Stromness Dragon

Yes folks, our last garage sale was so successful that we are doing it again this weekend! Loads more quality bruck is waiting to fly off the shelves into the homes of FC’s PUs the lovely public. Orkney bloggers get a special discount! Get down to the dragon’s lair today or tomorrow for top bargains!

Lovely books, very cheap......

This is mainly pictorial, chums.

First up, some photos of the delectable FC, during the recent Dragon trip to Anorak Towers. 

Note scones and jam

Hmm. This is quite acceptable. Do you have any olives?

Oooh, left a bit and up a fraction.....

Next up we have the bit you’ve been waiting for…..

THE TEA COSY!

We had a very cultural trip to Skara Brae, where we put the dresser in the replica house to good use.

Tea cosy on Skara Brae dresser. Pursued by a lobster.

A stone neuk bed, complete with animal skins and tea cosy. Civilised people, your neolithics.

Tea cosy with Stone Age house, the Bay of Skaill, and a nice chap called Gary.

And now one for the ailurophiles……

Things to do, voles to see, etc etc

The tea cosy is about to go on the ferry to Shapinsay to see Barebraes! Bon voyage……

Tags: cats, Skara Brae, tea cosy

I used to smoke. A lot. I smoked for 17 years and then gave up like that *snaps fingers*. This blog is about my long and illustrious smoking career. If you have never smoked or are trying to give up this might not be the most enticing subject for you, but for any resigned ex-smokers there might be the odd moment of resonance.

(Let’s assume, by the way, that I am a reasonably intelligent, well-read person who understood all the health risks, knew that it was disgusting, made clothes smell and was the equivalent of burning money etc etc etc. Yes, yes.)

I think it started with an exchange programme that my school organised with a school in Germany. This was the mid 80s, and we spotty German O level students, desperate to be cool, were bowled over by the confident, trendy, fringy-scarf-wearing students to whom we played host. My exchangee was an uber-cool girl called Sandra who wore Hi-Tech high tops and had sort of grown-out Farrah-Fawcet style hair. All the boys fancied her. She smoked, and she was generous with her fags, so I had one or two and thought myself very sophisticated.

To begin with, I didn’t smoke very much, and very rarely bought any. Is there anything worse than having a friend who scabs your fags and never buys their own? My friend Tina took me to task, and I purchased, from the shop at the top of the road, a packet of 10 Silk Cut. I flashed them round and became slightly more popular, which was a big deal to me in those days. A small group of us would make secret assignations round the garages near the school gates, puffing away furtively in break time. I even have a photo of three of them. I have no idea where they are now.

Then, in 6^th form, I got some flamboyant friends whose penchant was for posh, elegant fags in shiny flat boxes. Dunhill Menthol, I seem to recall (anything menthol in fact, like More, the long thin brown ones. Whoa – flashback time), but if we had a party to go to we bought Sobraine cocktail cigarettes. If we were wearing black, we bought the black cigs with the gold filters, and sometimes (oh Lordy, I am cringing as I write this) used a cigarette holder so we could pretend to be Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. If our party gear was pink, or blue or yellow, we bought the Sobraine coloured cigs, which came in loud shades to match, and seemed very outrageous to us pseudo-rebels.

The brand I smoked changed with fashion – I had no real concept of taste or strength, although I was never a fan of B&H – they tasted like fishy to me. Benson and Haddock, we used to call them. Or Benny Hennies. And when I went to University, the only fag to smoke was the iconic Marlboro. Red packets, that was the only kind. I have a series of photos from my time in a flat, surrounded by cats, teacups and mates, and in every single photo there can be seen a packet of Marlyboffs. We didn’t stage it, it was just that we all smoked them and they were everywhere. Soon after those photos were taken, the great day came when British shores were graced by the wonder and the beauty of what was and forever will be my favourite fag, Marlboro Lights. I flirted with other brands, light and otherwise (Camel for a while, because I had a cigarette tin in the design and shape of a packet of Camel – I still have the tin, but I now use it for keeping dressmaking pins in), but nothing else really ever came close.

In many respects my student days were largely law-abiding and sedate. I didn’t drink much, as I couldn’t really hold my drink (still can’t) and I didn’t really go out. My social life was very active, certainly, but consisted largely of gatherings at my house, wherein would be provided tea, cats, and an open fire. Somebody else would provide the substances and we spent many a happy hour getting wasted and drinking tea and talking and stroking the cats and staring into the coal fire. As illegal activities went, it was pretty tame. Of course, like all students, I was poor most of the time, and as I slid comfortably into Doc-wearing tie-dyed vague hippyness, the smoking inevitable came to pass. I discovered the joys of rolling my own. A whole new world of paraphernalia opened up. Pouches. Tins and skins. Filter or no filter? The whole, lovely ritual of Rizla paper, a few moist strands of baccy, the sensual rolling and the flick of the tongue before the final twist and the sparking up. Aaaaah. I developed the art of the thin fag – Barlinnie thinnies, they were called, after Scotland’s most notorious prison. They went out as soon as they came into contact with anything, including air. I had a lighter permanently welded to my hand. I had extra lighters in every pocket and invested in several Zippos, all of which got stolen or lost.

When I moved to the city and embarked upon a decade of gainful employment, I stuck with the rollies, and treated myself to a packet of Marlboro Lights every now and again. Working in a pub didn’t help, and all the other staff were smokers. In a more grown up job, regular work trips to Belgium provided ample opportunity for the purchasing of large blocks of damp, aromatic Dumas or Drum for a fraction of the cost at home. As work got more stressful and I climbed the corporate ladder, my occasional pack of 20 treat became a daily necessity, although I smoked the roll ups at home. Shortly before I stopped, I was smoking at least 20 cigarettes per day plus at least as many roll ups. Every task I undertook was punctuated by fags. One before I started. One halfway through. One when I needed to think. One when I got stressed. Several when I finished. Any smokers will recognise the impossibility of doing anything at all without having a fag. Starting the car. Going to bed. Having a cup of tea.

My best friends all smoked, and it seemed to be the case that it would always be the cool, alternative, interesting, sparky people who smoked. You had an instant camaraderie with other smokers, as you all congregated in one room, or outside the building. A friend could be made in seconds by the giving or receiving of a light, or a paper. We talked in horrified whispers of totalitarian states where smoking was forbidden in pubs, in homes, in the open air. It couldn’t happen here, could it?

Nearly 8 years ago, I went on a work management weekend to Peebles Hydro. We ate too much, drank malt whisky and swam in the health spa. As we drove home, I rolled up a fag and smoked it out of the car window. I felt slightly bilious and threw the butt out of the window just as we reached the outskirts of Edinburgh. Getting home about 6 o’clock, I felt tired and a bit nauseous from travel, so I went to bed. Himself was away for work, and wouldn’t be back for several days. The next day I was still queasy, and I didn’t eat or drink much. I realised at lunchtime that I hadn’t had a cigarette since the day before, and decided, just as an experiment, to see if I could go for 24 hours. I did, and went to bed feeling very virtuous, determined to see if I could last another 24 hours. After two days of not smoking, I started to take it seriously. Diversionary tactics were utilised – the flat had never been so clean. Ever time I had a nicotine urge, I scrubbed a floor, or a wall, or a door. I bought patches and had a nasty allergic reaction, but by then I had cracked it. By the time himself came home I had got through the crabby phase and was entering a period of self-righteous euphoria accompanied by over-eating. 20 Marlboro Lights were replaced by 20 bags of salt and vinegar crisps. I stuffed my face, figuring it must be easier to lose weight than quit the fags.

I have not had a cigarette since the 23 November 2001. I dream about it, occasionally, and the moment in my dream that I become aware that I am stubbing out a fag I am torn between anger at my weakness, and disappointment that I wasn’t aware I was smoking until it was finished, and therefore did not get the benefit. I still do a passable impression of a Bisto Kid (‘Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa’) when I walk past someone on the street smoking a roll up. Spiritually, I am still hanging out with the rebellious smokers round the back of the garages.

I have a plan, though. When I get to the age of 80, I am going to start smoking again. It will be the ultimate act of anti-social rebellious behaviour, and I shall slum it with the other senior delinquents behind the wheelchair sheds. Fags will be far too expensive though, and old arthritic hands wouldn’t manage to roll Barlinne thinnies any more. No, there’s nothing else for it. When I reach crone-dom, I am going to start smoking a pipe. A clay pipe, that I shall wedge in the gaps between my remaining teeth as I cackle and regale the younger generations with stories of my mis-spent youth. Would you like to join me?

Tags: Orkney, smoking

Hey y’all

It’s gone all busy here at the Dragon’s lair. Proper new blog coming soon, but in the meantime here’s the fabulous tea cosy pattern. Bear in mind it dates from the 1940s so don’t get too worried about the need for ‘fingering in gay colours’.  

Tea cosy featuring pom-pom

TEA COSY PATTERN 

KNITTED in a delightful cable pattern this teacosy is lined with wool in a contrasting colour. It fits the teapot closely and neatly with a hole for the spout and one for the handle so that it need not be removed when the tea is poured out. The flowers are made from lengths of bright wools, bunched together into a colourful posy and arranged on the top of the cosy.

Materials:

One ounce of Sirdar Super Shetland Wool; 3-ply fingering weight, in turquoise blue for the outside, and one ounce of the same wool in a contrasting colour for the lining.

A pair of No. 8 knitting needles (old UK size)

Oddments of embroidery wool, or fingering, in gay colours for the flowers.

A short spare needle for the cable stitches

Tension and Measurements:

Worked at a tension of 6 ½ sts to the inch in width on No. 8 needles, the cosy will measure 6 ½ inches high and 18 inches all round the lower edge when made up

Abbreviations:

K, knit plain;

P, purl;

st, stitch;

st st, stocking-stitch (k. on the right side, and p. back)

Directions in brackets are worked the number of times stated after the brackets.

To cable 6 slip the first two sts from the point of the left-hand needle on lo the cable needle, and leave these an front of the work, K the next four sts, then K the 2 sts left on the cable needle.

To Knit the Tea Cosy:

With turquoise wool cast on 64 sts for one side of the cosy, or for a larger size to cover a family teapot, cast on extra stitches in multiples of 8: By working at the tension given the measurements can be judged. By the same method finer needles can be used for a closer cover, such as No. 10, taking your tension (Which should be 7 ½ stitches to the inch) then casting on stitches according to the width of cover required. It can be made any depth required, by repeating the pattern rows to equal the height of the pot. 

Knit one row into the back of the sts to give a neat edge.

Purl 1 row

Now begin the pattern as follows:

1st row : K1, * k2, p2; repeat from * until 3 remain, k3 

2nd row : K1, p2; * k2, p2; repeat from * until 1 remains, k1. Repeat these two rows six times more. 

** Cable row: K3, * p2, cable 6; repeat from * until 5 sts remain, p2, k3 

Work the second row again, then the 1st and 2nd rows 3 times more 

Repeat from ** for depth required to the top of your teapot, then work the 1st and 2nd rows again.

 Break off wool, leaving a long end which you thread into a darning needle and pass through all the stitches. Draw up closely and fasten off securely.

Work a second piece in the same way.

The Lining

With contrasting wool cast On 60 sts and work 60 rows in st st

Draw up the sts as before. Work a second piece in the same way.

 To Make Up the Tea Cosy

Join the two outside pieces together at the side seams, beginning at the lower edge and sewing up side as far as the lower end of the handle of the teapot, and on the other side, to the under part of the spout. Leave about 2 ½ inches free for the handle of the teapot, then sew the remaining piece. On the opposite seam leave about one inch and a half for the spout of the teapot. If the tea pot is available measure the space for handle and spout.

Join the lining seams in the same way, then turn inside out and stitch inside the outer cover at the top.

Overcast all round the holes for the spout and handle so at the lining and covers are stitched together. Stitch the lower edge of the lining to the edge of the outside piece, when the lower edge of the outer cover will turn up inside the cosy. 

The Forget-Me-Nots

Take an 8-inch length of green wool. Fold it in half. Thread the needle with mauve wool and, using it doubled, tie one end to looped end of green wool and make a loop for a petal by passing the needle through the two wools at the knot. Draw the wool through, leaving about  ¼ inch for the petal (Diagram 1). Make four or five more loops in the same way (Diagram 2). Knot the ends of the green wool underneath the flower-head. Cut off the mauve wool. 

The Daisies

Use three lengths of wool together throughout. Cut an 8-inch length of trebled green wool for the stem. Fold at in half. With orange wool in the needle work  a knot at the fold . This will be the flower centre (Diagram 3). Using yellow wool in the needle work six or seven small loops underneath the centre knot (Diagram 4). Thread the needle with contrasting wool and work another round of larger loops below and outside the first round (Diagram 5). Knot at the back and trim off the ends 

Trumpet Flowers:

Use the wool treble throughout. First make the “trumpets” by folding a pink trebled 3 inch length into three. Take an 8 inch length of green wool and tie in the centre of the pink looped wool, making a 4 inch stem. At the end of each pink “trumpet” work a large yellow knot (Diagram 6), catching in the cut ends. Thread the needle with blue wool and make 5 or 6 loops behind each yellow knot (Diagram 7). Trim the ends. Thread the needle with deeper green wool and work three or four loops at the top of the stem for little leaves (Diagram

And if you want to see the original pattern, here’s a link!

http://www.knitting-and.com/knitting/patterns/teacosies/cable-teacosy.htm

HAPPY KNITTING!

Tags: Knitting tea cosy Dragon