needled

Earlier today I crouched, covered in snow in an 80mph wind at the top of Arthur’s Seat, and felt a near-spiritual sense of thankfulness for my Walshes.

These shoes are deservedly a design classic (well, among the hill running community at any rate) because of their incredible combination of form and function. They are really one of the most favourite things that I own. They have a glove like fit, a feather-like lightness and are really, really grippy. You can scamper up a hill and zoom down it without worrying about where you are treading, for in the Walshes your feet will stay sticky as an insect whether on grass or mud or rock. They are shoes designed by hill runners for hill runners. The design is basic, unfussy, and entirely functional, and thus has stayed the same for more than thirty years. Many runners sneer at the Walshes ubiquitous blue and yellow, but I find the lo-fi look of the shoe rather pleasing. The pyramid-like studs produce a footprint that is as immediately recognisable as a rabbit’s paw when one is out in the hills, and I like this unobtrusive and temporary way that runners’ feet can add to the language of a landscape. And Walshes are also made in Bolton, not far from where I grew up, so I feel an absurd and meaningless sense of Lancashire pride as I pootle about in them.

They did some pootling today. Here is a view of the hills from my back window after I returned:

Arthur’s Seat is there, just behind the chimney. There were no walkers up on the peak at all. Visibility was nil, and charging off the top into a white-out felt strangely like insanity. But the Walshes did their job skimming over icy stones, through sticky bog and squelchy grass. In them, I hardly notice the grim conditions, for I am nimble as a weasel.

odd socks, who cares?

Among the lovely things I received:

A ‘ballerina‘ kit from Hanne Falkenberg . . .

. . . some fabulous vintage fabrics, of which these bellhops were my favourite . . .

. . . coasters made of Japanese washi and shaped like wee kimonos . . .

. . . and this wonderful quilted table runner, made by hand by my sister from several different recycled fabrics.

O lucky me!

The other thing I may have got recently is a taste for hill running, having begun the new year by dashing up and down Arthur’s Seat. I found the speedy 800 foot ascent and descent very exilherating and it was also interesting to reach the top and meet the amused looks of those who had ascended the hill at a more sensible and leisurely pace. Time to strap on the fell shoes, I reckon.

For several months now, I’ve been going into the bathroom and discovering sights like this:

And strange things like this have been appearing in the kitchen:

These objects are signs that our flat has now fully realised its second function as a brewery. At first this transformation caused me some concern. For example, when Mr B said he was bringing home a mash tun, I envisaged an enormous vat in which I would be forced to spend evenings of unbearable heat and grueling physical toil, relentlessly treading malt grain. Then he turned up with an innocuous vessel that resembled a picnic basket and all was well.

In any case, I am completely reconciled to the year-round supplies of (very) tasty beer and my drone-like role in the process. For my lowly task is to apply the bottle caps. Here are the fruits of yesterday’s labours:

A delicious red ale using Irish yeast.

As well as the beer in its nice brown bottles I have another brown thing to show. A while ago now, I started making Mr B a vest for the cross country season. He runs for a club whose ethos embraces the idiosyncratic and handmade. Their colour is brown and in my vest he fits right in. I finally finished off the neck and armhole edging yesterday, and am very pleased with the results. Here he is obligingly modelling said vest this morning, together with the number of a race he ran a couple of weeks ago:

And here is the vest from the back. (Yes, I have become completely obsessed with duotone)

I think it has a hokey, yet dashing Chariots of Fire air about it. But only a knitter would appreciate the ludicrous contradictions of this vest — being, as it is, a utility garment fashioned from a rather luxe yarn. For it is made of Rowan Calmer and has a satisfying spring and cashmere-like softness. I knitted it in the round to the armholes, then divided for front and back, and kind of made up the racer style armholes as I went along. The curve could have been a bit less severe across the back but I quite like the airy effect the edging has produced. He’s off trying it out this morning at Jedburgh.