wait a minute Mr Post Man, look and see...

today i am eagerly awaiting Mr Post Man,

for upon his truck will be my itty bitty trampoline!

i have high hopes for me and my trampoline.

being middle aged i have a heightened awareness

of dangers and whatnot that can come 

from doing extra curriculum activities

hence i am wisely placing my itty bitty trampoline

outside in the back yard,

for i fear inside our shed

with its tres low ceilings

even my top knot would not protect me

from a bonce injury.

with this thought i am now wondering

if i were to wear a bicycle helmet

i may be able to bounce on my new springy friend indoors 

with no fear of my noggin

coming in direct contact with the ceiling.

i will ponder this whilst waiting

for the sound of a truck pulling up,

my constant canine companions going batty at the window

and 

my lovely splendid itty bitty 'only room for one and thats me' trampoline's arrival

just in time for a bit of late afternoon jumping in the sun

a thing or two ...

a thing:

last week a roving reporter dearie came to visit.

she was terribly lovely and took photos of my 'atelier of sorts'

and other bits and bobs around mossy shed

the only time someone of the professional sort 

has taken photos of our space and its contents 

was for the Granny Chic book

it tis quite interesting to watch someone else

see things you would never see through a lens.

now i must wait (albeit it nervously) to see her view

when the article comes out sometime this week

or two:

in the meantime i have given 

my collection of Liberty Wool 

preferential treatment.

it does look all quite worryingly pink

but i will not fret,

for i know on the inside are some rather lovely

sludgy grolly colours waiting to be discovered... 

footynote:
as soon as i pop this up for all to read
i discover the article is out there.
if you fancy a ganders
you can find it over here

this, that, that, this, this & that ...

this:

i cannot believe it is only 6 days till school gets out for summer, this means the year is nearly half way done. i fear once again, this year is running away from me

that:

i have become addicted to making 'little knits'. the smock i made up in my cogs is off the pins and awaits my scribbled notes being tippity tapped up into a readable pattern for two dearie volunteers who stepped forward, to test

that:

do you recall one of my brothers is an artist? perhaps you do not, and if not, then may i remind you he is.  recently he has started working on itty bitty pet portraits (6" x 6") and how marvelous they are too. Our #4 turned 16 a few weeks back and i commissioned my brother to create a painting of Mister Muchly, for his birthday. 

well Our #4 was thrilled and so was MM. if perchance you think your little critter or furry friend may like to be 'forever captured' in an original Ben Hughes painting, then you can find all the nitty gritty over here and if you can't, then you can find his email address and write to him to ask about all the nitty gritty

this:

there is a pressing need to put down the knitting pins... Tif, step away from the knitting pins and step towards Miss Ethel. for she is rusty and she is dusty and she is feeling tres neglected. vintage linens are waiting 'oh so patiently', not rusty but certainly dusty, to be made into handy dandy project sacks. i have talked to them as i pass them by, trying to sooth their worried minds. 

i plan to make a firm date with them... ummm, just need to get this latest little knit out of my cogs and onto my pins

this:

did i mention i left my heart in marrekech? but alas, tis all fading fast despite trying to recollect each day. i have no choice but to plot and plan how and when i can return. perhaps next time not for 5 days but 5 months, or 5 years!

& that:

i am considering what it would be to 'dread' just a few locks of my coif. i have studied it intently, i have pondered it most carefully. having wished for the longest time a headful of dreads i am thinking perhaps a handful might be the best way to go for now. 

doubters of the utmost kind ...

"so, basically you are knitting for a non-existent child and you are making a club for it?"

"you know you will jinx ever becoming a granny don't you?"

"this will be it, in two years when the last one has flown, me sitting here and you sitting there with your knitting, intensely engrossed"

ah yes, just a few of the words i have read or listened to over the past few days, i am not naming names, but they are doubters of the utmost kind who are living in my midst. but does not matter, for what matters is i am able to say, 

"ah ha! yes but i am not the only fruitcake on the shelf, for it would appear the world is full of fruitcakes just like me"

 from pretty much all over the globe, lovely wonderful fruitcake dearies such as myself have joined The 'little knits for small beings' Club! how terribly exciting and muchly thrilling. over a 120 have joined on Ravelry and others just by writing to me and telling me so. we have become a band of merry knitty and crochet makers, joined together by our wish to create itty bitty goodness from yarn.

i will now spend my time wisely making a certificate of membership and a little badge (pin or button) so in a few weeks, when they are all ready and back from the printers i can let the club dearies know to send off their stamped addressed envelopes!

so before the week is out and the weekend is upon us (although i think it may well be for those the other side of the globe) can i just say thank you most kindly for thinking me not completely barking mad and for being so jolly nice about wanting to join my new club. it warmed my crafty soul and made me feel a less alone.

i have high hopes this is just the beginning of something most marvelous for all of us...

cheerio for now club dearies and other dear readers, see you in a few and may the crafty gods be with you

x

footynote: i am not naming names but i must say, 2 of my lads of 3 were not responsible for any of the above comments. they do not seem to have noticed their mother is obsessed with knitting little makes for small beings, as would be expected of teenage lads.