Archive for the 'Knitblasts under Sky' Category

05
Mar
10

Single White Mouse King WLTM Ballerina

By Deadly Knitshade 5 Comments
Categories: Knitblasts, Knitblasts under Control, Knitblasts under Sky, Knitblasts with a Tale and Knitblasts with the Yarn Corps
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“Right you ‘orrible lot! This ‘ere is an important day fer ‘is Royal Rodent ‘ighness (me). I’m going to find me a young lady to woo and you scummy little soldiers are gonna ‘elp.

As you can see I’ve dressed meself in me finest royal outfit. This ‘ere is me Royal Crown ‘anded down to me be me father, King Longpointyfurryface the Seventh.

A right royal rodent

A right royal rodent

This ‘ere is me Royal Trident wot ‘e once used to poke out the evil eye of the fearsome black-’earted ginger menace of the lower garden shed region.

Riiiiiiiiight turn!

And this ‘ere is me Royal Cloak red from the blood of the thaaaarsand violent vixens that me great grandfather Spindlytail the Mighty slayed in the Great Fox Wars of the Cheeseless Famine Era.

Aboooooooooooout face!

Front and centah, where I can see ya, boys! I’m not going aht there with just any old raggedy bunch!

Preseeeeeeeeeeeent arms!

Not bad. Not bad…

Take that smirk off your face, soldier! I aven’t done wiv yer yet. ‘ow abaht yer shoes, lads? Can I see me face in ‘em? You ain’t a real man’s man if yer walkin’ boots ain’t up to scratch, fellas. Look at mine! Ya could eat ya elevenses off that shiny surface.

Preseeeeeeent shoes!

Me dear old mum would be prahd (Cheesus rest her soul after she was taken from us in that ‘orrible incident with the ‘oover).

Very nice, boys. Very nice. What woman could resist us, eh, eh? She’ll melt like Camembert in me paws!

Aaaaaaaaaaat ease!

Now where’s that bleedin’ four-eyed owl oos been teachin’ me ‘ow to talk to ladies? Drosselmeyer! Drosselmeyer! Get your tatty tailfeathers out ‘ere!

Hoot!

No need to look so shocked, blunt beak. This is my wooing ahhhhtfit. Ain’t you ever seen a royal rodent in ‘is finery before? And as for you where are your trousers and what’s that on your back? Are you wearing some kind of truss? What the flippin’ ‘ell ‘ave you got on?!

Not regulation uniform

Well it’s too bloody late to change now. It’ll ‘ave to do. But for next time, you woolly wombat, you’d better ‘ave some bleedin’ pants on!

Right! Into the coach with you all. Drosselmeyer get yer talons out of me robe! Watch where you’re stickin’ that spear! Ooos tail is that? It poked me right in my Royal Eyeball!

The Royal transportation is rather cramped and smells of sandwiches

There she is, lads. There she is. Brace yerselves for the wooin’. Boys, you distract ‘er with a bit of gentle stabbin’ wiv yer spears. I’m goin’ fer ‘er ‘ead.

Poink! Poink! Poink!

Prang! Prang! Prang!

That’s it, boys! I’m nearly at ‘er ‘ead… I’m there! I’m there! Let the wooin’ begin!

Errrrrr…

‘allo luv…

Bugger...

Drosselmeyer! Drosselmeyer! I can’t remember a bleedin’ word you told me? Wot was that abaht a summer’s day? Oi! Where ‘is ee?! Drosselmeyer, you twit-twooin’ twerp!?

Hoo?

Umm…

Well…

…’wotcha, darlin’. Do ya like cheese? I like cheese. Maybe me and you could go and get some cheese. One evenin’. I know a nice little place that does melted gorgonzola on-

Oh. I see. You’re ‘lactose intolerant’, are ya? Can’t eat dairy. CAN’T EAT DAIRY!?!?

The wooing

Terrible shame that. Terrible shame…

Is that the time? Blaaaaahdy ‘ell! I’ve got The State Opening of Parmesan in at ‘alf two! ‘ave to be going. Lovely to chat. Sorry abaht the footprints up yer back and that hank of hair I pulled aht on the way up your scalp and that…

Can someone help me down from ‘ere? Boys? Boys? Bleedin’ ‘eck, this is one crowded lady. And I think I pulled a tail muscle climbing up ‘er calf.

After the romance has gone...

It never would ‘ave worked aht. Wot with ‘er being 100 times the size of me an all that. Still laaaaahvley pair ov legs on ‘er though. Went on fer miles..

Moving on

Allo! I wonder if that Sugarplum Fairy is seein’ anyone. I like red eyes in a girl’s ‘ead. Makes ‘er look classy.”

For less shouting and less mousing but more Nutcracker Knitmare Before Christmas see Knit the City’s Stitched Symphony.

01
Sep
09

Flying Fruits of Justice for the Bells of Old Bailey

By Deadly Knitshade 5 Comments
Categories: Knitblasts, Knitblasts for Evil, Knitblasts for Good, Knitblasts under Control, Knitblasts under Sky, Knitblasts with a Tale and Knitblasts with the Yarn Corps
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

One very old church + a London nursery rhyme about bells, fruit and debt collecting + some yarn + a handful of beady eyes + a hoard of crafty treasure bits + my brains = The Flying Fruits of Justice.

Knit the City took on the Oranges and Lemons Odyssey with a six-pronged attack. Six London Churches from an old nursery rhyme. Six graffiti knitters. One full day of yarnstorming fun.

For the Deadly Knitshade prong of it I was handed the holy stones of St Sepulchre-without-Newgate for the line:

“When will you pay me?” said the Bells of Old Bailey”

A question in wool and wire

A question in wool and wire

A soaring four-pointed church on the corner of Holborn Viaduct and Giltspur Street, St Sepulchre has been strutting its sacred stuff since 1450. It suffered a bit of scorching in the Great Fire of 1666 but has generally stood up to a whole lot of London history ever since.

It used to stand opposite the City’s nefarious Newgate Prison. From 1606 every night before an execution the bellman of the church would trudge through a dark tunnel between the prison and the church. At the prison he would ring on his handbell 12 times and recite:

“All you that in the condemned hold do lie,
Prepare you, for tomorrow you shall die;
Watch all and pray, the hour is drawing near
That you before the Almighty must appear;
Examine well yourselves, in time repent,
That you may not to eternal flames be sent:
And when St. Sepulchre’s bell tomorrow tolls,
The Lord above have mercy on your souls.
Past twelve o’clock!”

A journey of fruity justice was in order…

Bitter Burglar Lemon and Policeman Peeler Orange

Caught: Bitter Burglar Lemon and Policeman Peeler Orange

Condemned: Barrister Orange and Hangman Lemon

Considered: Beady-eyed Barrister Orange and Heartless Hangman Lemon

Condemned: All-is-Forgiven Angelic Orange and Dastardly Devilled Lemon

Condemned: All-is-Forgiven Angelic Orange and Dastardly Devilled Lemon

The Bells want their money back

The Plaintive: The Bells want their money back

Throw them all together and I formed an unlikely crew. The Flying Fruits of Justice we ready to take to the air. Stand back.

Witness the Flying Fruits of Justice

Witness the Flying Fruits of Justice

The citrus criminals and their chasers took the air in the shadow of St Sepulchre. They bobbed quietly in the London wind and reminded passing Londoners of a little bit of history.

Floating fruity fellows

Floating fruity fellows

A hanging history

A hanging history

Another fine knitblast in honour of my lovely London. I disappeared back into my stitching shadows imagining the ghosts of condemned Newgate prisoners gazing out of the windows of a phantom prison upon a church bedecked with dancing fancy-dress fruit. They probably would have killed for a bit of citrus fruit right then. Which is possibly what got them in there in the first place…

Confession is good for the soul

Confession is good for the soul

24
Jul
09

Knitblast the Tenth: here be Lions

By Deadly Knitshade 5 Comments
Categories: Knitblasts, Knitblasts for Evil, Knitblasts under Control, Knitblasts under Sky and Knitblasts with a Tale
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

The Stitch and Bitch London Knit Crawl for Worldwide Knit in Public Day.

Four iconic London sights.

Four chances to knitblast four iconic London sights.

While Nelson isnt looking

While Nelson isn't looking

Stop four. The final stop. Trafalgar Square under the watchful gaze of Vice Admiral Horatio Nelson and his four lions.

South-East Lion: Gawd blimey I wish these bleedin’ tourists would stop clambering about on me ‘ead. I sit ‘ere all day guardin’ the Vice Admiral and what thanks do I get, ay? Day in, day aht bleedin’ tourists drippin’ ice cream on me barnet. ‘ang about! Woss goin’ on over there? Oi, you! Girlie!

Deadly Knitshade: Umm. Me?

*quickly stands in front of knitblast*

South-East Lion: You know very well I mean you, sunshine. What the bloody ‘ell do you think you’re playin’ at with that pink and blue thing?

Deadly Knitshade: It’s knitting. I’m… errrr… decorating.

*steps out of the way and waves hands at knitblast in hopefully enticing manner*

South-East Lion: Decorrrrating, she says! With a bit of knitting? Would you Adam and Eve it? This is Trafalgar Square, young lady. Not your ‘ouse!

Punk purling going underground

Punk purling going underground

Deadly Knitshade: But it’s Worldwide Knit in Public Day…

*looks at feet*

South-East Lion: I don’t care if it’s Worldwide Pull the Wool Over the bloomin’ Queen Muvver (gawd rest ‘er soul) Day. You get that pink and blue two and eight orf there! That’s the Charring Cross tube station entrance, you toerag!

*Deadly Knitshade looks up with a slightly evil glint in eyes*

Deadly Knitshade: Make me.

South-East Lion: You cheeky bugger!

Deadly Knitshade: *blows raspberry*

South-East Lion: If I wasn’t currently covered in over-excited Japanese tourists makin’ peace signs at the camera I’d bite yer ‘ead off!

Deadly Knitshade: Happy Worldwide Knit in Public Day!

*runs away*

South-East Lion: Oi! Get back ‘ere! *sighs* Bloomin’ graffiti knitters. Back in my day knittin’ stayed in the ‘ome. Admiral Nelson’s gonna ‘ave me guts for garters…

Angry background lion

Angry background lion

(A little help for those who don’t speak English English)

22
Jul
09

Knitblast the Ninth: Pink Furry Knitting learns about trust and pigeons

By Deadly Knitshade 4 Comments
Categories: Knitblasts, Knitblasts for Evil, Knitblasts under Control, Knitblasts under Sky and Knitblasts with a Tale
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

The Stitch and Bitch London Knit Crawl for Worldwide Knit in Public Day.

Four iconic London sights.

Four chances to knitblast four iconic London sights.

The London Eye will look out for you...

The London Eye will look out for you...

Stop Three. The London Eye and the Millenium Bridge.

Pink Furry Knitting: So we’re going sightseeing, eh? Yay! How exciting! In Central London, you say?

Deadly Knitshade: Yup. Central London. I’ll take you to see the London Eye if you like.

Pink Furry Knitting: Really? The London Eye? Wow!

Deadly Knitshade: And Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament. The government lives there, you know.

Pink Furry Knitting: The government! Big Ben! Woo hoo! Maybe I’ll get to hear him chime! Like on the news at New Year.

Deadly Knitshade: You might. And if you’re really good I’ll take you to the Millenium Bridge to look at the River Thames too.

Pink Furry Knitting: Gosh! That’s ever so nice of you.

Deadly Knitshade: Ah, don’t mention it.

Pink Furry Knitting: And…you won’t leave me there will you?

Deadly Knitshade: What do you mean?

Pink Furry Knitting: Well, I sort of noticed that when you’ve taken some of my woolly siblings out. Well…

Deadly Knitshade: Go on…

Pink Furry Knitting: Well, they… *lowers voice* …haven’t come home.

Deadly Knitshade: I told you where they were. Didn’t I?

Pink Furry Knitting: *mumbling* You said they got stolen by pigeons.

Deadly Knitshade: What was that? Speak up. What did I tell you?

Pink Furry Knitting: They got stolen by pigeons.

Deadly Knitshade: Exactly. But you don’t have to worry. I spent hours making you. I wouldn’t just abandon you and let a pigeon steal you. Now would I? Hmm? *tickles knitting under chin* Hmm?

Pink Furry Knitting: *giggling* Hee hee. No. Of course not. Silly, silly me…

Hello? Hello...?

Hello? Hello...?

*sound of pigeon wings flapping and clawed feet landing on the railing of Millenium Bridge*

*darkness*

20
Jul
09

Knitblast the Seventh: confused Tower Bridge tourists

By Deadly Knitshade 2 Comments
Categories: Knitblasts, Knitblasts under Control and Knitblasts under Sky
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

The Stitch and Bitch London Knit Crawl for Worldwide Knit in Public Day.

Four iconic London sights.

Four chances to knitblast four iconic London sights.

Thats which Bridge?

That's which Bridge?

Stop one. Tower Bridge. Not London Bridge. Tower Bridge.

Tourist: “Excuse me. We’re looking for the London Bridge. Is that the London Bridge?”

Londoner: “No, that’s Tower Bridge. London Bridge is that way.”

*points in direction of London Bridge*

Tourist: “And that building over there? Is that the London Tower? It doesn’t look like a tower. It’s kind of small.”

Londoner: “That’s the Tower of London. The crown jewels live there. And some ravens. If the ravens leave then the White Tower, the monarchy, and the entire kingdom will fall. They’re holding up a whole lot of things, those ravens.”

Tourist: “So this is the Tower of London Bridge?”

Londoner: “No, it’s Tower Bridge. London Bridge is still that way.”

*points in direction of London Bridge*

Londoner: “But the original London Bridge is in Arizona.”

*points in direction of Arizona*

Tourist: “You guys sure do drink a lot of tea.”

Londoner: “You’ll have to excuse me. I feel I’m going to involuntarily wrap something in knitting now.”

*runs away*

13
Jul
09

A yarnstorm hits Parliament Square

By Deadly Knitshade 1 Comment
Categories: Knitblasts under Sky and Knitblasts with the Yarn Corps
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Learning to live with knitblasting randomly all over the city has its ups and down, but it’s always nice to team up with the Knit the City Yarn Corps for a bit of group yarnstorming.

This week I think we outdid ourselves. The police-swarmed environs of Parliament Square held no fear for us. Well, okay, that’s a lie. There was fear, but it was good fear. The kind of fear you get when you yarnstorm a phonebox in one of the most patrolled and CCTVed areas of London.

One very yarnstormed phonebox and Big Ben

One very yarnstormed phonebox and Big Ben

Not even the local constabulary are willing to stand in the way of wrapping something in the most inoffensive of street artforms. You could almost see memories of grannies, shortbread biscuits, knee-length ‘trousers’, and the clicking of needles by the fireside in their eyes.

I live and knitblast in a city that is made for turning a blind eye so its citizens can colour stuff a little kooky.

I utterly love London.

29
Jun
09

Knitblast the Sixth: On yer bike, you filthy yarnstormer

By Deadly Knitshade 8 Comments
Categories: Knitblasts, Knitblasts for Evil, Knitblasts on the Go, Knitblasts under Control and Knitblasts under Sky
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Elderly lady sitting opposite me on the bus watches me for about ten minutes. I’m sitting and knitting on public transport, which tends to get stares. Eventually I slide my headphones off my ears and meet her ‘I’ve been knitting since before you were born, you’re not holding your yarn properly, what kind of needles do you call those?’ gaze.

I want to knit your bicycle, I want to knit your bike

I want to knit your bicycle, I want to knit your bike

“What are you knitting?” she asks me, eyeing the stripy snake of stitching that is lounging in my lap.

“Errrrm, it’s a cover…” I tell her, racking my brains for an answer that isn’t going to make her think I am dragging the good name of knitting through the filthy mud of madness. Not that I’m not proud of my sneaky stitching. It’s just sometimes you can’t tell if you’re talking to a Darth Vader of the Knit or an Obi-Wan.

“A cover?” Interested and a little disparaging, the raised eyebrows quietly point at ‘Well I’m not sure that’s what knitting is for now, is it?’.

“For a…chair?” I try, white lying to save myself from the rockslide of explaining what I am really knitting.

“A chair?” She asks. She looks confused and suspicious and altogether on the verge of an almost-definite tut, a quite-likely headshake, and possibly an attempt to wrestle my yarn and needles from me and march them off in order to use them for a much saner purpose.

“My bus stop! Nice talking to you!” I blurt, thrusting the devices of my shameful misused stitching into my bag while trying to press the ‘stop’ button with my elbow, all the while grinning apologetically at the bus-riding inquisitioner.

I alight in the street a stop early and have to walk an extra few minutes to the station. As I walk I picture a conversation in which I tell my questioner that I am actually knitting a piece of graffiti. This graffiti has been lovingly measured to fit the crossbar of a rather grey and practical-flavoured bicycle that sits patiently at the station every single day waiting for its owner to come home. The Greyfrair’s Bobby of bicycles, if you will (except it isn’t a dog and its owner is just at work, and not the victim of a particularly nasty case of TB. So kind of not like Greyfriar’s Bobby at all) .

This controlled knitblast had been knit with a practical purpose (aside from the evil purpose of the ‘WTF?!’ moment it would cause when first discovered). An exercise in answering the question “So what exactly is the point of this ‘yarnstorming’?” Since there are more points to it than a ninja star (over five), I took solace in that old chestnut “A yarnstorm purls a thousand words”.  I think it worked too.

Damn you and your ways.

"Damn you and your ways."

Yarmstorming explained, check. Disapproval of old lady on bus masterfully avoided, check. Happy bicycle, check. Happy bicyclist, check. Happy yarnstormer, double check.

24
Jun
09

Knitblast the Fourth: Holy knitted lamppost cosy, Batman

By Deadly Knitshade 5 Comments
Categories: Knitblasts, Knitblasts under Control, Knitblasts under Sky and Knitblasts with a Tale
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Derby – city of the hangovers, heartaches, hidden handholding and half-price promises of my misspent youth. I returned here dragging my feet so reluctantly I may as well have been walking backwards.

A cup of tea, a deep breath, a check of the knitblast utility belt and a trip into my past.

Tea and sneaky stitchery

Tea and sneaky stitchery

Here was the house where I sat on the kitchen worktop and shared reduced-to-clear smoked salmon with three hungry rescue cats.

Here was the club doorway that I stumbled from at 3am in search of chips, cheese and mayonnaise for the cab ride home.

Here was the flat where I awoke in a tequila-reeking headstorm to find someone had filled my shoes with water and placed them in the freezer.

Here was the beer garden where I said “It’s not you, it’s me” to a soundtrack by Jarvis Cocker and Damon Albarn.

Here was the empty shell of the video shop where I slouched behind the counter reading comics and reluctantly doling out Chuck Norris films to people with tattooed knuckles and horrifying teeth.

Here was the pavement where a desperate suitor dripped ‘I love you’ onto the concrete from his bloody nose, in the most stomach-turning bid for my love I will ever be subjected to.

God and the scent of chip cobs

God and the scent of chip cobs

Here was the lecture hall where I, and every other girl in the class, fell slightly in love with a man who stood at the front and talked about Oliver Stone too much.

Here was the office block where I corrected mistakes for free ‘newspapers’ that even the rats at the dump, who lined their nests with them, wouldn’t read.

Here was where my best friend in the world and I discovered red wine, philosophy and Leonardo DiCaprio.

Here was where the first one that got away, got away.

Batman (after Batgirl has come and gone secretly): How does she do it?

Batman (after Batgirl has come and gone secretly): How does she do it?

Faced with a past me that drank pints, broke hearts, and wanted more than anything to grow up to be Batgirl, it was understandable a knitblast was on its way. A shadowy, slight and understandably purple knitblast that swung itself around a lamppost in the sacrosanct shadow of the city’s cathedral.

I still want to grow up to be Batgirl.


02
Jun
09

Knitblast the Second: love and the scent of cat shampoo at Covent Garden

By Deadly Knitshade 3 Comments
Categories: Knitblasts, Knitblasts under Control, Knitblasts under Sky and Knitblasts with a Tale
Tags: , , , , , ,

The ebb and flow of bumbagged tourists that is Covent Garden. They stand in their socks and sandals in the rare afternoon sunshine and clink shiny pound coins into the hats of wide-mouthed mimes and Pop-eye armed jugglers. They scurry about the maze of shops that smell like mangoes, or pasties, or lavender. They stumble slightly on the cobbled floors but don’t mind so much because it’s all full of ‘quaint’.

Covent Garden blues

Covent Garden blues

I stand on the corner where two lovers once met for the first time. She was covered in comic books and smelt faintly of cat shampoo. He wore a shirt that said “Welcome to Singapore” in Chinese letters and looked much grumpier than he was. Despite these obstacles they fell for each other as London lovers do. With drinks in quiet smoky (back then) pubs, hand-holding walks on smog-warm evenings, and kisses in the ripples of orange street light bouncing off the Thames.

Sadly, as London love does, things fell apart.

And so I knitblast my lonely Covent Garden corner blue for the ghosts of London lovers that meet there over and over every time I walk by.

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Deadly Knitshade is a lone wool-hungry wolf whose knits aren’t content with lurking in the shadows of conventional knitting. Instilled with eerie knitting powers. She is subject to constant unexpected ‘knitblasts’ leaving woolly debris around the city.

She is also a member of London's Knit the City graffiti knitting group.

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