Finished products

The last daffodil.

A couple of Christmases ago, my sister-in-law gave me one of the most thoughtful and useful gifts I have ever received: an ergonomic crochet set. I had learned how to knit while an undergraduate — to give my hands something to do during study breaks when I watched M*A*S*H and Star Trek and movies — but when I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis a few years later, I had to stop knitting. I had heard that arthritic-friendly crochet hooks existed and wanted to give them a try. I missed doing something with my hands.

It’s taken me over a year to finally sit down and learn how to crochet, and I have resumed knitting in the meantime (albeit very, very slowly), but I have learned. And I have made things! Many thanks to Faith for teaching me how to chain, single and double crochet, and make circles.

And so this week has been the week of finishing things: I finished the scarf I started a few months ago, I’ve crocheted two hot pads, and, after a year and a half, finished my first PhD moleskine.

As my friend Sarah has pointed out, when one is a PhD student, working on a thesis/book that takes years to complete, finishing something becomes a big deal. So look! I made a circle, a square, a scarf, and filled up a moleskine with various thoughts and notes for my thesis. It even has a Table of Contents/Index at the back.

I have since bought and begun writing in a new moleskine, and I have just finished putting a new knitting project on a set of 5.5mm, 80cm needles. I will need to knit a little faster than usual if I want to finish it in time to welcome a new Williams to the world.

Since things are always ending and beginning, here’s also a gratuitously adorable picture of a duckling pile:

Duckling piles are almost as cute as kitten piles.


A sample of my Works in Progress: text and textile.


His first breath of Martian air was cold. Luke gasped at the thin air and began to cough. Others behind him began to do the same. His eyes had seen the red desert outside of the windows; his mind expected heat to sear into his lungs. He coughed as much out of surprise as he did at the thinness of the air.



Soon the duke’s knights beg him to stop taking their wives as wet nurses for the child he believed to be his son. His own mother then tried to nurse Gowther, but he did not spare even her: ‘He snaffulld to hit soo / He rofe tho hed fro tho brest’ (129-130). Gowther did not kill his mother as he had the wet nurses, but the damage was done. In Sir Gowther, Gowther’s savage treatment of his wet nurses is an indication of his demonic paternity – like father, like son, as it were. The statement above about Horrible is spoken by his own – human – father, Raymondin, spoken just after he laments that his wife, who he now knows is some sort of spirit-creature, ‘neuer bare no child that shal at thende haue perfection’. Like Gowther, Horrible’s brutality is attributed to his unnatural parentage. It is because he is not fully human that he is as horrible as he is.


Wool: ‘Iris’ from New Lanark online shop.
Pattern: Adapted from The Purl Bee’s ‘Easy Mistake Stitch Scarf’.