T'ao Ch'ien (Tao Yuanming): Shady, shady the wood in front of the Hall

Shady, shady the wood in front of the Hall:
At midsummer full of calm shadows.
The south wind follows summer's train :
With its eddying puffs it blows open my coat.
I am free from ties and can live a life of retirement.
When I rise from sleep, I play with books and harp.
The lettuce in the garden still grows moist:
Of last year's grain there is always plenty left.
Self-support should maintain strict limits:
More than enough is not what I want.
I grind millet and make good wine :
When the wine is heated, I pour it out for myself.
My little children are playing at my side,
Learning to talk, they babble unformed sounds.
These things have made me happy again
And I forget my lost cap of office.
Distant, distant I gaze at the white clouds:
With a deep yearning I think of the Sages of Antiquity. 

T'ao Ch'ien (365–427)

As translated by Arthur Waley (1919) in One Hundred 

& Seventy Chinese Poems  London: Constable & Co

How to Replace the Felt or Baize in a Toolbox Drawer, Engineer's Cabinet or Jewellery Box

I bought an old Moore & Wright engineer's cabinet the other day, in oak. It's rather lovely, but missing its door and handle, which is a shame, but neither is crucial in a private workshop. However, the old felt had been removed from the draws and so I set about replacing it with some new lining. Along the way I learnt a bit, so thought I would pass it on in the hope that it might be of use to others. Whilst the example here is a little draw from the cabinet, the same instructions would apply for a cutlery draw, jewellery box etc. - indeed anything where the sides were straight and there was no complicated structure.

The chances are that as you have found this post you already have something that needs a new lining, but you know almost any old box, chest or cabinet can be rescued with a bit of sandpaper, a bottle of wax and some new felt; it will almost certainly be nicer than a modern mass produced thing and will represent another bit of the past saved and used (which is the best way of saving something like this). Good for the object, twice as good for the environment and just as good for your soul. What more can you ask?

Step-by-Step Instructions on How to Re-felt a Drawer or Box

Step 1: Here is the draw that I want to re-felt. It is important that it is free from any old lining or glue blobs, this is particularly true of the corners. If need be scrape these out with a craft knife.

We start by felting the sides and so measure the depth of the drawer and the length of the sides and front/back.

Step 2: Felt or baize is far from cheap and so it pays to think ahead as to how you are going to use your material. I did my first drawer, then once I was comfortable I cut all the sides out for the 4 identical small drawers, trying to make sure I had as little waste as possible.

You need to add 1mm or a slim 1/16" to the depth and 5mm or 1/5" to the width of each piece, to allow you to fit it exactly to the side you are working on - this is particularly important with old boxes or cabinets, where sizes might not be consistent. Indeed on a very 'rustic' item or large box you might need to add more than this.

Step 3: Once you have cut out your strip, mark with a pen what you intend to get out of it, this is particularly important if your cutting a number of strips in one go. Do this on the same side as you marked out for cutting, so you only have pen marks on one side. Here I had a piece that had 2 sides and 1 front or back piece in it.

Step 4: We start by doing the sides, rather than the front or back pieces. So take the right sized piece of felt and mark the side and the piece of felt with a number so that you know both which piece goes where and which way up it goes.

Step 5: Set the piece of felt in the drawer, so that the bottom sits on the bottom of the drawer. You should now see the extra width protruding from the top of the drawer (and it will show up poor cutting as it has here!). It is now a process of gradually removing thin slivers from the edge, until it meets the top of the draw. Try to do this from the top, so as to remove any final pen marks from marking out. Don't throw the waste slivers away - you might need these later!

As I say it is important that we go through this, cutting and matching each piece to each side, to ensure we get a good fit. The photo actually shows me fitting the back, but the process is exactly the same.

Don't worry that it doesn't look 'right' at this stage when you lay them in, they won't until you glue them.

Step 6: We now do the ends, again the photo shows me doing the back, but the process is the same for the sides. Quite simply reduce the length of the piece until it fits; do this in small steps. Obviously, as per the photo, you need to have the sides sitting there when cutting the front and back to length.

Step 7: How you glue the pieces in is really a matter of preference. You certainly don't want to get glue on the face side of the felt and, not being the most careful of people, I decided to glue the 2 sides, front & back and then wash my hands, before putting them in.

However, the inside faces of these draws are not sealed and the wood is very dry, so it was drawing the moisture out of the glue really, really quickly. For the larger draws I had to glue and place the four sides one-by-one. You'll just have to play about and see what works for you and the project you're working on. Whichever way you choose, a wet tissue and towel on hand it a good idea.

The most important bit of the face is the top lip and this will get the most wear as the drawer is used, so make sure you have plenty of glue here - I kept a thin dibber to hand so that I could add further glue as I was placing it.

I would like to have used a natural glue, but they are still on my 'to get to grips with' list, so this is simply PVA.

Step 8: Ensure that you have the right piece, the right way up and then carefully place the end into the corner. You follow the top edge, almost - but not quite - ignoring the bottom edge, smoothing it down with your fingers. You might well find that when you get to the other end the felt has stretched a little and that you need to trim it again. Do this for all four side pieces.

Step 9: With the two sides, the front and the back now done we turn our attention to the base. Either measure the internal area (again adding 1mm or a thin 1/6") or draw around the drawer. The only problem with the later is that you could waste quite a bit if the sides are thick. Mark one of the corners with an X and do the same on the back of the felt, so that you know what goes where. Fit the marked corner tight on both sides. You should be able to just push it under the felt on the sides, to give a nice tight edge - although don't worry too much at this stage as we'll be taking it out again.

Step 10: Once you have got it laid in tight use a ball point pen to mark off the excess. You don't want to push the tip into the corner, but instead rest the pen on the base. Try to mark it so that you cut on the inside of the line, removing all of the pen mark. Remove the base, cut and then do another trial fitting, adjusting as needed.

When gluing the base I found that it was helpful to put a piece of paper up against the sides to protect them from any wayward glue (or sticky fingers!). Smooth in the base felt, starting from the corner marked with the X. Push it under the sides with a finger nail or alike, to ensure a nice sharp edge. 

Step 11: Do you remember the little slivers I said not to throw away? Well just sometimes you'll find that the bottom edge of the side doesn't quite meet up with the base felt. In that instance you can carefully glue in one of these to hide it away. It's not perfect, but for 90% of jobs it will be close enough...

Finally sit back and marvel at your new draw lining! New baize really makes a huge difference and can transform a tired cabinet or box.

Nest Egg Basket & Pasta Making

The Pekin Bantams that we hatched towards the end of last year have now been moved down to the allotment and are laying well. We have 3 lavender hens and a lavender cock, as well as a black frizzle hen and a black/white frizzle cock. Most lay most days and it is surprising how quickly the eggs build up. The little egg holder we had in the kitchen was nowhere near big enough and we realised that we needed something else to hold them safe in.

Maybe it was too much Springwatch or seeing the birds at Katie’s school on their nest camera, but it seemed to me that the very best thing for the eggs would be a nest. We had in the garage some heather cut last year, as well as a little willow and birch. All of it had dried out and so I soaked in a warm bath to make it pliable (which made one of the biggest messes inside the house that I have ever achieved...). My intention had been to photograph the stages and provide a step-by-step photo blog on how to make one, but I quickly realised that I didn’t have a clue what I was doing!

At first I started with two willow rings, made in the usual way by winding willow around in on itself, one smaller than the other. But these were green willow and I would never have been able to hide it within the darker material, plus how was I going to connect the two? So I abandoned the willow and went straight for the heather, again making a ring and then sort of building it up from there. I cannot provide any instructions – it was highly frustrating and fell apart more than once. In the end I used some fine brown cotton, which you can just about see looking at it, to bind it up a bit. It might well be that now it has dried you could cut this off and it would still stay whole, but I don’t intend to find out. I lined the inside with a mix of pillow feathers (much finer than I had imaged) and some craft feathers we had (look like pheasant to me).

What I took away from making it more than anything was a genuine deep respect for nest making birds. Here I was, with ten fingers and cotton thread, struggling to make something that they could construct, far more perfectly than I, with their beak and maybe some spider web or mud. It was only by actually trying to replicate nature’s craft that I understood just how hard it was and how skilled these birds are. It was an experience that has radically changed my perspective and I cannot recommend trying it highly enough – just be prepared to be very frustrated along the way... 

Making pasta

With 24 eggs needing to be used up we decided to have a pasta making session. 100g of organic Tipo ‘00’ flour per egg (or two bantam eggs), mixed and kneaded and then rolled out in the pasta machine. We made lasagne sheets, tagliatelle and spaghetti, drying the latter two on a long pine dowel we got from the ironmongery, suspended between two chairs. It dried over night and could then be wrapped up in brown paper for use over the coming days.

The Age of Healing by John Seymour

 "The Age of Plunder is nearly at an end.
The Age of Healing is ready to be born.

And whether it arrives or not depends upon two people: you and me.

The Age of Plunder was the natural successor to the so-called Age of Reason: the Age in which humankind decided that it knew better than God. For 200 years now the greedy and ruthless have been plundering the planet but their time will soon be up. The whole thing is going to come crashing down.

It could not have gone on much longer anyway - because soon there will be nothing left to plunder. The forests have almost gone from the Earth, the fish of the sea are all but exhausted, the air surrounding us and the waters of the Earth will soon be able to take no more poisonous wastes and, most serious of all, the soil is going. For we soil organisms this could be terminal. As long as the oil reserves last agribusiness will be able to produce the agrichemicals needed to keep some sort of production of vitiated food going from the eroded soil, but the oil deposits - that Pandora's Box of evil things - will soon be exhausted and then the final account, long deferred, will come up for payment. The bailiffs who present it will have strange names, like Famine, Pestilence and War.

But, thank God, maybe the old Earth will not have to wait for this to happen. The whole great edifice of international trade and finance - the whole mighty plunder-machine - is quite likely to burst like a balloon that has grown too big. The whole thing is becoming unsustainable: it has grown too huge to manage.

Owing to the incorrigible tendency towards cannibalism by the huge industrial corporations - the tendency of the bigger ones to swallow up the smaller ones - these molochs are becoming too large for humans to control or the planet to support. Ten years ago no economist would have predicted the complete collapse of the mighty Soviet machine that had engulfed half the Earth. International capitalism will follow.

It is in the nature of a limited company that it can have no responsibility either to the environment around it or to the people who work for it. It is no use blaming the directors - if they do anything that might reduce profits for the shareholders they will quickly be replaced. And the shareholders not only have no liability for debts incurred by the company - but they take no responsibility for the world of nature around them. If the directors can secure bigger profits by dumping poisons into the nearest river - they have to do this. If they do not, they will very quickly be replaced. If they can make more profit by halving the work force - they will have to do so or again they will be replaced. If both shareholders and directors suffer from that most uncapitalist thing - a conscience - to the extent that it interferes with profits - that company will be swallowed up by another giant that has no such inconvenient scruples.

One of the most dramatic effects of the Age of Plunder has been to drive most of the world's population into vast conurbations. These huge assemblies of uprooted people, called cities, are not only ugly but also dangerous. The billions who live in them can only be kept alive by an enormous system of transport which brings water, food, power, fuel and all the necessities of life, often great distances. Any breakdown in the supply of all this would be disastrous. And the great plundering molochs of companies which run it all get fewer and fewer, and bigger and bigger, and more and more people find themselves out of work, not needed, redundant and disempowered.

And meanwhile the tiny scattering of people left on the land, which is the only source of true wealth, have been forced by their paucity of numbers to resort to more and more destructive methods of producing the huge amount of food needed to sustain these billions. They have been forced to ignore the laws of husbandry, which could have retained the fertility of the soil as long as the world lasted, and farm instead with chemicals and huge machines. The soil is becoming poisoned and eroded. The only beneficiaries of this have been the huge chemical companies but they will destroy themselves in the end because they are killing the goose that laid the golden eggs.

If we open our eyes, we will realize that all this is bound to come crashing down in the end. Then, in the ashes of the Age of Plunder, a new age could arise. The real New Age: the Age of Healing!

We will set about it, just you and me, to heal the ravaged Earth. If we do not - if we fail - then there will not be an Age of Healing: there will be an Age of Chaos and it will not be nice.

And we do not have to wait for the end of the Age of Plunder to start the work. We must start now.

And how can we - just the two of us, you and me, who are so few and disempowered - start this great work by ourselves?

Firstly, say to yourself, and I promise I will do the same, the following resolution:
"I am only one. I can only do what one can do. But what one can do I will do!"
Then consider what you can do.
Refuse to work for the plunderers. Refuse to buy their shoddy goods. Give up the ambition of living like a Texan millionaire. Boycott the Lottery, not because you think you won't win it, but because you don't want to win it!

Refuse to shop in the plunderer's "supermarkets".

Work, always, for a decentralist economy. Support local traders and producers - try to get what you need from as near your home as you can.

Take part in your local politics - boycott the politics of the huge scale, the remote and far-away. The current non-violent defiance of the law by people protesting against the export of live animals from Britain is a fine example of citizen-power.

Work for an economy in which land and property are fairly shared out among the people so that "everybody has enough and nobody has too much".

We must withhold our work, our custom, and our investment from plundering industry. This may cause us "financial hardship" : then we must endure "financial hardship" .

Road transport is the most destructive thing of all. If you live in a city, you do not need a car. (When you go to the country you can hire one - it's much cheaper than owning.) If you live in the country, you may need one - use it as little as possible.

Boycott most goods brought from far away. Take some trouble to find locally produced goods and buy them. Heavy road transport is enormously polluting.

Oppose new road building. Building new roads never relieves traffic congestion - it simply generates more traffic. The only way of solving the traffic problem is to have less traffic.

If you possibly can, do not work for huge organizations. If we withhold our labour from them, they will wither away. (Do not be afraid that this will lose "jobs". It will create more jobs - a multitude of small firms create more "jobs" than a few big ones).

Support local cultural activities. Boycott mass "culture" coming from countries far away.

Encourage, support, and initiate, local credit and finance organizations.

Buy, if you cannot grow, organically produced food. Thus you will help destroy the polluting chemical industry - and you will be healthier. Boycott, absolutely consistently, all products that have involved cruelty to animals.

Support the local and the small-scale.

I will do the same as I ask you to do.

The tiny amount you and I can do is hardly likely to bring the huge worldwide moloch of plundering industry down? Well, if you and I don't do it, it will not be done, and the Age of Plunder will terminate in the Age of Chaos. We have to do it - just the two of us - just you and me. There is no "them" - there is nobody else. Just you and me. On our infirm shoulders we must take up this heavy burden now - the task of restoring the health, the wholeness, the beauty and the integrity of our planet. We must start the Age of Healing now! Tomorrow will be too late."

Extract from www.carninglipress.co.uk

Photos: Flowers & Plants in the Balcony Garden

Californian poppies (Eschscholzia californica) are just lovely and these self sown seedlings are flowering earlier on the warm balcony compared to those in the ground, giving a much needed splash of colour after a long wet spring. There is a wonderful genetic variability in the seed giving rise to a range of tones, from these deep oranges to a light lemon, as well as many differences in the forms. My favourite photo of the day.

The bright green new growth on the Box (Buxus sempervirens) contrasts with last year’s darker, more mature growth. We have two Box balls that we usually place either end of the sofa we take out onto the balcony in summer. Sitting right by the arm rests it encourages you to run your fingers through, releasing that wonderful scent. Slow growing, Box is expensive, especially when clipped, but these came from a chain DIY store during a hot June and couple of years ago, when the idea of using water on the plants didn’t seem to occur to them. Wilted and rather unhappy looking we bought them for £5 each. If you are willing to give a little TLC it’s amazing what bargains can be found, as well as a warm glow that comes from rescuing a plant from uncaring hands.

We've no idea how this clump of forget-me-not (Myosotis) got up onto the balcony, but this is the first year we remember it - perhaps we sowed them or we had one or two plants that set seed last year. It's going over now, but has given a much needed lift to this corner. However it arrived when weeds are this pretty they are more than welcome.

This Hydrangea (Hydrangea macrophylla 'Altona') must be as tough as old boots. It's the second variety we have had up here, as the first withered and died at the first breath of sea air that blew across its leaves. Last year family matters meant that all our plants were abandoned without water and at the start of spring this year this new Hydrangea was pronounced dead too. Then on a closer inspection we noticed just one tiny shoot from the base, then another and another. So we pampered it a bit, some water, a warm spot and it has rewarded our attention with the fresh new growth. I wonder if it will flower this year?

It doesn't show up quite so well in the picture as it did on the plant, but this bright yellow streak of pollen looked quite shocking set against the vivid orange of the Californian Poppy (Eschscholzia californica).

I am always amazed that for a Middle Eastern plant, with such an exotic appearance, the fig (Ficus carica) is one of the earliest plants on the balcony to awaken from its winter slumber. At first you don’t actually believe that the figs are swelling, to soon surely?, and its only when the leaf buds start to break that you realise that it is gearing up for the coming seasons. What could be more hopeful during a wet and damp March than the sight of the juicy summer figs starting to grow? A couple of nights ago I heard Bob Flowerdew suggest a fig as the ultimate balcony plant for absent minded gardeners looking for something edible and unusual, that is virtually indestructible. The key thing is to keep them in a pot to restrict the roots, so that they produce fruit as well as foliage. Ours is only the usual ‘Brown Turkey’, but Reades Nursery hold the national collection of figs and can supply a wide range of plants.

It’s the first year we have grown Dahlias (‘Coltness Mix’) from seed for cut flowers at the allotment and in doing so have we also learnt an important lesson in bringing on plants. The seeds were sown in a covered seed tray back in March and once the first true leaves appeared we pricked out a few into pots. For some reason (we might have run out of compost) we didn’t prick them all out. Those that had been potted on went into a bay window in the house. After a few weeks most were transferred to the greenhouse at the allotment, leaving a few in the window and at the same time the remaining ones in the seed tray were potted on. Well what a difference at planting time. Those that were left in the seed tray and potted on late were considerably behind, with poor root growth – good enough to go out, but behind. Those in the bay window, that I had always considered to be bright & light, were rather lanky and delicate looking and it is these that we have potted on to mollycoddle on the balcony, as in the photo on the left. Finally, the ones that were potted on in a timely fashion and then transferred to the greenhouse are wonderfully stout, sturdy plants that look great planted out in a row. Of course it’s nothing that you don’t read regularly in the gardening books, but often it’s only this firsthand experience of seeing the difference that makes it sink in. 

The photo on the right shows some Box cuttings I took a couple of years ago, but never got around to potting on. They had stalled, but I repotted them this winter and they have now started to put on new growth. The cuttings took easily in the usual way and I intend to take lots more this year, when I prune the Box balls, for use as edging at the allotment.

This is a hardy Osteospermum with lovely flowers, although I have no idea of the cultivar. We had ‘Silver Sparkler’ a few years ago, which was a nice plant with whiter flowers and variegated foliage, but it was tender and we lost it very quickly one unexpectedly cold night. This hardy plant survived some reasonably cold nights, including snow, although the balcony is spared the worse of the frosts. One thing I could never do was get ‘Silver Sparkler’ to take from cuttings, but I’ll have a go with this one as I would like a second plant for the allotment for use as cut flowers.

This Copper Birch is possibly the most unsuitable tree that we could have bought for the balcony! Seeing it (Betula nigra ‘Summer Cascade’) discounted at the local nursery, I imagined that as Silver Birch is almost endemic on the sandy commons here in the Sanderlings it would cope with our salt laden winds and tolerate dry soil, as it was to live in a pot on the sun baked balcony. Once we had got it home, carried it through the house and upstairs (sadly breaking one or two smaller branches) and got it planted into its specially made pot, I looked up the particular cultivar and found it was an American bred river birch...!

However, we have fallen in love with its form and after a rough start (it had to be laid on its side for four weeks because the painter was in), it is responding to daily watering and starting to come into leaf. The best thing, and one of the reasons we bought it, is that it is acting as a sign post to the garden for birds, which seem happy to share the small space with us.  

Toasted Teacake Recipe

One thing we love at the weekends (and sometimes in the week too) is to have a proper afternoon tea. It is really nice to get all the old china out and sit down together over fresh coffee and cake, chatting or reading through magazines. The trick is to borrow all the sense of occasion and beauty from the ritual, without the stuffiness or formality.

So last weekend I decided to have a go at baking some English teacakes, the most quintessential of afternoon tea treats. Little did I know that working out what a teacake actually was would prove so difficult... but in the end I came up with a recipe that I am really pleased with.

Mrs Beeton: The addition of sugar and fruit
is very nice...

As with so much traditional English food recipes vary depending on the region and historical period, and names sometimes referred to very different recipes. Historically speaking a teacake, particularly in the north east of England (most famously Yorkshire), was a small yeast based bread, without fruit - a direct descendant of the Manchet bread or 'hand bread'. However in modern usage, almost throughout England, it refers to a bun with fruit and spices. 

Writing in 1861 Mrs Beeton's basic recipe follows this older northern use of the term and doesn't have either sugar or currants in them, although she does say that they are 'very nice' with them added, making a more southern, modern teacake. 

Two other interesting elements are the use of eggs (quite literally some do and some don't include them - really without rhyme or reason) and also the different types of fat they use. I went for butter in the end, as although the use of lard would certainly have made for a shorter mix, I could not quite bring myself to use it. Dan Lepard has a really interesting recipe on the Guardian website and suggests the use of white chocolate instead of lard... I thought about using his version, but I think it would make his already sweet recipe very sweet indeed. 

However, what I did learn from Dan was that fat, sugar and even spices slow the yeast down, so much so that for his recipe he recommends 5tsp of dried yeast. Mine are not so sweet or fatty, so I have reduced this to 3tsp - but this is still much more than I would have added for bread.

The dough is set to rise twice, until doubled
in size, which is around an hour each.

Most times teacakes are served split and toasted and I would suggest making them the day before you need them. Our toaster has a 'bagel' setting that only heats the element on one side. So I toasted them until almost done on the inside surfaces first, then turned the knob so that both sides heat up and warm the top or bottom for the last 30 seconds or so. Obviously with a grill this is even easier and on an open fire much more fun.

I was surprised to find that the buttering of teacakes is considered an art in itself, with almost every writer advocating their own tried and tested method. Perhaps the only constant was that a meanness of butter is deplored by everyone. The rather emphatic advice below is borrowed from Dorothy Hartley:

' The right way to butter toasted teacakes (IMPORTANT): Toast bottoms and tops first; split and toast insides; lay (do not poke or spread) bits of butter on the lower half; cover with the top half; and invert. Keep hot for 3 minutes, then turn the right side up, polish the top with a suspicion of butter, cut into quarters, and send to the table. In this way the butter is evenly distributed and does not soak down into the bottom crust.’

Teacakes just before brushing with milk and baking.

My first batch of teacakes followed a middle road and included some currents, but not peel or spices. They were nice, but perhaps rather predictably neither-this-nor-that and, being a southerner, I felt they would be improved with some spice. So to my second lot I added ginger, cinnamon and allspice. Allspice is an unusual spice to use (I couldn't find any other recipes using it), but is one of my favourites and I think works well. However, you could replace this with nutmeg for a more traditional combination.

The recipe produces a light and fragrant teacake, but also one which has a depth of flavour and texture from the wholemeal flour, even more so if spelt is used. Please do try it and let me know what you think... 

Teacake Recipe

   8oz (250g) white flour

   8oz (250g) wholemeal flour (wholegrain spelt is ideal)

   2 oz (50g) butter 

   4 oz (125g) currants

   1oz (25g) caster sugar 

   1 tsp of salt

   3 tsp of yeast
   1/2 pint of tepid milk

Either: 

   1/2 tsp of cinnamon and dried ginger

   1/2 to 1 tsp of allspice

or 

   1/2 tsp each of cinnamon, dried ginger and nutmeg

Mix together the milk and yeast and then set aside. Combine the flour, spices, salt and sugar before rubbing in the butter and finally adding the currents. Pour in the milk and yeast mixture to form a soft dough and then kneed until elastic and smooth.

Place the dough into a large bowl and cover with a damp tea towel, then place into a warm place until the mixture has doubled in size - I usually use the oven set to 30°c and this takes around an hour.

Cut the dough into 8 pieces, before setting
to rise a second time.

Divide the mixture into 8 equally sized pieces and form each one into a flat round, placing them onto baking trays. Cover with the damp tea towel and leave to rise in the warm place, again until they have doubled in size (about an hour).

Finally brush the tops very gently with milk (this can be done before the final proving if you wish) and then place in the oven at 400°f or 200°c for around 20mins - until they are golden brown. Allow to cool on a wire rack.

Toast and butter as described above an serve on the very best chintzy china. 

Back on the loom again...

If you could see me, you would see a big fat grin on my face. Because after almost a year and half I am actually doing some more weaving. As I have mentioned before we acquired the loom in December 2010 and made three scarves and a tie as presents (literally finishing late into the night before we left to be with the family for the holiday) and since then it has sat unused.
 

The three warps marked up

Whilst they all came out quite well, we were always battling the warp – both in terms of getting it onto the loom and inconsistent tension. Most of this was caused by the fact we didn’t have a warping frame and was using a upturned sofa or two chairs stood apart. Neither worked well – unsurprisingly! However, as you’ll see here I finally got around to making a new warping frame at the start of this year.


Now, in typical me style, as soon as the warp frame was finished (actually there was still one peg to do!) I decided to weave a 12m (39ft) length of fabric, at the full width of the loom, which is 36”. As you see from a photo on that previous blog post from a couple of months ago, I even warped out half of it. However, I got into a right old pickle, the tension still didn’t feel quite right, even on the warping frame and I couldn’t remember how to warp the loom, never mind that I had added a homemade raddle into the mix since.

And so the whole project ground to a halt and I found myself unable to see the wood for the trees – inertia invariably took over and still the loom sat unused.
 

After 1 1/2 years the first new warp
being woven on the loom

Then last week someone suggested that perhaps I should start a little smaller. Put the troublesome 39ft warp to one side and try again, with scrap yarn on a short warp. Hmm... now that sounds obvious written down, but at the time it was just the prompt I needed. And so I wound a short 2m (6ft) warp onto the warping frame and... well... buggered it up! I didn’t have the raddle cross and the thread cross at the right end!

But no matter, scrap yarn that I can use for something else, take two...

I can’t remember what went wrong with take two... but something did. Time for some help, time for youtube. So I went looking for a step-by-step guide to warping the loom and found myself being helped along by Barbara Elkins.

Finally warp three was a success, a real success actually. A nice even tension, that so far has persisted through the warp and I even managed to do it single handed.

3/8" stripes, but soft lines because of the
slugs in the cream yarn

 I deliberately haven’t loaded a ‘useful’ length of warp onto the loom, so that I don’t get seduced into trying to ‘make something’. The point is that this is a tester warp, for trial and error...

The yarn is one my mother-in-law found at a charity shop a while back and to look at it on the cone I wasn’t too keen, but actually on the loom it doesn’t look too bad. The label says it’s a wool/cashmere mix, but it also seems to have a cotton or poly core to it, under the slugs. I only set the warp to 8 ends per inch (epi), so that I didn’t waste too much yarn until I got the knack of warping and with the intention that I would do two more tester warps, at 16epi and 24epi, so that I can see the difference that increasing the number of warp threads has - perhaps doing the same designs as I have on this one so I can compare.

I started out trying a very loose weave, with the same yarn as the warp. This looked nice, but moved easily up and down the warp so that the pattern never held. I then tried a block of weaving, in both tabby and twill, again with the same yarn. Nice, but perhaps a bit 1980s Marks & Spencer.
 

A 5" tester sample piece
and then on to something new.

On the shuttle bobbin I had a pale blue silk/cotton mix yarn that had come from a jumper we bought at a charity shop (see the post here on recycling wool). It’s a fine yarn, but I thought I would give it a go and I was rather pleased with the result. Again it moves up and down the warp a bit (I assume this will stop when I increase the epi), but I actually quite liked the ribbed effect. It is beating in at around 160 picks per inch.

After an inch or so I decided to try a striped pattern, using a tabby weave on the blue silk/cotton and twill on the wool/cashmere, in 3/8” bands. I am really pleased with the result – the colours and pattern have an almost Georgian undertone – but looser and softer. The slugs in the wool/cashmere yarn stop it from ever being ridged or precise, which is good as even this is moving up and down the warp a bit (not quite sure how it will sit once off the loom). The twill would have benefited from floating selvedges, which I’ll do next time, but I am pleased with the silk selvedge.


I could have quite happily have done a whole warp of this and made something out it... but that’s not the point is it? So I restricted myself to a 5” square block and now it’s on to try something new...