On Saturday I spent the day learning how to dye yarn from Lola of Third Vault Yarns. When Lola took her new studio, she offered a small number of dyeing classes to help cover some of the fixed costs of expanding into a studio.
Of course I was going to snap one up.
This was a brilliant day playing with colour, learning a new skill and seeing how the magic of hand-dyed yarn comes together. I’ve left with a new respect for Lola and every single yarnie out there. This is one of those bits of craft that is the perfect mix of technical skill and creativity.
We started with a health and safety briefing (very important!) before Lola ran through the different kinds of dyes and how they work on different kinds of fibres.
The first exercise was applying the same dyes to three different fibre blends to see the differences in how they turn out. The centre mini-skein here is a pure, superwash merino, where there is good colour definition and crispness. On the right, a merino/cashmere/nylon blend gives a softer result, with more blending of the colours. On the left, a 50/50 silk/merino blend has a lighter colour pick up, but the silk makes the colour glow.
We then explored three different dyeing techniqes, and I got to have a go at all of them.
First up was handpainting.
This was definitely the messiest of the three, with the need for clingfilm on the table surface to capture the excess dye and water. But it has the scope for greater control about the overall result, even if as the dye sets you get to see the colours blend and play together.
Here I aimed for subtlety. On the left is the test skein, with the final result on the right (with a lower concentration of dye than the test skein giving a paler result). I was trying to see how subtle you could get, with this mix of sand, baby blue, shell pink, silver grey and brown.
If I’m honest, this was the most labour intensive of the three techniques, and probably my least favourite. Though I do like this skein – even if it’s less bold than the other two that followed.
Next up was low-water immersion dyeing, where I went for the exact opposite – bold, bright contrasting colours.
Here you lay the skein of yarn out, apply dye powder to the surface, and then add water. The effect you get depends on how you arrange the yarn and where you apply the dye. There is much more scope for the colours to break, bleed into one another and generally play around.
This is definitely the way to go if you like bold, variegated yarns with lots of contrast. It was insanely satisfying to do – from sprinkling the dye powder onto the yarn to poking and prodding it to get the dye into the right nooks and crannies of the skein. But it takes a lot more dye than the other methods did.
Finally, we did kettle-dyeing, with resist techniques.
This was probably my favourite of the three skeins, both for the end result and for the technique. This used some resist techniques (twisting the yarn with varying degress of tightness, and then immersing it in successive dye baths. This colour was built up with a base of sand, followed by blue and then two shades of turquoise on top. Each colour shows through to varying extents by itself, as well as blending with the other colours.
I had an amazing day, and learned loads. I loved playing with the dyes and yarns, and it’s definitely something I’d like to do again in the future. But Lola and fellow yarnies need not fear – I don’t think I will be setting up in competition any time soon.
Eight and a half years ago, one December day in Cape Town, I welcomed you into my life. Since then, you and I have had many wonderful adventures together. We have been on many work trips away, but lots of fun times too. We have travelled all over the country, and across the world. Always you have been happy and eager to see what was waiting round the next corner, and excited for the next adventure. You have been my constant, reliable, and cheerful companion, rattling along next to me with reassuring solidity and the promise of adventure.
There was the time we got snowed into Belfast and I had to leave you there over Christmas because I wasn’t confident I could get you home in the snow. I felt so guilty leaving you, but your happy, smiling face was waiting for me in January and I was so pleased to see you.
We have had so many fantastic nights away with friends. I would pack you with excitement, and you’d carry pretty dresses, shoes and make up with ease. For a while, when my life was different, we only did fun stuff together, but recently there have been more work trips.
You have been practically perfect in every way. Your Mary Poppins-like interior holds a huge amount. Your inner pockets are just so. The secret space in your lid has held many emergency books and sets of work papers. You nestle into overhead lockers like a pea in a pod, with your smiling face waiting to greet me the moment I open the door. I can push or pull you with equal ease. You helped me smuggle knitting projects on flights before the security rules were relaxed and it was allowed again.
But you are showing your age, every scuff on your exterior a mark of the time we have spent together. I’ve had to reluctantly make the decision to retire you.
A few weeks ago, the mechanism for your telescoping handle jammed. It had been sticking increasingly frequently, but every time previously a determined jiggle would free it up. Not this time. I had to carry you back from Leicester, cradled in my arms like a child. No amount of WD40 has been able to fix you.
Last week I went shopping for a new suitcase. It felt like I was being unfaithful to you, walking around the shop looking at all the other suitcases and assessing what they had to offer. Trying to imagine spending time with them in the way that I have done with you. None of them were right, either. Too flimsy, too ugly, and the wrong arrangement of pockets inside. I came to the crushing realisation that I will never be able to replace you. You are unique.
This week I go away on business, and I will take my new suitcase with me. But every time I look at it I will feed sad. Because it’s not you.
This summer I did the crazy thing that I last did back in 2014. Two back to back conventions: Nine Worlds and WorldCon 75 in Helsinki. Two crazy weeks of spending time with my geeky tribe, having my imagination and creativity stimulated and learning lots of things. But they were very different events.
In many ways, Nine Worlds has become my ‘home’ convention, even though its multi-disciplinary programming means it doesn’t always have the book content I instinctively crave. This year I sought to help fix that, rather than just complain about it, by taking part in a panel for the first time. My panel was Police and the Supernatural, which was a discussion about the works of Ben Aaronovitch and Paul Cornell, both of whom have written supernatural police procedurals set in London, but ones that are very different in style. We turned out to be the second most popular programme item after the Saturday night cabaret and disco, so no pressure there then! It was a brilliant experience, I have to say: my fellow panellists were awesome and the time flew by. What was particularly lovely was having people coming up to me the rest of the weekend (and in Helsinki!) saying how much they’d enjoyed it.
There were some fantastic programme items at Nine Worlds. Some were thought-provoking (including a deeply interesting session on architecture and world-building in fiction, plus one on robots, AI and the labour market) and some were deeply silly, but they all shared a generosity and humility from the speakers. And I learned a lot, for example about theories of education through the example of teaching in Harry Potter, or some amazing examples of powerful women in West African history.
And it was just so much fun too. As always, you stuck out if you weren’t in cosplay or dressed flamboyantly, and people were determined to enjoy themselves and facilitate the enjoyment of others by being relentlessly and furiously kind and thoughtful. Rarely have I encountered an environment that is so energetically inclusive and generous in its acceptance of others. Diversity in all its forms is firmly within the DNA of Nine Worlds, proving that it’s possible to do with a bit of work – and it doesn’t take that much of it either.
Numbers were a bit down on last year, which was a bit of a shame. I think that was in part because many people couldn’t afford the time or money for two conventions and had chosen to go to WorldCon instead. Understandable, given how rarely it makes it across the Atlantic (of 75 WorldCons, only 8 have been outside North America, 5 of those in UK, and 3 of those in London). But those of us there were made the most of it.
WorldCon75 in Helsinki was a different kind of con. Much more book-focused, but very traditional in its approach. Being WorldCon, the spread of authors was much greater, with big names from the US and Canada that are rarely seen on this side of the Atlantic. There is little like sitting there eating your dinner watching George R R Martin walk past, or going to what I dubbed the “Hangover Panel”: 2pm on Day 4 (the day after the Hugos) where famous writers like Robin Hobb, Elizabeth Bear and Jeff VanderMeer were talking about their cats. With lots of cat pictures and funny stories about them ‘helping’ with the writing.
WorldCon was huge. There were around 7,000 people there, in a venue that was probably designed for about 4,000. It got full very quickly, in a way the organisers had not foreseen. This was the third-largest WorldCon in history, with the largest still being LonCon3 in 2014. There were a lot of complaints about the crowds and the queuing, but the organisers were responsive and I never had any difficulties. A bit of patience and planning got you into most things, and if you weren’t able to make it into one of the rooms then ther was bound to be something else on the programme that appealed.
But there were a couple of off-key aspects for me. As with LonCon 3 this felt very US-centric and dominated by US concerns with a very low level of awareness of US cultural colonialism and its impacts. That was uncomfortable for an event taking place in Finland, and at times it just felt plain tone-deaf. The main example of this for me was a panel on resistance, which was composed entirely of US writers and led to a discussion dominated by Trump, healthcare and various issues in the US system, with only one panellist referencing non-US examples (Kameron Hurley talking about the experience of South Africa). All of the over-riding cultural framing was the US narrative from its founding myths of resistance. At one stage, one of the panellists suggested that paying one’s taxes in order to support other people in society was in some ways a rebellious act. The audience pointed out with increasing irritation that this was normal in Europe. In another panel, an audience member from the US questioned why the panel was discussing the work of two British writers rather than the US writers she named.
The panels themselves felt short – 45 minutes compared to the hour, hour and a quarter of Nine Worlds. This meant they never really got beyond scratching the surface of a topic. Panellists rarely got to speak more than twice during a discussion. And some of them felt either poorly organised or poorly moderated – with panellists unsure why they had been selected for a particular panel, or with moderators taking a wildly different interpretation of the brief than appeared in the programme.
That sounds like I’m being harsh, and I guess I am. But that didn’t stop it being an amazing event and an opportunity to meet and hear from people I don’t normally get to encounter in the UK. But what really made the event was the awesome crowd of people I met and hung out with over the five days of the event, swapping ideas for panels and badge ribbons.
In two years’ time WorldCon will be in Dublin. There’s a huge buzz about it already, and I’ve bought my membership. I can feel in my water that it will be another big event. Hopefully there will be a bit more sensitivity when it comes to some of the cultural issues (I can’t say I’m looking forward to having Irish history mansplained at me by Americans – I fear there will be some crashing insensitivity displayed, but it will at least highlight the difference between Irishness and the wholly separate identity of being Irish-American).
But that’s two years away. In the meantime there’s next year’s Nine Worlds to plan for. Excuse me while I go and think up some panel ideas.
For much of my time at Gollancz Fest this weekend, this was my view: three white men.
When two of them are Scott Lynch and Joe Abercrombie you kind of have to acknowledge the awesome, but even so. Some stats about the event:
Day 1 morning – 13 speakers, 5 women (38%)
Day 1 afternoon – 12 speakers, 1 woman (8%)
Day 1 evening – 3 speakers, 0 women (0%)
Day 2 morning – 9 speakers, 2 women (22%)
I make that 37 speaker sessions in the programme, and 8 of them taken up by women. That’s just 21%. There were no speakers from ethnic minorities. But while the audience was also overwhelmingly white, the gender balance was much closer to 50/50.
This isn’t just about the numbers. For me, it was a pretty alienating experience sitting in that audience. The event was so tightly scheduled that there was little or no time for questions. So I sat there reflecting on how this was demonstrating in microcosm what society is like for many of us. If we are not represented in the conversation we can do little other than internalise the message that our place is to be the passive audience for the achievements and creative work of others. Seeing someone that looks like me on a panel does so many things. It can be inspirational, showing other women what can be achieved. But mostly it adds richness and freshness to a debate and conversation that otherwise risks becoming a tired rehashing of the same topics.
And what happens when diverse voices aren’t there? You only had to look at the Saturday afternoon panels to see. Of all the books mentioned during the afternoon panels, only one was by a female author (an essay by Rebecca Solnit that the moderator referred to when framing a question about people’s response to crisis). It was probably unintentional, but that will perpetuate the idea that the only good quality books are written by white men, making it even harder for anyone who looks different to get recognition. And the bias was reflected in the books on sale in the room too. While many of the men on the programme had multiple books by them displayed for sale, including in splendid 10th anniversary hardback editions, none of the women had more than a single title on offer, even though many of them are prolific writers. If you were Elizabeth Bear, there were none of your books on sale in the room at all. So, your husband might have to write in the blinding reflected light of all your Hugo and Locus awards (as he revealed during one of the panels), but none of your work was available to buy.
I wasn’t the only one who noticed the problem. If you checked the GollanczFest hashtag on Twitter you could see in amongst the enthusiastic live tweeting of the wit, humour and insight of the panellists an increasingly vocal set of grumbles about the diversity issues of the event. By the third all-white, all-male panel of Saturday afternoon it was getting pretty vocal indeed, with links being shared to pieces about the importance of panel diversity and ways of improving it.
I’m a firm believer that providing feedback is the best way of getting issues like this addressed. During a lull this morning Marcus Gipps, one of the Gollancz editorial team, was filling time and asked for feedback, so I raised the issue. Fair play to him, he ruefully acknowledged that it hadn’t been the best, and they’d clocked all the comments made on Twitter. He pointed to some scheduling difficulties that had apparently made it difficult to achieve greater representation. It was a very graceful response, and I hope that the organisers will take the feedback on board if they run a similar event next year. But as a publisher-run event, GollanczFest can only draw on Gollancz writers. Looking down their list of authors I can’t help but wonder if it’s Gollancz that has the diversity problem rather than GollanczFest.
Either way, as a community we deserve better. And unless we keep highlighting these issues they won’t get fixed.
UPDATE: I’ve had some fantastic conversations this evening with various Gollancz staff. I’ve been really touched by the way they’ve approached this issue with a genuine willingness to engage. I’ve been told that there had been plans for an additional three female panellists, but they’d had to pull out at the last minute for various reasons, including childcare reasons. The opening out of the programme to non-Gollancz writers like the awesome Catriona Ward and Antonia Honeywell (who write for other Orion imprints) was in part intended to address the gender balance issues. I’m also told that Gollancz only publishes Elizabeth Bear in ebook, hence the lack of physical copies of her books for sale. Refreshingly, Gollancz have acknowledged that these points aren’t the whole solution, and they will reflect further. I’m left feeling much more positive. This is why it’s important to speak up in a respectful and constructive manner, folks.
Another awesome Nine Worlds has finished. As I think I said last year, of all the conventions on the calendar, it is far and away the most welcoming and inclusive, which creates a joyful and creative atmosphere.
I’m on the come-down from a brilliant weekend, and recovering from the heady mix of lots of people, days packed full of content, and late nights socialising. Inevitably, that makes my reflections a little fragmented, but I’ll pull out some thoughts.
This year we were at a new venue, the Novotel London West in Hammersmith. After last year’s hotel debacle, this was a refreshing change and it proved to be a much better location. The food was better, the rooms were better, the space worked really well for the event, it was easier to get to, there were more facilities (shops and restaurants) close to the hotel and the staff were amazing, with prompt and friendly service. I really hope we will be back there next year.
Cosplayhas become a big part of my con-going experience. This year I reprised Missy, but with a twist. At last year’s con Laurie Penny remarked after seeing my costume that she’d only just realised just how much Missy looks like a suffragette. As a proud feminist that really chimed with me. So what better to do at a convention that prides itself on its progressive ethos, than to cosplay Missy as a suffragette, campaigning for more Time Ladies to appear in Doctor Who? I made her a sash, with the slogan “Time For Ladies”, suggested by a fabulous friend of mine. I’ll post about the making process for that sash in due course.
I also brought a new costume, a female Avon from Blakes 7. (I tried it at EasterCon earlier this year, but this is the first time I’ve managed to get pictures of it – the 1970s concrete exterior of the hotel also provided the perfect spot for a dystopian photo shoot.) Regular readers will know that I’m a huge fan of the series, so the appeal of cosplaying my all-time favourite character was hard to resist. I still feel slightly uncomfortable about doing it, as if I have no right to attempt something so iconic, but it’s a great character to play. And it’s wonderful to see just how much love there is out there for the series. I had people running across the hotel foyer to give me cosplay tokens, and I had some great conversations about my costume and the series. Come find me as Avon at a future con and I might even let you pet my Orac. I’ve blogged about putting this look together in another post.
The programme was great, as always, with some really thought-provoking sessions. The stand-out one for me were Alex Lamb’s session on modelling complex systems. Alex is the author of Roboteer, but he’s also a part-time stand up and improv, as well as having worked creating agent-based modelling systems for academic research. He is clever, funny and has tremendous energy. He got the whole audience for his session playing variants of Rock, Paper, Scissors, and then showed how the insights from that could be modelled in increasingly complex (and beautiful) ways. Though it led to the depressing insight that we are doomed to society ultimately collapsing once corruption takes hold. Honourable mentions also go to sessions on monsters in art history, how writers get and refine their ideas, a taster session on metal clay work, and a glorious end-of-con session on writing humour.
If I have one small complaint, it’s that there didn’t seem to be as many sessions on books as in previous years, and some of those in the evening slots proved to be a bit … drier … than I might have expected for that time of night. (There seemed to be no equivalent of last year’s gloriously hilarious panel discussion on writing sex.) From talking to one of the organisers, it sounds like there had been some difficulties behind the scenes that may explain it. I think the new model for organising content tracks may not have helped either. I really hope that gets sorted for next year. I love the broad church of fandom that Nine Worlds includes all under one roof, but I’m primarily a lover and reader of books, and if I’m give a choice I will gravitate towards book panels and events.
But as always, the thing that makes Nine Worlds is the people. Friends make the weekend special, and are the source of all the best memories. The late night room parties. Enthusiastic dancing at the Bifrost disco. Heckling panels via text message. Cosplay photo shoots where it’s hard to keep a straight face. But there are also smaller moments of joy too. Catching up with people you haven’t seen for ages. Making new friends and planning future shenanigans. Finding out an author friend has given a character your profession, after a chat you’d had at EasterCon. But mainly just the simple joy that comes from hanging out together and chatting.
After a gruelling few weeks, what could be better than a trip to a yarn show? I took myself off to Fibre East with a couple of friends for the day about a week or so ago, to soak up the atmosphere.
Fibre East was a new show to me, but it’s become a regular fixture in the calendar. It has a real focus on spinning and weaving, with some people from one of the local spinning guilds taking part in a ‘sheep to shawl’ challenge over the course of the weekend, scouring, carding, spinning and weaving freshly sheared fleece.
The Sheer Sheep Experience was there, exploring some of the UK’s native sheep breeds and the different characteristics of their coats. (Though spot the Antipodean interloper on the far right!)
There was a shearing demonstration, using both electric clippers and traditional hand shears. The lucky owner of the fleece, which had been auctioned earlier in the weekend, was also in the audience.
John Arbon had this beautiful antique on his stand. It’s gloriously steampunk in design.
And there were lots of ways to indulge in some retail therapy. I’ve noticed that the tougher the time I’ve had recently, the more outlandish my purchases are. At Fibre East I kept being drawn to 80s style neon colours, in bright highlighter pen shades. I mostly escaped unscathed, but there were a few I just couldn’t resist.
This pink, called Pink!, from WooSheeps, called to me from across the hall. Paired with a more subdued charcoal grey, it will make a fantastic colourwork shawl. And it comes in generous 150g skeins too.
I loved the neon spatter dye of For The Love Of Yarn‘s Speckled Lagoon, and picked up a couple of skeins in more muted shades. They have some fantastic dyeing, and some beautiful shades. I will definitely keep an eye out for them at future yarn shows.
As always, I had to pay a trip to see Lola at Third Vault Yarns. Lola joked that I probably have most of her colourways in one base or another, but I still picked up these two beauties. The top one (Bad Apples) will be perfect for a pair of socks I have in mind.
And I paid a trip to Sparkleduck as well. If you like purple (and who doesn’t?!) Sparkleduck is the place to go. These are all beautiful laceweights.
But these were probably the most unexpected purchases of my trip, and probably a measure of just how tired and run down I am.
I’ve never spun in my life. But I came home with a sparkly top-whorl drop spindle from Spin City, and two lots of fluff. I nearly succumbed to the one with candy-coloured unicorns, but went for the slightly subtler one with the iridescent heart-shaped confetti and glitter.
So, I guess I need to learn to spin. Does anyone have any good resources they can point me to?
Recently I did something I’ve never done before: I took part in a gift swap through one of the Ravelry groups I am a member of. it was organised by Lola from Third Vault Yarns.
The rules were pretty simple. Each of us would take it in turns to host Sadie, a knitted bunny, for two weeks. At the end of the fortnight Sadie would get posted on to the next person in the chain with some surprise gifts. There should be one handmade gift, which didn’t have to be knitted, and one shop-bought gift.
I received a beautiful handmade notions pouch with some stitch-markers and a colourful scarf The pouch is large enough for a small project and the scarf has quickly become my go-to office wrap for when the air conditioning is fierce or i just feel the need of an extra layer
Unfortunately, the package spent a week at the sorting office waiting to be collected, so I only had a week with Sadie. She missed the chance to come with me to the Sri Lanka Test Match at Lord’s, and I didn’t get to take her on a business trip to The Hague. But we packed in some fun.
After spending some time chilling with Baby Groot, I took Sadie to a recording of a Radio 4 comedy called the Now Show, which was doing a special for the EU referendum. The recording was at the beautiful Radio Theatre in Broadcasting House. Unfortunately I couldn’t get any pictures of the auditorium (not allowed).
But I did get this snap of Sadie meeting a Dalek just outside.
And later that week Sadie helped me vote in the EU referendum itself.
But it wasn’t long before I had to wave Sadie off on her travels again, this time with gifts from me.
My handmade gift was this pair of fingerless mitts, made in Rowan RYC Baby Alpaca DK. The pattern is Hands of Blue by Lucy Hague, a Firefly/Serenity-inspired pattern. I love the texture created by the twisted stitches. I also popped in some handmade stitch markers and a notebook before sending Sadie on her way.