I was going to write a tutorial for you.
I was, I swear.
No, I was. I’m not lying. Stop giving me that look – I’m not even remotely fibbing even the tiniest, weeniest bit.
Yes, I can hear you. The road to hell is paved with good intentions. Yes. I know.
Well – look, my retort is that idle hands are the devil’s plaything. So, in the spirit of trying to do something, but failing, I at least kept my limbs free from the clutches of satan.
And, I ended up with a pseudo-rug. Not a bad deal, I say. No fire, nor brimstone – just a rug and some wasted hours.
Then again, what does old mate say? “Time you’ve enjoyed wasting isn’t wasted.”
You sit there now, while I put the kettle on, and I’ll come back and tell you not how to do something, but my tales of attempting to do something. You wait, it’ll be fun. I promise.
It’ll be fun.
Really? Well, I want that in writing.
It’II be fun.
Signed Fran Katzenjammer.
Black Books – Season 3, Episode 3
Right, so, I’m back now. With a cuppa. And a Monte Carlo. My word, you are judgmental today, aren’t you? I can have a biscuit for afternoon tea! I had bloody eggs and lettuce for breakfast. Shush.
So, there I was, on t’other side of town, near that shop that sells ridiculous things. You know the one. The one that flogs disused typewriters to unsuspecting hipsters for them to make art with. “Look,” they say, “here’s my post-industrialist reconstruction of the feminist movement circa 1982-1984.” To which you say, “It’s bits of crappy old electric typewriter and tampons glued to a bit of perspex!” “To some,” they say, “but I bet you’ve never thought of the glass ceiling quite like you are now…”
Pardon the tangent. So, anyway, I was at Reverse Garbage.
And then, I found myself purchasing eight metres of bias binding, an old cigar box, two bags of glitter, and a full handful of non-specific medical specimen jars. As you do. Look me in the eye and tell me you could say ‘no’ to bagged glitter. I didn’t think so.
I get home, and my intention is to start making one of those trendy, hyper-pinnable rag rug things.
The grand plan was, to keep tabs on what I was doing, so I could establish a pattern to share with you.
Do you know how long that lasted?
Three rows before I just about threw my craft supplies off the balcony.
- 6 DC into magic loop
- 2 DC into each stitch – 12 stitches
- 1 DC first stitch, 2 DC into next, repeat by… (?) more than 12 stitches.
I am both roughly innumerate and incredibly impatient.
So, I winged it.
Also, I’m probably not the person to teach you how to crochet stuff if I have to watch this specific YouTube video every time I try to make a magic ring.
I also get the giggles every time I hear or see the phrase ‘magic ring’…
Double that for statements like, “Now, if you look closely here you’ll see I’ve got my finger in the magic ring.”
To prove that I did have good intentions of putting together a guide to rag-rug creation, here is a series of illustrative progress photos of my deeply ‘meh’ half rug, that I pretty much gave up on.
Figure 1: Bound Together
Figure 2: Charged with Craft Supplies
Figure 3: Just Beyond the Magic Ring – Titter
Figure 4: Breaking Point
Figure 5: Posing with First Dog.
Have you read First Dog? Do. I love it, but I’m also a, ahem, “pinko nut-job.”
Figure 6: Poorly Lit Sewing
Figure 7: Nearly Done
Figure 8: Give it a Silly Edge and Call it a Draw
There you have it. A miserable photo essay on another failed craft project. Happy days!
If you’re keen – feel free to leave links to actual ‘rag rug’ patterns in the comments!
You’re not keen. I know. I’m sorry. You’ve got more important things to do. Go on, live your life. I was just trying to conjure up that perky, crafter-princess enthusiasm. I know. It doesn’t suit me. I won’t try it again.