though he actually became an engineer instead. Somewhere I have files like this for each of the children, though typically I could only lay my hands on the one belonging to one of the children not actually in front of me.

Appliquéd and embroidered waistband on a cotton sundress (hand embroidered by Mary Addison)

In general I’ve become a bit fed up of what’s available on iPlayer, though I enjoyed Mrs America so much that I watched it all the way through twice and in doing so, learned almost more about the Feminist Movement in America than I knew before. The story of their failed attempt to get all states to ratify the 1972 Equal Rights Amendment to the US Constitution is thought provoking, though to be fair, more complicated than a TV show can truly handle. Acting  (Cate Blanchett is superb) and script sparkle, though it felt more like the 50s than the 70s – but perhaps that was just that the conservative women felt like more like 50s housewives than women of the 1970s. For me the 70s means lots of velvet clothing – winter or summer,  and if you lived in Oxford at the time that meant at least one Annabelinda* outfit. (After a champagne breakfast on the island where the Cherwell joins the Isis, I once fell out of a punt wearing an Annabelinda velvet and Liberty print pinafore and as I felt the water soak up through the velvet dragging me down I did think it was quite a pleasant experience. Fortunately, we were home alongside the steps by our Folly Bridge house and the water was no more than a foot deep! It was not so pleasant washing the silty mud out of the velvet but I must say the dress washed well and was worn many more times after.) The soundtrack accompanying the TV series, awakening memories of songs long forgotten, was an additional enjoyment.

*Just to get clear the Annabelinda relationship with Howard Marks (a Balliol man), once the world’s most wanted drug smuggler, I quote the Oxford Mail of 21 January 1998, “To provide himself with a respectable front for his new-found affluence derived from the drugs trade, he “adopted” Belinda O’Hanlon and Anna Woodhead, who were running a sewing partnership specialising in ball gowns for rich Oxford students. He advised the two women to move from their workshop in Park End Street and set up the business in Gloucester Green. That was the front he needed, and while the dress-making firm thrived, the two women were totally unaware of the drug-smuggling business Marks was running from an office upstairs.” (Not all clothes on sale were ball gowns; not all Oxford students were rich!)

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