Wednesday, 4 September 2019

Did you hear that?

That noise?  That loud and frightful screech that could only be a creature in deep distress?  

Or me, trying to weave.

I had some trouble getting going but then started to feel more in charge of the thing.  Not everything was perfect, but this is a dishcloth.  I just need to to get weaving. 

I thought I was doing pretty well even though I seem to have missed one reed space.  It isn't going to compromise a dishcloth.  Later I noticed that there is one place where I have two warp threads on the same shaft, but again, not going to be a real problem on a dishcloth.  I made both ends with a crochet cotton so that I could sew a sturdy proper hem and not have it be so heavy.  


If you look carefully above, you can see that the bottom batten is not on the reed.  Look for a dark blue straight edge near the top of the photo.  That is the bottom of the reed and ought to be encased in a frame made of wood.  Mine kept falling off. I checked more than once that it was seated properly and it was.  You could not get it any farther into the frame than the wood is cut.  That was the trouble getting started.  I decided that I really did not need that piece.  It wasn't attached other than by friction fitting and since it kept falling off, ha, I was going to ignore it.  And I wove.

And then this.


The top of the reed fell out.  

I replaced it...'eighteen... times 'to quote the brilliant and much missed Robin Williams, in his ever so funny piece about the invention of golf. (Please don't click the link unless you do not mind a bit of rough language.)  I think of this because that is exactly how I felt after the fourth of fifth time. There was language.

And then I decided that I had done enough for the day, that it was time to go to the manuals to see if the parts were put together correctly (they are), to see if I could find some help on ravelry and to have another cup of coffee.  

And then I noticed it was 1 p.m.  I ate some lunch.  I did some knitting.  

If anyone says that knitting cannot soothe the savage beast, they are wrong.

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